scarletsugars

[scarletsugars]

PASS THE SALT, MR MILLER

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader - No Outbreak Rating: 18+ | W/C: 4.5k

Summary: Joel finds out the hard way that leaving a pretty girl with blue-balls isn’t the smartest.

Or, Joel fucks you in his garage.

Tags: christmas-y vibes, fucking on Joel’s car, implied age gap,unprotected p in v, grumpy!joel, lots of yearning, squirting, sexual games, brat taming, outdoor sex, creampie

A/N: merry christmas folks! tbh this is just a game of how many fics can I write that has to do with (a) joel's truck or (b) joel yearning. side note, looped Disease - Lady Gaga track on repeat while writing this oops

MASTERLIST | MAIN STORY

Holidays have never really been something you celebrated. Fuck it, your own birthday even. It just wasn’t a priority you considered worth fussing over. Admittedly, your lack of enthusiasm for these events was probably why you ended up avoiding them. You would do the most for the people you loved but never for yourself.

Take Halloween for example. Your friends from Columbia were begging you for a slutty girls' night out, but you’d opted to stay home to help chaperone your younger brother Oscar’s party. Even so far as to set everything up, you’d made sure Oscar had a shot at being the coolest damn guy in his school. Fret not, jobless big sis is there to help ya. 

Of course, it hadn’t gone unrewarded, to put it loosely. All that really happened was some broody hot middle-aged dad jerking off in front of your face. Nothing out of the ordinary.

You found yourself staring at the pale green piece of paper your younger brother, Oscar,  handed you when he came home from school that evening. Eyeing the morbidly cliche design that screamed of some bored old receptionists' handiwork, you tilt it to get a better read.

Oak Ridge High School Annual Christmas Potluck.

Great. Another one. You were often the stand-in for his PTA Meetings in place of your ever so busy parents. While you had your fun with the free buffets and whatnot, you were getting tired of people asking how old you were when you “had” Oscar. 

*Calling all Parent Volunteers. Please Contact Joel Miller at +1 (512) 555 XXX for details. 

Now that got your attention.

Joel Miller. The man who, after that night, weaseled his way into your glorious collection of mental spank bank. Evident in the plethora of stolen nudie mags your mom stashed underneath her mattress—you’d gone as far to dog-ear pages of men who had the slightest resemblance to him. 

You couldn’t get him out of your mind. By him, his dick. All eight fuckin’ inches of pent-up old man dick. 

The desperation in the way he thumbed his slit, coaxing his milky cum into your waiting mouth in your bedroom flashed in your mind like post-traumatic-sex-disorder. You were robbed of a good fuck.

The beeps of your dial-pad echoed embarrassingly loud while you dialled the number on the flyer before fully seeing the idiocy in this move. The line connects after a few rings. 

“Miller. Who’s callin’?”

A shudder runs down your spine. His voice hit you like a freight train, low and gravelly, cutting through the faint clatter of what sounded like construction work on the other end.

Fuck. Fuck fuck. Hang up. Hang–

“Hi.” You blurt out, forcing a higher register in your voice in a desperate attempt to disguise yourself. “I’d like to register. For the Christmas…thing.” There was a pause, followed by the clunk of something heavy and the sound of boots against a hard floor. 

“Right. You’re the parent of…?” 

You clutched your phone tighter when Joel’s voice rang clearer than ever, throat dry as you scrambled to speak. “Oscar.”

He repeats your last name when you offer it, slow and deliberate, like he was trying to place it–a flicker of recognition almost.

“Alright then,” he finally says, the faintest edge of suspicion still lingering.

 “Guess I’ll see ya there.”

—

Impulsiveness was something that fucked Joel over most times. 

Messing around with someone he’d consider uncomfortably closer to his daughter's age than his own settled within him like poison. 

It’d been two whole months since the incident at halloween and he was still hung up over you. He was certain that a pretty girl like you had far better prospects than a washed up crotchety shit like him. 

You plagued his mind every time his fist wrapped around his cock. Every time he’d tried to fuck the stress of working long hours of grunt work at the site. Your soft and sweet expression offered him instantaneous, sticky reprieve. 

Guilt, or something he should’ve been feeling over using your face as masturbation material didn’t quite blare the alarms in his head through post-nut clarities. 

He knew he had fucked up the second he had you on your knees that night. 

You parked your sedan in front of a navy chevrolet in the driveway. Hopping out of the car as you looked up at the quaint home, clean white siding, neatly trimmed lawn. 

You figured by the bustling noise from the backyard that a volunteer offered up their home and all. Generous, you thought. And then you catch it. The worn down navy mailbox that sprawled the letters–

M I L L E R

The swirl that was now your mind dragged painful throbs in your head. To be in his own backyard felt stalker-ish even for you. 

With a weary exhale, you click open the boot of your car. Worrying had to come later, you had to formulate a game plan for the boxes of fairy lights you somehow had to haul into Joel’s backyard.

With a heaving effort, you propped up two boxes into your arms when the shuffle of footsteps catches your attention, coming from beside the opening garage. 

“Hey! Sorry, could use a little help...” You call out instinctively. 

Only managing to catch a glimpse of a hand bracing against the rickety garage door to shove it all the way up with a loud metallic clang. 

The sound startles you, but not as much as the sight when one of the boxes lifts from your hold, revealing your apparent savior.

The both of you pause, staring at each other in slight shock. Well–for him at least. You had ulterior motives that came delivered to you all wrapped up in worn-out denim.

Joel’s expression was less than welcoming, which in his defense—he wasn’t quite expecting to see his ghost in his own yard. 

“What are you doin’ here?”

The curtness of his voice throws you, but it’s too late to think of turning tail and driving off.

“I’m…one of the volunteers.”

“Sweetheart,” Joel begins, lifting the last box out of your arms like they weighed nothing. “You signin’ up under your mama’s name just to come sniffin’ round’ me? That it?”

“What? No. She couldn’t make it,” you shoot back, a little too quick, a little too defensive. Joel wasn’t buying it, his unimpressed stare making you shift on your feet.

“Uh-huh,” he mutters, already stepping over to your car. With a grunt, he hefted another box from your trunk, the effort drawing a low sound from his chest. 

The bitterness (and arousal) pools in your mouth at the noise he makes. 

Yes. You’d admit. You sniffed out Joel’s trail like some stray, chasing after the smallest crumb of him. It wasn’t irrational for you to think that you deserved some sort of closure. 

His voice cuts clean through your spiraling thoughts. “If you’re expectin’ somethin’, you best stop right there. I ain’t messin’ around.” You grimaced, fumbling for words. 

“I’m just here to help—” 

“S’enough outta you. Stay out of trouble.” He interrupts, not quite looking at you. 

Joel wills himself to flick his gaze anywhere but at you, one look at your face was enough to remind him of the fact, one look was probably enough to pop a damn boner. He sets the boxes down by the patio, knees cracking as he stretches back up with a grunt.

“Get someone to hang ‘em up. ‘Cause clearly,” he says, eyeing your sweater and skirt, “you ain’t dressed to actually help.”

He gives you a short, dismissive nod before turning away, leaving you standing there. Warmth pools your cheeks, feeling foolish to have gone this far for the attention of a man who made it clear that he didn’t seem to give a fuck whether you were here or not.

—

Joel spends the better half of the afternoon hovering around you. 

Approaching you normally was out of the question now that Sarah and the other kids began to flitter into his backyard to help with preparation. His daughter’s presence acted like a highly effective cock-block. Not that he had any business entertaining those kinds of thoughts in the first place.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

Risky didn’t begin to describe it, so he kept his distance. That resolve went straight out the window when he spotted you, half-balanced on a ladder, hanging Christmas lights along the edge of his roof. With candy cane printed panties peeking out from under your skirt—god almighty, Joel nearly doubled over.

You could feel Joel's eyes on you while attempting to hang the lights over the siding. Purposefully going against what he said, purposefully giving everyone a goddamn show. 

"You ever learn how to listen?" 

“I can do it myself.” You shot back. Coyly soothing the back of your skirt. A proper fuck you to him at his insinuation that you’d been here just to man-trap him. Not that the notion did much. 

You felt the ladder steady with Joel’s hold. Effectively blocking everyone else from seeing what you were flaunting. 

"For the love of christ, darlin’, get down." 

“For the love of christ, I’m almost fuckin’ done.” You parroted his words back to him with an annoyed huff. It was hard not to let Joel infiltrate your mind but lack of his attention was eating you up–making you do crazy things, evidently.

With a satisfied huff at the placements, you brought your arms down.

Why did that…feel heavy?

A sharp crackle and metallic clatter fills the air before you fully completed your thought, the chains of lights comes tumbling down. You froze. Lowering your gaze to see the single goddamn twine snagged onto your sweater that you’d effectively yanked down with you. 

The bulbs burst into chaotic pops as they hit the ground, shards of glass scattering like tiny fireworks across the patio, drawing everyone’s attention.

Joel doesn’t hesitate, his hands found your waist as he lifted you off the ladder and set you firmly on the ground to safety with a grunt, his eyes snaps to the shards of glass glinting in the light and the fresh scratches marring his freshly varnished patio.

"You gotta be shittin' me..." He mutters, the irritation sharp in his drawl.  

“Mr Miller…”

Joel held up his palm as a sign to get you to be quiet so he could speak. Damn if you calling him Mr Miller now of all times didn’t make him want to haul your ass up to his bedroom.

Which he might add, seemed conveniently close.

He closes his eyes for a few seconds, pinching the bridge of his nose. "D’you think before you do anythin’ at all? Or do you just act on impulse?" He asks in a sharp and biting tone, looking directly at you as he spoke.

You cock your brow at his words. Surely he wasn’t seriously reacting this way to a couple of broken lights. To mention, your lights.

“What? Think about being a decent person to help?”

"A decent person would've listened the first time when I told you to leave it the hell alone," he snapped, stepping closer. "A decent person wouldn’t have shot me attitude n’ thrown a damn temper tantrum when I told you to get down."  

“What are you getting so bent out of shape for?”

“For starters, you wrecked my patio, darlin’.” He grumbles. Rubbing the back of his neck in the slightest amount of awareness that he’d overreacted, though he’d rather chew rocks than admit it. 

You don’t answer him. Humiliated as is. Your pouty-ness showed in the way you stomped over to get the broom that lay in the corner. He watches you regardless, arms folded taut.

