#at first i was only going to do the star days but some of the others seem fun so ill just play it by ear with what days i do

[thegoogoomuckkk]

NOW PLAYING

BREAKFAST, LUNCH, & DINNER PT. 1

Starring: Choso Kamo, Kento Nanami, Kiyotaka Ijichi, Sukuna Ryomen, Toji Fushiguro

The JJK men tend to have a healthy appetite when it comes to you

Warnings! oral (f receiving), overstimulation, praise, face-sitting, fingering, male masturbation, ass-play, degradation

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Choso Kamo: Determined <3

Choso maybe does a little bit too much research. He’s heard that some women don’t necessarily like getting head as much as other things. He can’t fathom this because you sucking his dick is about the most pleasurable thing he can think of besides being stuffed inside your cunt. Regardless, he wants to do his very best to make sure this is as pleasurable for you as it is for him; he’s just so concerned he’ll do a bad job. & it makes no difference how much you assure him that “you don’t have to if you don’t want to, sweetie,” & that even if he does do a bad job, you won’t be upset. No, that only encourages him that he needs to make this as good as possible. So when he finally makes up his mind, he’ll let you know as straightforward as usual, probably a text that has you choking on your coffee at 10:00am: “I want to eat you out tonight Y/N.” Straight to the point, as usual. & of course you’re excited, but a swirl of nervousness begins coiling in your stomach. Last time he had his head between your thighs, he was there for hours. 

He doesn’t like it when you talk, especially coherently, that means he’s not doing his job. “Faster? But when I go faster with my cock you cry. . .” “It feels good right, baby? Am I doing good?” “Shhh, s’okay, know you can cum for me again, pretty girl, don’t you wanna cum? I love it when you cum on my tongue, just for me.”

He tries to praise you, mimic the sweet things you say to him when you’re jerking him off or riding his cock, but he’s almost as fucked out as you are, & the praise never seems to sound as good spilling from his lips as it does from yours—at least, that’s what he thinks. But his soft spoken, sweet words cause your cunt to pulse against his tongue, so he tries for you anyways; tries anything, because if it gets you off, makes you feel even a fraction as good as you make him feel, he’s more than willing to do it!

He’s the type to eat you out until he loses track of time, cumming in his own pants once or twice, he doesn’t even need to put his cock in you. & it isn’t until you’re cross-eyed, sweaty, voice hoarse, & crying for him that he even considers stopping. “Did it feel good?” If you had any energy, you’d smack him upside the head. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Kento Nanami: Generous <3

If you were to ask Nanami what his favorite thing to do in bed was, it would be–hands-down, without a doubt, easily—eating you out. Of course, he’s a service top until the day he dies, but it’s more than that; he genuinely derives pleasure from making you feel good. After a long day of work, he comes home exhausted, bags under his eyes, muscles sore, & you’re thinking what you could do to make him feel better: a nice shower, a massage, & maybe—if he’d let you—sucking his dick. You’re pretty pleased with yourself about this little plan until you’ve got him in the bedroom, heading to the bathroom to turn on the shower & he’s tugging on your arm, pulling you down on the bed & wordlessly working off your pants. 

“Kento? Don’t you wanna shower first?” 

He shakes his head, “need to taste you, sweetheart, need it.” 

He hooks his arms under your knees, pulling your legs up & over his broad shoulders, making himself comfortable, in for the long haul.

His favorite is when you’ve sat down on him, hands gripping the headboard, mindlessly grinding against his face, chasing your own pleasure, head empty.  You feel bad sometimes, sitting on his face, or grinding your cunt against him, squeezing your thighs around his head, pulling his hair, but if anything, this adds to his enjoyment of it. He could sit with his head between your legs for as long as you’ll let him, & you always let him because he’s just so damn good at it; you don’t have to tell him what you want, what you need, because he already knows. 

He sticks his tongue into your tight hole, relishing, moaning at the way it spasms around it, working a finger in alongside it, curling it up to that special spot that has you throwing your head back & whining his name. Sucking on your clit, almost meanly because he knows, he knows, how overstimulated you are, how it hurts so good. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Kiyotaka Ijichi: Desperate <3

“You-you taste so good, pretty girl, s’good, please, n-no, don’t gotta run from it,” he whines as you attempt to rock your hips up off the bed, obviously grinding his hips onto the bed, hoping you won’t notice. He’s just so eager, he needs you to cum against his face just one more time. He’s whining like a poor puppy when you pull on his hair. Pathetic moans fill the air, & you’re losing it because there’s no technique, no method to the madness, just pure, sheer, utter desperation. & he’s apologizing into your soaking cunt as he ruts into the bed through his orgasm, potentially gaining more pleasure from this than you. It was always so easy to make Kiyotaka feel good, just your moans of “more, more, so good, Kiyo” had him whining into your pussy, palming his sore dick through his boxers. 

What he lacks in skill, he makes up for in eagerness; eager is the perfect word for the way Kiyotaka eats you, tongue lying flat over & over on your slit, tongue slipping in & out of your puckering hole, thumb circling your clit constantly, overwhelming your poor cunt. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Sukuna Ryomen: Aloof <3

It was rare that Sukuna ate you out, not because he doesn’t like it, don’t get it twisted, but it’s so vulnerable of him, & he can’t fully control himself when he’s between your legs. He’s contrastingly gently, savoring every inch of you, alternating between sucking on your thighs, teasing you to no end, & assaulting your clit with his tongue & his fingers. He loves to have your hips in his hands, manhandling you how he wants, fingertips leaving bruises on your waist, growling when you whine out, “w-wait ‘Kuna, s’too much,” because “Isn’t this what you wanted in the first place?” 

Maybe you had wanted this, but you hadn’t expected him to go on for so long. You couldn’t remember a time when you’d seen Sukuna have any form of patience, barely even prepping you before bullying his cocks into you, but here he was, taking his time with you, not even worried about his own pleasure, too enchanted by your honeyed pussy, just begging for him. 

He’ll never tell you this, but his favorite time to eat you out is when you’re on your period; he’ll disguise it by saying that it makes your scent stronger, but really he just wants to ease your pain & make you feel better.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Toji Fushiguro: Rug Muncher <3

God, he’s an asshole. Don’t get it wrong, he loves eating that sweet cunt of yours, but he also loves nothing more than teasing you. He’s got you on your knees, upper body resting on the sheets, pressing the chastest of kisses on your thighs, your folds, hands slowly gripping your ass, spreading it open for him, swirling his tongue around your puckered hole just above your pussy, pushing a finger in even though he knows you’re cunt is aching for him. He’ll get there. . .eventually. 

“Nghh—n-no, Toji, n-not there,” you whine, trying to pull away from his finger, but he just pushes it in deeper. 

“Not there? Where d’ya want in then, princess?” & fuck it, he knows where you want it, but he just can’t get over how perfect you are like this: needy, desperate, unabashed. You’re not afraid to beg for what you want. But he doesn’t give you time to ask. “You sure you aren’t just pretending not to like it? ‘Cause your pussy clenches every time I put my finger in here.” He laughs meanly, but then he’s sticking his tongue in your pussy, licking fat stripes front to back, spitting on it, shaking his head all up in it. Toji likes it when you give him messy head, & so of course he likes to return the favor.

You’re reaching down to rub your clit while he’s taking his sweet time getting you off & then he’s swatting your hand away because you’re gonna take what he gives you or get nothing at all.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

no, your honor, i don't believe in writing ooc headcanons. . .

LOOKING FOR SOME MORE? MASTERLIST <3

LOOKING FOR SOMETHING SPECIFIC? ASK <3

[bbina]

alone together ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . . . yearning

── taking comfort in the thought that you are together in aloneness through late night talks, heartfelt confessions, and a genuine connection. with your shared experience of recent heartbreaks, you wonder if getting together would be all worth it. in which you find solace in each other's company, that you are alone together.

⋆｡˚ prev | next ˚｡

꩜ notes .ᐟ 3.6k words later my brain is absolutely FRIED with this chapter... took me a day or two and a headache later but ITS HERE. finally goddamn.. and btw im sorry zb1 stans that i've may or may not have sorta villainized your man... its just for the plot i swear!

꩜ taglist .ᐟ @onlywonb @rosesfortaro @starwonb1n @wonychu @totheseok @dolloie @hyunjinsnumberonefun @binluvsu @onlyhyunjin @annswwa @wonbinsvlle @hakkkuu @ilovejungwonandhaechan @artstaeh @lecheugo @odxrilove @bunni @saranghoeforanton @nujeskz @nakam00t @kyusqult @nctsshoes2 @revehosh @s9nwoo @daegale @palchokitty @dutifullyannoyingfox @oshakyao @koryutte @b-riize @meowbini @the-swageyama-tobiyolo @winuvs @i03jae @rsatoru @enhacolor @dalliesque @sweetiejaeyun @dearestjake @cupidslovearrows @sasfransisco @kkumistars @sngj08 @taroddori @nshmurarki @ennycutie @ffixtionista @koeuh @astro-doll-the-star @amouriu

you ignore the way your phone was buzzing like crazy inside your pockets. you couldn't stand it anymore. not even a day in with your unofficial smoking ban, you're already caving in because of some minor inconvenience in your life— "relapsing", as karina likes to call it

it's stupid, you think. why now? you were doing so well with the process of moving on but then it just hits you on a random day. what exactly are you missing? do you miss the warmth that comes with being in the arms of your lover? do you miss the stupid laugh you have when he makes you smile after a rough day?

what are you yearning for?

before you even realized it, you found yourself in front of the same convenience store you always go to. somehow this little convenience store just provided everything you needed when you need it the most such as right now

you only wanted one thing and no one is here to stop you

"one pack of–"

"i'll take these please. thank you" someone cuts you off in front of the cashier. you let out a scoff until the voice registers in your head

it was wonbin

instantly you shoot him a glare. how the fuck did he find you this quick. actually scratch that– how did he know you'll be here?

with your reaction, wonbin takes this time to pay for whatever he grabbed just before you could tell the cashier that you wanted a pack of cigarettes

the cashier eyes you two weirdly, an eyebrow raise as he is unsure on who to serve first

"uh do you still need the cigarettes..?" the cashier cautiously asks, throwing a thumb towards the display behind him

"yes"

"no!"

you and wonbin both say at the same time, confusing and irritating the underpaid cashier. he lets out a loud irritated sigh and punches in wonbin's things before hastily handing it to him

"thank you for coming, come again next time" the cashier grits his teeth as he forces himself to smile

"thanks" wonbin chirps, grabbing the plastic bag and your hand before dragging you out of the convenience store

"what the fuck, wonbin! i told you i need one right now!" you complained, yanking your hand back from his grip

"you don't. that's why i'm here so instead of smoking, you could talk it out like any normal person would" wonbin points out like it was the most obvious thing in the world

"but i don't want to" you grumbled, stopping in your tracks. "just leave me alone today. i don't want to be around anyone"

before you could say anything else, you see someone you know all too well walking towards your direction. your eyes widened and you feel your breath hitch. if your eyes aren't deceiving you, you're sure that it was gyuvin and his new partner

wonbin notices your sudden reaction and before he could ask, a much taller guy approaches the two of you

"y/n, is that you?" gyuvin asks

you felt yourself frozen in place, unsure on what to do. this was the first time in a month that you've talked to him. hell, why would you? you two are broken up in the first place and gyuvin made it sure that you two will never be a thing ever again

"it is you!" gyuvin gasps, finally reaching you and wonbin who just looked lost at the moment. is he your infamous ex boyfriend that you kept mentioning?

