Coco is Writing

Fiction + FanFic Writer. Lover of poetic prose and acidic women. Graysexual. | Find me @cocoremy on AO3! | Buy me a coffee on Ko-fi!

[coco-is-writing]

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist: Women Who Need Their Love Monstrous

Mature audiences only. Lover of poetic prose and morally questionable men. My very specific kink is converting readers who have never liked Reader Inserts over to the dark side. 😈

SERIES

♡ Dealbreaker (Alastor x Reader) What you'll find: witchcraft, human sacrifices, baking, forced proximity, slow burn, a lot of plot (what have I done), reader is married to ancient demon

Most people don't need an ancient Sumerian ritual to summon their estranged husband, but desperate times call for desperate measures. The residents of the Hazbin Hotel will need archaic forbidden magic to protect all of Hell from destruction. These pompous modern overlords have forgotten the ways of the elder ones, but they'll learn the hard way from the woman who won her freedom from an ancient demon and got him to put a ring on it. Amicable separations are for mature adults—and nobody is more mature than the woman who was once offered as a human virgin sacrifice, thank you very much. You just need the Radio Demon to stop sticking his nosy antlers where they don't belong. He is burnt sugar and bad intentions, and baby, you've seen it all before.

Excerpt: Go, Alastor wants to say. Enjoy this before I lead you to my altar and demand devotion. ♡ Maneater (Vox x Reader, Alastor x Reader)What you'll find: femdom, reader hunting Vox, Alastor hunting reader, scheming, smut

They call you Maeve the Maneater. Maeve the Mindfucker. You're the top dominatrix in the Pride Ring, and your latest assignment—retrieving a memory from Vox—should be just another game of manipulation. You've been hired to break him, and you're more than ready to deliver justice to bad men. But your first mistake is studying the Radio Demon, Alastor, to understand how to unravel Vox. What starts as a calculated move soon turns into something far more dangerous. As Alastor interferes for his own twisted amusement in your hunt for Vox, the lines between hunter and hunted blur. Caught between two powerful demons, you’re drawn into a storm of power, lust, and dangerous emotions—one that threatens to strip you of more than just control.

Excerpt: Vox tastes like industry. Brutality. The closing of a good day at the stock market.  ♡ The Bone Witch (Human Alastor x Reader) What you'll find: reader speaks to the dead, ghost/monster of the week adventures, uh oh who is that at your window

Your grandmother was run out of New Orleans for being a witch. Decades later, you’re heading straight for the Crescent City. When a suitor turned up dead in your small hometown’s church graveyard—without you so much as touching him—the whispers grew too loud to bear. In the 1930s, a clever woman can make a living speaking to the dead, and New Orleans is a city where spirits are always eager to talk. But one voice rises above the rest—smooth, dangerous, drawing you in like a song you can’t ignore. He might be something worse than the devil Mama warned you about. The dead may have called you here, but he’s the one who’s keeping you.

Excerpt: "Frances, you can try to run from me. It won't work." His gaze is merciless. "I'll find you, but if it makes you feel better, I'll give you a long leash."

ONE-SHOT SERIES

A Curation of Sharp and Lovely Things (Book of One-Shots that will feature Reader x Alastor, Reader x Lucifer, Reader x Vox) What you'll find: mostly smut

All the stories that won't stop scratching at the coffin lid: one shots, novellas, and more. A graveyard of writings featuring Alastor x Reader, Vox x Reader, Lucifer x Reader, and more. Questionable morals, smut, and the romanticization of deeply flawed maniacs inside.

Table of Contents for A Curation of Sharp and Lovely Things:

The Serpent and His Chainsaw Heart (Lucifer x Reader) - The King of Hell is a big fan. He’s also lonely. You know this because he’s told you no less than three times, always while making excuses to interrupt your writing. Excerpt: If you tilt your head to one side and strain to listen, it is the sound of the serpent cutting through the grass.

The Last Quiet Breath of a Star (Human Alastor x Reader) - His love is patient, like rot. It waits, it spreads, it wins. When a star dies, what comes next? Excerpt: He sits on the edge of your bed like a beautiful nightmare. It is rather rude that God cursed you with seeing the future and blessed him with the face of an angel while he guts the men of this city.

