#it's an exercise in writing character voices okay???

[memento-morri-writes]

so, it's not work on my WIPs, but I wrote my d&d character's (Rook's) backstory the way I imagine him telling it to the party. And wow, somehow it hurts 20x times more this way. Can't wait to roleplay this scene next week!!

Have an excerpt of my favorite part.

TW for drugging/selling a person + violence in the screenshot below.

ouch

transcript under the cut. TW for drugging and selling of a person, plus violence.

[he pauses, taking a deep breath]

“A few months later, we were all ashore for a couple nights. In Bon Largo, actually. Some of the crew invited me to a tavern for a drink. They bought me a few rounds. Told me to consider it something of a late birthday gift.” [he shakes his head] “Next thing I remember is waking up on a cot in a tiny storage room with a pounding headache and chains around my wrists.” [he swallows hard] “I could tell I was at sea from the rocking, but I sure as hell wasn’t on the Tide Breaker. I banged on the door, yelling my head off, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. All I got for my trouble was a knock upside the head.

“A while later, they hauled me up on deck. We were in the middle of the ocean, miles from anywhere I knew. A woman came over, dressed in the finest captain’s attire I’d ever seen. Introduced herself as Captain Kora Wolf, and started talking. Gloating at me, really. Told me I was on the Sea Snake. That I belonged to her now.” [he scowls, looking up at the rest of the party.] “Those bastards sold me. Slipped something in my drink, tied me up like an animal and sold me.”

[he slumps back, seemingly defeated. His voice is quieter as he continues.]

“I was on that ship for a little over two years. Never set so much as a foot on land the whole time. Spent a fair bit of it in that storage room, too.” [he sighs] “I plotted and planned for months before I was able to escape. Had a few false starts, and got a handful of new scars for my efforts.

“Finally I saw my chance. Most of the crew, including the Captain, [he spits that word like it’s a curse] was on shore. I got out of my cell and made my way up on the deck. Had to knock out a handful of crew to even make it that far.“I knew she had my rapier, since she’d shoved it in my face a few times, and I refused to leave without it. Picked the lock on her cabin door and slipped inside. Thank the gods she hadn’t taken it with her.” [he’s clutching the hilt of the rapier tightly in his lap]

[3verythingiknowaboutlove]

first fall of snow

how spencer guesses you're pregnant before you actually tell him

fluff word count: 1390 warnings & tags & stuff: pregnant reader, slight issues with mother mentioned?, non-graphic vomiting, mentions/allusions to winter holidays being celebrated, kinda spencer's pov but still 2nd pov, reader is scared spencer will leave her lol, anxious!reader in general, mentions of death?, probably medical inaccuracies ive never been pregnant author's note: hiiii i'm forcing myself to post this because if i don't then i'll never post and i'm being BRAVE. i hope it can be a little comforting maybe. i've realllyyyy been struggling with my take on spencer's characterization lately soo this was kinda like a bootcamp/exercise situation into his mind and less an expression of my writing skills, iykwim. let me know your thoughts if u have any! i love you & have a splendid day!!

Spencer is walking—speed walking—toward his car, away from the case he just finished, away from serial killers and guns and geographical profiling and death.

He places his feet carefully on the snow-covered sidewalk with each step, the cold air biting at his face. He barely notices it, absorbed in the path ahead, as the snow provides a satisfying crunch underfoot—a nice background to his perpetually racing mind.

He doesn’t like the winter. It’s always too harsh outdoors, and too stuffy indoors, and he’s trapped in a suffocating haze no matter where he goes. 

His phone starts to vibrate gently in his pocket, interrupting his racing thoughts for a split second. His pace falters as he pulls it free, a quick smile tugging at the corner of his lips when he sees it’s your name on the screen.

“Hi. How are you?” he asks after picking up, watching his breath come out in puffs of vapor in the cold air.

Winters, however, have gotten progressively better each year he spends with you.

“...I’m okay,” you say, though the crack in your voice reveals the all-consuming ache in your bones and mind.

“No. You’re overwhelmed,” he guesses in his matter-of-fact way, voice gentle. You huff out a soft laugh at his ability to read you, never getting old.

“Yeah, I guess. A little. The holiday season, you know. Are you on your way home?” you ask, voice softer now. You’re sitting on the couch of yours and Spencer’s cozy apartment, wrestling with a blanket to cover your lap, and bouncing your leg relentlessly.

“I’m walking to the car now. Hey, have you done the crossword today?” Spencer asks, words a familiar, tender remedy for your nerves. You told him a long time ago that hearing his voice makes you feel better, and there are times, like these, where he just knows it’s what you need. You rest our head on the arm of the couch, curling up.

“No, I didn’t have the time. Why?”

“There was an interesting question about causes of death in Shakespeare plays, but they completely messed up the part of speech. It read, ‘Popular ways to die by the hands of England’s national poet’. I thought it was ‘poisons’ at first, but it was actually ‘stabbed’, even though the correct answer grammatically should’ve been ‘stabs’ or ‘stabbings’,” he says, his car now in sight through the steady sprinkle of snow coming down. “Do you think I should send an email to let them know? I guess stabbing does make more sense, though, versus poison, because throughout his works, thirty characters out of his 74 that died were stabbed compared to only four that were poisoned. Three were stabbed and poisoned. Did you know that two were actually baked into pies, which is a-”

“Oh my god, the pie,” you groan, cutting him off mid-sentence, sitting up hastily, the blanket falling to the floor.

“Pie?���

“Yeah. My mom coerced me into making it to bring tomorrow.” You pad over to the kitchen and crouch down to peek through the hazy glass of the oven, inspecting it. “Oh,” you murmur. “It’s…not pretty.”

He sandwiches the phone in between his ear and shoulder, gently opening the door to his car to sit down as he listens to you. He turns the heat on, exhaling in an exhausted relief, hovering his hand over where the air comes out. 

“Can you tell me what it looks like? Maybe I can help,” he suggests, leaning back against the headrest and letting his eyes close for a second. You put the phone on speaker, setting it on the counter as you bend down to take it out. “Don’t burn yourself,” he adds, hearing what you’re doing.

“I’m not going to burn my-” you cut yourself off with a huff. “Whatever. It’s just really messy. There’s like… liquid overflowing where the lattice should be.”

He hums. “How long has it been cooking for?”

“45 minutes. My mom sent me this one ancient recipe that I had to use written on parchment paper from like 70 years ago, and it does not have a bake time listed, so I’m just eyeballing it.”

“Okay. You could either put it back in the oven in hopes that more of the liquid will evaporate, or you can leave it out to cool down and hopefully thicken,” he says.

“What do you think I should do?”

“I think you sound exhausted and need your sleep.” 

You sigh, staring at your mess of a pie, hopes that you’ll appease your mother this year slipping further and further away, soon to be completely buried by the snow.

“Hey. I’m sure it’ll taste really good. Besides, people still liked Shakespeare, and he wrote about much worse pies than you could ever make.” 

A smile pulls at your lips.

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll just leave it out to cool and head to bed. Will you stay on the phone a little longer?” you ask, padding over to your shared bedroom.

“Of course.”

He doesn’t start driving as you talk, not when nearly 2000 people die per year due to driving on icy roads, and two thirds of them were people who were reported to not be paying close enough attention.

And especially not when 54 hours ago on your last phone call, he noticed a drastic shift in your behavior, and was quickly able to tell that you were pregnant. 

He had too much waiting for him at home to be spinning out on black ice because he was talking to you and not watching the road.

He chooses instead to look outside at the falling snow, blanketing the city, his city, the very first for D.C. to have this winter out of the septillion snowflakes planet earth receives each year.

…

Spencer gets home a little later that night, holding another pint of cherries in his hands. Not for the pie—which he turns to see resting on the stove and winces slightly at—but for you. 

Cherries, with their 342 mg of potassium per cup, help replenish lost electrolytes and can soothe nausea.

He’s expecting it to start any day now.

He quietly steps into the bedroom, setting his bag by the door to be dealt with tomorrow. The soft glow of the lamp that was left on, presumably for him by your endlessly considerate heart, provides just enough light so he can get changed. He then finally clambers into bed next to you, one hand reaching out to lace in your hair, moving his fingers to gently scratch by the nape of your neck. He lifts the other to rest, like you're made of a delicate china, on your lower stomach, sighing in pure relief the second it makes contact.

You turn sleepily, humming when you’re met with the sight of him. “Spence,” you murmur, contented.

“Hi. I really didn’t mean to wake you up. I’m sorry,” he says, so quietly.

“I'm glad you did. I like it when you wake me.” You tuck yourself closer to him. “I love you.” His hand comes to trace gentle patterns all over your back and arm, and he gives you a little kiss, adoringly.

“Go back to sleep. I love you.”

You let your eyes shut once again, this time much easier now that he’s with you. You inhale his scent, which you swear could repair anything broken or lost in this world. You exhale, wondering if he’d still hold you the same way after learning that you’re carrying his child. 

It’s a scary thought, but you’re comforted by his warm touch, pushing you farther out into the deep sea of sleep.

Once your breaths get steady and your mouth parts slightly, he adds, in a whisper, “Both.”

…

The next morning, when you’re hunched over the toilet bowl, Spencer is there with you, rubbing your back and wiping your teary eyes. You look up to him after brushing your teeth, and no words are exchanged. He tugs you into his arms, silently quelling any of the countless anxieties swarming your mind, at least in this moment.

His hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. He lets it rest there, cupping your jaw.

“Let’s go shopping after breakfast today, okay? You need prenatal vitamins.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“And a new pie.”

[salfishersface]

love your work !!! ur writing is so sophisticated? idk how to describe it but its AMAZING. is it okay to request a casual afternoon with bf! sal where reader is just on her phone while he’s lazily eating her out? :33

Lazy Days || Sal Fisher

Synopsis - You're scrolling through your phone while Sal some exercise for his tongue.

Warnings - NSFW.

Notes - Characters are 18+!

Notes - This is so sweet! Thank you so much for your kind words! I hope you enjoy this!!

Word Count - 1.1k.

{Caffeinate Me}

Sal Fisher, your boyfriend, was always convincing you to have lazy days at his: no matter what you had to do. They always ended the same way; you were scrolling through your phone while Sal played on his guitar, but today, something was different. As usual, you were scrolling through your phone, but instead of strumming on his guitar, your boyfriend was nestled between your legs and his tongue was poking out to lick at your wet slit. He had been at this for almost an hour, pushing you to the edge of orgasm over and over again only to deny you your release until he was good and ready. You occasionally let out soft little gasps as his tongue would circle your clit, but for the most part, he remained seated in your tight, sopping hole. 

“Sal,” you whined softly, moving your hips to the side slightly to get more comfortably. 

“Yes princess?” He asked against your cunt, pulling away slightly to look up at you. 

“Are you going to be down there all day?” You asked jokingly, a moan on the tip of your tongue as you rolled your eyes. 

Sal licked another stripe up your slit before sucking on your clit, forcing the moan to tumble from your lips. “If you’ll let me,” he mumbled. You looked down at his scarred face and smiled, trailing one of your hands to his blue hair and pushing his face back into your cunt. “Good girl,” his muffled voice came as he continued to lap at you. Another moan left your mouth as Sal continued his ruthless assault before biting ever so slightly at your folds and making you squeak. You took a shaky breath and continued scrolling through your phone, trying to ignore the pleasure that was once again building up in your core. 

But it was no use. “Sally,” came another whine from your throat. 

“You going to cum baby?” He asked, voice soft against your cunt. You placed your phone on the bedside table next to Sal’s prosthetic while nodding violently. You were so fucking close to your release and knew that one more lick to your clit would send you over the edge. You bucked your hips up pathetically, desperate to get Sal to delve his face back into your heat and of course he obliged. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have you cumming all over his face. The time, Sal paid close attention to your throbbing clit, sucking and hollowing his cheeks over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Immediately you saw white, stars filling your mind as you felt yourself shamelessly spray over his tongue. 

“Sal!” You cried out, legs shaking as your orgasm violently washed over you. It was definitely the most intense orgasm you had ever had, but it was no wonder. All that edging had made you explode. 

“You’re so good for me baby,” Sal cooed softly, tugging his sweats down to his knees and slipping his cock between your well-lubricated folds. “I’d say you’re ready for me now.” 

You nodded in agreement, facial expression showing your eagerness. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around your boyfriends neck and pulled him as close to your body as possible as he slowly slipped inside of your wet heat with ease. You both let out melodic moans as he bottomed out inside of you completely, both of your desires finally satiated. Sal gave you a second to adjust before he began to move his hips, knowing that you were slightly overstimulated. Although Sal’s movements were slow, they were anything but caring. He slowly snapped his hips against yours, but his movements were sharp, hitting that spongy spot inside of you. You threw your head back onto the pillows behind you and let out a loud moan, “faster Sally!” 

“Faster?” He asked cheekily, hips snapping against yours in a quicker motion. Moan after moan tumbled from your lips as Sal increased his pace, desperate to feel your cunt flutter around his cock. It was a feeling that he was addicted to, easily. “God I can feel you getting tighter baby. You like that?” Sal asked, clearly poking fun at you. All you could do was nod. You certainly weren’t in the mood for his teasing right now. Sal nodded right back at you, thrusting as hard and as fast as he could into your tight cunt. You were practically drooling and squirming underneath him, body not ready for the second orgasm that was quickly approaching. “Stay still baby,” Sal whispered to you, his hands trailing down to your hips to keep your body in place. 

“I can’t!” You cried out. You bit your bottom lip to stop the scream threatening to erupt from your throat. 

“Yes you can sweetheart. Be a good girl and cum again,” he whispered, voice sweeter than honey. You wrapped your legs further around his waist, nails digging into his shirt as he continued to fuck into you. “Lift your hips up sweetie.”

You did as you were told, lifting your hips up until Sal’s cockhead was kissing your cervix, the new angle sending you tumbling over the edge. You saw stars for the second time, body filled with white hot energy as your orgasm rippled through your entire body. Sal groaned as your pussy contracted around him and he bent down to place a passionate kiss on your lips, hips not faltering as he fucked you. It was only a few seconds before Sal was spurting thick, hot ropes inside of you from his angry red tip. “Fuck!” He exclaimed, his hips stilling as his cock continued to twitch his release inside of you. 

When he was finally finished cumming, Sal slowly pulled out of you. You let out a soft giggle and smiled at your boyfriend, “fuck indeed.” 

Sal lay down next to you, laying his head on your shoulder before pressing soft kisses to your cheek. 