"how have you been?" gyuvin makes small talk, "haven't seen you in a long time"

"and why would you?" you retort, raising an eyebrow at the taller male

gyuvin scoffs and pats your head, "still feisty as ever" he comments. gyuvin then finally takes wonbin beside you and his eyes widened.

"is this the new guy you're seeing?" he asks, looking between you and wonbin, trying to piece things together

before you could answer, wonbin does it for you

"that's none of your business" he calmly states, grabbing a hold of your hand, "c'mon. the guys are waiting for us" wonbin lies, gently pulling you away in front of gyuvin

"woah man! i was just asking a simple question" gyuvin raises his hands in mock surrender, "come on babe, let's go" gyuvin cackles, walking away with his arms around his new partner who shoots you a look

you close your eyes as you process what the fuck just happened to you. this day cannot get any worse than it already is. did you really have to run into your ex like that in the open? with his new partner too?

"y/n" wonbin snaps his fingers in front of your face. you must've been too deep with your thoughts to even hear him calling your name

"what?" you snap back to reality

"i asked if that was that him?" he asks quietly, stealing a glance

"... yeah" you murmured, taking a deep breath "i think i'm gonna need some fresh air"

wonbin nods "and i just know the right place"

. . . ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

wonbin takes you to the rooftop of his building. the same spot he took you during the party back at his building complex. now here you were, leaning against a railing, letting the air hit your skin

wonbin was seated on the ground, waiting for you to speak. he fishes out the food that he blindly grabbed just so he could stop you in time from buying your cigarettes

hearing the plastic rustle behind you, you turned around to see him munching on some snack. in an instant, he raises the bag of chips to offer you some, only for you to shake your head no and turned back around

"... i still want a cigarette" you say out loud

wonbin chuckles, "too bad"

"you're the worst" you grumbled, pushing yourself off the railing to sit next to wonbin who only laughs at your reaction

"i'm ready when you are" you hear wonbin murmur beside you as he pulls out more snacks out of the plastic bag just in case you'll ever need it

taking a deep breath, you take a look at wonbin

"where do you want me to start?" you ask, unsure where to begin. your thoughts are messy as it is

"anywhere. just talk and i'll listen" he shrugs, licking the chip flavor off his fingers

you start fiddling with fingers, trying to think of something to start off with. being put on the spot like this isn't helping at all. maybe if you just had your trusty dusty cigarette, you would've forgotten about your little dilemma in the first place

since there was no backing out from wonbin much longer, what else is there left to lose aside from your pride and dignity from being perceived?

"i think..." you start, staring off into the distance, "... i miss having someone or more like i miss being with someone" you admit sheepishly

it's pathetic, you think to yourself now that you've said it out loud, it sounds and it is stupid now that you think about it

wonbin nods his head understandingly beside you, waiting for you to carry on

"i miss the feeling of what it feels like to love and to be loved. do you think i'm wrong for missing my ex like that?" you turn to wonbin for his opinion

your eyes both meet and he shakes his head no

"no, i don't think it's wrong for you to miss your ex. even i miss my ex sometimes" he says

"right?! it's not wrong right?! it's just normal human behavior to miss something you had" you throw your hands up in the air

"but sometimes it feels like i'm the villain in my own mind for missing what i had and it's so embarrassing to admit it out loud to my friends after all the shit talking i did" you continue, reflecting on yourself for the past month

"yes i hate him for what happened but i think miss what we had at the same time. i know this is so toxic to say but it's like playing with fire and to be honest, it feels or it felt really good" you finish

wonbin takes time to digest what you're ranting. making sure he's taking in all the words you're saying. you take notice of this and start to feel anxious again

was it too much for wonbin to take?

"what i'm getting is that you don't actually miss the person, but the feeling of security of being in a relationship" wonbin comments, making sure his words aren't hurtful or shameful to hear

you give him a weird look. what did he mean by that? did you not make it loud and clear or were you missing something?

what did he mean by that you don't miss the person? you never really had any other exclusive relationship with anyone else besides gyuvin so it would make sense that you miss gyuvin the way you are missing what its like to be in a relationship

wonbin pauses and holds a finger out. motioning you to wait

"hear me out on this. maybe the reason why you feel that way is because, you actually never felt that feeling you're looking during your time in the relationship. it was always you who was the giver right? so now that you're all on your own, you are now craving for the things you've never felt before" wonbin says gently

"in short, maybe you're yearning for familiarity. now that it's gone, you don't know what you actually want, hence you missing what it's like to be with someone and the like" he finishes, finally looking at you as you take in his words

familiarity. what a funny word.

you take a deep breath as the memories of your past relationship all comes rushing through your mind. you were always the giver or should you say you were the "pants" in the relationship. you never really did receive anything in return that amounted to the shit you did throughout the relationship

even if your ex boyfriend fucked up, you were always quick to forgive and forget

yes you had moments where you felt like you were the luckiest girl in the world but looking back now...

if you could talk to your past self, you would've told her to grow a pair and stand up for yourself to those who won't even bother to look at your direction when the time comes

you were so busy giving everything you had to the person who won't even do the same to you in return and in the end, you were left with nothing for yourself

so much that you didn't even notice that you were feeling neglected throughout the relationship. even you had needs, not only him

you cringe at the mere thought of being the one who serves your lover like it was your duty to do so. not because you wanted to, but because you had to. so that the relationship could stay afloat

but it's too late now. here you are, a month later after the break up. yearning for something that you don't even know, yet you know damn well that you'll never ever receive it

so do you actually miss your ex boyfriend? or did you just miss the feeling of being needed? do you miss the feeling of knowing that if you do your part in the relationship, they will always be there?

maybe it wasn't the familiarity that you long for?

"no.. i'm sure i miss him. at one point he was my everything so of course i miss him! it's not easy to move on from someone you've been with for over a year!" you defend yourself, trying to justify the way you feel but it just feels all wrong

you start to think about those times where it was you who was being taken care of for once. times where your ex would hold you and tell you that everything will be alright as long as you two are together. the times where it felt like the whole world was against you and that you only had him?

those were real feelings right? you had every right to miss those rare moments shared between you and your ex lover

right?

"maybe it's not him directly, but the feeling of loving somebody that you didn't notice that you were losing yourself in the process" wonbin says

you did lose yourself in the process of loving someone else. that's why you're acting the way you are now, right? you barely know how to act anymore, thinking that no one would actually understand you, get you because what else was left for you to understand yourself?

"no" you deny, furrowing your brows. “i do miss him,” you say quickly, but the words don’t feel as true as they once did.

do you really?

do you really miss him that way?

do you miss the way you had to bend your back just so you could give him what he want— exactly what he wanted?

do you miss the way that you'd spend nights trying to make amends over some dumb misunderstanding?

do you miss him the way you were slowly losing yourself that your friends had to keep you in check?

do you?

you can feel your chest tighten as the realization slowly sinks in

was that even love?

or was it a routine that you've grown used to?

maybe you didn't really miss him at all. maybe it was the comfort it brought you all along. maybe—

you were so deep into thought that you didn't notice something right in front of you. it was wonbin holding out a cigarette

"here" he says, voice soft

you look up at him with wide eyes as you glance between him and the cigarette, having an inner debate with yourself if you should take up his offer. should you?

"i'll give you a pass but only for today" he prompts, grabbing your hand as opens your palm to place the stick

with a deep sigh, you accept and held the familiar stick rest in between your fingers. using your free hand, you rummage through your bag for your lighter but wonbin beats you to it

he was already holding a lighter with his hands in front of you. wonbin flicks the lighter and a small flame emerges. you let out a little scoff but nevertheless you leaned your head toward him as he lights up your cigarette for you

for a moment, your eyes meet his, and there’s something different in the air. It’s not just the flame between you—it’s the proximity, the way his gaze lingers as you inhale.

wonbin takes notice of the bags under your eyes when you leaned closer to him. his eyes trail over your face, taking a good look when you're this close and personal to him

he fights the urge to tuck the stray hairs falling over your face

you pull back, taking in your first drag, and let the smoke swirl from your lips. you ca feel his eyes were on you so you peer your head ever so slightly to offer him a small smile

wonbin hangs his head low, smiling sheepishly to himself, tucking away his lighter back into his pockets

suddenly he feels you tap his shoulder. you were offering him the cigarette

"the deal was that if i stop smoking, you would too. but since i'm smoking right now, it's only fair for you to smoke too, right?" you say, offering him the stick

wonbin laughs in disbelief. "i guess you're right"

of course you were trying to justify your actions with the deal you two made the night prior

you were about to hand it to him, but something makes you stop. instead of giving it directly to him, you raise the cigarette to his lips yourself. his eyes flicker in surprise, but he leans in, lips brushing lightly against your fingers as he takes a drag

there’s a sudden shift in the air, something you can’t quite pin point

wonbin's a little shocked by your action. he could've held it himself but whatever. who is he to say no to a free hit?

you watch him take a long drag before blowing the sweet smoke into the cool air. the smoke curls between the two of you. there's something intimate about this and you don't know what possessed you to do such thing

wonbin coughs a little, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste. something he isn't used to

"i still don't understand why you prefer cigarettes over vapes" wonbin makes a sour face and wipes his mouth with his arm

you shrug, taking another drag after him, "it's easier to dispose"

"fair enough" wonbin comments, grabbing your hand to take another hit which you gladly let him

it was like this for a while. just taking turns smoking until the cigarette finally dies. you squish the remains on the concrete floor before throwing it into the plastic bag from the convenience store earlier

you were feeling a lot better now that you've smoked it out. you made a silent vow to yourself that this would be the last time you'll ever do this to yourself

if it meant that you'd stop clinging onto your dead relationship, you could at least give up the same vice you picked up from the said relationship

no more clinging onto the feeling of familiarity. it was time to start fresh

wonbin leans back on the wall, staring out over the city, fiddling with a receipt. he wants to say something but he's not sure if he should

fuck it, wonbin thinks to himself before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath

wonbin's voice breaks the sudden silence

"i don't think i've told anyone this either but," wonbin begins, voice quieter, "i still think about my ex relationship"

you take a glance at him, noticing the way he his shoulders are tensed and that he was gripping what seems to be a receipt so tightly that you could see his knuckles turning white. you note that he seems to be deep in thought, gazed fixed on whatever is in front of him

"we dated for a long while," wonbin continues, there's a hint of bitterness in his tone of voice. "i thought things were going well but then she ghosted me. twice" wonbin starts to laugh

"first time, i gave her space. i chased after her and thought maybe she just needed some time to be herself or something.." wonbin trails off, "then she came back with no explanation or whatever and obviously i was so relieved like she came back so i didn't question it"

wonbin's brows furrow as he rips the receipt he was playing around with into pieces

"and then she did it again. this time, no warning or no anything. just, gone" wonbin breathes out, crumpling the ripped pieces of paper into a ball before looking up at the night sky