Miscommunication: A Valhalla of Your Own Making (Alastor x Reader) - Only Alastor thinks a woman is attempting to seduce him when she asks if she can bludgeon him. Excerpt: “Finally,” he rasps, eyes burning with vicious, triumphant hunger. “Was beginning to think you’d never take the bait.”

Coming Soon: Unveiled, At Last (Vox x Reader): One night. One mask. One anonymous mistake—you slept with the worst overlord in Hell, and now he’s setting the underworld ablaze to find the woman behind the disguise. The Alternate (Alastor x Reader): In this timeline, he is your perfect Alastor: podcast host, history nerd, and perfect boyfriend four years running. Too bad about that other timeline that comes knocking.

Cover Art: Graphic design is my passion~

May your love stories be absolutely bone-chilling, darling.

[rat-rambles]

Angry kitty.

[fotuisfotu]

[coco-is-writing]

Some Astarion art while I plot out my fanfics 🩸

[coco-is-writing]

Being old* (read: early 30s) on tumblr as a participant in fandom means I no longer possess the capacity to be shamed for my age because I’m too busy using my disposable income to support creators I love. It took many years to reach any sort of financial stability and yes, I will be using it to buy beyblades.

I salute my older siblings for paying for childcare but I, the childfree auntie, simply must play patron to NSFW artists and buy merch from shows/games/etc I like. TAKE MY MONEY.

*note: I do consider any age to be too old to be a fan and participate in communities but some of my mutuals do respond to learning my age as if I’m the Crypt Keeper, which is sadly a reference they cannot even understand 🥲

[coco-is-writing]

But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?

Im so hot and my followers will never know

(　｀д´)9

[coco-is-writing]

Me this Sunday morning: I should be productive!

Me at 10 AM for 5 hours: let's draw fanart for Dealbreaker cuz I want to play with Procreate.

Excerpt from Ch.22 AKA the start of Act II

[headmastermephistopheles]

Astarion before his vampire days! I love the head canon that he had golden/amber eyes.

[unspeakablearchives]

[joodlesofdoodles]

Happy Mother's Day to these two

[kosmogrl]

[forgetful-nerd]

Spelling mistakes? I guarantee neither of us saw those at 3:00 AM Monday Morning.

[keydekyie]

"It would have been easier if you'd just said yes."

original

[jiabisu]

[coco-is-writing]

Cannot believe yall are gonna have me simp for Gale. Biting my fist 😭 this is beautiful, fine I’ll love him forever

[greelin]

well first of all i’m a freak pervert. So always keep that in mind

[coco-is-writing]

Snapshots of Us: HuskerDust Vignette Collection

When Husk sees him, the sky peels back its own skin to reveal something feral and radiant. He becomes a thing that does not die, but forgets how to breathe. When Angel sees him, the world tips sideways, a sharp reminder of what it means to forget the shape of hope. He becomes a thing that does not speak, but feels the echo of words he’s too afraid to say. An on-going series of vignettes as two demons fall into that awful thing called love. 

Click Keep Reading for the first vignette or read on AO3 here.

Author Notes:

My Vyvanse is working too well. This can only explain why I've written 100k words in the last few months. We do not question the ADHD productivity goddess, we merely let her possess us.

Behold, a rare non-reader-insert piece of fiction.

Note: If you are into those things (letting me use you like a little doll in my stories as if we are playing demented Sims) then you can find my tagged list - Hazbin Hotel Masterlist: Women Who Need Their Love Monstrous

Husk: Mama Tried

Mama tried. That's all he can say. 

He left home with his no-good father's pistol and a bus ticket to the big city. His mother never stopped crying. He had kissed her cheek and said he'd be back. It was a lie he never meant to tell when he got involved in the wrong business and fell deep, deep down into the depths of an unforgiving afterlife. 

Maybe she finally got a dog. She had wanted one after his childhood dog Scout passed away, but she mentioned it in passing like maybe it'll rain later or I'm thinking of making biscuits tomorrow. 

When he was a boy, his mother always said he had a touch of the gift just like his grandmother had. He refused to believe in it, refused to believe in anything that wasn't the bottom of a bottle staring back at him.