“I love you,” he whispered softly, but before you had a chance to respond, he continued to talk. “I think we should make a habit of lazy days like this.” Sal grinned up at you, forcing another giggle to escape your lips. 

“If you’re going to fuck me like that everytime, then I think we should,” you agreed, nodding your head slightly. 

“Good,” Sal whispered, finally allowing his heavy eyes to flutter closed. 

Sal was asleep in no time, snoring gently against your shoulder. You rolled your eyes playfully and smiled, grabbing your phone back off the bedside table and deciding to flick through social media until he woke up. You really were one lucky woman.

[sadprose-auroras]

On Top – Hazel Callahan x reader

Hi! I have been able to think of literally nothing else but this character, so I simply had to. Shoutout to all the incredible writers who have been doing the lord’s work writing for Hazel already, you’re all amazing <3 I just had to add my little contribution.

Content: mild violence, sexual themes and making out, cursing, out of practise writing, no use of y/n.

Summary: Cheerleader!reader and Hazel have the hots for each other. Other stuff contextualises that, but it’s not as interesting. That’s about it. Please let me know if you enjoy! Word count: 4.4k

You first heard about the club when PJ and Josie approached you in the hallway as you were searching desperately for a book in your locker.

“Where is it?” you mumbled to yourself, when the pair came up behind you suddenly.

“Hey!”

You yelped in surprise, whipping around.

“Oh, hi. PJ. Josie.” You smiled. You weren’t particularly close with the two best friends, but you were friendly. Josie, more so. It wasn’t hard to be a little annoyed when you saw PJ treat Hazel the way she did. Okay, so maybe it infuriated you. Sure, your immense crush on Hazel might have had something to do with it, but nobody deserved to be tossed aside carelessly like that.

“What’s up? Um, we have a proposition for you,” Josie said. You frowned.

“Okay, what is it?” You were suddenly a little nervous.

“We think there is a serious lack of female solidarity at this school,” said PJ.

“Agreed,” you nodded. And you really did.

“So we’ve started this women’s, uh, like, um, solidarity club, to help us, y’know, come together, beat the patriarchy, learn to defend ourselves, it’s in the gym after school if you feel like coming along?” PJ asked.

“That actually sounds great.” You were excited. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t slightly terrified of everything that was going on.

“Really? Great! And we were thinking that maybe you could bring along, y’know, some of your friends? Like- oh gosh, for example, Brittany and Isabel? Or-or- any of your, y’know fellow cheerleaders.”

You suppressed a smile. They were so not obvious. But you were down. Although you were considered fairly popular being a cheerleader, you were keen to hang out with some other girls. It felt like nobody truly understood you.

“I make no promises about Brittany and Isabel but I’ll ask! I’ll see you guys then,” you smiled, closing your locker. The bell rang, and you said your goodbyes as you headed off to class. You gave up on finding your book. Classes were weirdly short at your school, anyway.

------------------------------------------------------------

It didn’t take much convincing to get your friends to join you. Isabel was immediately excited about the club, and Brittany, bless her soul, followed Isabel anywhere she went. Your shoes awkwardly squeaked on the gym floor as the three of you walked in and approached the group. All eyes turned to the three of you, some sitting, some standing, and a silence fell among everyone. You cleared your throat, speaking up first.

“Hey, this is the women’s solidarity club, right? We want to join.”

To your surprise, Hazel was the first to bound over and smile. Your heartbeat rapidly increased and your cheeks warmed, so you quickly looked down, avoiding eye contact.

“Hey you guys, come on in! We were just about to start-“

“Trust exercises.” Josie interrupted.

“Wrestling- wrestling each other.” PJ said at the same time, her eyes locked on Brittany. “It’s a fight club, actually.” You frowned. Surely if you were going to start a club, you’d have a clear picture of what it was going to be first? They seemed to have no idea what they were doing.

Your friend seemed completely ignorant, or at the least unphased by PJ’s crush on her. Hazel cleared her throat, and you felt a surge of sympathy for the girl. Not that you would ever tell her that. You could barely look at her without melting into a puddle. Her big, dreamy eyes that you could pretty much drown in. Her smooth-as-honey voice. Her radiant smile. The way she was so sweet to everyone, even if they didn’t deserve it. How she was simultaneously so sure of herself, seemingly so confident. Her floppy hair that was always getting in her eyes, and just looked so soft that you always wanted to just reach out and-

Oh shit. You were definitely staring now. You looked away quickly, heart racing.

“We’re not supposed to talk about th-“ Josie mumbled to PJ. “It’s a self defence club,” she explained to the group. “Come on,” she gestured, and you all gathered in a circle, sitting down. Hazel sat next to you, and you had never been so aware of somebody’s physical presence before. All you needed to do was move your leg over a few inches and hers would be touching yours. You were vaguely aware of PJ explaining that you were going to practise defending yourselves against each other, but you were only half listening. You were too busy staring at Hazel’s knee. It was so close to yours. You were snapped out of your thoughts by her knee nudging yours. You looked up at Hazel, mortified that you were caught out.

“That’s you,” Hazel said.

“Huh? What? Oh,” you laughed nervously, putting two-and-two together. Josie had said your name. You gulped. You really didn’t want to go first. Surely fighting each other was counterintuitive for solidarity? You sat up, moving to the middle of the circle.

“And um… Hazel.” Josie said. Your eyes widened. You particularly didn’t want to fight her. What if you hurt her?

“Right, okay,” Hazel chuckled awkwardly, standing up to move into the middle as well. You smiled at each other nervously and began circling each other.

“C’mon!” someone shouted.

“Hit each other!” somebody else yelled even louder. Your heart racing, you took a step forward, swinging your fist, nowhere near as hard as you could have, cringing as you did so. Hazel, thankfully, ducked, and you missed. Continuing to circle each other, you both laughed nervously.

The group shouted encouragements, egging you both on. Hazel swung this time as you attempted to dodge. You didn’t quite move fast enough though, and her fist made contact with your cheekbone. You bit back a smile. It was not okay how much you enjoyed it.

“Get her, Hazel! Slay queen!” Sylvie shouted, as she swung again, and this time you ducked quickly. Using the opportunity, you thought you’d better try again, and attempted a right hook, cringing internally when your fist made contact. Hazel smiled. She actually smiled.

“Nice one,” she said, hitting you again, knocking you down onto your back. Amidst the shock, you were vaguely aware of your lip bleeding from where Hazel’s ring made contact. Before you could move to get up, she was on top of you, hips straddling yours, pinning down your wrists. The way her body was pressed against yours made your head spin and your breath quicken. Not to mention the throbbing between your thighs. Your cheer skirt had ridden up in the process, and it was difficult not to notice the only thing covering you were the thin bike shorts underneath.

“Ready to give up yet?” she asked, smirking. You smiled, using all of your strength to push her off you, the two of you rolling over so now you were on top of her. There was something about this particular situation that was making you so much more brave then usual.

“Definitely not,” you replied. There was a bit of back and forth as you rolled around, eventually ending up on your back, Hazel on top of you. Not that you were complaining. The soft noises she made, grunting and groaning as you fought, were possibly the hottest sounds you had ever heard in your entire life. It made you wonder what she sounded if they were noises of pleasure, instead of pain, if she might moan in delight if you were to kiss her neck, if you were to be between her legs, how she would gasp-

“Hazel wins!”

Oh fuck. Your train of thought had absolutely distracted you. You literally had forgotten to keep fighting back, too busy enjoying yourself. Hazel stood up, the loss of the feeling of her against you a large disappointment. You picked yourself up as well, wincing at the pain. Hazel was looking pretty worse for wear as well, blood dripping from her nose, hair mused. You vaguely wondered if it was normal to find it incredibly sexy.

“Well done,” you said, as she reached out to shake your hand. God, she was so endearing. You tried to ignore how much sweat had pooled on your palms.

“You too,” she said, “you were amazing.”

------------------------------------------------------------

The next few weeks in the club were truly amazing. Despite the fighting being the thing to bring all of you together, you really felt like you had bonded with every single one of the girls more than you could have imagined. There was a beauty in the trust you put in each other’s hands to be that violent with each other.

More than anything, you felt closer to Hazel. You could actually speak to her without feeling like you were going to explode with anxiety, instead wanting to explode with affection. The pair of you had developed a habit of sitting next to one another, and after every meeting you would hang around after everyone else had left, caught up in conversation. Those small moments were such a safe space, they felt electric; you felt like you could tell her anything and she would listen. And vice versa.

Well. Almost anything.

The two of you were sitting cross-legged in the middle of the gym floor, facing each other. You couldn’t even remember how long ago everyone else had left.

“I dunno, I just feel like this is the first time I’ve had actual, real, friends in school, you know?” Hazel said. The sadness in her eyes and twitch in her brow made you want to scream, to grab the shoulders of anyone who didn’t want to be her friend and ask what the fuck was fundamentally wrong with them.

You nodded sympathetically.

“Me too. I mean, I love Brittany and Isabel, but we didn’t even talk about anything that wasn’t cheer or schoolwork or petty relationship drama until we joined the club. Now we talk about real things.”

“That’s so great,” Hazel said softly, turning your insides to mush.

“You’re so great,” you breathed out quickly, gently placing your hand on her leg before you could think. You cleared your throat, drawing your hand back and placing it back in your lap, clasping your hands together.

“Thank you,” she said your name, and you fought the urge to melt into the floor at the way your name passed through her lips.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and you both whipped your heads to see who it was. PJ wandered in, and you stiffened.

“Hey, I left my backpack.” She jogged up, grabbing it off the ground and swinging it onto her shoulder. “What are you guys doing?”

“Nothing,” you said, possibly a little too defensively.

“Yeah, just talking,” Hazel said, standing up. You basically deflated with disappointment.

“We still on for tonight? I really need some help,” PJ said to Hazel expectedly, and she nodded in response.

“Yeah, for sure. See you later,” she smiled at you, and you tried to hide your disappointment.

“Bye guys,” you waved, waiting until they left to lay down on the floor and groan.

------------------------------------------------------------

“PJ, you’re a liar!”

“Yeah, well, you have no friends and a skank as a mom, so…”

The pain on Hazel’s face was evident. She looked like a kicked puppy. Your blood boiled. How dare PJ say that, after everything Hazel had done for her? Enough was enough. You shot up, stalking over to PJ, rage burning inside of you. With one swift movement, you swung your fist right to the centre of her face, knocking her clean onto the floor.

It suddenly dawned on you what you had done. All of your friends watched in shock, mouths hanging open. Nervously, you turned around, Hazel gazing at you in shock.

“I-uh-“ you stuttered, utterly humiliated. Before you could apologise to PJ for taking it too far, before anyone could say anything, Hazel darted off, the doors shutting loudly behind her.

“PJ, I’m sorry, I-“ you stuttered out to the girl still laying on the floor, before taking off after Hazel.

“Haze, wait!” You followed her figure out the gym, down the hallway, around a corner, and into the toilets.

You entered, taking a deep breath. Hazel was leaning against the sink, chewing on her fingernails.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, that was uncalled for. I know you don’t need me to stand up for you, and I know you like PJ, and that was so not my place, and-“ you said quickly. “I’m just really sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise to me,” Hazel sighed. “You were incredible. I should be thanking you, really.”

“Oh.” You took a small step forward, hands clasped behind your back.

“I don’t like PJ, by the way,” she shook her head, chuckling. Your stomach rolled and dipped.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” she smiled softly.

“I just hear the way she speaks to you, and I don’t know, I think you deserve better than that,” you shrugged.

“I know I do,” she said, shuffling back and forth nervously. “I just always want to see the best in people, I guess.”

“I love that about you,” you said quickly, without thinking. Blood rushed to your cheeks. You were getting dangerously close to confessing the entirety of your feelings for her. She was the one who made you feel brave. Hazel looked away shyly at this, grinning. God, she was beautiful. You took a moment to admire her.

“That doesn’t mean that you can’t be self-assured and brave at the same time,” you continued. “Really, I’ve always thought that you seem so confident.”

“I’m not as brave as I could be,” she said quietly, scanning your face. “As you.” She inched ever so closer to you. Her eyes were burning into yours, making you feel positively dizzy. “There’s so many things I wish I could do, but I just… don’t have the confidence.” Her voice got quieter and quieter as she spoke.

“Like what?” you asked, nibbling at your bottom lip. You didn’t even remember when you got this close to each other, all you had to do was lean forward just a bit and you would be-

“Oh my god, Hazel are you okay?” the door swung open, and you both jumped back.

“Y-yeah, thanks Josie,” Hazel replied, her adorable face reddening. “It was a wake-up call, if I’m honest.”

“Between you and me, PJ had it coming,” Josie said, placing her hand on your shoulder. You smiled at her gratefully. “Someone had to do it. I really think she’ll come to her senses and realise that she needs to treat you better, Hazel.”

“Thank you. Honestly, I don’t even care that much anymore,” she shrugged, stealing a glance at you. Your breath quickened.

------------------------------------------------------------

It took a few weeks, but everything pretty much went back to normal. PJ was genuinely showing Hazel how sorry she was, appreciating all of the work she did for the club. You and PJ were fine, as well. You forgave each other. Meetings went back to normal, and you found yourself constantly grateful for the group of strong, brave, kind-hearted, supportive girls.

You were currently sitting on your bed, books sprawled out in front of you, ‘studying.’ Okay, so maybe you weren’t entirely concentrating on science homework. Maybe, just maybe, you couldn’t get a certain brunette out of the forefront of your mind. Particularly a certain near-kiss incident. You always presumed there was no way she liked you, that she liked PJ, but now you weren’t sure. Would she have kissed you if you hadn’t been interrupted? Your doorbell rang, and you sighed in relief at the distraction from your rumination. Being home alone, you went down your stairs, heading towards the door and opening it before checking who it was. Nothing could have prepared you to see Hazel standing there, looking incredibly nervous and incredibly adorable. She was wearing a back and white shirt paired with a black vest that should have been illegal to look that good in.

“Hey!” you said, perhaps a little too cheerfully. “What are you doing here? Do you wanna come in?”

She grinned that smile of hers that you swear could cure any disease.

“Yeah, thanks. Just came to see you, if that’s okay? I know it’s a bit weird, I hope I’m not interrupting anything?” You shook your head as she wiped her feet before entering, and you shut the door behind her.

“Just studying. So boring. I’m grateful for the distraction,” you chuckled. And you truly were grateful. It’s as if all your worries and anxieties about Hazel disappeared as soon as she was in front of you. Because it was just Hazel. Your Hazel. Your friend. And no matter what, you loved her. And you knew she cared for you, romantic or not. And that wasn’t going to change.