"i don't even know why i kept hoping for so long like a fucking idiot. i kept looking, kept searching, literally anything i could get my hands on just for an explanation on why she would do that but alas, i got nothing"

you can only stare at him in silence. shocked that he too would open up something he never told his closest friends. you can sense that there was more to this so you just kept quiet and waited for him to let it all out

"it makes you wonder what's wrong with you, you know? like was everything not enough?" wonbin smiles bitterly, "it doesn't matter how much are you willing to do because if the person won't appreciate it, then anything you do will never be enough in their eyes"

you've never felt more seen

after a moment of silence, you slowly reach out for his hand, giving it a small gentle squeeze. it's a small gesture, sure but you know damn well that it meant a lot not only for him, but for you as well. your own way of offering your support

wonbin's eyes widened when he feels your hand snake their way onto his and in that moment, it feels right

you don't really understand why you feel this way towards wonbin. was it because of the shared experience? there was something about him that just makes you gravitate towards him and vice versa

there's a moment of silence after that. just the sound of the bustling city below could be heard echoing through the cool night sky but it's comforting

"thanks for listening" your voice barely above a whisper, breaking the silence. you turn to the side to see wonbin watching the stars silently. you feel a small smile creeping up your face, feeling a little better that you actually opened up to someone for once

you and wonbin suddenly make eye contact. he then reaches his hand over your face. you feel yourself flinch and close your eyes before you felt his fingers delicately tuck your hair away from your face

your heart races but there's an odd sensation of comfort in the air that it feels warm. like two people who met by fate due to the same circumstance of carrying the burden of recent heartbreaks and that,

for the first time in a long time, you don't feel so lonely

[writteninlunarlight-years]

My Espresso

A repost of one of my first-ever stories. I guess it got deleted in my purge. Here it is back once again with a better name, lol

The day you died was tragic indeed for all parties involved. Your deranged stalker who killed you now serves life in prison, your fans continue to broadcast your music regularly, crying their eyes out, and your record label is on the hunt for the next ‘Hit’ girl. The only problem was you were a one-of-a-kind, naturally gifted with vocal cords, so sweet and sultry everyone fell for you. Your varying music genres make you an addiction to almost any music fanatic. You were the singer of your time. 

How did you keep that title for so long? Simply put, due to becoming the designated ‘shot of espresso everyone needs to wake up and have a good day,’ your fans were less than kind to any new artists or rising stars. You were an Angle, sweet inside and out, never letting your fame get to your head. However, many scandals and theories have been made that people can never surpass you because you sold your soul or hired people to knock down your competition. None of this was true, though. You were simply a bystander to your fan's actions, not wanting to seem unthankful for all the support that got you there.

Then it happened: your death. One minute, you were walking to the coffee shop by your apartment in the city when a strange man started yelling at you. Of course, the one day you don’t have a bodyguard leave with you, the paparazzi show up. If only that man were a paparazzi; as he got closer, you noticed the lack of camera, the deranged look in his eyes, and the shirt he wore saying, ‘Y/N be my wife.’ All you could think of doing at that moment was trying to make some distance between you and him, seeing as the streets were barren since it was late at night. Why did your best music writing have to happen late at night? Running as fast as you could, the man grew angry, and then bam, next thing you know, you wake up on the streets of a city, not your city; no, this was too red.

As you stood up from your prone position, you glanced at a window only to see not you standing there; well, it was you. It looked like you, but it also didn't look like you. Soft tan skin, chocolate brown hair, Hazel eyes, and a white, tan, and brown outfit adorned your body. You looked like the embodiment of the coffee you would drink at your go-to coffee spot. If only you hadn’t gone there that night. Maybe you would be your normal (E/c), (H/c), (S/c) self. 

Thinking hard about everything that happened, you remember being chased, him yelling obscenities at you, being shoved to the ground, something warm on your face, then a loud bang noise. What was that bang? You only remember the warm, sticky feeling, probably blood from hitting your head on the curb, then you fought a bit, squirming around; the bang must have been a concealed weapon of your assailant's choice. Jeeze, people are crazy…Oh fuck, your dead. You died. Gone. A memory. As this realization came to you, you began walking the streets of this new city.