“Goddamned train-wreck.” He mutters under his breath after a long pause, not even giving you the chance to let an apology leave your lips before he turns his heel to leave.

—

You didn’t take it well when people spoke to you like you were stupid. 

An Ivy League degree hung the walls of your room for fucks sake. Who the hell did Joel think he was? As if that wasn’t humiliating enough, you’d tucked your tail between your legs to sweep it all up without a word. The embers that lay dormant were further fanned as time passed. You were pissed.

Joel, on the other hand, begins to feel guilt at the way he’d reacted. Even in the corner of his eyes, he sees you helping set up with the rest of the parents. It wasn’t the behaviour of some reckless nympho he imagined you to be when you stepped foot into his yard. 

You didn’t have to stand there to stand under the sun in the unforgiving Texas heat, refilling lemonade for the parent’s committee. Or entertain Sarah and the rest of the kids. You’d turned his backyard into a damned Christmas Wonderland by the end of the night.

You were a good girl, he figures after a long while of brooding.

And he tries. He tries to approach you to apologize but you didn’t seem to be having it. Going out of your way to swerve at the slightest sight of him near you. Which he gets.

You were over it, really. Chalked it up to his personality being generally the way it was. But what really helped you get over your humiliation? Seeing Joel Miller fucking grovel. 

Which you were acutely aware of with the way he lingered around you, waiting for an opening that you deprived of him.

—

The skies grew to a dusky violet, the backyard gently lit up with the soft twinkle of the fairy lights you’d painstakingly hung up (and re-hung). Lull of familiar Christmas classics playing by the speakers. 

The warmth of the chatter and laughter surrounding the table tugged at your edges, coaxing a reluctant smile to your lips. You weren’t ready to admit it, but the festive mood was infectious.

You sat near the end of the committee’s table, the seat next to you conspicuously empty. The kids–Oscar, Sarah, and their friends were huddled at their own table. You briefly wondered if you should join them instead, given that the current hot topic at your table being mortgage rates.

The thud of a melamine crystal glass landing next to your plate broke your train of thought. You flick your gaze up, your expression hardening the moment you caught sight of Joel dragging the empty chair over next to you and lowering himself into it with a creak.

Without a word, he slides the glass closer to you, taking a sip from his own. His movements were deliberate, careful, like a man trying not to step on a landmine.

Joel wasn’t quite well-versed in apologies, as evident by Sarah’s constant reminders that one of these days he was going to piss a woman he actually fancied. His hand stretches over your lap, unfurling the napkin on the other side of you to drape it over your thighs. 

“Could you pass over the salt, sweetheart?” 

You tilt your head, arching a brow, not moving a muscle. Instead, you shot him a pointed look.

With a heavy sigh and a muttered curse under his breath, Joel stands up, his knees popping audibly as he leaned across the table to grab the salt himself. He slumps back into his chair, setting it down with a huff. How could a little thing like you hold so much anger?

“Done torturin’ me yet?” 

A scoff leaves your lips. 

“Who said I was?” 

“I’m tryin’ to apologise, sweetheart.” You shudder at the manner he whispers the words out. As though it was a secret reserved for just you and him. 

You rest your cheeks on your palms, shooting him an uninterested look. Joel’s eyes darts down to your plate that you were pushing to him. He doesn’t hesitate, reaching over and starts loading your plate up again with generous portions of the dishes spread across the table. The sight of him doing so, quiet and almost reverent, made your chest sing.

Oh this. This you could get used to.

For the next twenty minutes, you’d milked Joel’s newfound contrition for all it was worth. Needed a refill? Joel was already reaching for your glass. Running low on napkins? He was up and grabbing a fresh one before you even asked. You’d even braced yourself for him to snap when you made a fuss over your creaky chair, but to your delight, he stood up and swapped it out without so much as a grumble.

Unfortunately for you, your luck does runs out.

The flutter of your napkin onto the makeshift mat spread across the lawn catches his attention, his eyes darting to the rogue square of fabric before slowly flicking back up to meet your gaze. You leaned back in your chair, looking at him expectantly, lips quirking just enough to toe the line between innocent and insufferable.

Joel’s jaw twitches.

“Fuckin’ pick it up on your own, sweetheart.” his voice was laced with just enough irritation to make your smirk widen. Still, you couldn’t resist one last little prod.

Your legs shifted, one crossing over the other, the toe of your shoe brushing lightly against the denim of his jeans. His eyes darted down to the motion before snapping back up, a muscle in his jaw tightening.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to apologise?” 

Joel shifts in his chair, arms crossing over his broad chest as he gave you a look that sent a shiver down your spine. “Think I settled my debts, crackles.”

You roll your eyes at his taunt, the warning laced in it only served to burn in your gut like uncontrollable lust. You felt yourself grow bored now that he’d ruthlessly cut you off from your only source of entertainment. 

The thrill begins to wane, you’d grown impatient at Joel’s lack of well, giving in. Though the idea, a possibly stupid one, that you might’ve needed to give him a little push crosses your mind. 

With a deliberate stretch, you rose from your seat, leaning over the table to reach for the salt shaker resting comfortably on Joel’s side with a hand placed on his thigh. It was perfectly positioned for him to hand it over to you–if you’d bothered to ask. But that wasn’t the point.

For a moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t speak. His jaw clenched so tight you could see the faint tick of his pulse. Slowly, you eased back into your seat, dragging your fingers in a slow deliberate curve as you went.

The sharp grip of his hand on your wrist came next, firm enough to make you gasp. Joel’s dark eyes locked on yours, his nostrils flaring as he tried to keep whatever storm was brewing behind them at bay.

You pressed your tongue against your cheek, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. He’d taken the bait all right. The unmistakable rise against where your hand was placed told you what you needed to know. Hook, line, and sinker.

It doesn’t quite matter to him whether you’d forgiven him anymore. 

With a sharp tug, Joel pulls you up with him. “S’cuse me. This one isn’t feeling too well.” 

The protest dies in your throat when Joel practically hauls you across his yard, away from the nosy glances from the rest of the parents. 

You frown at the dusty old garage he leads you to up front where you’d parked your car. A hand comes up the back of your head to force you to duck underneath the half opened door, cringing at the loud sound it draws. 

You tip your head up to watch Joel grab the edge of the half-opened garage door to full slam it down shut.

Fuck. You felt your cunt clench with the way his sleeves tightened around his forearms, wetting your lips subconsciously at the sight.

“This where you murder me, Mr Miller?”

His jaw ticks at that. There it was again. Mr Miller.

“Shut up.”

You mouthed the words wow as you looked to the side. As though there was a camera you were monologuing to. Joel approaches you tentatively. Backing you up until you feel sturdy metal stop your path. 

A firm slam against the hood you were backed up against causes you to jolt. 

“You’re fuckin’ with me.” He begins. Shifting closer until he had you snug against him and the truck. “You’ve been fuckin’ with me.”

You tilt your head up. Neck stretched uncomfortably to its limit. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Joel sighs. Looking towards the side, as though he might back off and run away again. 

“This ain’t right.”

You frown. Why was he getting cold feet now? You gaze darts to the side, following his line of vision. A frilly pink bicycle parked in the midst of the dusty old boxes stacked up against concrete walls. Some labelled with years of mementos of his daughter growing up. 

Joel groans when he feels a much smaller, soft hand cup against the growing strain on his jeans. “Judging by this, I think you’re full of shit.”

His restraint teeters on the edge. “Don’t.” He grasps around your wrists to stop you, though, he half asses it, barely with the amount of strength he could’ve used if he’d really wanted you to stop.  

You palm against his erection, feeling it quickly harden beneath. You suck in your breath at the way his brows furrowed in concentration, the slight twitch of his lips. A whimper leaves your lips at how receptive he’d been to your touch. 

“You’re trouble.” He manages. Finally meeting your gaze. You can tell he’s conflicted, but the way you cupped around his balls through the denim has him keeling over with a rough exhale. 

He finally gathers enough strength in him to force your hand away from his cock. Just as you were about to whine about it, he flips you over. You steady your palms against the hood of his truck. 

“Gotta be quiet. You understand me?” You nod quickly. Not daring to speak considering how his voice already echoed in the garage even at its softest.

Your elbows move to rest against the dirtied metal. Folding it so you could comfortably rest your head on it. 

Joel lets out a low whistle at the way you bend your hips. Hiking your skirt up slowly. “Fuckin’ hell sweetheart.” He mutters. Thumb swiping against the growing dampness of your panties. 

A dull noise from his zipper is the only other thing you hear when you feel him grind his clothed cock against you. 

“Mr Miller—please.” You breathed out. Your thighs tenses, wiggling your hips higher to relieve the ache you felt. Feeling his hardness prod against your folds. 

Joel sighs softly, thumbing against your clit before you curl into yourself. “Don’t need it.” You breathe out quickly. There’s a pause in his movements before you feel a thumb hook around the waistband of your panties. Dragging it down to your ankles. 

The sound Joel makes at the sight of your slick stringing down the gusset of it makes him wince out audibly. Two fingers gather the slick of your folds, messily dragging it up and down your clit in a repeated notion. His fingers dipping in and out of you with a squelch. You groan out. Hips stuttering at the sensation. 

“Hurry.” You urged.

You feel his other palm carefully twirl around the back of your hair. The breath knocks out of you when he heaves you backwards into his chest with a sharp tug. Fingertips entwined with your locks.

“Been patient with ya all fuckin’ day and ya think you got the right t’rush me now?”

Tears threaten to prick in the corners of your eyes at his tone. You grip around his wrist where he holds your hair. “…hurts” , you whisper, guiding his other hand back to your clit, “..here.”

Joel swallows thickly. He clenched his jaw so damn tight you audibly heard just how hard he ground them. How could he deprive you further when you were begging so sweetly? 

He shucks his jeans down further, guiding his twitching cock out from his boxers. A drawn out groan leaves your lips when he nudges the head of his cock against your soaking pussy. Your moan echoes loudly into the space around you both. 

He growls into your ears. Before you could apologise, your voice gets muffled around the heavy palm that comes to cover your mouth. You whine against it. “Told t’be fuckin’ quiet.” He grits, voice hushed against the side of your head. 

Your eyes nearly roll back at the way he begins to thrust into you with the tip in an effort to get you used to his size. But it didn’t matter. The way his cockhead stretched your pussy out stung. But it was quickly replaced by the nauseating need to be fucked full. 