He hopes she got that dog. 

♤ ♡ ♧ ♢

Husk can feel it in his bones at the bar. The air shifts and—pop, pop, pop! Fireworks go off in his nerves. He is the fucking Fourth of July in an empty lobby. He watches Angel Dust carefully when he waltzes in from work. The air is sour. Husk hates the taste of bittersweet angst in the atmosphere.

Sure, he's a cat, but even he has his limits.

"What happened?" he asks.

Angel’s lips tilt sideways, a broken graph of hemorrhaging profits. “Who the fuck said anything was wrong, whiskers?”

Husk tastes his answer on his tongue. What he wants to say is that they don’t need words to speak. Their understanding hums in a frequency beyond language, a series of vibrations too raw, too precise, to fit into any known tongue.

But if he says that out loud, it’ll be like laying his whole hand on the table. And a man can only let himself crack so much. The problem with sensing the things his mother forgot to warn him about was that he was born into a time and a body that screamed: oh, you? You don’t get to have emotions. Stuff 'em down, and when the grief gets too heavy, take to drink like every other man in your life.

She’d been disappointed the first time she caught him drinking. He was thirteen, trying to feel like a man but just a skinny kid shoot, anding up so fast all his pants looked cropped no matter what.

Maybe she’d hoped her family’s gift would have saved him.

He regrets to inform her that the spirits haunting the railroad tracks mostly complained about their missing booze rather than offering sage advice about avoiding it.

Angel Dust sits down at the bar, and Husk reminds himself that he is a demonic man cursed to live under a psychotic vaudeville overlord. He charges forward, ignoring Angel’s deflection. Such bristling thorns on this beauty. A walking wet dream with cotton candy-soft hair, yet fragile as a landmine set to detonate at the slightest touch.

It must be Valentino. It’s always Valentino. One day, Husk promises himself, he’ll kill the moth… as soon as he can stop being distracted by the bottles behind his bar.

Until then, he makes an espresso martini and he says solemnly, "Fuck Val."

And Angel Dust's pissy face cracks into the lightest of smiles. 

"Fine, fine. Twist my arm with your drink. You ain't so bad, whiskers."

Husk smirks as he garnishes the drink. "Mama tried."

[coco-is-writing]

New Chapter Up: Highlights from A Mutual Disdain (With Benefits) - Astarion/Reader

Both of my fics are updated on AO3: find them here

Some outtakes I rather like from Chapter 3

Gods. Astarion hates getting things for free because he simply refuses to believe the pretty lie that people are that kind. No wonder the rest of you got kidnapped from Baldur's Gate. The entire party could be lured into an orc's lair with the promise of candy and books.

Since the first moment you laid eyes on him, you’ve been fighting a losing battle against noticing Astarion’s face—those cheekbones like the edge of a well-honed dagger, that jawline carved from marble by some master sculptor’s hand. When sunlight filters through the trees, it catches on his platinum hair and alabaster skin, transforming him into something ethereal, something not quite of this world. He tilts his face skyward with closed eyes and parted lips, drinking in the warmth with a reverence that seems almost religious. The sun’s kiss leaves the faintest pink traces across the bridge of his nose, the curve of his shoulders, but they are gone within minutes. Your defenses crumble when circumstances force you to stand at the water’s edge while he bathes. He makes no effort to shield himself as he sheds his clothing before you get a chance to turn away, sometimes meeting your gaze directly as fabric falls away. “Come now, I don’t mind if you look,” he later calls over one pale shoulder, voice lilting with amusement, water lapping at his waist. “The sparrows are less shy than you.”

Tonight, the hunger has become unbearable. You lie there a stone's throw away, each heartbeat a siren call, each breath a taunt. The others sleep soundly, bellies full from a farmers' generous feast, while his remains hollow, aching. Empty. Have you ever smelled so good? You told a joke today and he laughed. He laughed. The way you rolled your eyes when he chuckled made his dead heart flutter. Gods, he was delusional from hunger. Positively weak from it. He can't hunt with this curse. What good is his carefully cultivated mystique if he can barely stand without swaying?

May you all have an excellent week of smut and banter. May all your favorite fics be updated. May you stumble across five dollars.