All the inhabitants of this place looked like those demons you would see on TV or even read about in books. Looking up at the horizon, you see a large building with a flashing sign called the “Hazbin Hotel,” a giant ball to the left that looked like it had wings on it, and above you, a giant pentagram. The pieces finally clicked: you were in Hell, but why you were the sweetest human alive, even fame, didn’t get to you. Maybe Heaven reads tabloids and assumes you did participate in the fate of many of your rivals or that they thought you were a greedy pop star. Sighing softly, you turn your back on the hotel and make your way to the first place that helped you start up in the human world: a cheap manager at a cheap venue. 

~~~Years Later~~~

Years had passed since Mimzy and her crew had taken you in. She was the only demon in Pentagram City that didn’t ask for your soul immediately. Course, as you found out yourself, it’s because her soul, too, was taken from her. Meeting Mimzy was a breath of fresh air; she reminded you of your grandmother and all the pictures you saw of her singing and dancing at nightclubs when she was your age. Mimzy took you under her wing, gave you a palace to sing your sweet new music, and protected you with her clientele. Mimzy did have a habit of getting herself into some deep shit, though. Nothing you couldn’t help with, see as your popularity in Pentagram City grew, so did your powers. Some even compared you to Lilith when she was still around, a voice to conjoin the masses. You were no Lilith; you were simply ‘Y/N,’ so you compromised for a reprise of your old title: ‘ A shot of espresso to keep you going.’ Honestly, who knew demons still partook in human drinks and activities? 

As you began preparing for your next act at Mimzy’s club, said woman entered your dressing room. “Doll, oh, look at you so gorgeous. You're not as gorgeous as me, but you're still amazing. I have big news for ya’ Come and sit with me, deary.” Following Mimzy’s orders, you went to the small sofa in your Dressing Room and sat with her. “What is it, Mimz? Did you get in more trouble with those loan sharks? I told you they are dangerous; this owner of your soul is a real slow ass seeing as I have to save their ‘precious’ soul over and over again.” 

Mimzy just laughed, waving her hand in your face, resituating herself to look you in the eye before speaking again: " Don't worry about that doll. Of course, I would keep that opinion to yourself. He’s back and probably can hear everything around us. Speaking of which, that is why I came here. My dear friend Alastor and the princess of hell are coming to visit our lovely establishment. Make sure to knock their socks off!” 

You nodded softly to Mimzy, laughing at her; she was a firecracker of energy—a troublemaker, yes, but a firecracker of energy. Mimzy quickly excused herself, saying she needed to be ready to meet her guests and introduce the acts for the night. You sighed softly, returning to double-check your makeup and clothes again. 

Looking like a gorgeous espresso martini, as Mimzy calls it, you stood center stage, waiting for the curtain to rise. You hear Mimzy’s tiny heels hitting the stage and some mic feedback. “Ladies and gentlemen, I bring you our star of the stage, your shot of espresso to boost you through hard times, our dame so beautiful and sweet, Y/N.” Cheers erupted in the audience as the curtain rose and a soft amber spotlight landed on you. 

Looking out into the audience, you hesitated for a minute. A handsome man in a red suit sat in the center of the tables. He looked like a deer, not the oddest thing you have seen in the city. The way he was looking at you, though, was intense. You felt the need to cringe and back away like his power exceeded that of an average Sinner. He looked dominating, powerful, and scary even though he had a giant smile plastered on his face. Next to him sat a young-looking girl with big red cheeks. She looked so happy to be present at this event. Her blonde hair was pulled into a bun on her head, with a black crown adoring her. Your boss, Mimzy, was on the other side of the smiling demon, giving you a big thumbs up. 

You took a deep breath when the song started to play on the drums and guitar behind you. You began to sing the song that had never been released to the public before you died. This was an important night for Mimzy, so why not go all out? As you began to sing, the nerves washed off of you, and you started to do your choreography, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of deep red eyes following your every move. As the song ended, you stopped center stage again, a soft, elegant smile gracing your face. “ Thank you so much, everyone. That was called Espresso, and I do hope you all enjoyed it. I will freshen up; please enjoy our band as they play some classic and new hits throughout the ages.” As you bowed and motioned to the band, they began to play. You walked off the stage, quickly stopping at your dressing room before heading to the floor and meeting the others at their table. 

You finally heard this mysterious, powerful demon's voice as you approached the table. “I never took you as the kind to allow other music in your establishment, Mimzy. Weren’t you also one always found of our time's music.” Mimzy just laughed, slapping the demon's arm. Stopping behind the group, you noticed the demon's ears pull back; he knew you were there, good. You cleared your throat for the others and spoke gently, “I’m sorry. Was there a problem with my song, sir? I didn't realize I would be in the presence of a music critic in hell.” 

The tension in the club could be cut with a knife as the demon let out a soft laugh and turned to view you. The young girl beside him was visibly panicking while Mimzy held a laugh back. The demon stood, bowing slightly and extending his hand to you. “Well, dear Y/N, it's nice to meet you. My name is Alastor the Radio Demon, and if you would like to call me whatever it was, you just made music by all means; I must be your critic.” That smile on his face never faltered. It stayed plastered there, if not a little more strained. Gently taking Alastors hand, you curtsied for him and stood straight and tall again, preparing to speak. “Well, Mr. Alastor, you don't seem to have good music taste, seeing as I am a prized singer in hell.” The two of you stared intensely at one another, sparks flying between your eyes. Mimzy cleared her throat, “ Y/N, this is Alastor, as he mentioned, the demon that owns my soul; he also runs the Hazbin Hotel with Miss Charlie Morningstar here.” 

You let go of Alastors hand, breaking eye contact first to greet the young girl. Charlie was the polar opposite of ‘Mr. Music Critic’. She compliments you and tells you how you reminded her of her mother, who has been missing for seven years. Keeping conversation with Charlie, Alastor, and Mimzy began to speak on the side. “Isn’t she interesting, Alastor? She had to have been powerful even in her human form. She may not be your level of scary, but she is something. When I found her within a month, Valentino had come to claim her and ask for her soul; she whooped him physically and mentally; she's quick-witted and cunning.” Alastor nodded knowingly; this could be advantageous to him. 

“Mimzy darling, why have you not sold her off yet? Could make a pretty penny off of her, maybe enough to pay me back for your soul.” Alastor stared at you intently. He couldn’t deny you were attractive in a beauty standard since, and the fact you weren’t afraid of him even if he dominated you in power was intriguing. Mimzy slapped Alastor’s shoulder, “She's like a daughter to me; she's sweet, smart, and a helluva singer. Why would I risk losing business here selling her off to the Vees or any other overlord.”

Tuning into Mimzy’s and Alastor's conversation, you turned to look at the Radio Demon in the eyes once more. “She also can’t get rid of me due to the fact I save her ass more so than you ever have or will.” The authority in your voice even frightened you. The smile on Alastors face tightened more, changing from boredom to interest. “Oh, is that so doll? You save my property for me.” You nod curtly to the demon holding his gaze. The smile slowly morphed into a smirk. Charlie chimes in, “Well, guys, it looks like we have overstayed our welcome; Y/N, you were phenomenal. Please let me know whenever you have your next performance. You have my number!” You nod softly to the cheerful girl before returning to the Radio Demon. 

As you all begin to stand from your seats, Alastor disappears and reappears at your side. “Ms. Y/N, it seems I have a business proposition for you. As Charlie loved your performance so much and I seem to have bad taste in music, how about we strike a deal? You come to the hotel and live there for free; you can sing once a week, and if you can pull in some more sinners looking to be redeemed, I will admit you have the better music. I will also allow you to broadcast your music on my radio.” You stared at the demon timidly, but no one made a deal that didn’t involve losing their soul. You brace yourself for the answer and speak purposefully, “What is it for you if I lose?” Alastor smiled at you menacingly, “I get your soul, of course, and you will do my bidding.” 

You hesitated, contorting your face slightly; losing your soul was not something you wanted to happen; no one did. You looked between Alastor and Mimzy rapidly, a slight panic overcoming you. As you go to speak, Charlie takes your place, “ Alright, Alastor, enough scaring people; we are leaving now. Let's go.” Alastor looked at Charlie before looking back at you. He nods slightly before saying, “I will return in the morning. Have your decision ready.” With that said, the duo left the club.

The night continued like normal; you sang a couple more songs and mulled over the conversation. You won't lie even if you were sweet on earth. Being here in hell made you a lot more prideful than when you were alive. Had someone offered such a stupid bet in the human world, you would politely decline, move on, and let your fans handle them. Alastor, though, something about him and this stupid condescending attitude made your blood boil. As the night closed, you came up with your decision. You went to your dressing room and began to pack a bag for the morning. You were so wrapped in your thoughts hating that stupid Radio Demon that you didn't hear Mimzy walk in. As you finished packing and turned around, Mimzy sat on your couch, a frown on her face. Setting everything down, you walked over to her and sat with her. 

Mimzy looked at you softly, her regular, boisterous exterior fading as her calmer interior emerged. “Y/N, you don’t have to do this. I shouldn’t have done this. I only invited them to show Al how much better I was doing even after his absence. I didn’t expect him to bargain your soul with him.” You gently grabbed Mimzy's hand and looked at her, “Mimz, I got this. I am one of the best singers in hell. I will not lose my soul, and maybe I can bargain him into freeing your soul-” Before you could finish your thought, Mimzy stood up, tears in her eyes, “NO Y/N! You-You don't understand; Alastor is a notorious and powerful demon. He won’t give up mine or your soul. There is always an underlying bargain in his deals.” You looked up at Mimzy. She had never yelled at you like that before, even after ruining her favorite pink dress. Mimzy sat down gently and hugged you close before letting go. “Let me tell you Al’s story, the best I know of it anyway.” 

Even after hearing Mimzy’s story, you are set on proving yourself. Why did you feel the need to? You could only chalk it up to wanting to wipe that stupid smile off the demon's face. You stood outside the entrance of Mimzy’s club, holding her hand. “Y/N, you don't have to do this. Just ignore him.” You shook your head at Mimzy before responding. “I can do this, Mimzy. Trust me. You know where I am if you ever need me.” She nods somberly and hugs you close. The Radio Demon appears out of the shadows as you two part ways. “Hello ladies, Y/N, Mimzy, what a touching display of affection. Are you ready to strike our deal, Y/N?” You nod gently, extending your hand to the demon. With a soft chuckle, he grabbed your hand. Greenlight erupted all around you. Shadows and relic symbols appeared around you as the deal was bound. As the green lights faded, you were sucked into the shadows with Alastor and taken to a Hotel on the other side of Pentagram City. 

The hotel was lovely, nothing too overwhelming like when you were still alive. It was quaint and adorable. You could tell that Charlie put her heart into the place. Walking through the entrance to your left, you notice a bar with a black and grey cat sitting there drinking. Taking the initiative and having the desire to start already pissing the Radio Demon off, you walked away to greet the cat. “Hello, there one espresso martini, please; my name is Y/N, and I’m going to be a new resident and singer for the hotel.” Hearing your words, the cat looked up at you, practically spitting his whiskey onto the bar before collecting himself and cleaning up. In a gruff voice, he responded, “Never thought I would see the day we got more willing redeemers. Thought Sir Pentious would be our only one.” 

You laughed, covering your mouth politely as the cat put your drink before you. As he finished wiping the bar down, Alastor appeared behind you. “Ahhhh, good friend, you have met our new resident artist. Y/N, this is Husk or Husker, as some patrons call him.” You nodded politely to the cat demon, sipping your drink. Alastor sat next to you, staring the cat down. He acted like it was a sin that Husk even talked to you. As you finished your glass, a spider demon walked into the building, groaning about his day at work, sitting on your other side, and ordering a straight martini.

As he rose his head up, looking to great Alastor, he saw you. “WOAH toots, who are ya’ you gorgeous? I didn’t know another pretty thing like me walked these streets.” You smiled sweetly at the spider demon, sticking your hand out to shake his hand. You liked him. He had spunk. “My name is Y/N, and I am the new resident singer of this joint.” Silence filled the room; the spider demon's eyes widened. Looking at him confused, you pulled your hand back and awkwardly sat there. Behind you, Alastors voice rang, “Yes, dear flamboyant friend, that Y/N, the one who took Valentino down a few pegs before he became part of the Vees.” 

The spider's smile grew ten times as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “Toots, let's be best friends, deal. My name is Angel Dust. It's a pleasure to meet you.” You laughed softly, connecting that this Angel Dust might be the soul of that awful month. “Deal, I need new friends now that I am out of Mimzys club.” Husker dropped his bottle, causing a shattering noise as he turned to stare down Alastor. “You were Mimzy’s singer; what are you doing here?” Alastor stared down Husker, the ever-growing smile present on his face as power exuded off of him. “Simple Husk, can’t you tell she's in a deal with me.” The room went silent as you looked down at your hands. Based on everyone's reactions, you soon realized you were fucked. 

The tension was thick between the three of you, Angel silent, not daring to interfere in a soul contract, Husker glaring at Alastor, and the Radio Demon eating up everyones distrust. What felt like hours passing was only a few minutes when Charlie and another woman appeared walking down the stairs. “I am telling you, Vaggie, I heard a new voice.” Your eyes connected with Charlie when she let out an excited squeal, barreling down to you. You laughed softly, happy the tension was broken, and hugged the excited girl back. “Oh my goodness, you came here! Are you trying to be redeemed? I am so excited! Vaggie, this is the singer I told you about!” You looked at the other girl and waved at her. When Alastor stood, she nodded back, getting ready to speak to you; however, Alastor had removed Charlie from your embrace. “Sorry, dear Charlie, but Y/N is part of my deal. She will be a new singer for the hotel, as Husk is the bartender, and Niffty the cleaner.” 

As if hearing her name, a tiny, child-looking demon crawled from the depths of somewhere and sat on Alastors shoulder. “Wowie lady, you must sing well for Alastor to vouch for you. You aren’t no bad boy, but you look like you could be tough.” You stood wide-eyed in shock at the minor demon that seemed to spawn into existence. Alastor stood beside you, shooing Niffty off him and placing a firm hand on your shoulder. “Alright, dear Y/N, why don’t I show you to the drawing room where you will perform? You have three days before your big performance.” Everyone looked at the hand placed on your shoulder, confusion laced on their faces. Was Alastor, not a touchy person? All you’ve known of this man was for him to be touching you in some dominating way. You nodded briefly, following the demon to the drawing room. 

You had been practicing hard for the last three days. You met Sir Pentious while in the middle of a practice performance. He was apparently your biggest fan and regularly played your music in his blimp. You signed some autographs for him and told him he was welcome to come and watch whenever he felt like it. Of course, he never did come back while you were practicing. Angel Dust said Alastor frightened the snake demon, who was “getting too close to you and distracting you.” This only confused you: why is Alastor so against any demon getting close to you except for the striking spider demon? Two, why does he care if you get distracted? Shouldn’t he want you to lose so he can keep your soul? These thoughts plagued your mind every day as you practiced. You decided to do a four-song set, your three most popular songs and the new one you debuted at Mimzys place before you left, as a nod back to your old home. 

Throughout your days here, you have noticed so many odd quirks about these residents, but nothing too crazy. I mean, it is hell after all. Angel Dust was a famed porn star for Valentino; Husker used to gamble at the high-end casino in town; Nifty liked cock roaches; Charlie and Vaggie were fighting with Heaven about Sinners being redeemed. Even Sir Pentious had a past saying he tried to kill Alastor, which made you laugh and congratulate the snake demon. The only major oddball was Alastor; every resident said he was acting different, more pompous, possessive, and aggressive. Before you showed up in his life, he was just a condescending asshole who smiled all the time and had a wicked sarcasm streak. 

What made you special? You have been nothing but mean to this man, trying to get a rise out of him and knock him down a few pegs. The main consense from every resident after they learned of your deal is to be careful; he's a master manipulator. The tidbits of information you learned of Alastor were as follows: he hosted a radio show that, up until seven years ago, played screams of his victims; he still very much missed the 1920s; Jazz was his favorite music, makes sense why he hated your pop music, and lastly like any true child of the bayou he enjoyed his coffee, his coffee with three shots of espresso. No wonder the man was wired 24/7. 

Alastor was also not a touchy man; the only person any resident had seen him touch so constantly was you. Why? No one knows the answer; Angel Dust has his theories that he “has the hots for ya toots.” You couldn’t help but laugh at that notion. The pompous, rude, robust, attractive, funny, charismatic Deer Demon didn't have a thing for you. Okay, yes, you have a thing for him, though; what changed in the three days of getting close to him and everyone else? You have no real idea; you only know that the day you realized you had more than aggressive feelings for him was two nights ago.

~~~Flashback~~~

You had been summoned to the famed radio tower by Alastor. He had a treat for you, as he put it. Following Niffty's instructions, you ended up before the radio demon's door. Now you heard the rumors already he killed and broadcasted in his tower. Did your deal mean nothing? Was it a ruse to get rid of someone with a little bit of power? You must have been standing there for too long in your thoughts because before you knew it, Alastor had opened the door for you. “Ah, dear Y/N, come on in. We have a broadcast to get to.” You nodded gently and followed him inside. 

Taking your place beside Alastor, you notice how cluttered his desk is. You stifle a laugh; the thought of the infamous radio demon who looked so clean and polished having anything untidy amused you. You see Alastor pouring his regular coffee as you turn to the small end table with some chairs. “Alastor, I never would have taken you for a coffee drinker. You seem more refined to like English teas or other sophisticated drinks.”

Alastor just looked at you with a small, unstrained smile. As he finished his drink and poured you one, he said, “Nonsense dear Y/N coffee is highly sophisticated; Louisiana was a large export of coffee grounds we lived for this drink. Coffee was the way to go when we needed to work long hours tending to fields or making ends meet at factories.” You nodded gently, amazed that this man remembered his life so well after so long. While you sat and drank your coffee, Alastor got up to prepare the broadcast. While he was busy, you took this time to examine the Deer Demon in more detail. 

He was handsome; his fringe was odd but suited him well, the unforced smile looked attractive, and his suit was perfectly fitted, leaving just enough imagination about what lay underneath. As you caught yourself having this thought, you shook your head, setting your cup down violently. Alastor turned to look at you, his smile still soft but a questioning look in his eyes. You coughed softly into your napkin and stood to meet Alastor at his desk before speaking. “So Al, what is it you need of me.” His reaction to the nickname did not go unnoticed.