Joel leans down to trace kisses up your neck before he fully sheathes himself into you. The muffle around your mouth grows tighter to suppress the loud moan. “Shh shh…you’ve got it.” He praises, breathing heavily into your ears. 

The tears trickle directly over his knuckles. He releases the grip he had on your hair, looping around your abdomen. Snapping his hips into you at a punishing pace. You babble incoherently, practically slobbering into his palms, whining about how deep his cock was pounding into you. 

The obscene slaps of where the two of you connected fills the garage, only spurring his need to fill you deep with his come. 

Joel lets out a groan when you clench around his dick like vice. “Fuck. Pussy’s chokin’ me.” His head drops to the dip of your neck. Pressing kisses onto your pulse point. 

“Don’t think I can last much longer.” He admits, dragging his hand–slick with your saliva down to your throat. His head flush against your shoulder blade. He takes a moment to breathe you in. Joel isn’t quite the man he used to be and coming this embarrassingly fast wasn’t on his docket. Least of all tonight. 

You squirm a little at the sensation of Joel’s stubble against your shoulder. A deep exhale leaving your lips. 

“M…me too..” You pant out heavily. Resting your head back against his chest. Joel’s free hand slides underneath your sweater, yanking your bra down. 

A rough palm kneads the softness, tweaking your hardened nipples in a circular motion. “Shit. Mr—…Miller.” You manage. Squirming at how his palm gropes your tits clumsily. You give yourself the final push you needed, your fingers coming down to rub against your clit. 

Joel’s hips stutter at the sensation of your pussy convulsing around his cock, following your orgasm soon after. But he doesn’t stop. He fucks you through it. Both his hands firm around your hips. 

Your hands hastily come up to grab around his wrists. “Wait—stop—…stop.” You gasp out. Joel doesn’t quite register your pleas with how his mind was whirring around wanting to fuck his come deep into you until he feels a warm splatter of your release trickle down his thighs. 

Your bated breaths fill the garage. Mortified, you watch the liquid drip from the radiator grill of Joel’s truck. 

“I’ll be damned.” He muses, earning a warning look from you. Joel shakes his head, a low rumble from his chest makes you feel a little less embarrassed about squirting onto his truck. He turns you around to press a kiss onto the apple of your cheeks. 

“Been meanin’ to get er’ washed. Guess I don’t gotta anymore.”

[scarletsugars]

Pump - A Javier Peña One Shot

Summary: A man starts coming into the gym where you work, and you find you can't keep your eyes off him when he starts to pump...

Pairing: Javier Peña x GN!Reader (No name, defined sex or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 2.6k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️ “Don't hurt me, cadejo."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/Triggers: PWP/Javi wearing the tiniest satin shorts ever made/cock outline/possible peek of a ball/very pervy thoughts over a very sweaty Javi 🥵

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: I saw this amazing fanart today of Javi, and the thots just thotted the fuck out of me... 🫠

MAIN MASTERLIST | JAVIER PEÑA MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

His visits are the fucking highlight of your day.

You find yourself searching for him as you meander through the gym with an added bounce in your step, stack of laundered towels in hand as you drop them around the equipment like newspapers tossed on garden lawns.

Rows of clunky weightlifting machines stand proudly, their chrome frames gleaming under the dim fluorescent lights.

Tattered, vinyl-covered benches line the perimeter of the room, each one bearing the marks of countless hours of use by sweaty bodies and muscled lunkheads striving for physical perfection.

The sound of heavy metal plates clinking together fills the air as the group of agents, from the local DEA office across the steamed pavement street, load up barbells and dumbbells, their focused expressions a melee of pinched, taut brows and refined muscles.

Despite the seriousness of their profession, the moderately sized gym is a tatty haven where they can unwind and bond over their shared passion for catching dangerous narcos and pumping iron in machismo camaraderie.

The walls in Manny’s Gym are adorned with curled edge motivational posters featuring slogans like No Pain, No Gain and Train Hard, Fight Easy, with iconic muscle men of the current era plastered over them like Arnold Schwarzenegger, Franco Columbu, and Lou Ferrigno, serving as constant reminders of the grit and determination required to succeed in both the gym and the field.

The air is always thick with the unmistakable scent of musky sweat, mingling with the earthy aroma of old leather from well-worn punch bags that hang from the ceiling like dangling scrotums swaying in a pendulous rhythm.

Steamy showers and weak powdery deodorant permeates. It’s a heady concoction that hints at the countless hours of exertion and dedication that's saturated the space.

A scent that you’re all too familiar with and breathe in like starved oxygen.

The wooden floor creaks beneath your sneakers as you make your way further into the gym, the sound echoing off the walls.

As you approach the rows of clunky weightlifting machines, the tangy scent of metal fills your nostrils, accompanied by the faint whiff of oil used to lubricate the gears.

Despite his gruff exterior, Manny himself hosts a warm and welcoming demeanour to the regular gym goers, always ready with a word of encouragement, or a pat on the back for those who train under his roof.

He takes great pride in the sense of community that’s flourished within the gym, fostering a supportive environment where the local Bogotá law and DEA alike choose to pump here.

It’s not exclusive, your regular Joe Sixpack will frequent on occasion, but the familiar faces make it far more easy on the eye as you bask in the array of sweaty limbs on the daily.

They give you wolf-whistles and jeers as you shimmy on by handing out towels and sweat bands with a beaming, enticing smile.

But you don’t pay them no mind when they flirt back and grin with glistening rows of hungry teeth like you’re ripe for the plucking. A juicy peach bobbing in a swamp full of toothless alligators. They're physically respectful despite their obvious leers.

Most of them aren't really your type anyway. Stiff, upper pale bodies with honeyed hair falling in waves; the Americans are all the same Mattel crafted hard plastic.

Whereas you prefer something more dark and velvety rich like Colombian coffee that goes down easy and smooth and leaves a heady aftertaste on your lips.

There's one man in particular you'd like to drink down, whom you’ve noticed coming in a few times in recent weeks.

It’s hard to forget him with those tiny, satin shorts he wears in a stark canary yellow, and riding dangerously high up his lean, caramel thighs.

A neatly trimmed moustache adorns his upper lip, thick and fluffy, adding a touch of rugged charm to his otherwise clean-cut appearance. His standard issue DEA gym t-shirt seems a little on the small side, hugging around his golden biceps and riding skintight across the broadest set of shoulders you’ve ever seen on a man his size; a complete opposing parallel to the trimness of his waist. He’s like an inverted triangle.

A break in the tight denim jeans that wrap around his legs when you’ve spied him leaving the gym, freshly clean and dressed after a hard workout, and heading back into the office.

Package stuffed tight up in there, poor thing; the brilliant tightness restricting and choking around that hefty bulge all day.

It rides up a little over his tiny belly; a galaxy of dark hairs trailing down into his shorts that makes you lick your lips every time your eyes fall onto that hairy column.

His dark brown hair, slicked back slightly and curling on the nape, glistens with sweat, adding to his aura of intensity and focus. He exudes an effortless confidence as he moves from one exercise to the next.

The Latino-looking man focuses on a combination of strength training and cardio, showcasing his versatility and athleticism needed for the job he does.

And you find yourself enthralled in his routine, interrupting yours as you covertly watch him from behind the small desk trying not to flood it with your drool.

He usually starts with a set of heavy deadlifts; the sound of his puffs hissing through his teeth and reverberating through the gym as he lifts with perfect form.

Next, he moves on to explosive plyometric jumps. Clad in those tiny, satin shorts that hug his muscular thighs, his powerful legs propel him effortlessly into the air before landing with precision. You can’t help but watch as the muscles and cords in his thighs ripple with each slam of his soles on the floor.

Throughout his workout, he maintains a steely determination and laser-like focus with punishing chocolate eyes, pushing himself to the limit with each repetition; sweat glistening around his brow and temples and falling in tracks.

Despite the intensity of his workouts, there’s a relaxed confidence in his demeanour, reflected in the easy, fluid movements of his svelte body as he moves through the reps.

You watch his back move and shift, broad shoulder blades folding in and out as they flex under the snug fit of his fading t-shirt. His posture is upright and nonplussed, conveying a sense of self-assurance.

Standing at an average height, his frame is lean, yet powerful, and you can’t help but let your thoughts drift into murky territories as your eyes wander all over him and drink him up like a quenching soda on a sweltering day.

You know very little about him, only hearing his name muttered by the other agents as he addresses them pre-work, out or when they stop mid-way through to discuss, what you can only assume, is the cases they’re working on.

The dusty jukebox in the corner playing the current Billy Idol hit drowns them out somewhat at this distance.

He speaks with a soft, deep cadence; a gravelled grizzle wrapped around his pert lips, which is almost muted and out of full earshot.

But they call him Peña, or Javi as they sometimes greet him through lazy Spanish chit-chat.

He called you cariño once as he passed, mouthing a good morning to you with little effort.

But the one thing that's unmistakably loud and clear, is the grunting that pelts out of him.

Particularly when he does bench presses, or those barbell squats with the large weight resting on his shoulders. A deep, guttural grunt ruts out of him that sets your skin alight and makes your genitals want to break out the pompoms and start cheering his name doing high kicks.

They flow unabashed out of him as he pants and hisses. And you like it when he does those squats the most, watching as he parts his feet steady, and slowly lowers his pert ass down towards the floor, rendering those tiny shorts to almost disappear entirely into the rounded crack of his cheeks.

Fuck...

Javi focuses on his reflection in the mirror, lips curled back under that buoyant dark fluff lining his top lip, and teeth clenched in a snarl as he breathes out and grunts loudly with every push upwards from those strong thighs that tense and quiver.

As you observe him from across the gym, you can't ignore the undeniable attraction you feel towards him as it licks up your spine; it makes you clench and sweat just watching him and the fantastic sex-like faces he makes in the mirror.

His sculpted physique and rugged good looks are certainly appealing, but your eyes betray you and head further south at the constant movement inside his flimsy shorts.

Gaudy in their brightness, you see past them at the way they flout their thinness like they’re almost fucking see-through. You like the tease of how low they sit on his svelte hips. A simple tug and they’ll be round his ankles with ease.

You can make out the perfect outline of his heavy, flaccid cock hanging between his legs. Curves and ridges imprinted against the material like muscle memory. Flopping about so uncouthly as he moves like it’s battering you in the face.

Jesus fucking Christ.