“Look, I-“ she started, taking a deep breath, and then beginning again. “I’m trying to be brave like you are. To say what I feel when I feel it.” Her voice was steady and even. You wanted to correct her, tell her that you don’t say what you feel, but she continued.

“And what I feel, is that I might just die if I don’t kiss you right now.”

Holy shit.

Instead of responding, you placed your hand behind her neck, both of your bodies moving in sync towards each other. The moment your lips met, you exhaled through your noses in sync. As if you were both saying, finally. Her hands found your waist as your lips softly grazed one another’s, testing the water. You parted your lips slightly, deepening the kiss. Kissing somebody new usually felt daunting as you learned to navigate it, but you had never felt safer. Hazel’s hands moved back and forth on your waist, as her tongue darted out ever so slightly. You moaned softly into the kiss, hands gently threading through the hair at the bottom of her neck. It was just as soft as you imagined.

You pulled apart for a moment, faces close to one another. Neither of you could contain your smiles. You vaguely wondered if it was possible to faint from feeling so many butterflies. Not being able to help yourself, you reached up and brushed her hair out of her eyes.

“Wow,” you exhaled.

Hazel was the first one to move this time, crashing your lips together with more urgency this time. The kiss grew more passionate as you wrapped your arms around each other, yours draped around her neck, hers engulfing your entire back. It was as if you couldn’t get any closer, as if you were drowning and kissing each other was oxygen. Pulling apart ever so slightly, you gave her one last kiss, then another, because you simply couldn’t help it.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” You giggled, arms still draped around her neck.

“Me too,” she whispered, before kissing your forehead. God, could she get any cuter?

“Really?” you raised an eyebrow, as you both began to move to get more comfortable on the couch, sitting beside one another.

“Yeah, are you kidding!?” she said dramatically. “But you’re like this hot, popular cheerleader, I never thought I’d have a chance with you!”

“I’m hot? Have you seen you?” you asked in disbelief.

She blushes a deep shade of red, mouth opening slightly as if she was going to say something, then closing it again.

“I didn’t even know if you were gay,” she eventually says.

You laughed.

“Don’t you remember the first time we fought? That was like, a sexual spiritual awakening. That was the gayest shit ever.” Hazel threw her head back and laughed, eyes crinkling at the sides.

“I can’t ever forget.”

“Oh! Also…” you said, grinning from ear to ear, absolutely giddy with disbelief that this was actually happening. You pulled your top up slightly to reveal your ribs, where a small tattoo of a pair of interlocked scissors resided. You both laughed. Hazel’s cheeks reddened, and she stuttered.

“Well, I- I mean… maybe you want to be a hairdresser?” she laughed, eyes glued to the tattoo.

“God, that’s so hot,” she mumbled under her breath. “Can I?” she asked reaching out, and you nodded, heart lurching at her care for asking. She gently traced the tattoo, and you let out a shaky breath. She was barely touching you, and yet her effect on you was all-encompassing. Goosebumps prickled your skin everywhere, not just where she was touching you.

“Hazel,” you whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear. “You can take it off if you want.” Your voice came out shakier than you anticipated. Hazel gulped, nodded, then pulled your top off, your arms stretching up to help her. She tossed it on the floor, eyes scanning all of you as if she couldn’t quite take it all in. You were in a plain cotton bra, still wearing your cheer skirt, but Hazel made you feel like you were wearing the most expensive, fancy lingerie ever. You cupped her face, thumbing her cheek, before pulling her in for a kiss. You kissed her with less urgency this time, taking the time to explore each other’s mouths slowly and passionately. She pulled you onto her lap, so you were straddling her, her hands resting on your hips. You slowly began to move against her in rhythm, moaning into the kiss.

Hazel murmured your name against your lips, breathing shakily.

“I want- I- you’re so-“ she tried. “Jesus fucking christ,” she said as she buried her face in the crook of your neck.

“Tell me what you want,” you whispered, running your fingers through her hair. Hazel began to kiss your neck, leaving a trail of kisses up to your ear. Shivers ran down your spine, and you sighed in pleasure.

“Whatever you want. Do whatever you want with me,” she whispered into your ear, and you quite literally nearly came right there and then.

“No, what do you want?” you asked, thumbing at her lip. She opened her mouth, sucking on your thumb before releasing it with a pop. You swore, she was going to actually put you into cardiac arrest. Despite this action, you could tell nobody had really asked her that before, and she was at a loss for words.

“I want to make you feel good. Is that okay?” you asked, instead of letting her answer.

“God yes,” she basically moaned, kissing you. Meanwhile, you pushed her vest off, making quick work of undoing the buttons of her shirt. You tossed the items on the floor, barely breaking your lips apart for a moment.

“Lay down for me,” you moved off her lap, letting her get comfortable. This gave you the perfect opportunity to run your eyes over her body. She was left in a soft black crop top and jeans. Looking down at her, her chest rising and falling, soft skin to die for, eyes wide with desire, lips plump from making out, it crossed your mind that you had never, ever, ever, seen a more heavenly sight.

“You’re so beautiful,” you breathed out, moving to straddle her again, intertwining your fingers together above her head.

“You’re the most beautiful,” she retaliated, nudging your noses together. You both giggled, and you kissed her softly.

“Take the compliment, baby. I mean it,” you said, kissing her again, before she could respond again. Still holding one of her hands, you moved the other down her tummy, lightly tracing patterns on her skin. Her eyes fluttered as she bit her lip.

“Touch me,” she said. You smirked.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” you chuckled, glad she was asking for what she wanted.

“Can I take these off?” you blinked at her, fiddling with a belt loop on her jeans.

“Please,” she said breathily, arching her back slightly. You undid the button, the zipper, then stood up so she could shimmy out of them, you yanked them off her legs a little too hard, your feet giving out beneath you as you stumbled backwards, landing on your ass on the floor in shock. You looked at each other for a second, before both bursting out laughing.

“Smooth,” Hazel said between loud laughs. “Really smooth. How did you even manage that?” she teased, getting off the couch, instead onto the floor with you, crawling towards you. Your eyes drifted down to her cleavage, then back to her eyes. You inhaled sharply.

“Shut up,” you teased back, as she moved on top of you, pinning you down.

“I feel like we’ve been here before,” Hazel mused, holding your wrists down.

“I’m definitely getting flashbacks,” you laughed. “Except this time, I can just…” you kissed her, a little sloppily, but neither of you cared because it was so hot.

------------------------------------------------------------

The very next day, you and Hazel walked hand in hand into a club meeting, giggling and whispering to each other. You were the last ones to arrive, having gotten a little distracted in the janitor’s closet.

Everyone turned to look at the pair of you, all seemingly realising what was happening at the exact same moment.

“Oh my god, FINALLY!”

“You fucked! Finally!”

“You were so obvious!”

“Slay queens!”

A chorus of excitement engulfed you, as everyone crowded around you, hugging the pair of you. PJ included.

“I’m really happy for you guys. This-“ she pointed back and forth between you, then made some inappropriate gestures, “makes a lot of sense.”

“Thanks, dude.” Hazel smiled at her.

“Okay, let’s start!” Josie chimed, and you all sat down in a circle. You didn’t let go of Hazel’s hand for a moment. “As per our new protocol, we’re drawing names for pairings.” She held up a hat full of slips with all of your names on it, shaking it around. She stuck her hand in, swirled it around a little too long for dramatic effect. She drew a paper out, reading it aloud.

“Hazel!” You internally groaned. You didn’t want anyone else to get that close to your girl.

“And….” She picked another piece, reading your name out. You grinned.

“Are you game?” Hazel asked, and you nodded enthusiastically.

“Only if you are.”

“Are you kidding?” She leaned into your ear to whisper. “Any excuse to get you on top of me.”

[3d-wifey]

NSFT Alphabet: MK1 Johnny Cage Edition

A/N: Wrote this to hold you Johnny girls (gender neutral) over until I finish that smut 😙 Plus, I find writing these Alphabets for a character in preparation to write full-fledged smut for them is very helpful in capturing accurate characterization. It's almost like a writing exercise. I've written three different ones so far and I tried to keep them in character, if that makes sense. Like, I tried putting their personality and language in it. Okay, enjoy.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Talking. So much talking. But, honestly, did you expect anything else? As he’s pulling out, as he’s carrying you to the shower, as you’re washing his hair. And when it inevitably leads to shower sex, he’s talking then too. You’ll never meet a man who loves the sound of his own voice more than Johnny Cage.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

Uh, how ‘bout the artillery canons strapped to his arms? C’mon, I mean, who wouldn’t want a ticket to the gun show? 

Face. Is saying your face too cliche? Hear him out! You want specifics? He can do specifics! He likes the dimples that pop in your cheeks when he finally gets you to laugh at one of his jokes, the little crease you get between your eyebrows when he’s pissed you off, the adorable way your nose scrunches up when he does that one thing with his tongue that drives you crazy. See? Specifics!

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

Pull out game…very weak. Embarrassingly weak, actually. He swears he’s never had this problem before. His ability to pull out in the nick of time has always been something he’s prided himself on. However, he vastly underestimated just how good you’d feel. He’s clean, you’re clean, and, hey! You both prefer the feeling of hitting it raw, the way nature intended it. However, your pussy’s like wet kryptonite. And he’s only a man. A very awesome man, but a man nonetheless. So birth control it is! Or, if you’re turned off by all the side effects, he can be talked into a vasectomy. It’s either that or give up the sweet, sweet embrace of your walls when he’s balls deep. 

On second thought, that vasectomy sounds pretty tempting. It is reversible, right?

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Johnny would leak his own sex tape. Plain and simple. He’d leak it from a burner account and watch the chaos ensue. There’s no shame in his game. Hey, it’s ranked the Number 1 Celebrity sex tape for a reason.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Is this even a question? Actors, singers, models, directors, producers. He’s THE Johnny Cage, Hollywood royalty. He’s fucked actual royalty. You’re in good hands—as long as he cares about you. If you’re a random hookup, then he’s not really working for your pleasure here. You’ll definitely cum, but it’s mainly a pit stop on his way to the finish line. 

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Reverse cowgirl. Johnny’s an ass man, through and through. He loves fucking up into you and watching your ass ripple with both of your movements. And he loves holding onto you. Big hands grabbing your waist, hips, thighs, and especially your ass. He also loves seeing you both in action. So reverse cowgirl + some artfully placed full-length mirrors = Him wrapping his arms around your stomach, rubbing at your clit, and forcing you to watch yourself as you desperately grind against him, AKA Heaven. 

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Oh, c’mon. It isn’t like him to be serious in any situation. He’s gotta slip a joke in every now and then. Get it? Slip a joke in?

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Wax on, wax off, baby. Smoother than a seal. Or, uh, some other sexy, hairless animal. You mourn when he waxes his happy trail. 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

You’ll be surprised by how charming he can be. It’s not all jokes and great orgasms. It’s also loving touches, reverent compliments, and amazing orgasms.

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

He’s got a healthy libido and a pretty stacked schedule, so sometimes a quick introduction between his hand and mini Johnny can’t be helped. But he’s also got a smoking hot girlfriend (you), so jerking off by himself is a rare occurrence. 

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Exhibitionism. What can he say? He’s a performer at heart and he loves an audience. But nothing crazy, just your average celebrity having sex on a yacht that’s in full view of the paparazzi. Or the occasional jerking off with you telling him how fast or slow to go. Oh, and you can’t forget about the sex tapes. Man, with the amount of videos he has of the two of you going at it, he could start an archive. You two have definitely ended up on the cover of TMZ and the front page of Twitter.

Voyeurism. But only for you. He’s enthralled by anything you do, including how many of your much smaller fingers will you stuff inside yourself to replicate the feeling of him stretching you wide. It usually leads to you begging for him to touch you, something else he’s in love with. Nothing wrong with a little hands-on audience participation.

Dirty talk. Normally, dirty talk is kind of basic to any old romp in the hay, but Johnny, being Johnny, puts his own Cage flair on it. Those corny oneliners somehow translate to the perfect thing to say to get you hot. He’s like Shakespear, if Shakespear was good-looking and not a virgin. You know what they say: everything sounds better when you’re horny. Who says that? Uh…

Fighting/Sparing which always leads to blood play. Winning a match gets Johnny’s blood pumping. The adrenaline of escaping death and the crowd hyping him up. And the crux of it all is you who happens to get especially wet when he comes to you covered in blood, grinning with a glint in his eyes that’s poorly hidden behind his blood-speckled sunglasses (a glint that many may describe as mania). And it certainly goes the other way. Watching you kick ass makes him harder than a diamond. Sparing together is a no-brainer that leads to fucking on his gym floor, or, honestly, wherever you two fall. Lui Kang must regret making you two his champions in this timeline with how often he’s walked in on you two. Offering to let him join probably doesn’t soften the blow, but, hey, it’s only polite.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

In his mansion. In one of his lavish beds, or pressed up against the wall-length windows. In his Bentley or in the back of his limo. He’s a big fan of fingering you under the table at an award show and then fucking you in a bathroom at said award show when he should definitely be on stage presenting. For whatever reason, walking the red carpet always gets him worked up. And going to the club together always ends with you riding him in the VIP section.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Such a complex question for a man with complex taste. I’m joking, Johnny is so easy. It’s actually ridiculous how easily you turn him on. Laugh at his joke, hard. Complement his acting or fighting, hard. Running your fingers through his hair/scratching his scalp, hard. Feel him up/tease him in any context, hard. You’re covered in blood after a win, hard, hard, rock hard.

“Are you King Midas? Cuz you make me hard with just one touch.”

“That one was actually kinda clever.” 

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nothing too gross. He’s all for sloppy, messy sex, but he has to draw the line somewhere. There’s nasty 👁🫦👁 and there’s n a s t y 👁👄👁. 

He likes to tease/do the opposite of what you say, but if you’re not 100% on board with what he’s doing, then he’s stopping it then and there. Remember: there’s nothing sexier than explicit consent!

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Preferred to receive before he started dating you, and only ever had the urge to go down on someone if he had been drinking before. After you started dating, he definitely loved it whenever you gave him head, but he didn’t realize how much pleasure he could get from giving you pleasure. 

He loves sloppy head, giving and receiving, so if you weren’t wet before, you definitely will be after he gets his mouth on you. 

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on when and where you’re doing it. And if you two are “allowed” to be doing it in said place.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Big fan of the guy who came up with the idea of quickies, enough said. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

C’mon. He’s the leading source of your sex tapes getting leaked. I mean, how do you think the paps keep finding you in compromising positions? A little tip-off to them while you take his tip, ha!