Now, the original reason you decided to use the nickname he hated was to get under his skin, but instead of doing that, he smiled at you wider. Gently, he placed a microphone and headphones in your hand. You looked up at him with a curious gaze. “I believe that for people to know you are here at the hotel and will sing, they need a sample. We may have a deal on the line, but I am no cheater.” You nodded, smiling at him; maybe he wasn’t so bad. As the broadcast started, though, the same pompous ass hole came out. Boasting about being missed and how he can't wait to give Sinners of hell an actual broadcast, he introduced you. “Now, my dear patrons, I introduce Y/N. Some of you may know her and even love her, but tonight she will be singing a song for you, a taste into her performance that will be happening here at the Hazbin Hotel in two days.” 

You gripped the microphone and started singing one of your more classic songs. Only the people at Mimzys club that night had heard the new song, and you didn't want to ruin the surprise you had been working on for your concert. As you sang, you couldn’t help but notice the red eyes boring into you. Was Alastor checking you out? No, of course not. This is just to even out the deal. However, how his eyes softened and he hummed gently to your tune made your heart flutter. He sure learned one of your songs for someone who hated your music. 

As you finished your part in his broadcast, Alastor played some old-time Jazz, muting the mics before leading you out the door. You said your goodnights and began to walk away when Alastor grabbed your arm. You turned to look at him, a sweet, innocent look in your eyes; a part of you wanted him to kiss you right there. However, you could see his conflict. After a few seconds of staring at one another, Alastor let go of your arm and cleared his throat, “Good night, Y/N. Be prepared for our deal.” You nodded, and before you could ask him what was wrong, the door was closed and locked in your face.

~~~Present Day~~~

The day you had finally come for your concert. You had spent most of the day resting and preparing for the show. It had been over a week since your last live performance. You took your time getting prepared, wanting everything to be perfect. You double-checked your hair outfit and even dabbed on an old perfume you found while shopping with Angel. Did you buy this specific sent because it was trendy in the 1920s? No, of course not. You weren't trying to impress the famed Radio Demon during your performance tonight. It finally dawned on you as you did your last touches. You either become soulless tonight or beat the Radio Demon. A shiver ran down your back; you were so caught up in falling for the man that you forgot he was ruthless and owned you now. It's not that you minded the owning part; you minded the soulless part. 

A soft knock was heard at your door, and you released a quiet “come in.” As you turned from your vanity to see who had entered, before you stood, Mimzy, you ran to your mentor and hugged her close. “You came, you came. I thought you would be too mad at me to come.” Mimzy slapped your shoulder gently before speaking. “When have I missed one of your shows since you started working for me? Plus, Alastor personally invited me and gave me a front seat. I don’t know if it's to torment me that he's going to take your soul or if mister Deer likes you.” Mimzy began nudging your side. You stifled an almost forced laugh, your cheeks growing warm. “Mimzy, you need to lay off the alcohol. That is an absurd statement. Alastor doesn’t like me.” She gave you a knowing look. “You may think he doesn’t like you, but I can tell you sure like him.” You looked away at the floor.

Mimzy gave you a few more encouraging words before returning to the drawing room. According to Mimzy, there was already a large number of people filling the place. Charlie must be going nuts trying to recruit people. With a final glance in the mirror, you began to walk to your call point. Instead of your average tan and brown ensemble, you wore an elegant blood-red dress for tonight's performance. One that just so happened to be in your closet this morning when you started to get ready. You did your hair up and let some pieces frame your face, your makeup soft and subtle, giving you a sweet, angelic look.

Charlie introduced you to the crowd; as you took center stage and waited for everyone to calm down, you began your set. You looked out to the crowd like you did all those nights ago, and sitting right in front of you were your new friends and him. He didn’t look smug or dominating this time. No, this time, he looked calm and compassionate. Even if you looked hard enough, it almost looked like he was enjoying himself. He wore a suit practically identical to your dress in color. You promoted the hotel between each song as you sang. Your first three songs went perfectly, keeping the crowd entertained to the fullest as you always did. Once your last song died down, the crowd erupted. 

A slow interlude played as you spoke softly: "I wrote this last song a long time ago when I was alive. I have only sung this song once at Mimzy Speakeasy, so if you were one of the lucky few to hear it, please feel free to sing along and enjoy it to the fullest this time.” You smiled softly before landing your eyes on Alastor. You don’t know what possessed you to sing this song, looking directly at him, but you couldn’t help it. You felt compelled, too. As the begging notes to Espresso started playing, a small group of people cheered, including Charlie. 

You began your normal choreography and sang your heart out, never taking your eyes off of Alastor for long, and from what you saw, he never took his eyes off of you for long, either. Singing your heart out as you finished the outro of the song you posed, letting the cheers and lights fade out. Charlie rushed to the stage and informed everyone about food, refreshments, and signing up to join the hotel. You, however, hid behind the curtains, blushing. Why was he looking at you so intently? Why were you suddenly so shy and concerned you sang poorly? You always had confidence in your singing.

Collecting yourself, you quickly refreshed your look in the bathroom before joining the after/recruiting party. As you were going down the hotel hall to get to the main part of the drawing room, an uneasy feeling hit you. An anxious, familiar feeling. You turn your head, and down the hall, you see a man making his way towards you. You turn around and keep walking, ignoring his shouts as you try to beeline for the entryway. You are panting at this point, memories of your death coming back to you, everything feeling too close to that moment. Just as you are about to turn the corner into the doors for the drawing room, the man reaches out for you. You brace for impact; however, nothing happens. You hear sickly screams emanating from before you as a pair of arms gently encase you in a protective embrace. As you open your eyes, you see shadows tearing the man who looked to be a part of the Vees team apart. Alastor covered your eyes before walking you back towards your room.

You didn’t even realize you had begun to cry or shake when you got to your room. The anxiety of reliving that night you died catching up to you. Alastor never let you go, even after you got to the safety of your room. Once you calmed down, Alastor went to the bathroom connected to your room. You sat there holding your face in your hands, probably looking like a mess from your actions. Alastor re-entered the room and brought you a fresh, damp towel. “To wash your face off; you probably don’t want all that on you anymore.” You nodded softly and began to wipe your face. Alastor scoffed, then took the towel from you, crouching down. Alastor gently held your face and began to clean it off. You two never broke eye contact. He was so gentle.

After your face was cleaned, Alastor took the pins out of your hair and went to find some more comfortable clothes for you. You were ushered into the bathroom and began to change when, through the door, Alastor began to speak. “Did he hurt you at all? I tried to get there as fast as I could. Before you came on, Mimzy was telling me about the night you died. I assume the Vees and their minions must have overheard and, in an attempt to weaken your resolve, make you remember that night.” You sniffled lightly, slowly opening the door, and you looked up at Alastor. Where was a man like him when you died? No, where was he when you passed that night? A choked sob left your lips as you hugged him close to you, crying into his shoulder. Alastor was amiss on what to do, but slowly, as you cried, wrapped his arms around you as well. 

As the tears faded, a green glow surrounded you and Alastor again, like when you first made the deal. No one signed up for Charlie's hotel, whether because the demon was mutilated one door over or because you didn’t come to socialize with the guests. It didn’t matter; Alastor had your soul now. Oddly enough, you weren’t as upset by this as you anticipated; you were happy about this. You felt safe, protected even. 

Alastor bid his farewell to you after you had finally calmed down. Neither one of you speaking about the contract or lost deal. You lay in bed, exhausted from all the crying and anxiety. As you drifted off to sleep, you saw your assailant again. This wasn’t an uncommon dream for you, but this time, it hurt worse due to the raw emotions. However, just as you were about to die again for the millionth time in this dream, a man dressed in red with brown hair and a soft smile protected you and saved you. 

You had been asleep for a little less than 24 hours when you woke next. Your body needed a recharge. You made your way to the kitchen to make some coffee; if you were staying at the hotel to sing, you could start putting together new songs and programs. You made your drink, noticing that Alastor's cup was missing from the cabinet. Taking your hot coffee back upstairs, you passed the hall to your room when you heard a piano playing your song Espresso. 

You made your way to the door and entered quietly to find Alastor playing your song, humming quietly in tune. You knocked gently and said, " Al, if you wanted a concert yourself, I would have given you one.” You smile softly. Alastor, unfazed by your appearance, probably already knowing you were there, hummed in amusement before speaking. “As a thank you, why don’t we perform a duet for me saving you?”  You made your way over to the piano, sitting down next to him and setting your coffee cup next to his on the piano. 

He began to play the start of the song, and you two began to sing together. Softly, you rest your head on his shoulder, allowing yourself to be vulnerable with your feelings for the man next to you. You had never sung this song like this before, and it felt special between you two. Some of you began to believe that this song was made for you and Alastor. Before you died, you knew you would meet your match—someone who met you as an equal yet also an opposite. Alastor finished the last few notes of the song. Comfortable silence surrounds you. 

Alastor smiled more naturally, “You know, Y/N, I do like your music. It did catch me off guard the first time I heard it, but your music has a lot of truths in it.” You look up at him from his shoulder, listening to his words. “From the moment I looked at you, I couldn’t get enough of you; when I met you, and you challenged me almost instantly, I knew I had to have you. You keep me awake at night thinking about everything that has happened between us in the last few weeks.” You smile softly, thinking back to the lyrics of your song. You lean up gently and place a kiss on Alastors cheek. He laughs softly when he turns to look at you thoroughly. “I’m sorry, doll, but you may have misunderstood me. I like you a lot; I feel that deserves more than a mere peck on the cheek.” You laugh wholeheartedly, this time without covering it up, before placing a soft, chaste kiss on Alastors lips. You pulled back, both of you smiling. “Now that’s an espresso I would happily take any time.” You laugh at his antics before placing your hands on the piano, now playing an old song you remembered from when you were a kid. 

All was well. Who would challenge the infamous Radio Demon, especially now that he had the notorious addictive ‘Espresso’ singer as his girlfriend? With your powers combined, he could overcome the deal he made, but that is a story for another time.

[razrbladekiss]

GUILTY AS SIN? | Joel Miller — PART TWO

SUMMARY: after a chance encounter, joel miller is faced with a dilemma. will he be able to resist temptation, or will he crumble beneath your mystifying gaze?

PAIRING: dads ex-best-friend!joel miller x afab!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.6k.

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI, 18+ WORK BELOW THE CUT. soft!joel, i yearn for this amidst all of the angsty, grumpy old man joel. some dialogue that melts me. dirty talk. pervy joel. mentions of f&m masturbation. pussy eating. fingering <3 protected piv cus if you’re gonna fuck your dad’s ex best friend, then you need to at least do something sensible!! sarah calls joel while you’re…yano.

happy birthday joel <3

PART ONE

Should I really be doing this?