With your task temporarily forgotten and brain slowly sluicing out of your ears, the sight of his cock outlining around the thin satin draws you in further. A third arm beckoning you in. Punching against the material with every movement from his hips as though you're mesmerised and drunk on the wildly pornographic view.

You’re pretty certain he’s not wearing any underwear, which is only confirmed by a fuzzy, pink sack peeping out at you some time later when he works on the bench, and draws his leg up.

You just want to push him back on the bench, naked from the waist down except for his faded white sneakers on, ribbed thick socks pulled up to his shins, and spread his legs wide.

You swallow dryly as you stare at it, and wonder instantly what it would taste like as you imagine running your mouth around its swell.

Tasting damp, matted pubic hairs sticking to your tongue, with a salted sweat and mixture of his own masculine musk on your tastebuds, and the more you ponder it, the more it makes your mouth water.

You want to slide your inquisitive tongue all over those sweaty, heavy balls of his and watch his cock throb and pulse before taking it deep into your throat.

A tight clench and a hiss. A pucker of a fluttering hole as you tease it with your tongue. Lips and hips bruised in unison.

Googly frog eyes stare out at him in wonder. A noise at the back of your throat registers, something inhuman between a gulp and a hiccup as he rises up again off the bench.

Humming and sighing audibly as he presents that ass out at you, shorts flapping around his cock lewdly in the mirror’s reflection as he squats again.

As you observe him from across the gym, you feel the pull of heavy want flooding your body in a stifling and suffocating heat. It makes your toes tingle and your heart thrum a bit harder. White noise steams inside your ears.

The dull, aching throb between your own legs makes you shift uncomfortably in the chair as you gulp and swallow at the spectacle.

With each lift of the weights and every drop of sweat that glistens on his brow and moustache, you find your mind sinking further into a perverted swamp of lust and unbridled thoughts running amok over your amygdala.

In your mind, Javi’s pushing you up against the mirror, face crushed against it, trailing bites down on the back of your slick neck like a dog in heat. Your breath fogging against the reflective sheet as he pins your wrists to it with his hands, leaving misty fingerprint smears on the polished glass.

You can taste the sweat on his top lip, fuzzy and damp, and it's damn delicious as he pushes his crotch into your ass. Hard and thick under those flimsy, lacquer-like shorts, leaking a patch of pre-cum soaking into them that blooms and darkens the silk.

His hands let go of your wrists and work their way down your arms, tickling gently and sending prickles to bubble and blister against your burning skin. He skims over your belly and hovers above your waistband; his hot breath inside your ears in gaspy, mouthed moans as he breathes out.

He whispers how much he wants you, how much he wants everyone to watch him fuck you up agasint this mirror, before he slips his nimble, thick fingers down inside the front of your shorts, grinding and rubbing himself against you.

He’s pulling down his satin shorts to let his hard, thick cock bounce out at you, pumping its uncut, rosy head inside his giant hand. Weeping and sticky, it shines at you as his fingers and thumb smear in the secretions, and you watch as he licks his fingers free of his own greased drippings.

You lick your lips ready for a taste as he guides the bulbous head towards your mouth as you sink, thudding to your knees. Feel him weighty and warm in your palm, squeezing just under the head and sliding the skin back to reveal that succulent bulb as you lick the tip and taste glassy bubbles flowing from him before swallowing him down deep.

Suck it, cariño, yeah like that… Tómalo todo. Trágatelo profundo. Si… aah, si. Fuck... (Take it all. Swallow it deep. Yes, aah yes.)

Lost in your thoughts, you barely notice when Javi actually glances in your direction; his dark eyes meeting yours briefly with a knitted brow and pink pout, before returning to his workout.

The brief exchange sends a thrill of wanton excitement coursing through your veins, igniting a spark of curiosity and anticipation that you can't ignore as it pulls tight between your legs and makes you pulse.

As the DEA agent finishes his workout and begins to gather his belongings - he carries a modest blue duffle bag, although never takes anything out of it's fullness - you can't help but feel a pang of disappointment at the thought of him leaving you so riled up for another day.

He grabs his worn water bottle and squeezes a stream of water into his mouth, swallowing deep and plentiful mouthfuls of the jet, and wipes at his lips with the back of his hand when some of it trickles down his smoothly shaved chin.

You watch him pick up the towel you’d laid out, wipe his face off and that onyx-like stare is in your direction again. Two pools of dark tar sucking you in.

A wet, slithery thought creeping in between your ears makes a mental note to take that towel when he's done and defile the fuck out of it.

He finds something in your eyes, perhaps something that excites him, or repulses him. You’re not sure. You’re yet to embark on any formal conversation beyond a simple greeting out of politeness.

As Javi makes his way towards you, passing the desk towards the showers, you're convinced you see a small smirk prick at the corners of his lips.

Another wanton thought bolts its way into the filthy pit of your mind. You see yourself rising up on the balls of your feet in the shower block and presenting your behind out to him and he bends you over further to touch your toes.

You feel his grip around your waist as he slides in and packs you out, stretching you around him. Knees buckling and being drowned by the spray from above as he fucks you hard against the cool, mildewed tiles in the shower block.

You feel like your spine will crack with the pressure, but you don’t care as he pulls you back, hammering up into you. Fingers grazing around your throat, teeth biting into the ball of your wet shoulder.

So fucking tight, just like I love it, baby...

You're gasping his name as your orgasm rips through you and he spills himself inside of your hole with Spanish expletives howling in your ear.

His thick, plentiful come seeps out of you; leaking, pouring. So much pumped into you as he grunts into your ear - shuddering with a high-octane thrill as his moustache tickles against your skin.

You’ll think about this again - about him - when you're at home later; that towel shoved between your legs and soaked with your own leakings.

You catch the hazy scent of Javi as he passes by the desk, subtly inhaling the stench of his sweat; an intoxicating, potent blend of musk and masculinity that leaves you feeling breathless.

A primal aroma that grabs you by the lapels to shake the cock-addled stupid out of you as you catch a glimpse of that package swaying and bobbing around in his tiny flaxen shorts to torment you further.

And once more you swallow around a constricted gulp as he meets your wandering gaze.

“Hasta la próxima vez, cariño.” (See you next time, honey.) He simply husks, as he tosses his duffle bag over his shoulder and struts towards the showers.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed this sweaty story. Please consider re-blogging so others can enjoy it too. Thankies! 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | JAVIER PEÑA MASTERLIST

[scarletsugars]

✨Run Rabbit✨

A/N: This idea literally came out of nowhere today, so I had to hurry and write it real quick! This idea is based off the song “Run, Rabbit Run!” by Flanagan and Allen. The song would not leave my head, and then I got this image of Joel chasing reader through an abandoned mansion. This one is a tad bit dark, but I hope you enjoy! If you liked this work, please think of reblogging and leaving me comments 🩷 Thank you to @ozarkthedog for being my beta 🥰

Summary: At the beginning of every month, you meet Joel to play a little game of hide and seek at the abandoned mansion near Jackson. It’s not just any game of hide and seek though. It’s dark and it’s twisted. If he catches you, he gets to do whatever he wants with you.

Pairing: Dom! Joel x fem! reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY MDNI)

Word Count: 4.1k

Tags: Possessive Joel, hide and seek, cat and mouse, Joel chases reader until he finds her, Jackson! Joel, outbreak! Joel, smut, fingering, oral, unprotected p in v, cream pie, dirty talk

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The air is suffocating, the black walls are covered in regret and years of cigarette stench. The dim lights seem to shine down on you like a spotlight as you run as fast as you can through the lavish house. You can hear him calling you, stalking you in the dark shadows like a starving dog hunting to devour fresh meat. 

   “Can’t run from me forever, darlin’. You keep on runnin’, but I’ll eventually find you,” he chuckles as his deep voice reverberates around the echoing halls. 

   You cover your mouth, keeping your body down as you run run run past the expensive statues and monumental paintings of the abandoned mansion. Your throat is on fire the longer you run, your body aching like that of a dying man on his last breath of life. Your legs feel like they’ll give way at any second, but you have to keep going. You can’t give up. Not yet. Not when he’s right on your tail. 

   Tired. You’re so very tired, yet you keep running. Dragging your hollow body down the vine covered corridors of the wide hallways as you gasp for fresh air in your watered down lungs. 

   You fly around a narrow corridor and nearly trip yourself on a bed of dark green vines that bite at your ankles, threatening to take you down as Joel draws closer to you. 

   You can feel his overbearing presence, can taste the whiskey that bleeds inside his thick veins, can feel his large body already crowding yours as if he’s already caught you. He hasn’t caught you yet, but you know he will. He always catches you. 

   This was all a game. A dark, twisted game that started on a cold night in December. You remember the first time he chased you, the first time he tore through all your clothes the minute he captured you and devoured your entirety on that pitch black night. Now, every first Saturday of each month you’d meet him back at this abandoned mansion to play his little game. He called it hide and seek, you called it a deadly game of cat and mouse because you were the mouse, and cats always caught their prey. 

   It’s like you two are stuck in a never ending dance, two souls completely consumed in the other as you spin in circles until one of you collapses. You shouldn’t keep coming back, shouldn’t want to play his dark little games, but yet you come. Every single time, you come, unable to face the reality of a month without his touch, his taste, his growls. You’d let the man do as he wanted because how could you resist those charming, big brown eyes? You couldn’t, you just couldn’t. You were a moth drawn to a flame, and he was the brightest, most dangerous flame of all. Something you wanted to forever be branded by.

   Joel Miller was a fucking menace of society, but he was your menace. So you’d continue the game until one of you stopped breathing. 

   “Where are you, little lamb?” he calls as your breath scorches the vine covered walls. You continue running, twisting around dark corners, running down stone steps, and hiding behind crimson curtains. 

   The next wooden door you come upon is locked tight. No amount of shaking the golden handle or hurling your body into the door will make it budge. You turn your head from side to side. The only way out is from the way you came. The hallway that he is in. Fuck. 

   You gulp down a silent breath and make a run for it, even though you know he’ll be there waiting like a prowling wolf. 

   You take careful steps down the marble hallway and sneak around the cold corner until you see his dark silhouette shining against the reflective flooring. You gasp as your eyes go wide, but before you can run he reaches out a long arm and clasps tightly to your wrist. 

   “There ya are, little lamb. Thought you’d get away from me this time?” he smirks as he wraps his calloused fingers tightly around you and tries to pull you in. 