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

It’s like he runs off horsepower, good God. If you’re trying to go until he’s tired out, it’s gonna be a couple of rounds until then.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’s a fan of dildos. Specifically, watching you fuck yourself with one. “Go ahead, baby. Show me how bad you want me.” And show him, you do. God, you know how to put on a show. But you shouldn’t have to settle for some random dildo. You’re with the Cage man, and he would get a mold of his dick made for you. And they say he’s not romantic. 

Strap-on. That’s it. And he takes it well ;).

Remote-controlled vibrators, for you and him. Hell, let’s make a game out of it. See who can last the longest in public, there are no losers! 

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

His version of teasing is doing the opposite of what you said to do. You want him to speed up? He’s slowing down and making sure you feel every inch inside you. Oh, keep his hands above his head? You gonna make him? He’s a total brat, but you knew what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to date him.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Heh, yeahhh. He’s real loud. Moans, groans, screams, whimpers. You name it, he’s doing it. It’s the performer in him. And because he knows you like how he sounds.

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

Tattoos? Sexy as hell. If you were to ever get his name tattooed on you (preferably a tramp stamp), then you might as well start planning what flowers you want in your bouquet. I could see him getting your name tattooed on him too. Probably on his pelvis, in the middle of his v-line. In case anyone ever needs a reminder of who his dick belongs to.  

Type of guy to dedicate a Mortal Kombat match to you, and then lose. Ah, I’m joking. He’d beat his opponent’s ass all because you promised him victory sex if he won and he doesn’t take victory sex lightly.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s got an 8.5–8.9 inch hog, shower not a grower. Little Johnny isn’t so little. There’s a reason he’s alright with doing full-frontal nudity if the scene calls for it. They’ve had to CG out his bulge in post-production in every Ninja Mime movie. It’s not his fault spandex happens to be the clingiest material known to man.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Higher than Mount Fuji. He’s a stallion in his prime with a gorgeous girlfriend. His spare time is filled with filling you. And you both tend to feed off of each other, so all it takes is for one of you to be the tiniest bit turned on, and then, boom! You’re both desperately grinding against each other in a supply closet. Ain’t that just the way?

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Depends. He’s kind of like a dog that needs to tire himself out before he can sleep. 

Click for a Johnny Cage-shaped surprise👀👀

[hellvcifer]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write a Hazbin Hotel x sad reader. Where the reader is just lying in their bed and hasn’t came out their room. And the Hazbin characters tries to give them comfort. If your not comfortable writing this then that’s totally fine 💗

RECLUSE— ଘ fic

pairing :: hazbin hotel residents x gn!reader wc :: 2.7k note :: hi there! i hope this is what you were looking for and brings you some comfort if you're feeling down. i wasn't sure which characters you were looking for specifically so i did a little of each for the main hotel crew. warnings :: reader is sad, isolation and pushing people away

“Good morning!” Charlie shouted, hands thrown in the air, a giant grin plastered on her face. “I have the per~fect morning planned for us. First, we’ll do our daily affirmations in our friendship circle, then we’ll try the trust fall exercises–this time without the egg boys–” her face wilted at the memory. Poor Tucker. “And then!” She immediately went back to her peppy-self, “I thought we could bake cookies!” She glanced at everyone who sat in the lounge area.

“Uh, we’re missing one.” Angel spoke, his body splayed across one of the couches as he casually scrolled through his phone. 

“Y/N hassn’t come down yet.” Sir Pentious added, a few of the egg boys walking around him, seemingly playing a game.

“Oh!” Charlie looked confused for a moment, “Well, uh, that’s okay!” She walked over next to her girlfriend and sat down on the open seat of one of the couches. “We can wait.”

“I’m sure they’ll be down shortly.” Vaggie placed a hand on Charlie’s bouncy thigh to help ease her pent up excitement for the activities she had planned. All was fine until a few more minutes passed. Then those few minutes turned into thirty. Then thirty turned into an hour. Charlie and Vaggie shared a look. 

“I’ll uh,” The princess stood, “I’ll just go check on them! To make sure everything is okay.” She nervously smiled before making her way to the stairs, Vaggie followed closely behind to accompany her. 

“I’m sure everything’s perfectly fine.” She did her best to calm the blonde.

“You’re right!” Charlie smiled. “They probably just slept in a little. Nothing to worry about!” Once they reached your door, Charlie cleared her throat, adjusting her posture before knocking. A few raps of her knuckles on the dull door and nothing was heard in response. “Uh, Hello~! Wakey-wakey, Y/N!” A couple more knocks. “Are you in there?” Her question was hopeful though she couldn’t help the slip of concern. You had always been on time, happily participating in her exercises, and helping around the hotel. It was increasingly odd to not see you around. “Maybe they’re not at the hotel?” She turned to Vaggie.

The girl shook her head. “No one saw them leave.” The answer only caused Charlie to huff in a pout. 

“Okay then.” She stood straight, eyes glimmering with determination. “If they won’t come out, then we’ll just go in!” She reached for the knob and grasped tightly.

“Wait, Charli–” The door was locked. She wiggled it a few more times, thinking maybe it was just stuck. The jostling grew more and more louder as she continued to try to open it. “Charlie, okay wait, stop.” 

“Go away!” A muffled voice called from behind the door causing them both to pause. Your muffled voice. 

“Y/N?” The blonde called out. “Uh, are you okay?”

“Please, just…” Your tone quieted. “Just leave.”

“Okay but I rea~lly think you should open the door! And we can talk! Or…” She nervously looked around, trying to come up with something. “Or~! you could join everyone downstairs! And we can, uh… We can…” She trailed off, eyes flitting to Vaggie.

“Maybe we should just give some space.” She suggested and Charlie sighed in response. Her head drooped. 

“Yeah, okay.” They walked off, with more questions than answers, and worried expressions. 

“I’m sure after today, things will be back to normal. Okay?” Vaggie side hugged Charlie. 

Inside your room you laid in your bed. Everything felt heavy, swallowed up in darkness. You let the blankets cocoon you in their warmth as you lie there, unmoving. Unmotivated. Drowning in the gray clouds of your mind. Surely, a few days like this and you’d be out of your funk. 

Nothing really put you there to begin with but you felt yourself becoming low-spirited over the past week. That morning, you knew it was impossible to get out of bed. You sunk further and further into the springed mattress, the lumps now cradling you and your sorrows. You heaved out a deep breath. Just a few days. And maybe, this dark storm will have passed. 

“It’s been four days!” Charlie worriedly paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. “And after all we’ve been through together I think it’s time we step in!”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Sweetie.” Vaggie stood up, walking closer and placing a comforting hand on her girlfriend's shoulder. “When you ask to be left alone, sometimes you just gotta leave them alone.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’m with toots over there.” Angel gestured to Charlie, walking over with a drink in his hand. “I get wanting to shut out for a few days but not this long.” He leaned on the back of the couch.

“Perhapss they’re in need of ssome assistance?” Pentious’ tongue peaked out to end his words. 

“Good idea, boss!” One of his egg boys shouted from the ground.

Charlie’s face lit up, eyes widening upon hearing his words. “It’s a GREAT idea!” She turned towards everyone, hands held out in excitement. 

“No, Charlie!” Vaggie grabbed both her hands. “We already tried that and got told to leave.”

“Yeah, but that was you two.” Husk added, “And we know how you like to handle things.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

He rolled his eyes, “It means you don’t know how to read the situation.”

Vaggie was glaring at him fiercely when Angel straightened his back, “You know what, Kitty’s right.” He got closer. “Why don’t we try our hands at talking. Figure something from us might make ‘em feel better.”

“But the door’s locked.”

“Eh,” Angel waved his two right hands. “We’ll get 'em to open it.” He began walking to the stairs, Husk close behind him.

“And how exactly are we supposed to do that?” Husk asked.

“Oh, I got an idea.” He flashed a look before leading the bartender to his room. He made a short pit stop to pick up fat nuggets and then they made it to your room. A few knocks on your door and they were only answered with silence. 

“Hey Y/N~!” Angel called out. “You know, it’s been so lonely without you around and I have someone here that’s been dying to see you!” As if on queue, nuggets made two cute squeals of delight. 

“Really?” Husk narrowed his eyes at Angel. “You’re bribing them with the pig?”

Angel snapped to look at him. “Hey! Everyone loves this pig!” He sharply spoke in a low tone.

“Leave me alone!” They both snapped to stare at your door. 

“We brought booze?” Angel tried again, suggesting Husk’s bottle of whiskey. Which may not have been the best idea considering the slow turn the cat gave him. Entirely offended with his mouth open.

“I don’t want your stupid cheap alcohol!” Why… You rolled your eyes, turning away from the door, Why! “Or your pig!” Why are you saying these things? “Just go! Away!” Your chest was filled with an abnormal pressure as you threw the blanket over your head, water brimming your eyes. You muffled the sobs into your pillow.  Why are you feeling like this?

Angel and Husk left defeatedly, entering the lobby similar to how Vaggie and Charlie did the first time. Husk went behind the bar, not wanting to talk and Angel laid down on the red couch. 

“Well?” Charlie almost knew the answer already but hoped for something better. 

“Got nothing.” Angel moped. “Bribed ‘em with Nuggets and booze.” He turned to look at the group. “Nothing’ll work if we can’t get passed the door.” 

“Then we must bring the show inside!” The radioed voice was cascading throughout the room as he appeared in the lounge area. Taking a seat in one of the chairs, he crossed his legs. “Sometimes a little jazz is all you need to reignite the light.” 

“Oh no! No, no, no!” Vaggie was quick to stand in, “We can’t just invade their privacy!” She turned to the group. “I care for Y/N as much as all of you, but sometimes you need to respect them wanting space.”

“But aren’t you two the oness telling uss to be there for our friendss?” Pentious asked. “How can we comfort them by giving them sspace?”

“It’s called boundaries.” Her hands assisted the assertion of her words.

“Uh, Yeah, boundaries.” Angel mocked, “Smiles is gone by the way.” He pointed to the now empty seat as everyone snapped their heads to it. Vaggie slapped her hands to her face, letting out a frustrated groan. 

Charlie nervously laughed before clasping her hands together. “Oh no.”

Alastor rose from murky obsidian shadows, revealing his everlasting sinister grin. His eyes slid over to the bed, brow raised once he saw a cluster of blankets. He spun his mic, walking over and waving his hand. The unused fireplace was suddenly lit and crackling, causing you to jolt. 

“The fuck–?”

“Why Hello!” The sudden radioed cadence was all you needed to hear. You rolled your eyes. “Closing away like this is no way to present yourself!” He leaned forward. You noticed the soft soothing trill of jazz in the background, no doubt brought on by the man beyond your blanket barrier. “Where’s the joy in being locked away in this room?”

“Will you just–” You hastily uncovered yourself and sat up. “Get out!” The glow of the flames flickered against your skin as you sought out the intruder. 

“Don’t you look swell!” His incessant grin was accompanied with an overt blink. You groaned, forcefully lying back down in a huff against your pillow. Glared glued to the ceiling.

“Why can’t anyone understand that I want to be left alone!” 

Alastor walked over to the fire, a chair and an end table appeared with a cup of coffee. He took a seat and grabbed his cup. “Why be alone when there’s so much to do outside!” 

You released a heavy sigh. “What’s the point…” Your voice came out in a strained whisper. Throat knotting as you struggled to swallow away your swollen tongue. 

Al took a sip from his mug, “My my, what a depressing thing you are! I’m nearly getting flashbacks.” 

“Alastor…” You felt your eyebrow twitch, “With every single drop of the draining patience I have left. Get. The fuck. Out.” 

Your words had zero effect on him, “But I’m here to help, my friend!”

“Oh please.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re saying you’re here because you care?”

He laughed, “Oh dear, no!” He set his drink down and stood up, “Being a witness to you drowning in your sorrows is quite entertaining.”

You turned your head to look at him, “Then why are you here?”

“I’m merely a parrot to our constituents! The worry over your newfound reclusion has become the talk of the town! I wanted to see it for myself.” He walked closer. “But by all means, continue your isolation! Watching the others scurry about with concern and become defeated time after time again is delightful! It’s not as if it’s hurting anyone…” His eyes slid towards you, his smile filtering to that of a smirk. “Including yourself.” He melded into the floor, the fire and music extinguishing with his exit. 

Now alone in the thickened darkness, the silence of your own thoughts gnawing into the corners of your mind. Hurting. Were you really hurting them? That wasn’t anything close to what you wanted. Staying in your room. Locked away. That was supposed to be the solution until you felt better. Somewhat better. Just… Different than how you were feeling now. 

But the days don’t feel different at all. If anything, the mucky feeling only cemented itself further within your chest. You felt it begin to sink, the thought of everyone trying to break through to you brought that welling feeling back. And you just yelled at them. You yelled at the only people trying to show you kindness.

The tears pooled over the edge, racing down your face. Everything released from within, the melancholic storm brewed over the past few days erupted. Your thunderous cries echoed throughout the dark room. 

After a few more whales you finally simmered down to a low whine, taking deep breaths to relieve yourself. It wasn’t a cure-all but you were finally able to gain some bearings. You grabbed your blanket and stood up, wrapping it around your figure. That damn radio head may have had a point after all. You released another long-winded breath and began making your way to your door.

The hallway walls were a sight for sore eyes, you pupils dilating as soon as you stepped out of your room. The heavy feeling in your lungs felt like it was building once again as you journeyed to the lobby. What would you say to them? Would they even want to talk to you? You stopped walking. What if they’re mad at you? You closed your eyes, shaking your head before continuing. You committed to this. No backing out now.

You finally made it to the top of the stairs that descended into the lobby. The blanket around your body felt like it was nearly constricting you with how tight you had it pulled. You sniffled quietly, eyes scanning the area and finally seeing them crowded around the old TV for movie night. 

Shuffling closer, you found that watching your feet take each small step closer made you less scared to address them. As soon as Vaggie caught sight of you, she paused the movie, elbowing Charlie and nodding towards you. Everyone soon followed her line of sight.

The silence signaled it was finally time to say something. An overwhelming heat pulsed throughout your body, ending within your cheeks.

“I…” the tears began bubbling the rim of your eyes. “I don’t know why I said those things. I don’t k-know why I’m feeling like this. I just feel… I feel sad, and I don’t know why!” Everything broke once again, large drops cascading down your cheeks endlessly as you began to cry. You used your blanket to wipe away the trails.

Charlie and Angel stood up immediately, coming to your side and embracing you. “It’s okay, Y/N.” The blonde softly consoled. “You don’t have to be happy all the time! And you never need a reason to be sad.”