Joel’s inner monologue—and conscience—is about to implode, firing fragments of stupidity into each corner of his brain it seems. Because that’s the only way this could be described rationally.

He’s fucking stupid. He has to be. To come back to Point Pleasant, for one, to admit that he has a crush on his ex-best-friend’s daughter another, and then take her HOME with him.

To the house that your parents used to go to every Saturday night for parties, gatherings, meals. Joel used to host Superbowl Sundays there, too, which were arguably some of the best days had by your father and something he’ll always remember regardless of the precarious terms that he’s on with Joel.

That house would be your after-school retreat, when you and Sarah were best friends growing up. You’d spend hours there playing games, riding your bikes in the yard, telling one another your deepest darkest secrets.

You took your first sip of alcohol in that house at a party that—to this day—you and Sarah still keep secret from your parents. You had your first fight there—at the same party, actually—and the scar from the Jack Daniels bottle still sits uncomfortably above your right bicep. The scar that your dad still believes is from you cutting yourself on chicken wire, and not a result of an intoxicated kerfuffle with a college senior when you were sixteen.

You haven’t set foot in Joel’s home for years, and that’s what terrifies him.

What if this all becomes too real? What if she doesn’t want me when she remembers all the history, all the things that happened here?

His brain is working faster than what his mouth or body can even dream of keeping up with, and he hasn’t even realized that his truck is still stationary outside of the bar.

“Joel.” You say his name for the third time, and he finally manages to cut free the ties between his reluctance and desire. He smiles at you.

“Yeah?”

Eyebrows fused together, you stare back at him. Joel fiddles with the keys to his truck before he’s stuffing them into the ignition.

You choose to stay silent. He knows that you know that he’s playing dumb. How couldn’t you? You’d been having those same reticent thoughts leaving the bar, too.

It’s a tricky situation to be thrust into, but it’s not exactly your worst nightmare. Banging Joel is only something you could’ve imagined. And, truthfully, it was.

You’d spent many a night with your deft fingertips between your legs, touching yourself to the mental image of Joel’s cock splitting you open and fucking you so hard that you’re seeing stars. But you’d never admit that.

How could you? He’s Sarah’s dad. At one point, he was your father’s oldest friend. A man that—despite his physical allure and more than charming personality—is much, much too old for you.

You swallow your indecision, rolling down the window when you feel the air getting thick. A cool—almost orgasmic—breeze flits through the cabin and you’re suddenly comfortable again.

Too comfortable, maybe.

“When did you realize that you wanted me, Joel?” You ask. It’s a bold question. One that he mightn’t hold the answer to. But it’s worth a shot.

Joel clears his throat, focusing on the road ahead. His knuckles begin to turn white for the grip that he has on the leather-bound wheel is unyielding. Though, he doesn’t feel as tense as he appears.

“Actually, you don’t gotta answer—“

“When you left for college.” He speaks over you, feeling an inexhaustible shade of maroon bleed into his cheeks. “When your father called Sarah ‘n I over to say our ‘goodbyes’ before you went, that’s when I realized.”

Your heart starts to thump.

“I think it was the thought of not seeing ‘ya for a few months that put it into perspective for me.” Joel admits somewhat uninhibited. It was nice. “I was so proud of you, goin’ ‘n chasin’ your dreams. Always been a bright girl.”

You smile at him. He’s still focused on the road, trying not to heed too much the glare from oncoming vehicle lights as Joel’s old age has cursed him with damn astigmatism.

He squints.

“Always had more of a soft spot for you than what I should’ve.” He says. “Not in a gross old-man way. Just always saw so much of your dad in you when you were growin’ up, and it took me back to when we were kids ourselves. And then when you turned eighteen—and grew up a hell of a lot—I couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you.”

“Perv.” You joke and he just shoots you a pointed glare. But he knows you’re kidding.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t think that I forgot ‘bout what you said. How you’ve always wanted to fuck me.”

Eighty-five million shades of crimson flush into your face at Joel’s crude remark, but all he can do is laugh at your suddenly reddened state.

“How old were you when you had your sexual awakening?”

“Fuck off.” You chuckle and swat at his shoulder. “Eh. Dunno. I always thought you were kinda cute, but the shitty sex in college made me yearn for a good pounding from a seasoned professional.”

Joel’s jaw drops. You’re filthy. He loves it.

“Have you ever touched yourself thinking of me?” You ask completely nonchalant, mainly because you have fingered yourself to the mental image of Joel.

He huffs out a laugh—humorless—and turns to you when he hits a stop light.

Joel never thought he’d be asked a question like this, let alone have to answer it.

“Yeah.” He concedes. “I—uh—I have.”

Your pussy throbs.

“Spent a lotta time fuckin’ my fist ‘n thinkin’ of you.” He divulges and suddenly feels that familiar ache in the chasms of his tummy. His jeans start to constrict as his dick feels like it’s getting strangled by taut denim.”Those vacation pictures you posted on Facebook last summer…”

Joel shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“That little bikini.” He continues, torturing himself. “Fuck. The things that I’ve wanted to do to you—“

“Then do them.” Bold—completely brazen—you say. “Joel, I didn’t say that I wanted to fuck you just for the sake of it. I want you.”

“And I want you, too.” Joel tells you, shifting a little to look at you as he promptly realizes that his house is another ten minutes away. “But I can’t wait.”

Hastily—in a moment of complete madness, blinded by the most lecherous haze—Joel takes a sharp left turn down some slightly sketchy side-street. He yanks up the parking brake.

“What?” You blink at him, heeding the raging boner he’s flaunting. “You want to do it here?”

Joel nods. “Car sex not good enough for the princess, huh?”

He starts unzipping his pants while you, on instinct, pull off your dress.

“No.” Your head shakes. “No, absolutely not. Just didn’t think you’d want to eat me out in the passenger seat, s’all.”

“Yeah, well.” He pulls his jeans and underwear down, and his prick springs free. Its so hard it looks almost painful. “I’ve waited long enough to get you alone, ‘n I ain’t wasting no more time.”

You nod, pulling almost sheer fabric over your head. Fair enough.

Joel’s eyes all but pop out of his skull at the sight of your tits. They’re even more alluring in person, than what that goddamn Facebook picture alludes.

“God. Your father is gonna kill me.”

“What daddy don’t know won’t hurt him.” You retort with a smile. It’s almost innocent. It’s almost driving him fucking crazy.

His features harden. As Joel puts one hand to the back of your neck and the other wraps around his cock—slowly pumping his length—he kisses you. It’s teeth and tongues, and he’s moaning because the pleasure flowing straight to his tip mixed with the saccharine liquor on your tongue is almost too much.

It’s intense. It’s steamy and needy, and Joel just smells so good. He tastes pretty sweet, too.

You whine into his mouth, feeling a haze of lust devour any sense of rationality that you might’ve had before this very juncture.

“Fuck.” He rasps as he pulls away, his hand still affixed to his literal throbbing cock. “Get on your back.”

You oblige in a heartbeat, laying against lukewarm leather, skin already sticking to it as its getting damp with sweat.

“Jesus Christ.” He lets out an expletive, feeling his already solid cock harden to an almost painful degree as you begin to leak liquid sexuality at the mere thought of Joel eating you out.

Your chest heaves as Joel starts to lick at your cunt.

A searing warmth percolates through your body as his tongue works your heat, licking a chaste trail through your folds. Its demure, its soft yet lascivious, and its driving you absolutely insane, the way he’s touching you. Feeling you. Eating you.

He laps at your honeyed sweetness, hastening the pace at which he licks and sucks and jabs at your core. Your wanton—borderline licentious—whines only encourage him.

“So sweet.” He comes up for air, slipping his middle finger into your pussy while he writes his fucking name with his tongue on your clit and wrenches inside of you. “So fuckin’ sweet.”

“Joel—“

“Baby.” The man murmurs against your swollen bud, overstimulating you to a point of almost no return, and you whine. You cry and whimper for him as he laps at your weeping bloom, feeling every ounce of pleasure twist within the chasms of your abdomen.

He spreads both of your legs apart and pulls them over his shoulders—hands firmly clamping against your stomach—and goes at it, hammer and tongs. No remorse. No mercy. No goal aside from making you squirt and scream the place down.

And of course it feels wrong, to be pinned beneath the man whose first sexual escapade was most likely shared with your father mere moments later. But you don’t care.

You don’t care that half of Joel’s life was spent by the side of your parent, or that he was there the day that you learned how to ride a bike for the first time. Because it’s so different, now.

You don’t know him anymore. Joel isn’t the same. He doesn’t look the same, or act the same. He was so grumpy, so mad at the world for the longest fucking time. But now he seems to be at peace.

Here. With you.

“Bet those stupid college jocks never tried suckin’ your soul outta your cunt.” Joel mumbles against trembling thighs, kissing and biting a little trail before he’s diving straight back into your heat.

Your head shakes and you whisper a little “no.” Speaking feels impossible, now.

And while the words won’t fall from your lips, a sharp mewl—shriek, almost—falls from your lips as your warmth devours Joel’s tongue and fingers. You tighten around him, immediately feeling your release.

But he doesn’t stop. Joel stays at it. He laps up the desire that’s pouring from you, feeling his cock start to leak at the sound of you and the way that he’s forcing your body to convulse.

You writhe and moan and he wants to take pity on you, but he can’t stop. He paws at his length and jerks his hand in time with his tongue as it slips through your folds.

“Joel—“ your hand goes to his head on instinct, wreathing fingers into his hair as his hold is relentless. “Fuck me—I—“

“You what, darlin’?” He lifts his glance, watching your eyes roll back in your fucking head. “You can’t take it anymore? You want me to show you what a seasoned professional can do?”

You cringe at your words being thrown back in your face, but you nod. Because Joel’s calloused fingertips strumming away at your clit is making you fucking ascend, and you’d like to leave his truck with at least some of your dignity.

He goes back down for another taste, drinking your come as it pours out of you. He licks a final trail through your pussy and lands at your clit, sucking it before releasing with a soaking pop.

Joel pulls away and gets on his knees bwteeen your legs, admiring the mess that he’s made of you beneath him. It’s a beautiful sight. But he worries that if he basks in it for too much longer, then he’ll blow his load all over you.

Fuck. His load. Joel grunts, pulling a hand over his face.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, propping yourself up by your elbows. “Joel?—“

“Condoms.” He rasps. “You got any?”

“No.” Joel throws his head back, frustrated. “Hey. I’m sorry that I don’t carry them around with me, but I don’t usually go fuckin’ around with people that I run into in the hardware store—“

“Sorry.” He apologises, hoping that he hasn’t ruined the mood. “Think I got some in the glove box.”

“Hope they’re in date.” Joel glares at you. “What? When was the last time that you got laid, Miller?”

He rubs his lips together. He ignores your remark, instead pulling a lone rubber from the glovebox. Joel sighs, complacent.

You peer at the back of the foil. 02.04.26.

“Huh. Got your dick wet pretty recently.” You muse, slightly downcast. But if it weren’t for being at the store today, you wouldn’t be in this situation and all would be so different.

Joel feels your trepidation. But counters with “I’m pretty sure that Tommy put these in here after I went on a Tinder date in January.”

You watch as he rolls it over his prick, and raise a brow.

“You haven’t had sex since January?”

He shakes his head.

“Fuck. That’s wild. I thought you were always out bangin’ bitches.”

“No.” He chuckles, gripping firmly his cock. He lines it up with your—still completely soaked—core. “Used to be, but not anymore.”

“Aw, I feel special, now.”

Joel leans over, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Always been special, sweetheart.”

Throbbing once more, your cunt glitters. It’s humiliating, getting so wet so fast. But Joel is fucking luxuriating in it. He loves this sight, you underneath him.