   “Haven’t caught me just yet,” you laugh as you somehow manage to slip out of his grip and make a run for it. 

   You run down some slippery stone steps and end up at the back of the mansion with vine covered long corridors and twisting mazes of green bushes. You run as fast as you can as the wind sweeps through your long hair, letting the brisk wind set your adrenaline on fire. 

   You manage one glance back and see just how fast he’s creeping up on you. He’s like a lion running after a gazelle, the hunter about to attack the prey with its bare claws. And he will destroy his prey. 

   You take a few more steps, but then you feel a hand claw at your shoulder. He takes you down on the hard floor as you come crashing down to the pit of your doom. Pain radiates through your body, but you brush it off as you crawl forward, trying to escape the man that will take you as his own. 

   “Where do ya think you’re goin’, pretty thing?” he asks darkly as he wraps a hand around your ankle and tugs you in his direction. You hear a squeak escape your mouth like a trapped mouse that just got caught by a giant cat. 

   “I’m running away from you,” you answer back as you kick and try to squirm out of his reach. 

   He obviously has other plans because he drags you back underneath him and turns you flat on your back as he pins your hands above your head, his hips and large thighs caging you in so you can’t break free. He won this round, like he always did. 

   “Didn’t think I’d catch you so soon, little lamb,” he chuckles deeply as the weight of his body hangs over yours entirely. 

   “You just caught me off guard,” you sigh as you see his dark chocolate eyes honing in on yours. They’re so captivating, so damn pretty that you can’t look away. He’s so gorgeous even when you should find him intimidating. 

   “Now you’re mine,” he smirks as his chocolate eyes become darker, more blown out as he hovers his plush lips over yours. “Just what am I gonna do to you tonight, hmm?” he asks as lust fills the void of his dark eyes, making you squirm with anticipation already. You know what you want. You want him. 

   “Maybe I should be a little rough with you, hmm? That what you want?” he asks with the tick of his sculpted jaw, his thick eyebrow raising as he looks at you like he just won the most valuable prize in town. 

   You shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t be feeding his sick mind as he plays his dark games, but you can’t help it. You want it just as bad as he does. You want him to be rough with you. 

   You look at him with wide eyes and smirk right back at him, challenging his dominant side to give in. “So be rough with me,” you whisper back. 

   You see his dark eyes grow large with need as he huffs out through his nostrils. “Open,” he demands as he grabs a hold of your jaw and squeezes, just enough for your lips to part open slightly. He bends his head down and inhales deeply as he spits into your mouth as you feel the warm spit cover your tongue. 

   “Swallow,” he growls as you fully oblige. You close your mouth and swallow as you taste his spit slide down your throat. All hot and moist as you taste him in the back of your throat. And somehow you think it’s so goddamn hot. 

   “Good girl,” he praises as he shifts his weight down and starts unbuttoning your faded denim jeans. 

   “Now, you’re gonna be a good girl for me, right?” he asks as he starts to drag the denim down your legs, feeling a wave of slick slide down your lace panties as your adrenaline kicks in. 

   “Mhm,” you nod as you watch him strip your legs bare, next going to tear off your sticky pink t-shirt while he hovers over the fine lace of your bra, his calloused fingers circling your back as he slowly undoes the clasps. 

   “Gonna let me taste every inch of you, little lamb? Gonna let me fuck you till you can’t take anymore?” he asks as he undoes the last clap and slowly starts to slide the bra free, leaving your full breasts exposed to the chilly night air. The only thing left is your slick covered panties, and then you'll be completely bare. 

   “Yes,” you breathe as he cups your breasts and slides his tongue along the crook of your neck, all teeth and tongue as he nips and bites at your flesh. 

   You can’t help the burn, can’t help the absolute need that courses through your body as his weight encompasses your chest. His hot breath bleeds into your lungs and it’s as if you can breathe fresh air for the first time. His woodsy, whiskey scent makes you dizzy as he slides his wet tongue along your bottom lip as he hovers his weight above you. He’s like a wolf that comes to feed on you in the night, and you’ll gladly let him devour you whole. 

   He snakes his hand down your abdomen and slides his hand underneath your ruined panties as he presses his thumb in between your folds, collecting slick as you groan at the feel of him spreading you wide. 

   “Open up, darlin’. Wanna give you a taste,” he whispers. He slides his thumb in your mouth, and you press your tongue around it, tasting the sweet saltiness of your own arousal as you let it slide down your throat. 

   He opens his mouth and sucks the rest of the slick off as he moans at the taste of you in his system. “You taste so fuckin’ sweet, darlin’. Wanna just eat you up,” he groans as he hovers his lips back over yours, inching closer and closer until you’re practically begging him to drop down on your lips. 

   “Please,” you whine as your hands fist at his green flannel shirt, desperate for him to get closer to you. 

   “Please what?” he smirks as his dark eyes weigh into yours, pools of lust overflowing the edges as his pupils now expand into complete darkness. A predator about to eat his prey up entirely. 

   You have to use all your strength to get any words out, desperate for his touch. “Take me, all of me,” you plead as your eyes search his black pits that burn you alive. 

   “Oh, sweetheart. I’m gonna take it all,” he smirks. 

   Before you have time to respond, he drops his lips on yours and fists your hair as he tugs hard and pries your lips apart as he slots in his wet tongue. He glides his tongue against yours and circles your mouth as you moan against him and drink his whiskey breath down. 

   He breaks apart from your mouth and nips playfully down your neck as he kneads your breasts together. His tongue comes down to circle each nipple, bringing them to life as they harden and pebble for him as you writhe underneath him in pleasure. 

   His experienced hands are everywhere, burning your skin alive as he skates his calloused fingers up and down your glistening body that’s now caked in sweat. He shoves your legs apart and slides the lace down your legs as he sits back and examines your entire naked body that’s on full display just for him. Glistening skin and slick coated folds splay out in front of him, and he looks like a mad man the way he’s looking at you. 

   His nostrils flare as his eyes grow wide, the big black pits scavenging your body as he drags a hand through his thick salt-and-pepper scruff as he groans out a heated response. “Goddamn, little lamb. You’re so fuckin’ wet and ready for me. I can hardly stand it,” he moans as he slides between your legs and pushes your thighs apart, his calloused fingers spreading your folds apart as he spits down in between them and starts running meticulously up and down your open folds as he starts circling your clit slowly. 

   You moan and writhe underneath his fingers, but he just presses a big hand to your stomach and holds you still as he works his fingers up and down your soaked pussy. And it feels so good that you want to crawl out of your own skin as the flames alight in your lower regions. 

   “Fuck,” you moan as he licks a thick strip from your dripping hole all the way to the top of your clit as his nose brushes against the coarse hair that sits above your clit. He inhales a large whiff of you as he groans and wraps his arms around your thighs as he holds you down against the cool ground. 

   “That’s right, little lamb. Gonna have you screamin’ my name by the time I get done with you,” he chuckles darkly as he dives back in. 

   His tongue devours you as he slides it up and down, drawing tight circles around your throbbing bundle of nerves as he sucks you deep into his mouth. He glides his middle and ring finger into your dripping hole and works them in and out as he curls up and hits your spongy walls again and again as his tongue feasts on your clit and his fingers go knuckle deep into your pussy. 

   Your eyes start to roll back as your head hits the hard floor, your body feeling like it’s floating on a cloud as hot heat starts to slide down the base of your spine. Close, you’re so close. Almost there. 

   He growls up at you as he demands your attention right now. “LOOK AT ME,” his voice echoes off the vine covered walls as his dominance sheds through the dim light of the hallway. 

   Your eyes snap up to find blown out dark pupils looking up at you as he sucks you in his mouth expertly. His nail beds dig into your thighs as one of his fists sit knuckle deep in your pussy. You’ve never seen him so wild, so much like a starving wolf that it makes more slick slide down his fingers as he pumps in and out of your drenched walls. 

   He pops your bundle of nerves out of his mouth as he gives you one more long lick as he growls up at you with pure dominance in his words. “Come for me, little lamb. Want ya to scream my name, tell me just who’s makin’ you feel good. Come on, darlin’. Show me how you break,” he smirks as he quickens the pace of his fingers and drops back on your clit as he circles circles circles until you’re seeing stars in your vision. 

   “Joel, I’m gonna… gonna,” you whine as you feel your orgasm start to break apart. 

   “Go on. Come for me. Be a good girl now and obey,” he growls as he pulls you back into his mouth while his fingers press up into the spongy walls as you feel yourself coming hard for him. 

   You clench up around his fingers and feel slick start to rain down his fingers onto your thighs as you throw your head back and scream his name as your moans echo through the long, dim lit corridor. Your body feels like white noise washing through it as your toes curl and your fingers slide through his tousled curls. 

   He groans as your fingers dig into his scalp while he licks up every inch of spilt slick in between your thighs. You feel your high start to come down as you take nice, deep breaths and focus on the buzzing in your ears. 

   Joel sits on his knees and views the mess that he made in between your legs as you splay across the floor with your legs still wide open for him. He must enjoy the view because he can’t keep his hungry eyes off you. 

   “Such a good girl, you know that? Now, gonna let me take ya all the way? Gonna let me fuck ya now, sweetheart?” he smirks as he starts unbuttoning his green flannel shirt, undoing the buttons quickly as he slides it off his thick arms and throws it in a heap next to the vine covered wall. His rock hard abs sit glistening in the night light while a happy trail of dark, coarse hair sits just above the waist of his jeans in a v shape. It makes you want to get on your hands and knees and crawl to him as you beg to have just a little taste of him.

   “Yes, please. Fuck me,” you moan as you push your breasts together as your center feels on fire for him. 

   “Oh, I’m gonna fuck ya deep, little lamb,” he smirks as he knits his eyebrows together in concentration. 

   He unbuttons his dark jeans and threads the leather belt through his belt loops while he shoves his jeans and boxers down his legs while he stands and hovers over you with his hard cock hitting the base of his hairy stomach as the tip sits weeping and swollen, just waiting to get inside you. 

   You lick your lips together and stare at the swollen tip as saliva starts to coat your mouth. You can practically taste the salt on your tongue, can almost feel the precum sliding down your throat as you beg him for just one more taste. He looks so delicious, and you want to just eat him right up.

   He smirks down at you as he sees you staring at his thick cock that screams your name. “Want a taste, little lamb?” he smirks as you nod your head mindlessly. 