“Sometimes, we just feel sad. And that’s okay.” Angel spoke, his voice mellow and comforting.  “Just share the sadness with us so you’re not alone, okay?”

“Yeah, and we’re always going to be here for you.” Vaggie stood and took a few steps closer.

“Come now,” Alastor gestured with his hand. “Join us while we continue watching this terrible picture show!”

“Yess! Come, come.” Pentious patted the middle seat of the couch as everyone awaited your answer. 

A surge of warmth blossomed throughout your body as you stared at them. Ever so gently, your lips pulled upward as you slowly nodded. They returned it before directing you to sit. Angel sat on the other side of you while Charlie returned to sit down with Vaggie and Niffty.

Pentious bent down to the ground and scooped up three of his egg boys and held them close. He leaned over to you, holding one out as an offer. Simon, the egg boy, opened his arms up towards you, awaiting to be held. You gently cradled him against you and smiled.

“This feels much better.” Charlie hummed, cuddled up with Vaggie. Your head fell onto Angel’s shoulder as you released a sigh. Even though you aren’t feeling a hundred percent all the time, at least you're surrounded by those who care about you. 

A beamy eye popped into your line of sight. “I made you this.” Niffty shot out her hand, a dead roach was disassembled and strung into a necklace. You flashed a strained smile. It really was the thought that counted.

“Thanks, Nifft.” She flitted back to her spot with a happy giggle and hearing it made you sigh in content. You glanced around the room, seeing everyone watching the movie.

Yeah, this really was much better.

likes and reblogs appreciated !! ♡

[revasserium]

A request for Zayne with the prompt, "a note on public health" 🙏🫶☺️

send me one + a character and i'll write u a drabble (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

32. a note on public health

zayne; 1,519 words; fluff, teeth-rotting fluff, fem!reader, no "y/n", zayne!branded humor, vague innuendos, established relationship

summary: a couple of public service announcements.

a/n: zayne cares much about your health ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

001. sleep

For optimal health, one should get eight to ten hours of sleep per night.

You try to stifle a yawn as Zayne glances over the day’s news, projected onto the smooth white tabletop. He looks up, eyes narrowing as you freeze halfway through, attempting to mask the motion with a soft cough.

You reach for your half-finished coffee but Zayne tugs it away with a soft sigh.

“Didn’t sleep well last night?”

You purse your lips, averting your eyes as you reach for a slice of toast, tugging off a corner and stuffing it in your mouth.

“Would’ve slept better if someone hadn’t kept me up past my bedtime.”

This time, it’s Zayne who looks away, coughing as he sips at his own coffee.

“I made sure we finished at a reasonable hour.”

You jerk upright, eyes wide, mouth dropping open, a hot flush working its way into your cheeks. You wonder how he can keep such a straight face, how he looks so fundamentally unbothered. But then, he lets out a light chuckle.

“But you’re right — they say it’s not good to have strenuous exercise right before bed. I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Zayne!” you toss a crumpled bit of napkin at him, your heartbeat pounding at the back of your throat.

Zayne’s eyebrow flicks upward as he picks up the piece of tissue and gently lobs it into the trash can next to the kitchen counter before going back to this breakfast, the faintest hint of a smile shadowing his lips.

002. water

Adults over 19 should drink 1.5 to 2 liters of water a day for optimal health.

“Hello? What is it?”

“Hi! Uhm… where are you? I don’t — I don’t see you.”

“I’m… at home.”

“What? But… the app says you’ve arrived…”

Zayne sighs, “Did you dial the wrong number? This is Zayne.”

“…Oh! Oops.”

“Where are you? Have you been drinking?”

You hiccup, and he can almost see you shaking your head the way you do when you want to deny something you’d obviously been doing. He pushes up from the sofa, grabbing his coat.

“Not… not a lot — Tara just wanted to celebrate since —“ you hiccup again, “since it’s her first promotion, y’know?”

Zayne hums, “Mhm. Where are you?”

“No, no! It’s okay! I called a cab —“

“Cancel it. I’ll come get you.”

“But…”

“Cancel it. And send me your location.”

Thirteen minutes later, you’re climbing into the passenger seat of Zayne’s car with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t be. Here.”

You blink down at the bottle of water Zayne is pressing into your lap.

“Oh… thanks, but I had a lot of water at the bar!” You turn to flash him a bright, proud smile, “See? I do listen to you!”

Zayne laughs as he pulls into a stop light, glancing over at you, the bottle of water cradled between your hands.

“Yes, and I suppose you’re very proud of yourself this time?” there’s a teasing lilt to his voice that lets you know he’s not mad. Still, you scowl.

“Shouldn’t you be proud that your patient is getting better at taking care of herself?”

Zayne sighs, reaching over the tug the bottle from your hands before unscrewing the cap and handing it back to you.

“Drink.”

You look like you’re about to argue for a split second before you catch the sharp look in his eye and bring the bottle up to your lips for a long drink. Zayne allows himself a satisfied smile as he reaches over to give your knee a quick squeeze.

“Good. Good girl.”

003. sun

To maintain healthy blood levels, aim to get 10 - 30 minutes of midday sun, several days a week.

“It’s been raining for forever…”

Zayne looks up from the patient chart propped up in his lap.

You’re sprawled across the sofa on the other side of the room, staring at the bleary, rain-streaked windows with a dull, world-weary expression. Zayne’s eyes flick toward the window for a second before sliding up to the large clock above his door.

It’s three minutes till the end of the day, and he’d agreed you could wait for him in his office while he finished up.

“It has.” He drops his eyes back down to the chart in his hands. The patient is doing well — all things considered. He should keep them for another night of study before signing off to let him go home. Zayne punches in the quick note in for his nurses before setting the chart down.

“Weather forecast says it’s gonna rain all through the weekend too.”

“Hm.” Zayne gets up, rolling his shoulders loose of the knots that had gathered there before rounding his desk, “Come on then.”

“Oh! Are you done? Are we… going to get dinner?” You jump up from the sofa, seemingly revived, a smile on your face. Zayne regards you for a moment before turning.

“Not yet.”

“Not… yet?” you trail after him as he shrugs on his coat and locks his office door.

He can feel your curiosity bubbling for the entire walk to his car through the vast parking garage. He allows himself a smile as you slide in and look at him expectantly. For a second, he toys with the idea of not telling you, of seeing just how long you can hold out before you start to pester him.

“You’ll see,” he says, just as you open your mouth to ask.

“So… it’s a surprise?” you ask.

He shrugs, pulling out of the parking space and cresting through the dimly lit parking structure till he turns onto the bustling city street.

“I suppose it will be.”

“Did you… plan this?” he can hear the hopefulness in your voice, the giddiness sparkling there like soda fizz.

“No, but did you say I should try to be more spontaneous sometimes?”

“Sure but…” he can hear you pouting, “well, fine, if you really don’t want to tell me.”

He keeps quiet just to savor in the silence, in the knowledge that you are here with him, and so, so eager to know what he has planned for you. He wonders if it’s cruel to enjoy this, to love the way you’re so reactive, to love… everything about you.

You blink as he pulls into a darkened road, wide as it is, to the clearly gated Botanical Gardens. Your confusion only grows as the night guard there gives him a cheery wave before punching a button and the giant gates hiss open to allow you both entry.

“Thanks,” Zayne says, lifting a hand as the night guard waves them through with a bright smile.

He casts you a single glance before chuckling, “His daughter was a patient of mine a while back — she had a genetic cardiac condition that — well,” Zayne breaks off as he parks the car in the first space and opens the door.

“Regardless, she needed surgery. It was risky but… we managed to save her.”

He leads you down the winding path to one of the smaller greenhouses, lit up so brightly from the inside that you have to squint your eyes as he punches in an access code and lets you both through the door.

The wall of heat that greets you both nearly knocks you off your feet but a moment later, you smile as the warmth seeps into your skin, and you turn your face up towards the high ceilings, speckled with what you’re certain are tiny little sunlamps, beaming down at the arid landscape below.

“Are these… cacti?” you wonder aloud, shuffling over to a large, bulbous plant with long thin spikes.

“Yes, these are the desert plants. They need prolonged exposure to sunlight to live.”

“Oh…” you bend down to read the short description of the cacti before moving onto the next one, and then the next one. Zayne trails behind you, watching with a soft smile and softer eyes as you point out the tiny little yellow flowers budding on one, and the strange shapes of another.

“Not that this isn’t fun and all but…” you turn to him as you finally return to the front of the greenhouse, having seen all the different varieties of desert plants in this particular area, “why’d you bring me here?”

Zayne holds open the door for you.

“You looked like you were missing the sun.”

Even beneath the barely there lighting of the parking lot, Zayne sees your blush darkening your cheeks.

“I — I guess I was,” you say as you slip once more into the passenger seat of his car, looking over at him, “but… weren’t you missing it too?”

Zayne’s grin skews as he tugs on his seatbelt, but he schools his expression back into its usual mask of stoicism as he answers, “No. I’ve already got you.”

[ckret2]

Long time lurker, first time asker!

How do you keep different voices/characters in your fics so distinct? I'm writing my first longer than 2k word fic and it's... a time.

First, I'm going to link you the best essay I've ever read about How To Write Canon Character Voices—what's too much accent, what's too little, how to pay attention to word choice and the way they phrase things, etc. It's about Transformers but the skills are transferrable to other fandoms (or original writing). The original essay is down so all I can offer is the archive.org version, but it's worth it.

Second, I'm going to link you this post I wrote about how I study character voices. It's about Hazbin but it shows you the kinds of things I pay attention to when I'm learning a character voice.

Third, I'm going to offer you some extra general advice that isn't in the above posts:

Some people try to make characters sound like themselves by basically parroting their catch phrases or most common quotes. Do that and you're just gonna make your version of the character sound like a robot. (Note: if you're writing a character who only knows how to say a few quotes, that's okay lmao.) The readers already know what the characters said in canon, they're reading a fic to hear them say something new. Example: if you have Bill Cipher arrive on the scene and say "Did you miss me? Admit it, you missed me!" word-for-word, you don't sound like you're writing Bill, you sound like you're quoting Bill from That One Scene where He Said That Thing.

But... directly borrowing characters' quotes is kind of a stepping stone on the way toward figuring out how they speak. Think about things they've already said, but use those quotes as a guide for how to write them.

Example: from that quote above, we get that when Bill shows up around people who definitely did NOT miss him, he just... decides that they did and tells them so. This shows you a bit of his sense of humor (he makes jokes to annoy someone who hates him—it's not even a mean joke, just annoying), a bit of his ego (he knows he's clowning around, but even when he's clowning he's going to say something that makes himself sound popular rather than hated), his casual & familiar attitude with someone he barely knows, his tendency to just request people do what he wants (saying "admit it, you missed me" instead of something like "I know you missed me")... etc.

And I kinda already said this in the Hazbin post, but the most important thing you can do when you're struggling with a character voice is just rewatch their episodes and pay close attention to how they speak (or rewatch their movie scenes, or reread their chapters/comic issues—whatever you're writing about). If they're from a visual/audio medium (TV, movie, podcast, etc), then if need be, read transcripts to see how their voices look when written down. Type down the transcripts yourself if there aren't any—and that's also a good physical exercise to make you slow down and pay attention to how they speak. (You notice where they tend to pause in sentences when you're the one who has to decide where to put commas; you notice their accent when you're the one who has to decide whether that word sounds more like walking or walkin'.)

Pay attention to cadence, accent, interjections, sentence length, active voice, passive voice, preferred vocabulary, preferred slang, word choice, sentence length, sentence complexity, any phrases they're fond of (but again—don't overuse a phrase unless they overuse a phrase), how they tend to refer to the people around them (by first name, last name, any titles, any nicknames—and do they change in different contexts?)... Pay attention to anything you can think of. You want to be able to hear the character's voice clearly in your head—read everything you write in their voice, and if it doesn't sound like their voice in your head, change it.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drabble Roulette: Andy - Public Sex

Hey hey! This weekend (July 6 -7) I’m going to be playing drabble roulette! I’ve curated a list of characters, tropes, AUs, and kinks and I’m spinning the wheel! Hopefully I can do this once a month as a little writing exercise.

Character: Andy Barber

Warnings: this drabble includes noncon, cheating, public sex. Please mind these warnings and take care.

Explicit, 18+.

You yawn as you hang your towel over the bar. Work trips are exhausting. You have even less time yourself and with it goes all your energy. In those few hours you have, you try to enjoy them. 

You’re over reading. Too stagnant. So, you finally decide to venture down to the hotel pool and swim a few laps. They’ll tire you out enough to fall asleep and get some of the kinks out from those uncomfortable conference room chairs. 

Thankfully, you’re the only one who got the idea. It’s offseason for most hotels. Kids are in school, parents are stuck in offices, and only those on the road take up the vacancies. You bask in the solace as you sit on the edge and dangle your legs into the water. 

You slide down slowly, adjusting to the temperature little by little. You walk deeper into the pool, dipping down so your shoulders are beneath the surface. You spread your arms and take a breath. You put your head under and pull through the water with your arms, kicking to propel yourself further. 

You lose yourself in the familiar motions. You touch one end, bob up, take a breath, and turn back the other direction. Back and forth, back and forth.  

You latch onto the lip of the pool to steady yourself. You cling to it to keep from sinking under as you paddle at the deep end. The chlorine dries your nose hotly. 

“Long day?” A voice echoes in the airy empty space. 

You didn’t notice the man. He’s still dry as he stands at the other end of the pool. Your fun is spoiled. You won’t go, you’ll just have to share. 

“Mmhm,” you hum back. 

He walks along the edge, eyeing the water. You think you recognise him. He might be one of the faces you passed at the continental breakfast bar that morning. You see so many it’s hard to remember. 

He’s tall and his shoulders and arms are rounded with muscles. He wears black shorts and turns to face you, showing off a lined stomach and buff chest. You plunge back under and start another set of laps. When you take another break, he’s doing the same, arms cutting up and under. He’s faster than you. 

He passes so close you feel the water move. You quickly make distance as you fall into another cycle; shallow to deep, shallow to deep. When you come again, you can’t spot him. You don’t look very hard. He doesn’t matter. 

You veer off to the side of the pool and hook your arms over the edge, crossing them as you hang from the tile. You lower your head and even out your breathing. You are suitably tired. 

Before you can lift yourself up and over, the water splashes behind you. The man grips the slightly raised lip on either side of you and raises himself up. He crushes you against the side as he does. 

“Woah, what the--” 

“Work trips are lonely, huh?” He grits as he nuzzles your crown. “Nice to unwind?” 

“What are you doing, you creep?” 