“You ready?” The search for consent—or at least approval—forces butterflies to wreak havoc inside of your stomach.

You nod at him. “More than.”

Joel’s heart pounds. He can’t believe he’s doing this. He can’t believe that he’s being so fucking stupid. But, here you are. Here he is. About to have TRUCK sex with you, like you’re just some girl that he’s picked up from the bar.

IDIOT.

But he heaves all disinclination to the side, and pushes slowly his cock into the searing warmth between your legs.

He hisses out a “fuck” while you throb around him. You’re tighter than he thought, and he can’t believe it. He can’t get over the fact that he fits you almost perfectly, like his prick was just fucking made for you.

He could stay like this all day.

But he needs to get off. Quickly. Because it’s almost eleven-fifteen, and he promised Sarah that he’d call to see how her flight to Kansas was at eleven-thirty.

“Christ, Joel.” Your head hits the seat with a thump, feeling quickly the second orgasm that he’s bestowing upon you this evening. “Feels so good.”

“Can say that again.” He replies, breathless as he starts to hasten his pace. His knees dig deep into the leather-bound seat as he strives to keep his balance while rutting into you.

Your back arches as a surge of pleasure strikes your core, and Joel puts his right hand beneath the curve of your spine while the left is gripping tightly your thigh as it shakes and shivers.

“This pussy.” He groans through gritted teeth, watching his cock slide in and out of your weeping cunt. “This fuckin’ pussy is perfect.”

More of that arousal seeps onto his cock, slick and wet. A sharp squelch urges you to cringe, but the physical sensation cancels out any feelings of sheepishness.

You’re a mess. In Joel’s truck, on the front bench, you’re a fucking mess.

But it’s some of the best sex you’ve had in—well—forever, and you can’t even dream of elucidating the gory details to anyone. Because this is wrong. Completely forbidden. Yet it feels so good.

You’d die if anyone found out, but you’re hardly being private about it.

Your moans—loud and obnoxious—reverberate through the cabin and you’re pretty sure that people a mile away can hear how well Joel’s fucking into you.

“Wanna get on top.” You muster out and take him by surprise. But he’s into it, and pulls out to sit back down on his ass.

You clamber over—and feel that pooling wetness seap down the inseam of your thighs—watching him watching you.

Both legs land either side of Joel’s, and he takes it upon himself to line his cock up with your slit. You rub over the tip, slowly sliding down onto him while your eyes are locked on his.

Joel twitches and writhes underneath you. You put both hands on his chest—exposed through his green and red flannel—and slowly ride him. You’re gentle, with your movements. Unyielding, but gentle.

“Love your cock.” Through bated breaths, you say. “So, so big.”

“Love your pussy—“

He’s cut off by the almost offensive ringtone that came default with the phone that—honestly—you couldn’t put a name to even if you had a gun to your head

“Aw, fuck. What time is it?”

You shrug, rolling your hips. “Like, eleven-thirty.”

Joel grunts and groans, fishing around for his cellphone. He pulls it from between the seat and the door.

Sarah.

“Darlin’—it’s Sarah you’re gonna have to—fuck—gonna have to stop.”

You shake your head no. “I’ll just be quiet. And I’ll go slow.”

“Fine.” He says, though knows that you “going slow” will destroy him.

Joel clears his throat, feeling quickly his release looming.

“Hey, baby girl.” He greets her, and you hear her mutter something back. Something about him needing to stop saying that, and asking him to refer to her as something normal.

She hasn’t changed. You smile. It’s cute. You just want to kiss him.

But you want to torture him even fucking more.

Both hands take purchase against his shoulders, and you rock at a pace that you know is killing him.

He grinds his lips together, humming in response to something that she’s saying.

“That’s great, Sar’.” Joel shoots you daggers as your tits press against his chest. You moan quietly, writhing on top of his prick.

You’re not going to quit, and he knows that. So as she’s describing—in depth—the ordeal that she had at the airport, he takes it as his cue to lift his hips and pound into you. All the while striving not to make a noise.

“Fuck, Joel. I’m gonna cum—“ You whisper, hating how quickly you’re unraveling atop him. He jolts his hips upwards—fast and lazy—as you’re orgasming in front of him. Again.

And it’s only a matter of time before he starts his unyielding release, and so you ride him until you’re seeing stars. You’re so sensitive and overstimulated, and feel as though your cunt is going to drop off.

But it’s worth it. To see Joel’s face contort, his breaths grow sporadic, and face contort. It’s so worth it.

“What—uh—what day will you be home?” He asks her, throat hitching.

“Saturday.”

He groans, watching you throw your head back.

“Dad? You alright?”

“Yes.” He says, short. “Sorry, that was blunt. I’m alright. Kinda caught up in an emergency, hon. Mrs. McKaye’s pipes are blocked. Can I call you back in the morning?”

She mumbles something about him being too nice and how he can never say “no” to anybody, and agrees to speak in the morning. Joel switches off his phone and throws it behind him, quickly fastening his palms to your thighs.

“”Mrs. McKaye’s pipes are blocked?” Joel, you are such a shitty liar.”

“I know.” He says, letting his cock hit the spongiest part of your cunt as he slams into you—hilt deep—and mumbles a slew of curses entwined with your name. “I never lie. That’s why I’m so bad at it.”

You laugh for a millisecond, before pleasure is surging over you and your sweat-slick torsos are fused together. A gorge of complete and utter rapture almost drowns the two of you, and before you know it Joel’s cock is twitching—pulsating—inside of you as he hits his release and cum is spitting from the tip of his prick.

You’re grateful for the condom—as getting pregnant by your dad’s ex-best-friend is literally a death sentence—but desire the feeling of Joel’s hot cum painting threads of white against the walls of your pussy.

“Fuck.” You whimper, wriggling as he’s still deep within you. “Joel, that was—“

“Fucking amazing.” He finishes, panting. Sweat beads against his forehead, chest and neck.

Joel—hesitantly—pulls out, and his head hits the rest behind it. You peel yourself away and reach for your dress, quickly shimmying back into it before you’re curling up next to him. Joel puts his arm around you.

“Kinda glad that I went lookin’ for a gate lock, now.”

“Mhm. Me too, sweetheart.” He replies, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head.

“I’ve gotta go and get caulk tomorrow. You gonna be there?”

Joel chuckles. “Depends. You gonna come home with me again?”

“We haven’t even made it back to your place once.”

“This is true.” He says.

Joel reaches for his pants and jeans.

He leans into you, nipping your ear. “But I ain’t done with you yet.”

[walmartbrandwhatever]

cherry and marcia hcs because I love them so dearly.

they met when they were 6 at a park. cherry was sitting alone on a bench and marcia being afraid of nothing just sat down and started yapping.

Marcia used to be afraid of nothing except for storms. whenever there was a storm she would curl up in the corner of her room and cry.

her parents weren't around much, both working to hard to keep the life they had built so her house was often empty.

cherry having a not so good home environment would spend days upon days at marcias and they would just hang out.

cherry was the quiet popular girl who did her work but when she was at marcias house they would talk the most shit and about drama going around the school.

cherry is really good at doing other people's hair, and it's something she quite enjoys doing. someday, when things get too stressful, Marcia will let Cherry just mess with her hair as they sit in silence or talk about what's bothering her.

Marcia used to roller skate a lot when she was younger but stopped when she reached highschool and started to worry more about her staus.

cherry lowkey hates oranges. she hates anything to do with them while marcia LOVES them.

on the days where they were practicing for rodeos they find a way to fuck with eachother.

they had a game where they had gotten this small little figure and have made it a game to place it somewhere on eachother and whoever has it has to try to get it to the other person without them noticing. the last time they played marcia got it to cherry(I'm gonna come back to this later)

once they reached high school, Cherry had met Bob in her math class. at first they didn't really talk but after being paired together during class they sort of just hit it off.

Marcia and Bob? did NOT hit it off. they started unsure of each other and then turned to them, not liking each other.

there was one day where bob and marcia had ended up alone waiting for the rest of there friends and marcia got to see the true version of bob Sheldon that had been pushed down deep.

he had started talking about the stars, going into detail about the ones he knew and how important they were to him. no matter what changed in his life or the little amount of actual love he got from his family they stayed a constant. a reminder that there were nice things that even he could see.

Marcia before would have never expected it from someone like him but it made her look at him with a different light. only for a little while because that was the only time she had ever seen that side of him. after that he went back to the bob Sheldon she had known. the bob Sheldon who hated her just as much as she hated him.

Marcia was considered a weird girl who was simply friends with Cherry Valance. that didn't bother her much up until that point.

Marcia hated how Bob treated Cherry like some sort of trophy. Cherry had always told her that he wasn't like that and that he was real kind and she didn't need to worry.

the weeks when Cherry would spend hours at Marcias turned into just a few days, focusing her time on Bob which didn't hurt Marcia.

she understood that a d she respected it. she spent most of her time with bev, brill, and trip. she learned a lot with them and learned that something were better kept hidden than out.

her parents had very different ways of thinking. her father grew up with a single father who didn't have much taught her to fit in and roam with the crowd because that's how you got successful while her mother grew up with a rich family who was cold and uncaring. she taught marcia to stick up for herself and to trust those who are her true friends.

Marcia often battled between what her parents wanted her to be. she wants to make her father proud, but she doesn't want to disappoint her mother, who always taught her to be kind and true to herself.

reaching highschool she learned real quick between the difference of social class and how she needed to fit in if she wanted to make it to graduation.

Bev had told her that she needed to stop "acting so weird, you'll never get someone if you act like that," and marcia had laughed in her face then. Bev, that day, wasn't too happy with her, nearly cost her the spot she had within the small group. she learned that day to take most things with a smile and that things would be easier if she just kept others happy.

Cherry had been spending time with Bob, the nights where they both just needed to escape from their lives, the would drive Bob's car out to a reserved place and just look at the stars.

the first time Bob got real drunk she had freaked the fuck out because she would not be with someone who ended up like her father.

he the next day had showed up at her house with flowers and with an apology. she practically melted into his arms after she explained to him why she had freaked. he had promised that it wouldn't happen again, though he never kept that promise, leading to her snapping at the nightly double.

Cherry post cannon distanced herself from all the socs for the most part. she only really stayed connected to chet and somewhat marcia.

the two grew apart for a little bit as Marcia battled with the pressure of her parents and with the ideas of social class.

one night marcia just completing broke down in front of her parents. they talked for hours after that, working through their problems and how she had been feeling. her parents had always loved her, she knew that but her father rarely showed any emotion and her mother too busy fighting with her own family to realize how her own family was falling apart.

the next day Marcia asked Cherry to talk and they did. Marcia apologized from practically everything that had happened andthey both made a promise to be better, to talk things out no matter how they felt.

that's all I have rn but please feel free to add in the comments or in my inbox 🙏 also trust I'm just feeding yall until I finish this fic.

[gmalaart]