   “Get over here then and do somethin’ ‘bout it,” he demands as he pulls you up by your hair and plants you on your knees in front of his large body. 

   “Go on then. Let me see how good you can choke on this cock, darlin’.” He flashes his pearly whites at you and wraps his fingers around your hair as you take your hand and start sliding it up and down as you spread the precum all over his thick length. 

   You lick the tip lightly and swirl around slowly as you tease him while your hand works up and down the base of him. “Fuck, there ya go,” he groans as you take him inside your mouth as you taste salty goodness drip down your throat. You take him deeper as you choke on him, feeling the drool coat his cock as you go back and forth on him slowly. 

   He grabs tighter to your hair and starts to fuck up into your mouth as you feel him bottom out at the base of your throat as it constricts around his thick length. You choke and gag around his length as he deep throats you over and over again. Your vision blurs as the tears lick at the corners of your eyes, but you don’t care. You love when he chokes you out, when his cock is deep in your throat as you hear his stifled moans get caught in his throat the more your mouth deep throats him. 

  “Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel growls as his thrusts become rougher and deeper, enough to where you’re gagging on your own drool as it coats your mouth as he slips deeper inside. 

   Before you think you can’t take anymore, he releases his cock from your mouth as a bead of drool connects from his tip to your lower lip as you choke for air with his fingers still firmly wrapped around your hair. 

   “Good fuckin’ girl,” he praises as he releases you and shoves you back to the ground as your back his the cold floor. “Now spread those legs, sweetheart. Gonna fuck ya nice and deep now,” he instructs as he spreads your legs and gets down on his knees.  He throws your legs over his shoulders and lines his cock up with your folds as he slowly slides the tip up and down your folds as your spit on his cock collects with the messy slick in between your legs. 

   “Jus’ relax now, darlin’. Let me help fill this pretty pussy up,” he smiles as he shoves his cock through your folds and fills you up. 

   You gasp at the stretch, he’s so fucking big that you never quite get used to the stretch. There’s a tinge of pain, but mostly you’re so full of him that all you can focus on is how good he’s making you feel. He fucks up into you deeper as he bottoms out inside you over and over again. 

   His body hovers over you as his lips nip against your neck as he slides in and out of you faster faster faster as you start to feel wildlife burn through your whole body. He folds your legs in half like a pancake as he fucks deeper inside you, making your walls squeeze his large length tight as you get close to your second orgasm. 

   You study his appearance, focusing on his knit eyebrows that are sewn together in concentration as he loses himself in you entirely. Sweat sticks to his forehead as his curls stick together in the glistening sweat. His broad back is flexing and tightening around you as your nails claw his tan skin, making him moan into the shell of your ear as he licks against the edge of your ear with thick pants leaving his mouth. 

   You kiss along the edge of his jaw, nipping at his scruff as you moan his name eagerly into the base of his ear as he speeds up his thrusts, bottoming out again and again until you can’t take it anymore. 

   “Joel, I’m gonna… fuck, I’m gonna come,” you pant out as he presses his forehead against yours. 

   “Come for me, pretty girl. Let me feel ya,” he commands as he thrusts up inside once twice three more times until you’re squeezing his cock with your walls and pouring yourself all over him. You moan his name and scratch your nails down his back as he moans back in satisfaction. 

   “Oh, that’s a good girl,” he praises as he continues rutting up inside you until he’s choking for air with his own tongue. 

   “Christ, I’m gonna come. Fuck, I’m gonna…” He doesn’t take long till he’s shooting thick ropes of come inside your walls as you feel warmth bubbling all inside you. He takes a minute to let it all out, releasing all his spend inside you as you breathe in his whiskey coated scent. 

   “Fucking hell, sweetheart. Can’t get enough of that sweet pussy,” he groans as he pulls his cock out of you and lets his spend slide down your milky thighs. 

   He collapses onto his back and pulls you into his side as you wrap a leg around his waist and inch your head up to the crook of his neck as your arm wraps around his broad chest. 

   “Some game, huh?” you pant as your exhausted body splays over the entirety of him. 

   “Some game,” he agrees as he rakes his fingers through your messy hair and kisses the top of your forehead as you relax all your weight into him. 

   “Think there’s ever gonna be a day where you won’t catch me?” you ask curiously as he smiles down and shakes his head at you. 

   “No, sweetheart. I’m always gonna catch you. Even if I have to run a couple miles to get to you. I’ll always catch you, my pretty girl.”

   You smile as he pulls you tight against his body, and you spend the rest of the night just lying on the floor in the abandoned mansion where this all started in the first place. A twisted game that ended in two lovers running back to each other again and again. 

   Maybe some games aren’t meant to be played, but this one was specifically made for you and Joel. The cat and the mouse who started off running away from each other, but it ended with both of you falling apart together. 

Tagging some mutuals who might want to read🩷 @milla-frenchy @vividispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @jasminedragoon @morallyinept @mountainsandmayhem @dugiioh @pedrostories @syd-djarin @laurrrra @joelmillersblog @joelmillerisapunk @amyispxnk @msjarvis

[scarletsugars]

Tips for writing black characters

Day-to-day practical and minor stuff, specially regarding hair

If you have curly/afro hair then you are only going to need to wash it one or twice a week

But it can take a while. When I had long hair it used to take me 2h in the bathroom to properly wash it. That's why I only did it once a week. But it really will depend of the thickness and lenght of their hair.

It can be a little harder to find products for their hair, because straight/wavy hair products don't work on ours

If you wash curly hair many times a week it will eventually lose its nutrients, differently from straigh hair

If your character originally had curly hair but straightened it, it's probably going to look a little drier than naturally straight hair. it's a case-case scenario, though

If they have a skin care routine or want one they'll also need products made specifically for black skin

Your character is not immune to sunburns. It's harder to see if it gets red depending on how dark their skin is, but it's there. The more melanin they have, the more protected from the sun they are, but it's not gonna 100% prevent them from getting sunburnt.

Oh, and it can be pretty hard to dye it because first, if your hair is very dark, you have to decolor it, and depending on how black it is it can take a while and a few tries to get in a tone good for dying.

If they have long hair they're probably going to take a while combing it because you have to apply the hair cream lock by lock

They may have a haircare routine every month or so. Not everybody does it but if your character is disciplined and wants their hair to be extra healthy and neat they'll probably have one

If they care a lot about their appearence they'll probably have a lot of hair brushes of different types because depending on your brush you can comb it in a variety of ways, making your hair look fuller, making the curls look defined, etc.

[scarletsugars]

prompts from Ready, Set, Novel! A Writer's Workbook by Chris Baty, Lindsey Grant, and Tavia Stewart Streit from the National Novel Writing Month

Have each character retell their first memory.

Write your opening scene from the point of view of a supporting character.

Write a scene of dialogue between your main character and a younger version of themself.

Describe the worst thing that ever happened to your villain.

Flash forward twenty years into the future and write a scene that involves at least three of your characters.

Have your characters share tales of their first kisses.

Write about the last five things your main character bought and why they bought them.

Write a scene in which your protagonist and villain get drunk together.

Lock a few of your characters in a broken elevator.

People rarely get sick in novels. Have your protagonist come down with something.

Write a thank-you card from your protagonist to their sidekick.

Relate the dream your villain had last night.

Your protagonist's mother is interviewed for the local newspaper about her child's achievements. Write that article.

Add a scene in which your character loses something very valuable.

Write a week's worth of Facebook posts from a supporting character. Take it a step further and add comments made by their friends... and enemies.

Have your villain bust out their high school yearbook. Write some of the notes they find in it.

Have your character recount a (hilarious) childhood trauma.

Write a scene describing how your main character's parents met.

Does your main character collect anything? Maybe they should. Describe their collection and why they started it.

Write a really cheesy love song that your main character will sing to their love interest.

Describe the worst thing your main character ever did.

Write a scene in which your main character and the villain have to work together, and explain why.

Send your protagonist to a psychic. What do they find out?

Write a description of your setting in the style of a travel brochure.

Deprive a character of sleep for three days and write about how it affects them.

Read "Today's Featured Article" on Wikipedia and integrate something you learn into your novel.

Your main character finds a genie in a bottle. What three wishes do they make?

Place a few characters in a karaoke bar. Describe the scene and what songs they choose to sing.

Have a character win a huge prize out of the blue. How do they react when they get the news?

Your villain houses a dinner party. What's on the menu? Who is invited?

Write a 200-word newspaper obituary for your villain.

[scarletsugars]

tips for setting the scene

it’s easy to get caught up in dialogue or a character’s internal dialogue and forget altogether that they, too, exist in their own physical world. as authors, it’s primarily our job to convey the exact amount of information: the reader is on a need to know basis, but they also need to know enough to draw their own conclusions. i’ll admit, it’s a difficult task, but here are some tips to help set a scene:

- imagine the world from the eyes of your character: how do they see things? do they see the big picture first or are they drawn to smaller details that others don’t often notice? what’s pulling their attention away from the action or their own thoughts?

- breathe life into your scenes: i don’t mean the english teacher’s equivalent of “the curtains were blue means that the character is sad.” i’m talking about the blue filter in Twilight that conveys the “constant cover of clouds and rain” and the shift from the Arizona desert to the cool Pacific Northwest. think about all the small details that convey information about a scene and allow the readers to make inferences. if the character walks along a street and the yards shift from overgrown hedges with frayed yard chairs and a birdbath containing a mini swamp to yards with freshly cut grass with white picket fences and ornate wreathes hanging on the doors, you’re providing all of the details for readers to make an inference. context is needed, too, but that will be provided in the whole of your novel or short story. don’t be afraid to provide details and use figurative language.

- spread out your details: did you feel bombarded in the last tip? i provided a lot of details quickly, all at once, without spreading them between action, dialogue, or internal dialogue. i’m not going to stop you from being the next J.R.R. Tolkien if that’s how you like to write, but try not to overwhelm the reader with details all at once. it will feel more natural if you spread things out and allow the reader to feel as if they, too, are with the character in their environment. this is more of a stylistic tip, so take it with a grain of salt and think about what will work best for your novel. always go back to that and to what your character is seeing. how is this all playing out for them? how can you put feeling into the scene?