“Shh,” he hushes you and surprises you as he loops his thick arm around your neck, “don’t wanna draw too much attention.” 

“Hey, you--” He flexes until you can’t speak. 

“Come on. Two strangers, passing in the night...” 

You pull on his forearm and kick your legs. He pushes into you, grinding his pelvis against yours. Where your toes barely touch, he has his feet planted flat. 

“No rules on the road,” he purrs along your ear.  

You tug on his arm harder, “get off--” 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he pulls his other hand from the pool, the glint of gold on his finger flashing in your vision. He feels along your side as he crowds you against the tile. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.” 

You whimper as his hand tickles along your stomach and his fingers creep along the top of your bikini. You push your elbow back and he grunts. He's not deterred. You dig your nails into his wrist. 

“I’ll scream--” 

He tightens his arm again and tuts, “you’ll be begging for more."

He snarls and shoves his hand down your bikini. You puff out desperately and wriggle, unable to free yourself of his grasp. You should have just stayed in your room and finished the damn book. 

[dolicekiss]

Good afternoon/morning!

If you are still taking requests, I'd love to ask if you could maybe do a yandere Hannibal x reader (female if that would be okay) one-shot where the reader is one of Hannibals favourite patients (maybe shes a writer who gets alot of nightmares or something).

However, during one of their sessions, she reveals that she is withdrawing as she is moving back to Europe (this obvi messes up whatever plans Hannibal had for her). Perhaps she is moving away because she has realised how dangerous Hannibal really is and does not want to get involved.

It would be interesting to see how you would interpret Hannibals' thoughts, feelings, and next plan of action after hearing such daunting news.

Thank you <3

♡: i hope i did this justice

Shattered Dreams

PAIRING: Yandere!Hannibal X Patient!Reader

CONTENT WARNING: yandere hannibal, implied stalking, coercion, manipulation, mention of death, trauma, nightmares, mind games, mention of blood

Draped in a beautiful silk dress, a cashmere coat over your shoulders, your presence was loud and evident in Hannibal Lecter’s office.

You reminded him of him.

Charming, sophisticated, beautiful and completely enthralling. He knew somewhere he was too similar to you and that resonated with him. An attachment had already formed, an ethical sort of attachment which could put his career into danger

Yet he found himself not caring.

His main focus was you.

He often found himself imagining you by his side, as his other half. His soulmate, the only one for him and solely the mere imagination pleased him but it worked to increase his hunger too.

Anytime a patient other than you would show up, he'd have a scowl on his face and tend to their needs like he was being held at gun point.

But when you'd come.

It was like fucking spring had arrived in his office. Flowers blooming, radiance everywhere and even your scent was sweet like floral.

Here you were, once more in his office to converse about the demons that haunted you. Hannibal was the best at his job, too good but deep down, you'd already caught whiff of the danger that he was and could amount to.

He scared you.

No matter how many sweet smiles he'd sent you, the amount of terms of endearment he'd use to address to you — none of it concealed the monstrosity he harbored inside him. You'd captured it and now you were in a dilemma.

Whether to leave or tell the law enforcement.

You inhaled sharply and then slowly exhaled, a breathing exercise Hannibal had taught you to help you regulate your breathing.

“Everything alright, miss?” His gruff voice pulled you back into reality and you nodded your head quickly, not wanting him to know that you knew about his depraved instincts.

You smiled softly. “Yes.”

“Did you have nightmares again?”

“Yes.” You responded truthfully. “It does not matter how many books I write, how many characters I kill, there seems to be no end to these nightmares.”

Your nightmares stemmed from an accident you'd faced as a child. The only survivor were you, the only kin left while the rest of your family had died. Right before your very gaze.

It did not matter how much sleeping pills you took or how much coffee you drank. As soon as you'd fall into a slumber, the haunting eyes of your deceased mother would always stare back at you — lifeless and soulless.

And no matter how many times you dreamed of the bloody incident, you did not find yourself forgetting about them. You wanted to forget it, blur out the faces of your famo members but as each day passed by, it only grew more vivid and clear.

Its like your brain was working in reverse.

“Have you tried what I asked you to do?”

You looked up at him.

There it was, that smile of his.

It had nearly worked to trap you.

But you caught onto the danger looming beneath him. You were no foreigner to danger and Hannibal Lecter was a blood thirsty man who killed, killed and savored. You had no desire to end up as his meal. Or buffet.

“I need to tell you something.”

When you'd uttered those words out, Hannibal could already sense something wasn't right. You didn't appear as your usual self. You were rather, chatty and spoke to him about your problems. Worked together as a team to cure this plague that had jeopardized your sleep.

But today you were different.

Quiet, reserved, hands stable and placed over your knees.

Hannibal gestured for you to go ahead.

“I have decided to move to Europe.” You broke the news with a deep breath. Fingers bending and nails grazing across the fabric of your dress.

Hannibal tilted his head in confusion.

Akin to a puppy.

He didn't see any problem with your sessions nor did he find you troublesome. He was sure you also liked him, as your therapist but you did. There was some sort of fondness, between the two of you. There had to be. You were his favorite, you'd become a part of him without even realizing or intending to do so and now you wanted to leave?

Leave him?

There was not a corner in the world made for you to hide from him. Anywhere you'd go, he would find you.

Hannibal blinked, the darkness within him clawing at him, clawing for you. Commanding him over and over again to offer you drugged wine and take you so you wouldn't leave for Europe.

He put on a polite smile, hoping that would veil the darkness in him. “May I ask why?”

Your lips shuddered. “For a change. I think moving away from here would be better since my whole family died here, maybe the nightmares will stop occurring.”

Those nightmares might stop occurring but the nightmare Hannibal was about to become wouldn't stop.

You noticed the subtle change in his gaze and shifted in your seat, uncomfortable and uneasy.

Hannibal nodded, feigning understanding but he was all over the place. Everything was under his control — every damn thing since the beginning. How did he begin to lose control? There was absolutely no way he could let you move to Europe, let you get far away from him where he can't bask in the vision of you.

He would go to the ends of the Earth just to catch a mere glimpse of you.

He had to coax you out of this. Use coercion into making you stay here for the rest of your life.

Hannibal had plans for you.

Big plans.

He was going to make you his, bring you closer to him, unveil a part of him that no one had ever seen before.

He'll he'd fucking told you about Mischa today and no one knew about her. He had shown you parts of him no one had seen and now you were going to abandon him? Take those parts of him witj you and leave him empty, fucking lonely and abandoned?

Oh Hannibal was not going to let that happen.

He nearly felt angry.

Rage bubbling up inside him but he controlled it, calming it down.

“You have a life here, miss. A proper life; friends, colleagues, relatives. Don't you think abandoning it all would be a bit too extreme and intense, even for you?”

You bit on your lower lip.

In a way he was right.

Your whole life you had lived it here. Friends, closest of closest, relatives — the only blood relation left after the demise of your own and colleagues. It was all too difficult to leave them behind but fear was a tool which worked to push people to do things they never would've even thought about.

You swallowed. “I know, Doctor Lecter but these nightmares haunt me. These memories do not disappear, so it is better that I leave.”

Hannibal started to play with his hands.

They sat comfortably over his knees and all he could do was toss and turn his fingers, scratch his palm, the only way to actually show the unbridled emotion he was overwhelmed with. Yet his face carried a sweet smile like he was completely happy and supportive of your decision.

Hannibal saw how your lips shuddered when you spoke. They often shuddered when you'd lie in the beginning about your feelings, about how you did not miss your deceased family one bit.

He wondered if you were lying.

His own fingers tracing along his lips.

“Have you thought about where you'd go to? I mean, Europe is a vast place.” Hannibal commented and you swallowed, in a dilemma whether you should reveal your whereabouts or not.

It was a country.

A huge country.

He couldn't actually find you there, right?

“France.” You said, with a subtle smile on your face.

You wanted to get out of your comfortable seat, go home, pack your bags, board the plane and never look back. The man sitting before you was a killer, a cannibalistic serial killer and you didn't allow that to sink it at all in his presence.

Afraid your demeanor would break.

It would shatter and he'd capture you.

Hannibal grinned.

That was all he needed.

“Marseille is a beautiful city.” Hannibal said while his hawk like gaze analyzed your facial expressions.

Nothing.

You nodded in agreement. “So I've heard.”

“And Lyon too. I've been there.” He said, standing up from his couch and moving over to stand by his wooden desk. When he mentioned Lyon, not a single crease formed on your face nor did your lips shiver.

So it wasn't Lyon either.

Hannibal was viciously smart and he was going to find the city you were going to settle in sooner or later. “Nice has beautiful art. You should go there too.”

Your face scrunched up.

Hannibal caught that. The little crease of discomfort forming in your forehead and a feeling of satisfaction spread in his insides.

You were moving there.

“I think I should go now, Doctor Lecter.” You said, standing up when you realized your session had ended a long time ago.

This was the last session you'd ever share with him.

Hannibal walked towards you, hand extended out. “It was nice having you as my patient, sweetheart. Hopefully your nightmares will slowly disappear with time.”

Even though it was a goodbye, it did not feel like it.

Your gaze dropped down to his hand and you nodded, taking his hand and shaking it. His hold grew a little firm but you didn't say anything, slowly releasing his hand and retrieving it. “Thank you, Doctor Lecter. For all your help.”

He grinned as he watched you turn around and leave his office.

This was not going to be the last time you'll see of the man and he'll make sure of that.

Hannibal licked his lips. The sound of the door shutting putting a crack in his heart — his chest aching for a glimpse of you but he knew this wasn't the end. There was more, with him, there was always more.

You could not escape this easily.

— ♡ —

Months had passed.

You were still adjusting your life in this new country, surrounded by new people who speak a completely different language but you were still learning.

Your nightmares had deceased greatly by spending time in a foreign country and in a way, you were thankful for Hannibal. Because of him you'd abandoned your birth place — which honestly plagued you.

There was nothing left for you there.

Only bad memories and horrific nightmares.

You'd forgotten about nearly everything in that country except a certain blonde; Hannibal Lecter.

He still haunted you.

After that last session, you never possibly heard from him ever again. You met a man too, who claimed to have feelings for you but the next day he was reported for bad behavior against women. They had removed him from your workplace.

You felt a little sad that a man like that had shown interest in you.

Still, life was getting better and better.

You were still writing and had signed a deal with a new publishing house but other than that, you gave lectures at a university for your own knowledge and sake.

Your life felt like it had finally fallen into place.

“They have a new lecturer, have you seen him?” A female colleague asked and you looked up at her from your laptop. You shook your head.

The woman smiled. “Well, he'll be here soon. He's done PHD and has a masters degree too.”

You blinked a little but then went back to typing on your laptop, finishing the last chapter of your book. Break was finished after a few minutes but this time instead of heading back to your class, you were told to head to the office and give the new lecturer a tour.

Apparently he was a big deal, someone who had studied the human mind through and through.

You made your way to the office, opening the door with a smile. The dean sat there but the familiar mop of blonde slicked back hair caught your attention more — your fingers tightening around the metal hold of the door.

He turned around and with a smile, greeted you. “Hello, sweetheart.”

Hannibal was in Nice, in your university, as a lecturer.

Your face went pale.

Was there truly no escape from him?

[hazbinhazmeinachokehold]

The hotel gang + overlord!reader part 2

Part one here

!Not beta read!

While it may just be the stress talking, the bed was surprisingly comfortable, for a hotel at least. Today was a lot. Even if this hotel seemed to be a net positive it was still a lot. So the comfortable bed made it seem like you already made it to heaven. As you sank into the bed you drifted off to sleep.

You awoke to a few loud and powerful knocks on your door. "Hello? If you're awake we are going to do some trust exercises!" Charlie called out. You unintentionally groaned as you got up.

"Give me a minute!" You replied.

"Okay." Charlie said as she left. When you got up you looked at yourself in the mirror. You weren't a mess by any means but you've definitely looked better. You freshen yourself up slightly before going downstairs.

The Hotel residents and staff were all in a circle. You sat down in one of the gaps in the circle. Charlie cleared her throat.

"Okay everybody let's go around in a circle and say our names first! I'm Charlie." She paused, "As you all know." Everyone else proceeded to say their name, which you already knew everyone's name. Excluding the short one-eyed girl, Niffty, and the girl with an x over one of her eyes, Vaggie. Then your turn came.

"Uh- Hi! My name is y/n" You cringed at the nervousness in your voice.

"Now I want everyone to tell a fact about themself. It doesn't have to be anything huge, just something to get to know each other." Charlie said, "I love musicals!" Yeah, that was pretty easy to guess.

Angel was next up. "I love sitting on big, HUGE-"

"Angel I fucking swear." Husk cut him off.

"Comfortable chairs! What were you thinking?" Angel had a smug smile plastered on his face. "Also cocks as well." He added. Husk and Vaggie groaned.

Niffty went next, but Charlie spoke before her, "Please try not to scare away our newest member." She pleaded. Niffty pouted but compiled anyway.

"I love writing fanfiction! Escapily with bad boys." Her tone turned slightly seductive at the end. You elected to ignore that.

There was a silence as everyone waited for Vaggie. Charlie stretched her palm out to tell her to talk. "Oh- yeah right sorry." She shook her head slightly, "I like to dance."

"Really!? How come I never knew that?" Charlie asked.

"It never came up." Vaggie smiled faintly

"I'm the bartender," Husk grumbled. Vaggie elbowed him. "What? I told a fact about myself."

Alastor let out an "ahem" noise. The focus shifted to him. "While this is a fact in general, I believe that radio is the utmost form of medium." As baseline as this was for a guy such as Alastor, you also kind of expected it. Alastor would not let anything deeper about himself slip. So why not go for the most well-known part of yourself. "Now, y/n, darling I do believe it is your turn."

Oh shit right. You've just met these people so don't go with anything personal. Also, make sure it doesn't make anyone uncomfortable. “I really don’t like being an overlord.” Your mouth moved before you could comprehend what you were saying. Well fuck. If this was a TV show you’d clearly be the comic relief, at least right now. Everyone but Alastor and Niffty had some form of uncomfortable plastered on their face. Alastor however had a curious yet sinister smile on his face. Niffty wasn’t really paying attention to you, she was chasing some random cockroach. 

You wanted to go back on that statement but something was saving you from embarrassing yourself further. Do demons have guardian angels? If so, yours was working overtime right now. But they also weren’t getting much work done.

Your real savior was whoever blew the fucking wall up. Everyone's head was quickly aimed at the now missing wall. While Husk just accepted it everyone else, including yourself, to find the source. Like you were in some sort of horror movie character getting ready to be stabbed. But you instead met with a huge mechanical blimp that had an impractical amount of guns.

“There you are!” The person in the blimp called out. It was very hard to hear but it was just loud enough. “Alastor, are you ready to be beat-”

“Who is this?’ 

“Who- Who am I!?” The voice was very clearly offended at Alastor's lack of knowledge. You just drowned the rest out. Alastor was cruel and frankly heartless. But he also did not like wasting time. So even while this poor sinner's fate was sealed, thankfully it wouldn’t be as drawn out as his past victims. You turned around to hopefully save any shred of innocence you were able to save. As you entered through the wall you could hear both Alastor and his victim speak.

“Thank you for another forgetful experience!” Alastor said. You didn’t necessarily

want to look but you did so anyway. Kind of like watching a car crash.

“Thank you…” the snake struggled to get out, “ For letting your guard down!” He ripped part of Alastors coat off. Well, that's not good, for anyone really. Alastor’s coat got torn and this sinner is about to die again. Or at the very least get seriously injured. You’re honestly surprised he lasted this long. He was notably weaker than The Radio Demon’s usual opponents. 

He, quite appropriately, said “Oh shit-” Before an explosion (you can only guess caused by Alastor) caused him to fly away. Welp, he’s gone forever now. The hotel seemed nice for the most part. It honestly still does. You just wish you weren’t staying in the same house as The Radio Demon. But now that you think about it, almost everyone here seems to have something severely wrong with them. And that includes you too. So at least you fit in.

[sslovqm]

UNBRIDLED OBSESSION

WARNINGS: Contains themes of obsession, possessiveness, extreme jealousy, and predatory behavior. This story includes emotionally intense and unsettling situations, such as manipulation, unwanted physical contact, and toxic dynamics. Reader discretion is strongly advised, as these themes may be triggering or uncomfortable for mi some.

A bit absent around here! If you want a second part, please give it a like and leave a comment—whether it’s about characters you’d like me to write a one-shot for or anything else you’d like. Remember, English is not my first language. Thank you for the support!

The classroom was empty, except for the faint sound of a pen gliding over paper. Y/N Miller sat in her seat, finishing the last exercise for literature. Her classmates had left a few minutes ago, but as always, she stayed behind, focused on getting every detail right.

Rafe Cameron watched her from his desk, his cold blue eyes fixed on the curve of her neck as she leaned over her notebook. There was something almost unbearable about the sweetness she exuded—the way her lips would press together in concentration, the way she avoided eye contact with him as though she could sense how his gaze devoured her.

She was poison, seeping into his mind, consuming him with every passing day. Y/N wasn’t just different. She wasn’t just beautiful. She was perfect—so delicate, so pure, and so maddeningly out of reach. But that only made him crave her more.

When she finally set down her pen and began packing her things, Rafe stood from his chair and walked to the door, locking it with a soft click. The sound made Y/N pause, her head snapping up in surprise.

“Mr. Cameron?” she asked, her soft voice tinged with unease.

“I wanted to talk to you before you left,” he said, walking toward her with slow, deliberate steps. Each one echoed through the empty room, his eyes locked on hers with a predatory intensity.

Y/N offered a polite, nervous smile, clutching her bag tightly. “If it’s about the essay, I think I’ve improved it. I can turn it in tomorrow if that’s okay.”

Rafe shook his head, his expression unreadable. “This isn’t about the essay, Y/N. It’s about you.”

She frowned, taking a step back. “Me? I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and charged with something that made her skin crawl. “I’ve spent months watching you. Everything about you… Your kindness, that shy smile, the way you don’t even realize the effect you have on people.”

“Mr. Cameron, I think you’re crossing a line,” she said, her voice trembling as she took another step back.

But he closed the distance between them, trapping her between the desk and his towering frame. His hands gripped the edge of the desk on either side of her, caging her in.

“It’s not a line, Y/N. It’s a fact,” he said, his face inches from hers. “You’re mine. You’ve been mine since the day you walked into this classroom.”

Y/N tried to slip to the side, but his arm blocked her escape. His hand shot out, gripping her wrist with unsettling strength.

“Let me go,” she whispered, her voice breaking as fear took hold of her.

Rafe chuckled darkly, his smile twisted and cruel. “Let you go? That’s never going to happen. Not after everything I’ve imagined, everything I’ve waited for.”

Before she could respond, he leaned in and captured her lips with his. It was a rough, possessive kiss, one that left her paralyzed for a moment. But then, adrenaline coursed through her body.

Y/N drove her knee upward with all her strength, striking him in the groin. Rafe let out a guttural growl, stumbling back as his hand shot down to his abdomen. But instead of pain, his face twisted into something far more terrifying—a dark, twisted smile.

She didn’t wait to see what he would do next. Y/N grabbed her bag and bolted for the door, throwing it open and sprinting down the empty hallway. Her heart pounded in her chest as tears blurred her vision, but she didn’t dare look back.

From behind, she heard his voice echo through the corridor, low and filled with chilling determination.

“Run all you want, Y/N. But you can’t hide from me. You’re already mine.”

When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw him standing in the doorway of the classroom, his eyes blazing with a mix of rage and obsession. Y/N didn’t stop running, letting the tears fall freely as she fled into the night.

Inside the classroom, Rafe straightened up, smoothing his hair back as he regained his composure. His lips curled into a dark smile as he muttered to himself:

“It doesn’t matter how much you resist, Y/N. You’ll be mine. It’s inevitable.”

[pedge-page]

You know how Romana recently did a fic where guarddog!Joel met puppy!reader? Would you ever do a little drabble where himbo!Joel meets plushie!reader? 🥹💖

I love Guard!Dog and PuppyReader from @romana-after-dark !!!! And I know exactly what you are talking about (because I may have been the anon who requested it 🫢.)

Here we go!

Plush-Bo: Himbo!Joel x Plushies!Reader Crossover

Warnings: im writing this at work on my phone and mentally cannot compute. There's sex. Inappropriate stuff. Language. MOMMY. Plushies. Oral. The weird ass freaky shit you expect from me.

Notes: Everything is written in 3rd person to not confuse reader!characters. plushies!Reader, Himbo!Joel/Himbo, plushies!Joel, and Mommy/Himbo Joel's reader.

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Himbo!Joel would be rutting into her like a rabbit In heat. Exactly how Plushies!Reader likes it, the horny little fucks they are.

"Mommy," he gasps, his voice wrecked. "Mommy Shes so...so s-soft--uuggghhaaaahhhh!" He buries his face into plushies!reader hair to cover his groan.

Pleasure fills his stomach, twisting in ways he's not quite used to. Having something so so so incredible sweet, cottony and pliant, from the scent of her shampoo to the silken draw of her skin. Stuffed animals toppling all over only further the stimulation. Soft,soft,soft, all of her softness tickles his brain in just the right way to have him pounding her sopping pussy deep, flush into the matress with no intuition to slow down.

"Yeah? You like soft things?" Himbo's Mommy coos, stroking his sweaty locks that are covering his beautiful eyes from all that exercise.

He hums with a shy nod. "Not as much as Mommy's pussy--!"

She laugh. "Its okay, it's okay to like other things. Especially something as soft as this." She glides her knuckles across plushies!reader skin, admiring the glow. Especially how himbo!Joel doesn't know what to do with all that softness. All delicate to the touch, when he likes to get his nails in and mark up his Mommy, unintentionally of course. He can't hold back most times. But this? Its laughable how much he just doesn't know what to do with himself except fuck like it's his only directive in life.

Plushies!Reader can barely see straight. Though her Joel is a rough fuck, he's pretty calculated about his sex. But this? Himbo is driving into her at such an incessant, sloppy, high energy rate that her vision is blurring in the back of her skill. She's unable to do anything but drool and moan into the sheets.

It's shocking when he finally howls he's gonna cum, despite plushies!reader had already done so 12 times.

"I-inside!" she squeaks from below. His hands are etched into her pretty hips with his body draped over , low hanging tummy smashed against the curve of her back.

"I-ca-cant" he huffs, managing to pull free of her sweet, dripping pussy. He grips the base of his cock harshly to edge himself. "My cum is only for Mommy." He smirks over to her. "We're gonna breed and have another baby soon."

"How adorable!" Plushies gal beams, catching her breath and hugging her stuffed badger in her arms to cool her heart rate. "Joel. When are you gonna put a baby in me?"

Plushies!Joel wipes the precum from his leaking cock on his jeans. "When ya get on that teddy and show me what a good breeding slut you can be."

Plushies!Reader guides Himbo!Joel excitedly to show off her giant Teddy Plushie. She knows a humper when she sees one.  Despite the tough activity, both of them are immediately ready for more cums.

Mounting Teddy's Face with her messy cunt, Himbo!Joel straddles it's lower belly. He whimpers when he cock is suffocated by a wave of cottony fluff.

"Isn't he nice?" She hums, rolling her hips into the button nose of Teddy. She gasps, doing it again to catch her Plushies!Joel ramping up his pervertedness and jerking off to the scene before him.

Himbo!Joel nods, wide eyed and smiling below. God. Everything in this ROOM is soft and cuddly and humpable and...

Plushies!gal giggles and leans forward to kiss Himbo, and the two of them start rocking with spread legs on the shared Bear.

Himbo Joel hesitates for a moment, looking back towards his lady.

She nods encouragingly. "Go ahead! Have fun with your new toy. Mommy's pussy will be here when you need it."

He nods, tossing all worry out the window and fucking his cock against the Bear's crotch. Himbo can't help but sniff the remnants of Plushie!readers remnants pussy juices that seemed to have permanently permeated the stuffed Teddy's fluff. His balls ache: sooooooo much softness he wants to make even prettier with his seed.

Eventually the two of them fall forward in a heap of panting, griding messes. With their cheek smashed into Teddy's chest, arms wrapped desperately around it's thick body,  they sloppily make our between breaths. Tightly drawn brows and sounds of endless cumming fills the walls of the Plushies room.

Mommy and Plushies!Joel sit back and watch their little horny babies have at it together.

Himbo!Joel cums, splattered and sticky between his and Teddy's Belly. He gasps when Plushie! reader leans forward with her tongue out, happily lapping at the creamy mess off Teddy's fur and then from Joel's slightly hairy tummy. He groans, covering his mouth and watching her work contently. So used to cleaning up his own mess from Mommy, he doesn't know how to react when someone else cleans his mess for him. It's OK if she's just eating his cum right? She won't get pregnant from that. Only Mommy can get pregnant from his precious cum. This is okay.

When Himbo Joel and Plushies reader are spent, they curling up against one another surrounded by her stuffies, steadily breathing in each breath and sleeping after an exhausting but fun day.

Mommy!reader quietly finishes swallowing Plushies!Joel's load from the corner of the room. He sighs heavily, closing his eyes in bliss.

"Got your dog on a pretty loose leash, huh Mommy?" He teases.

Like clockwork, the two of them switch places, with Joel on his knees in front of her spread legs. He wastes no time sucking her pearly clit, tongue darking between her folds.

"He's defensive. Probably would break your jaw right now if he saw."

Joel shrugs, kissing the inside of her thigh.

She twirls his hair between her fingers as he gets to work, staring at the bed. "She's pretty, though."

She feels him grin proudly between her pussy lips. "She is."

.While her Himbo!Joel isnt very skilled, he makes up for it in eagerness. Plushies!Joel on the other hand knows how to draw things out, speed it up, edge and push you over exactly when he desires it. She cums hard, shaking on his expert tongue.

He sucks the juices off his fingers and gestures towards the bed, where Himbo!Joel and Plushies!Reader snuggle in their warm nest.

"I wouldn't mind a play date again with them."

"I think that would be great for them."

- - - -

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel

[foxconfessorandthewolf]

Okay, so I’m a bit wine drunk but I don’t think I’ve ever really articulated why I love Snarry together and I’m currently trying to finish a fic after taking a three-year-hiatus from writing these two, so this is probably a good exercise!

I’m a bit on the older side of fandom, having been a fanartist and fervent reader since 2003, so my connection was really sparked during that time between OOTP and HBP when Snape and Harry were at some of their most clashing and deeply vitriolic, forced together into hateful vulnerability by Occulmency lessons. Every scene between them was electric, laced with tension as we truly did not know how things would go, or even where Snape’s true loyalties lay. He was an unknown, tied up with Harry’s own family’s mysterious past, connected to Harry in a myriad of odd ways that few other characters were, and - as a rivals-to-lovers lover - I was fascinated by him. From that first moment when they lock eyes in the Great Hall and that frisson of pain shoots through Harry’s scar, I desperately wanted to know who the hell this man was and his story. I think a lot of Snarry shippers come to the ship with a special appreciation for Severus Snape’s character himself. He’s such an incredibly drawn character, rich with complexity, complicated and pretty fucked up, with clearly-held passions, hatreds, weaknesses, and motivations. He’s emotional in a way a lot of other characters aren’t, though I think he’d loathe to hear that. And his character voice! It’s unique and pitch-perfect. You always know exactly who is speaking with his lines. Honestly, the way he evolved from a spy/traitor stock character to become so multifaceted and enigmatic is a masterpiece of characterization, and it’s an aspect of why I’m drawn to him - there’s still so much about his origins and well, what his damage was, that we don’t know. Because of this, I especially love Snarry fics that delve into character studies of him, trying to explore all the shadows left behind. I also admit I have a preference for interpreting Snape as morally grey. I like him petty, sharp-tongued, ambitious, with an incredibly liquid definition of what is right and wrong. He’s self-interested, dripping with disdain, and really doesn’t see that as a problem. What happens to him when he deeply falls in love?

I love a ship that makes me work for it. There’s no obvious line of how Snape and Harry might wind up together, so each fic is a wealth of possibilities of bringing these two together despite their roadblocks. As I mentioned, I’m big fan of animosity in a ship. Give me rivals, give me enemies, give me the sparking passions, the sharp fury, the way they stoke each others’ emotions and seek to hurt, the racing hearts, the raised hackles, the intense emotional reaction to another person. Just throw it at me. I devour that shit. I love the messy and taboo nature of their relationship, the complications raising from their age difference, temperaments, and largely similar and shared traumas. There’s an interesting element of Snape being a foil to James Potter, and how that relates to Harry and their past. Basically, this shit is really good potting soil for incredible fucking fics, packed with nutrients.

The shared natures of their traumas, like Voldemort and each being forgotten and abused as children and how they might be able to understand each other and bond from it is also something that’s fascinating to explore. I love when a writer pushes on Snape’s bruises, looking to make them hurt, cracking his sardonic brain open and rooting around in there, and I love when they compare and contrast to Harry’s. There’s a seductiveness to how Snape is so obsessed with Harry, fixated on his Boy Who Lived heroic reputation, clearly dripping with envy. What, beyond jealousy, might draw Snape to Harry and what, other than hatred, might draw Harry to Snape?