- place your characters within the scene: where are they in their environment? how are they interacting with the people or objects in it? what do they think about these things? you don’t need to tell the reader everything your character does, but provide enough information so that we don’t get lost in their movement or stagnation. it helps to have someone else read your work if you’re struggling with this part. if they’re lost as to where the character is or what they’re doing, chances are a good portion of your readers will be confused, too. check out your prepositions. are there too many? too few? use them, but don’t abuse them.

happy writing! if you need help setting a scene or have any questions, our ask box is always open!

[scarletsugars]

How To Write And Create A Subplot

A subplot is an essential aspect of any book. It helps drive your story forward and hook your readers in with a compelling narrative. A good subplot raises the stakes for the main character by introducing side characters, creating plot twists, adding another dimension to the story or revealing information from the past or future. 

However, if executed incorrectly subplots can overshadow your main plot and deviate from the heart of your story. Unsure how to create and execute a subplot? Here are some helpful tips to get you started! 

Why Are Subplots Important? 

A subplot is a narrative thread that supports the elements of your main plot. They often build conflict or shed light on a secondary character’s story. Subplots help you create multilevel narrative arcs and build complexity and depth. 

Your readers certainly don’t need to know what your antagonists were doing while the protagonist underwent secluded training, but adding this subplot builds tension, heightens the stakes and easily portrays personality traits and character flaws. This is especially true for genres such as SFF or horror where your characters often don’t know their enemy’s plan until the last moment. 

Subplots are often what make your readers connect with your characters and world-building. To put it simply, if Harry Potter was written without any subplots Rowling could have wrapped up the entire series in one book. 

Types Of Subplots 

It’s important for authors to branch out and implement more than one subplot in their manuscript. Sticking to one subplot can often result in a poor portrayal of an important moment or make an interesting arc fall flat. A simple way to avoid this is by combining different subplots when working on your manuscript. 

Mirror Subplots

Mirror subplots are essentially a subplot that mirrors what your protagonist or antagonist is going through in order to illuminate their personality traits and how they dealt with said situation. A great example of a mirror subplot would be Sophie and Agatha’s dynamics during the first book of A School For Good and Evil. 

Sophie and Agatha both start off with essentially the same introduction to characters like Tedros, the faculty, their roommates, etc. but while Sophie uses a negative outlook to harm those around her Agatha focuses more on a problem-solving approach. 

Contrasting Subplot 

A contrasting subplot is when a smaller character faces the same situation as your protagonist/antagonist but handles the situation differently. For example, a protagonist allowed themselves to be injured in order to safely evacuate a nearby citizen but an antagonist in a similar position used the civilian to shield themselves from the attack. 

Contrasting subplots cannot exist unless both characters undergo the same situation, which is why it is important to plan this subplot out before executing it. 

Complicating Subplot 

Complicating subplots are the most common subplot used in literature. They’re pretty self-explanatory and involve a secondary character creating complications for the protagonist. This can be as simple as your love interest’s sister spreading gossip about the protagonist, or as complicated as a grand political scheme created to turn the protagonist’s allies against them. 

Romantic Subplot 

Romantic subplots are often confused with romance written as a subgenre. The difference between the two is simple—a book with romance as a subgenre simply includes romantic themes, however, a romantic subplot uses romance to deviate from the main plot. 

For example, if your protagonist left their usual environment to attend an event with your love interest for a couple of chapters, that counts as a romantic subplot. However, a character simply having a romantic moment does not constitute as a subplot. 

Things To Keep In Mind When Creating A Subplot 

Now that I’ve divulged all of the facts associated with writing a subplot, here are some personal tips writers should take into consideration when creating a subplot. 

A Subplot Is NOT Its Own Story 

This is an important factor many writers often forget when creating a subplot. Subplots are meant to tie into the main plot and move the story forward. They are supposed to be an arc in your story, not a story of their own. 

Subplots are a great way to foreshadow events, drop hints, reveal character traits, etc. however, you need to consider whether or not your manuscript needs to have these characters. Your deuteragonist’s tragic past with the antagonist might make for a good story, but you could probably summarise those events within one chapter. 

The same can be said for past love interests, ex-friends, training arcs and backstory arcs for minor characters. These factors would all propel your plot forward, however, incorrectly implementing them can ruin your reader’s immersion and deviate from the actual plot. 

If you’re unsure whether or not your subplot should be included in your novel, take the time to consider these few questions: 

Does your subplot help your protagonist accomplish their main goal? Or does it drastically deviate them from their initial purpose? 

Does this subplot introduce a new character, a new side to an old character, or the ‘true’ version of a seemingly good/bad character? 

Would your character be unable to attain their long-term goal without this subplot? 

Would your world-building, character development, or a certain aspect of the main plot feel confusing if not for this subplot? 

If your answer to these was yes, then you probably have a valid subplot on your hands. If not, then you should genuinely consider questions and take into account why you want to include this subplot, to begin with. If your answer is something along the lines of ‘it has so and so scene/dynamic which I really enjoyed or think the readers will like’ then your manuscript would probably do better without that subplot. 

Create Conclusive Arcs 

Unlike your main plot, subplots are supposed to have a start and finish. They need to have a complete arc and some semblance of a conclusion. 

For example, if you were writing a contrasting subplot where the side character decided to abandon another character in order to save themselves, you need to consider what happens once you write out this scene. How do the other characters react to it? Does this impact your side character’s position in the story? And most importantly, how does this impact the rest of your plot? 

You need to know where you’re going to go with your story once you have concluded your subplot, and figure out a way to tie your subplot into your main plot. 

I hope this blog on how to create and execute a sub plot will help you in your writing journey. Be sure to comment any tips of your own to help your fellow authors prosper, and follow my blog for new blog updates every Monday and Thursday.  

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Haya’s book blog where I post writing and marketing tools for authors every Monday and Thursday. 

[scarletsugars]

A very detailed character biography to help build characters. I found the original template HERE and edited it to make it more suitable for the characters I'm creating, and also to add some more details, such as a mental illness checklist section to use for myself to reference (because it helps to know what's wrong with your characters) and other details. You may not need so many minor details for a character, but you never know if you'll end up needing an explanation for something. I'll be using this template myself so I figured I'd share it in case it could help others too. I have edited it to better suit my own medieval fantasy characters, so I'm not sure how well it will work with other genres. Enjoy. ♡

☆Trigger Warning - Sensitive Mental Health Topics☆

Character 1

• Character’s full name:

• Reason or meaning of name:

• Character’s nickname:

• Reason for nickname:

• Character’s titles & what they mean:

• Birth date/season:

Physical appearance

• Age:

• Appears how old:

• Race:

• Gender:

• Weight:

• Height:

• Body build:

• Shape of face:

• Eye color:

• Skin tone:

• Distinguishing marks:

• Predominant features:

• Hair color:

• Hair type:

• Usual hairstyle:

• Voice:

• Overall 1-10 attractiveness scale:

• Physical disabilities:

• Usual fashion:

• Favorite outfit:

• Jewelry or accessories:

• Tattoos:

• Miscellaneous:

Personality

• Good personality traits:

• Bad personality traits:

• Most common mood:

• Sense of humor:

• Greatest joy in life & why:

• Greatest fear & why:

• What event would be most devastating & why:

• Most comfortable when:

• Most uncomfortable when:

• Most angry/furious when:

• Most depressed/sad when:

• Most happy/joyful when:

• Priorities:

• Life philosophy:

• Biggest wish & why:

• Character’s soft spot:

• Is this soft spot obvious to others or common:

• Political views:

• Greatest strength:

• Greatest weakness:

• Greatest vulnerability:

• Biggest regret:

• Minor regret:

• Biggest accomplishment:

• Minor accomplishment:

• Most embarrassing event & why:

• Character’s darkest secret, if any:

• Does anyone else know this secret:

• Miscellaneous:

Goals & Dreams

• Drives/Motivations:

• Immediate goals:

• Long term goals:

• How to accomplish the goals:

• How others will be affected if the goals are achieved:

• How long has character had the goals:

• Goals that character thinks are hard to achieve:

• Goals that character thinks are easy to achieve:

• Goals that character has already started working on & how long:

• Dreams:

• Miscellaneous:

Past

• Location of birth/childhood:

• Socioeconomic status:

• Cultural traditions:

• Parents Socioeconomic ranking:

• Parents involvement:

• Type of childhood:

• Siblings/other family involvement:

• Friends/Acquaintances:

• First memory:

• Most important memory & why:

• Childhood hero:

• Pets:

• Dream job:

• Education:

• Religion:

• Wealth/inheritances:

• Miscellaneous:

Present

• Current location:

• Currently living with:

• Type of residence & who owns it:

• Possessions/Owned assets:

• Weapons owned:

• Socioeconomic ranking & how it was achieved:

• Cultural traditions/practices:

• Religion:

• Sexual orientation:

• Occupation:

• Wealth:

• Acquaintances/Friends/Lovers:

• Pets:

• Miscellaneous:

Family

• Mother:

▪︎Alive or Deceased:

▪︎Relationship with her:

• Father:

▪︎Alive or Deceased:

▪︎Relationship with him:

• Siblings:

▪︎Alive or Deceased:

▪︎Relationship with them:

• Spouse:

▪︎Alive or Deceased:

▪︎Relationship with him/her:

• Children:

▪︎Alive or Deceased:

▪︎Relationship with them:

• Other important family members:

▪︎Alive or Deceased:

▪︎Relationship with them:

Favorites

• Color:

• Food:

• Form of entertainment:

• Story/Myth/Legend:

• Mode of transportation:

• Most prized possession:

• Location/place:

• Season/weather:

• Miscellaneous:

Habits & Activities

• Hobbies:

• Training:

• Magical/special abilities:

• How he/she would spend a rainy day:

• Spending habits:

• Smokes tobacco:

• Drinks:

• Drugs/herbs:

• Activity does too much of:

• Activity does too little of:

• Extremely skilled at:

• Slightly skilled at:

• Extremely unskilled/terrible at:

• Nervous tics:

• Usual body posture:

• Mannerisms:

• Peculiarities:

• Places visited for fun/interest:

• Miscellaneous habits:

• Miscellaneous activities:

Traits & Flaws

• Optimist or pessimist:

• Introvert or extrovert:

• Daredevil or cautious:

• Logical or emotional:

• Disorderly/Messy or Methodical/Neat:

• Prefers working or relaxing:

• Confident or unsure:

• Easy to anger:

• Easily pleased:

• Manipulative:

• Apologetic:

• Accepting of advice:

• Easily bored:

• Mentally/Emotionally strong:

• Accountability:

• Ambitious:

• Work ethic:

• Demanding & bossy:

• Submissive & subordinate:

• Playful or boring:

• Brave or cowardly:

• Chases power/success/glory:

• Protective of loved ones:

• Doubts themselves or others:

• Talkative or quiet:

Mental Illnesses

• Trauma & why/who/what/when:

• Addictions:

• Depression:

• Anxiety:

• Paranoia:

• Hallucinations:

• Personality disorder:

• PTSD:

• Obsessive compulsive:

• Bipolar:

• Stable:

• Triggers:

• Miscellaneous:

Self-perception

• Feelings about himself/herself:

• One word the character would use to describe self:

• One paragraph description of how the character would describe self:

• Character considers their best personality trait:

• Character considers their worst personality trait:

• Character considers their best physical characteristic:

• Character considers their worst physical characteristic:

• Character thinks others perceive them:

• Character's aspect they would change about themself:

• Miscellaneous:

Relationships with others

• Opinion of people in general:

• Does the character hide opinions/emotions from others:

• Most hated/Biggest enemy & why:

• Most loved & why:

• Best friend(s):

• Love interest(s):

• Who to go to for advice:

• Who they're responsible for/Who they take care of:

• Who character feels shy or awkward around:

• Who character openly admires:

• Who character secretly admires:

• Most important in character’s life before story starts:

• Most important after story starts:  

• Opinion of relationships with family:

• Opinion of relationships with lovers:

• Opinion of relationships with friends:

• Treats strangers:

• Treats authority figures:

• Opinions of authority figures:

• Treats subordinates:

• Opinions of subordinates:

• Treats the opposite gender:

• Opinions of the opposite gender:

• Treats other races/cultures:

• Opinions of other races/cultures:

• Treats children:

• Opinions of children:

• Treats others with different tastes/interests/activities:

• Opinions of others with different tastes/interests/activities:

• How they treat others who admire them:

• How they treat others who love them:

• How they treat others who betray/harm/bully them:

• How they treat others who disrespect/harm others:

• How they react when someone needs their help:

• How they react when someone tries to help them:

• How they react to sexual/romantic advances:

• Opinions of sex & brothels:

• Miscellaneous:

[scarletsugars]

how to write relatable characters

writing relatable characters may seem like an easy task, especially when you’re constructing your protagonist. but what if you want to make your antagonist likeable? what if you want people to hate your protagonist but still root for them? all of this and more requires that your characters be relatable. they need to feel real, so how do you do that? here’s how:

- flaws: this is probably obvious. everyone has flaws, so we should give our characters flaws, too. this applies even if your character is non-human; they cannot escape the personification that we as writers or readers project onto them. we are humans reading, so we expect to see human qualities everywhere we look. if you’re having trouble of identifying your character’s flaws, here are some prompts for ways to think about flaws beyond a list:

what skills do they lack? what do they struggle with?

can their strengths be turned against them as a weakness?

what makes them react emotionally or impulsively?

are they aware of their flaws? if so, do they want to improve them or change them?

- quirks: these are what make your character unique or special, and no, i don’t mean purple eyes or unique physical traits. i mean: what makes your character authentically themselves? what traits define them that few others have? some ways to think about this are:

how do they react when nervous? do they have a tell? similarly, how do they react on behalf of any emotion?

what skills do they have that hardly anyone else has?

what obscure thing are they obsessed with?

do they have a unique outlook on life compared to their peers?

- values: these come from life experiences: where we were raised, our family and friends, our community, religious affiliations, etc. i suggest identifying eight to ten values that define your character and then narrowing that list down to five values that mark their core or essence. think about how these values influence their choices, decisions, and ultimately, the plot of the novel. here are some more prompts to think about values:

how do they react when their values are challenged? are they one to speak up or do they sit back in the shadows?

what, if anything, will change or shatter their values?

are their actual values misaligned with their believed values?

- stakes: what is at risk for your character? what is motivating them? stakes don’t need to be over the top or life or death; they can be as simple as maintaining a relationship or reaching a goal. unless there’s an outside influence (ie. percy’s mother being kidnapped in The Lightning Thief), most stakes—especially those relatable—tie back to values. even those influenced by outside factors can tie back to values: the only reason percy is motivated to get his mother back is because he cares for her and she is the one person who has always advocated for him and cared for him. he values family and riordan uses his family to motivate him and incite the plot. generally, there will be one overarching stake for your character, but throughout your novel, there should be several smaller stakes. these may not service the plot but should elaborate on your character nonetheless. some ways to think about stakes include:

how can i use internal or external factors to create convincing, relatable stakes that tie back to basic values?

why does the overarching stake matter to my character? why do they care?

how can i raise the stakes or introduce new ones that are relevant to my character and illustrate them as a relatable being?

- connection: even if your character is an introvert, they will still be connected to someone, something, or even an idea. we, as humans, look to certain people, pets, objects, and ideas to maintain our sense of reality whether we realize it or not. if your character prides themselves in having no attachments, think about the ideas or themes that mark the cornerstones of their reality. most human beings strive for some form of connection, so here are more prompts for thinking about your characters and connection:

what does connection mean to my character? how do they show how they value their connections or relationships?

how does my character’s behavior change when around different connections?

what connections define my character and their reality? how will these connections influence my character and/or the plot?

how will removing or challenging a connection change, influence, or motivate my character?

a good rule of thumb is to treat a character as a human, not a plot device. there is a time or place in which a character must act as a plot device, but if you’re wanting your readers to be compelled by your narration and the characters within them, you should strive to write your characters as human (aka as relatable). one of the greatest pleasures i find in writing is when other’s identify themselves in my writing.

you’re not just here to tell a story, you’re here to connect with others through the illustration of your characters. let the reader navigate your prose as a detective, to search for and identify the evidence provided by you. that is to say, show us how these things manifest in your character. don’t tell us.

happy writing! hopefully this post gave you some ways to start thinking about how to show the relatability of your character. if you have any questions about implementing these tools or about writing characters, our ask box is always open.

[scarletsugars]

Some quick tips for writing sexual tension in your novel:

1. Establish strong chemistry: Develop the characters' attraction to each other through meaningful interactions, shared interests, or a deep emotional connection. Their chemistry will lay the foundation for the sexual tension to build upon.

2. Use body language and non-verbal cues: Describe subtle gestures, lingering glances, or the way their bodies react in each other's presence. These non-verbal cues can heighten the tension and create a sense of anticipation.

3. Utilize dialogue: Employ flirty banter, double entendres, or suggestive remarks to create verbal sparring between characters. Clever wordplay can add layers of subtext and amplify the sexual tension.

4. Slow down the pace: Build tension by slowing down the pacing of scenes involving the characters. Emphasize their awareness of each other, the anticipation of physical contact, and the longing that grows with every passing moment.

5. Explore internal thoughts and desires: Give readers insight into the characters' internal dialogue, their secret desires, and the fantasies they have about each other. This adds depth and intensifies the sexual tension.

6. Employ the power of touch: Describe the impact of a brief brush of hands, accidental contact, or the lingering sensation left by a gentle touch. These tactile sensations can evoke a heightened sense of awareness and anticipation.

7. Create obstacles and conflicts: Introduce obstacles or conflicts that prevent the characters from acting upon their desires. These challenges can fuel the sexual tension, making the eventual release even more satisfying for both the characters and the readers.

8. Use sensory details: Engage the readers' senses by describing scents, sounds, or textures associated with the characters' proximity or potential intimacy. Sensory details can intensify the atmosphere and enhance the readers' experience of the sexual tension.

9. Play with power dynamics: Explore power dynamics between characters, such as a power imbalance or a push-pull dynamic. This can create a magnetic pull and increase the sexual tension as the characters navigate their desires and boundaries.

10. Employ the element of surprise: Introduce unexpected moments or situations that catch the characters off guard and heighten the sexual tension. These surprises can lead to spontaneous or forbidden encounters, increasing the anticipation and desire.

Remember to balance the sexual tension with the overall tone and genre of your novel, ensuring it aligns with your intended audience and fits organically within the story. With these tips, you'll be able to craft captivating scenes that sizzle with sexual tension, leaving readers eagerly turning the pages for more.

Happy writing!

[scarletsugars]

my fave romance prompts

back hugs

forehead to forehead

never yells

KISSING IN THE RAIN

neck kisses

kisses ur scars

*holds your waist all the time*

LOTS OF SEXUAL TENSION

waking up to them cooking breakfast for you

"my love"

would take a bullet/arrow for you (will voluntarily use their body as shield)

trains you hand to hand combat/self defense

eye contact w/ sexual tension

takes you to their favorite secret place/spot (and they have never shown it to anyone before aside from u)

*towers over u*

borrowing their clothes !!

sexual tension to the point where u see their hormones coming out

plays with ur hair / massages ur head until u fall asleep

kissing ur hand

them being the one to put on the necklace they gave u

leans in for a small kiss, pulls away, and then turning into a full blown make out session

*will carry you if you're injured*

SHARING ONE BED

subtle touches w/ sexual tension

comforts you with your night terrors/nightmares

takes care of u if have fever/sickness

confesses their love while you're asleep

"let's fix this"

did i mention sexual tension?

[scarletsugars]

PEDRO PASCAL as JOEL MILLER The Last of Us - "Long, Long Time"

[scarletsugars]

oh to see his smile again

[scarletsugars]

Pedro Pascal as Javier Peña Narcos S01E02

[scarletsugars]

18+ mdni

Older Joel Miller would be the type to hold you by the back of the neck and tilt your head down to make you watch while he fucked you. 

A heavy hand keeps you trapped while fingers prod at the sensitive tendons under your skin, forcing you to watch every devastating thrust as he buries his cock between your soaked folds. 

“Look how wet you’re gettin’.” He’d brazenly drawl while eyeing your messy thighs and the syrupy slick that stains a creamy ring around his girth. He’d grind your pelvis, torturing your clit with the damp, wiry hairs that litter the base of his cock. “Suckin’ me right in.”

He’d hook his free hand under your jaw, content with your submission when your eyes go glossy and dumb, and tip your ragdoll head until he’s penetrating your soul with a hooded, possessive stare.

“Got you right where I want you.” He’d mock as a dark smirk tugs at his lips. His ominous tone slithers around your heart, and it makes your cunt anxiously clench. “You’re gonna be achin’ for days.”

[scarletsugars]

yeah, I know.

[scarletsugars]

I love him 😭