It’s all this, the passionate, electric, dangerous nature of their relationship; the way their characters contrast each other yet have surprising connections; and the question of finding solace that keeps me here, 21 years later. I’ve had wines less complex than this ship. They’re fascinating. They’re messy. They’re everything.

[crossposted from a reddit comment I just left, and wanted to share with y’all]

[your-unfriendlyghost]

stevepop roadtrip fic concept

(Ok so honestly this is the start of an original story w/ my ocs that I wrote months ago as a character writing exercise, hence why it’s in first person. But it fit Steve and Soda so well that I’m tempted to rewrite it with them lol) (more thoughts underneath the excerpt)

-

  “What the hell are you doing?” Steve hissed, throwing his window open.

  “Hey Stevie-boy,” I said. Normally he’d be happy to see me. But then, normally I wasn’t throwing rocks at his window, and normally he was wearing clothes, and normally the sun was out…so I understood his irritation.

  “Steve,” he corrected, glaring at me. “You ain’t cute enough right now for that.”

  I ignored him and tossed another rock. It bounced off his bare stomach, and he doubled over in shock.

  “Goddammit, Soda!” he snapped. I winced. I hadn’t meant to hit him.

  “Sorry!” 

  He rolled his eyes, picking up the rock and tossing it back at me. “Whatever, man- what the hell do you want?”

  I took a breath to steady myself. How was I supposed to explain this one… 

  “Well…I’m goin’ on a bit of a road trip…” I started.

  “Okay?” he said impatiently.

  “Right now. Like we leave right now.”

  “We?!”

  I cringed and looked down at the grass beneath me. “Er…yeah, if you come…”

  Steve raised his eyebrows so that they were almost hidden by his un-greased hair. “Woah woah- slow it down Sodapop- what?!”

  I swallowed, and finally met his eyes, deciding to just tear off the band-aid. “We’re lookin’ for Sandy Sparks.”

  Steve blinked, face going through a million emotions a minute. Finally he settled on a stony mask of neutrality. 

  “I’ll pack my bag.” he said, in a soft bitter voice he only used when we talked about Sandy.  -

So uh yeah, there it is. On paper, the plot of the fic would be Soda, Steve, and maybe Evie depending on how we feel about that going on a drive to Florida to check in on Sandy- Soda says it’s because he just wants to make sure she’s doing alright, but really it’s because he craves some sort of closure.

But the real plot would be less about that and more about Soda having a genuinely good time on the road, and realizing he’s in love with Steve and maybe Evie.

Idk it needs a more solid outline but yk lemme know what y’all think! (Should it be stevepop or steviepop? Anything you’d wanna read? Etc…)

No promises that I’ll write this, but I might, so definitely give me your thoughts!

[oweninadaydream]

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 || 𝐂𝐇.𝟐

summary : Jake cannot stop thinking about him. Jake cannot stop thinking about the first time he saw him. Jake cannot stop hating himself for what he is doing.

pairing : Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x male!character

word count : 2.5k

contains : allusions to sex, emotional distress, religious trauma, self-deprecating thoughts and yeah, basically the same warnings from part 1 haha.

a/n : Gif by @tay-swifts. Okay so rn for me it's 2:45 am so please ignore any incoherence or mistakes or if it's not as good as part 1. I hope yall don't hate me for not posting in so long, this is my attempt to go back into writing :)

“Seventy-nine. Down. Eighty. Down. Eighty-one. Down-” Maverick’s voice resonated inside the squad’s ear canal as he counted the number of push-ups they had done so far. This time they only had to do 100, but the heat and tiredness from all those previous hours spent in the air made the seemingly easy exercise a hellish torture. The concrete floor splattered with sweat drops falling from their foreheads was burning hot and their hands were begging to cease contact with the ground. All those physical stimuli did not possess enough power to distract Hangman from the million thoughts that flooded his mind ; the characteristic dullness of the exercise had sent him into a tortuous crisis full of some memories he didn’t want to relive and some others he wanted to relive so desperately that the realization that it was in fact impossible hurt him more than any wound acquired in the battlefield. 

After pushing his body back up from push-up number 92, he closed his eyes for a second and that was enough for a film-like reminiscence to start playing inside his head.

Speed. 100. 110. 120. 150. The tight grip to the steering wheel. Quick shallow breaths. Accelerated palpitations. Those were just some of the symptoms that showed his unnerved emotional state. Taking a right exit, he found himself entering the mysterious city of L.A ; coming from a Texan town, Los Angeles seemed like the capital of the unruly. Don't get him wrong, he has always been a menace himself, but big cities had always made him feel strangely small. 

He had no clue where he was going, but that's the thing about spontaneously bolting from base at 11 pm on a Friday. Hangman had no explicit motives to feel trapped within his routine; in fact, he thrived under strict organization (one of the many reasons why he decided to join the army), so what the hell was he doing? That was a question that was going to be left unanswered for now, so the next best thing was to find a distraction from the everlasting anger flooding his system.

He quickly realized that he had driven to a neighborhood full of pubs and bars decorated in colorful lights and full of people queuing to get in and have a drink or two, perhaps dance or make out too. His eyes also took in the many flags that hung from all of the buildings of the street; he recognized the gay flag but the rest, he could not tell what they represented. While staring at a pink, purple and blue one, he got blinded by a very powerful blue light, which made him stop abruptly. After it had dimmed down, he turned his head to identify where the light was coming from.

“Mon Ange” he mumbled to himself. His tired gaze revitalized at the hypnotic sight. If he had to be completely honest, he knew the reason why he fled the scene earlier that night. The truth was that he felt stuck, unable to move forward in life; something was missing but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was and the enigma was driving the pilot crazy. He was 35 and having an identity crisis, how lame was that? Looking at the people waiting to enter ‘Mon Ange’, he noticed that everyone was dressing so eccentrically, smiling so brightly and chatting so loudly; he was obviously not part of their community but, could a night in this place so out of character for him relax his mind enough to see things in a different light? He would get in, order a drink and head out, that’s it. Spending time in a place that was filled with strangers who did not have any type of expectations or preconceived ideas of him sounded nice enough to make the move.

The odor of alcohol and sweat flooded Jake’s nostrils as soon as he stepped in the club. The wide circle-shaped  room was packed to the brim but there was an upper floor with less people. The songs playing were not his style so he could not recognize the artists ; after scanning the place, he found the bartender. He got served pretty quickly and he could tell that his face card had made that happen. He did not find it in himself to order a fancy drink, so he settled for a beer. 

Looking for the bathroom, he stumbled with a semi-open door. Assuming it to be the toilet's entrance, he stepped into the dark room. He instinctively patted the wall in search of the switch, but there was not one to be found. Moans and other sounds Jake was no stranger to found their way to his ears, making him jump back and leave the room. Back in the hall, he was breathing unevenly, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

“How ya doin’, handsome? Too crowded for a pretty thing like you?” A decently buff (but not bigger than him), hairy man was leaning “seductively” towards him as he spoke. Jake felt pure disgust and indignation pooling in the lower part of his stomach ; he could see how his presence in a place with such characteristics could lead up to certain conclusions but, approaching him like that was so out of line. The stranger’s gaze made him feel like a piece of meat and he was momentarily struck with the thought of whether he had ever made a girl feel similarly.

“Fuck off, asshole. Fuck around and find out.” Jake pushed him away so he could escape the situation he found himself in. His harsh frown warned the other man to stay away unless he wanted to leave the place with a black eye. After making it out of those suffocating halls, he decided to leave ; this whole idea had been pure foolery motivated by how lost he was feeling in life.  

Searching frantically for the exit door, his eyes landed on a couple shamelessly flirting and exchanging caresses of all kinds. The sparks in their eyes seemed genuine and that made the pilot sigh in a longing manner. Jake shook his head in order to try to slow down the speeding and confusing thoughts running though his mind. Suddenly, an entrancing voice started directing its words at him. He had been so focused on the couple by the bar that he didn’t process what the handsome- handsome?- stranger was trying to tell him. It couldn’t be anything good, based on his concerned facial expressions that Jake could barely make up because of the lighting of the room.

“Sorry, what?” he mumbled while finally setting his confused and dissociated gaze on the other man.

“I’m (Y/N), I saw you walking down the hallway back there and you seemed…” he hesitated, trying to find the best adjective to describe it. “distressed. Just wanted to make sure that you were ok. You’re not from around here, are you? And if I’m correct, you’re by yourself. This place can be overwhelming when you come for the first time”

Jake could feel the way his eyes widened at the words of the man standing in front of him. (Y/N)’s smile invited him to open up, to share the deepest and darkest parts of himself; but the pilot was no fool and quickly activated his protective shields again. He began to excuse himself after clearing his throat, lowering his voice an octave unconsciously “Thank man but I just entered because I had a problem with my car and it was the only place open at this time and I need to go back to my…”

“Calm down hahaha, I am not the police, don’t have to justify yourself. As to the car thing, the manager that runs this place knows a thing or two about cars. Is the dark green one yours?” Jake nodded, dumbstruck by the casual nature of this encounter “Fabio will help you for sure. If you want I can go look for him and you’ll be on your way in no time” Another grin took possession of the younger man’s lips.

Jake’s cheeks began to change colors into a pretty obvious red. He had created a lie that he could not follow with; how was he supposed to get out of that very uncomfortable moment? Fuck, fuck, fuck “I, eh…” It was not very often that Seresin ran out of things to say; his squad wouldn’t let him hear the end of it if they were witnesses to this pathetic scene.

“Look I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing here but it’s okay, alright? We don’t know each other so I cannot snitch to anyone about you being here; not that I would if we did know each other. Here” he looked in his black bag and took out a water bottle “I sneak these all the time, they’re expensive as fuck in here” a smirk accompanied the confession, giving Jake the sensation of being his partner in crime.

He took the drink and chugged it down in an instant “Thanks for everything you’ve done for me tonight, really appreciate it. I don’t think I’ll come round here any time soon but I owe you big-time”

“How about you tell me your name?” a playful but still innocent gaze stole Jake’s breath away. Fuck, how rude had he been? He hadn’t introduced himself back in the club and this person had gotten out of their way to help him. His southern heart shrinked at such an impolite act; this was definitely not meemaw approved but at the end of the day, none of this whole night was.

“Excuse me, Jake Seresin”

“Nice to meet you, Jake Seresin” he chuckled. “Well, I guess this is where we part ways, isn’t it? And don’t worry, you don’t actually owe me anything.”

“There must be something I can do. Where I’m from, you show your gratitude to the people who’ve helped you yknow”

“Here” as if it were the most natural thing, M/N took the blonde’s hand and wrote down his number. “If you’re ever in trouble again or you just want to chat, here’s my number. And don’t worry, no second intentions or anything included, just think you’re cool and could use a friend round here” he clarified after taking a look at Jake’s conflicted face. Despite the alarm in his head stating very loudly that he had to get out of there as soon as possible, he let the other man take his hand in his for a second too long. Jake was no shy person but the questionable tension in that moment crossed a very clear line that had been established many years ago and was irremovable now. Breaking their little bubble, Jake nervously searched for his car keys as he thanked M/N and wished him a great night.

While driving away, the rear-view mirror captured M/N’s image, framing his still figure in the small reflecting surface for Jake to stare at, making him ignore the clearly red light and almost crash with a grey truck whose driver shouted every single insult under the sun at him. But the lieutenant could not care any less, his worries laid elsewhere. What the fuck had happened tonight? He found himself desperately trying to make some sense of his decision-making process-

“HANGMAN” 

Startled at the mention of his name in such a shrill manner, Jake regained control of his body and mind which had traveled to the past for quite a while, for he could not recall when they had stopped training and had gotten inside, taking turns to shower in the base’s facilities. “The day you stop annoying me, Rooster, hell will freeze over” he grumpily murmured, but with no real meanness behind his words.

“You’ve been acting very strangely, Hangman, and not in your usual weird way” Bradley narrowed his eyes as if it would allow him to access Jake's deepest thoughts that were apparently holding him hostage. After Jake had rolled his eyes and dropped some sarcastic comments about his “stupid ass moustache”, he decided he would let it slide, for now. “Anyway, you’re comin’ tonight, aren’t you?”

“Nah, gotta do some paperwork and prepare for tomorrow’s session” he discarded the offer quickly.

“C’mon don’t be such a pussy, man” another of his coworkers commented from nearby.

The way he slammed the locker’s door provoked a loud bang that made everyone turn their heads to see what was going on in that part of the locker room “Who the fuck has said that shit? I ain’t gonna let you live, motherfucker” and just like a bull ready to kill, only seeing red, he started to search for the idiot who had decided to speak and make a comment he definitely did not need to hear at the moment “don't hide now, who.was.it?”

“Hey Jake, calm down man, it was just a joke, what the hell? “Rooster questioned, absolutely puzzled at his mate’s reaction; it was just common locker room jargon, they often teased each other or said something dumb about their dicks or something like that, and Jake would often reply with a laugh or an equally offensive response so, something was definitely wrong with the normally nonchalant Hangman.

Shrugging off the hand Roosted had placed on his shoulder to ground him, Jake picked his bag and stormed off huffing and cursing under his breath. After having reached his car, his forehead was pressed against the steering wheel and his eyes were shut closed; breath for 3 seconds, hold it in for 4 seconds and exhale for 7 seconds. This was a technique he learnt when he was young to repress any anxiety or panic attack that tried to break the controlled facade he showed his family, the church, his superiors and his friends. A frustrated groan escaped Jake’s sealed lips, a clear sign of all that pent up frustration.

His phone buzzing caught his attention and decided to take a look. The three messages appearing in the lock screen where all from the only person who could make him feel okay again but also, this person was the one who had triggered this chaos  he had so carefully repressed in order to create the perfect persona; a masculine, chill guy who walked through life as if he had everything under control, when in reality he was a 36 year old full of pain and doubts that the church, his family and the army had made sure to reinforce. 

Texts from M/N:

M/N : hey, you forgot your sweatshirt at my place

M/N : are you going to Mon Ange next saturday? I can hand it to you then. Yknow, that day’s theme is cowboys and I’d kill to see you even with just a fake cowboy hat 

M/N: you can teach me how the Two Step thing works ;) no pressure tho, as always <3

Jake S. : wouldn’t miss it for the world, get your boots ready.

This was like being stuck in a car with no brakes and Jake had decided to try and enjoy the ride for as long as it lasted.