Parabola changes. It is in its nature. It changes when you least expect it to, when you least want it to, but there are some things one can rely on, even in such a mutable land. One such thing, Emon has learnt, is that there are places where entering Parabola is easier, where the boundary between Is and Is-Not becomes soft and malleable. There are mirrors, of course, but sometimes bodies of water can also become passageways if everything lines up as it should. These passages are not as reliable as still surfaces, and perhaps for this very reason they are much more powerful, dragging dreams and memories and emotions through their gaping maw. Normally, one would want to avoid such a thing. Unfortunately, Emon doesn't have much choice. They have been walking and swimming and falling through the currents of the zee for what feels like days, weeks, months, with no sight of land. No mirrors here. And now that their desire to return is strong, they start realising that parts of them are fading, drowned out by the memories and dreams all around them. They don't have time to spare. The opening they found will have to do. If only the currents weren't so strong. This is the third day Emon has spent trying to approach the boundary, diving into the depths of memory to reach for the faint light of the fake stars from the Is, but it seems a hopeless effort. They allow themself to rest for a moment on the surface of the reflected zee, staring up at the cosmogone sun. They can feel it pulling them upwards even now. It will only get worse as soon as they dive down below. And yet… They have to try again. With a deep breath that will be useless under the waves, Emon pushes themself down into the cold. There is a light at the bottom of the zee and despite the strain on their limbs, they swim towards it. The first thing that flows past them is sensations brittle salvage under your fingertips / slimy algae touching the bottom of your feet / the warmth of a shared celebratory meal and those are easy to ignore. They push Emon's hair into their face, impairing their vision for a moment, but they're a trifling thing compared to what follows. Words, sentences, impressions of conversations are next thank goodness the fish are / I still think I ought to have had a bigger role in the play / you got WHAT from exchanging some random coral? and that's harder, Emon's curiosity makes them want to linger and listen to those scraps of conversation. Then the currents pick up. The memories push against Emon's limbs like waves crashing against the sides of our creaking fishing boat, dragging us towards the scraggly cliffs and bring them off-course as the light of their objective seems to grow dimmer. Emon grits their teeth, refuses to breathe them in and letting them cloud their mind. They need to swim, they need to push aside the gripping hands of a thousand strangers as they try to grab the fish from the stream and pull it up out of the water, where they can eat it, devour it, they are so hungry. The memories are bad. The dreams, are so much worse. Just when the light grows stronger again, almost within reach now, a wave of hate, so strong it knocks Emon into the rocks at the bottom of the zee, crashes into them. They are surrounded by stars and meteor-rocks cut their clothes and skin as the currents whip them to and fro. Spikes and vows and curses bear into Emon's mind, yelling for them to get out get away go to the surface see the stars again and yet another force pulls them further down towards love too ancient to be understood love willing to give up the light the wind and life itself to be with the shade of what your darling used to be. It's too much. They don't understand. They can never understand how something like this could even exist. They grasp onto the sharp rocks but the skin of their fingers is tearing and their grip is slipping. They will be swept away once again and so will their mind with every new attempt.

aka, Cavendish attempts to escape Parabola during the Fruits of the Zee festival

[writercole]

Do It Again

Summary: Watching horror movies with Boone brings you closer...in more ways than one. Words: 1200ish Warnings: Fluff. Also discussion of horror movies but nothing explicit. Credits: @ryebecca on the title help :) A/N: Fall into Fall day 2 and my first Boone fic! He's definitely the weirdest, most awkward dude ever and I love him so much.

Knocking on the door, I felt a little self-conscious. I was either the first to arrive or the last, and neither was a preferred option. The crush I had on Boone rendered me incapable of being in a confined space as him without being incredibly awkward. 

The grin he had when he opened the door dropped, his shoulders drooping when he looked around me and found that it was only me standing there. A shy smile lifted his lips as he returned his gaze to me.

“Tyler said he and Kate aren’t really scary movie people,” I explained. “I think that means they want to be left alone to do ‘couple things’ instead of coming.”

“Sounds right,” he sighed, “Dani and Lily are taking Javi out. And Dexter is working a cross stitch that he’s almost done with.”

“So it’s just you and I tonight?”

He nodded in confirmation and wiped his free hand on his jeans, swallowing hard as he looked at me. I felt just as nervous as he looked. I doubt I looked as adorable, though.

“Or, we could cancel and each do our own thing? If you’re not comfortable with it.”

“No!” he blurted out. “Let’s watch some scary movies!” He stepped to the side and gestured for me to come into the room.

“If you’re sure. I wouldn’t want to -”

“You won’t.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.” I stepped into the room with a smile and marveled at how tidy it was.

“I’ve never been more sure. Of a movie date. I mean, a partner. I mean someone to watch movies with,” he fumbled. I managed to catch a hint of redness on his cheeks before he turned to shut the door.

Butterflies swooped in my stomach before my brain chastised them for getting excited. It’s not like he’s awkward because he likes me. He’s just awkward in general. And that’s one of my favorite traits about him.

Seating proved to be an overthinking hellscape. I could sit in the corner, making sure that I wouldn’t get scared and clutch Boone. Or I could sit on the edge of the bed, even though my back would be aching by the end of the movie. I could sit on the floor but…yuck.

The debate in my head raged on for what seemed like hours before I decided to head over to the foot of the bed and take off my shoes. After that, I’d follow Boone’s lead. See where he sat and what he said. 

He followed pretty quickly after, flopping onto the bed into the spot next to the remote. “Your back is going to ache if you sit there for the whole movie,” he said.

I swore internally. Of course he’d remember me saying that my back started to hurt if I sat without support for too long. “I’m just taking off my shoes. Outside germs and all.”

“Oh. Yeah, yeah of course.” 

I really hoped this was a good idea. As much as he said he wanted me here, he seemed more awkward than usual. I scooted up to the headboard and leaned against it. The space between us felt like centimeters. I could feel warmth radiating off of him but also, there was something comforting as well as stiff about his posture. 

“So, what are we watching first?” I asked.

“Slasher or monster?”

“Um…Slasher, I guess?”

“Okay, Freddy, Jason, or Michael?”

“Who?”

“Please tell me you’re kidding. Those are the three most iconic slashers of all time.”

“Which one is the one in Scream?”

“That’s Ghostface.”

“Can we watch that one?”

“Original franchise or reboot?”

“There’s a reboot?”

“Oh you need a horror education,” he sighed as he scooted closer to me, turning to face me slightly.

I tried to ignore the way my heart thundered against my rib cage.

“Original Scream franchise starred Neve Campbell  as the heroine. The reboot has Jenna Ortega. Pretty decent, in all honesty, compared to like, Nightmare on Elm Street reboot. And don’t get me started on how they tried to bring Michael Meyers back. H2O really sealed up the franchise and he just keeps coming back and I don’t understand it.”

He continued on about movies I’d heard of in passing and characters I had no clue about. I have no idea how long he talked but I got lost in the sound of his voice and the way his hands moved as he explained things. He stopped talking and I cocked my head, looking up to find him shying away.

“Sorry, I got a little overexcited there,” he apologized.

“I kind of enjoyed it.”

“Really?” His eyes lit up as he looked back at me.

“Yeah. It’s obviously something you really like and I love listening to my friends talk about their passions.”

“Oh, right, yeah,” he said, shaking his head. “I mean, I’d listen to my friends talk about anything, too.” 

“So, Scream reboot?”

“Sure, if that’s what you want.”

He pressed play on the movie and shut off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness until the movie started up.

Boone’s posture had fallen after I said I’d listen to my friends. I wasn’t sure what that was about, because he was my friend. I’d love it if we could be more but I wouldn’t want to break up the team that Tyler created. And I couldn’t help but be afraid that I’d end up crushing Boone at some point and he’d leave. They always left.

The villain popped out of a closet and I jumped, clutching onto Boone’s arm, just like I feared. Both of our eyes dropped to the spot where my fingers wrapped around his bicep before meeting again. I wasn’t sure what was in his eyes so I loosened my grip and started to pull my hand away.

Surprisingly, his free hand reached over and grasped it before the arm I was clutching draped around my shoulders. He pulled me close and I breathed a sigh of relief at the way he took it all in stride. I shifted against him and heard his heart speed up in his chest.

“You okay?” I questioned. “I mean, you don’t have to -”

“I’m fine,” he whispered as he tightened his arm around me, “great, actually.”

“Are you sure?”

He tucked his finger under my chin and lifted my gaze to his. His eyes searched my face for a moment before he leaned in, his lips touching my hesitantly. 

Shock and delight filled my chest before he pulled back to look me in the eye once more. 

“You kissed me,” I muttered.

“I did.”

“Do it again?”

He smiled and his brow relaxed. "You want me to kiss you again?"

“Please.”

"Okay." Boone slid his hand up my cheek and pulled me towards him, kissing me deeper than before.

Maybe movie night wasn't so bad, after all.

[jejesart]

“Just a little souvenir to remember our date.”

[iniziare]

Tag drop: Jingliu

[floridagirlsmustdie]

possibly my most self-indulgent oc yet & guess what. she’s for obey me

[narwhalandchill]

btw hi hello still not abt to fucking . Forget NOR Forgive what they called this dashing summonable mofo in the earliest version of the english beta (& when i say the potential lore implications here are fucking Massive If that initial desc wasnt just old ass outdated lore text and actually happens to have Anything at all to do with the storys current iteration and intended direction. i MEAN that shit) so like yeah actually . yes i did post abt it back then as it happened. but im gonna talk abt it again i literally Must . speak my Truth

readmore as usual if u dont want leaks (well. its literally the outdated beta text desc of a TCG summon but . Well .) but like. i am 100% serious when i say this shit has Literally been rent free since then and the fact that the next beta update removed it in favor of calling that dude a bland ass "dark shadow" is just Genuinely my villain origin arc i want to SCREAM

LIKE. WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK . IM GOING TO TEAR MY HAIR OUT I JUST . AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

IT KILLS ME. IT KILLS ME. IM DYING IRL

WHAT FUCKING NEMESIS!??!?!?!?!?!?

[simptasia]

i had a great day a comic con today!

highlights include meeting emelie de raven

annnnd getting my first tattoo!

[damiemontclair]

*sigh* once more having to explain to people that I didn't watch disney or ghibli as a kid, that we had restricted amounts of tv times and usually watched recorded movies with my dad and thus I grew up on the german dub of bud spencer and terence hill movies until we were old enough for the saturday evening crime show (ncis, also, german dub, dinner had to be finished by 20:15) which then became a weekly ritual for like. 2 or 3 years.

[moe-broey]

Ran out of answer spaces but! I felt it was important to split off Team Plasma since there is a significant ideological difference between them (as far as I remember each ideation of Team Rocket has the same goals/beliefs, Giovanni himself just stepped down and changed his mind)

That said! This is less about favorite gen and more about believing in the beliefs -- especially interesting to consider if you align with the Main Villain and their outlook, or if you believe in the so-called "cause" that may or may not be true, or have some truth to it (like, if you wanted to help Pokemon like og Plasma and Aether Foundation).

Sorry to lump Yell and Star together, I was going chronologically!! You'll have to specify which and why in the tags haha (if you want to that is!)

And honestly that goes for any choice, sell it to me. Why should I join Your team?

[couldbebetterforsure]

Why the fuck you lyin'?

Why you always lyin'?

Hmmmmm Oh my god

Stop fucking lying!

[she-toadmask]

I swear my vocabulary has been ruined by this place

Bug annoys me? "I will eat you"

I really enjoy something someone wrote? My first instinct is "I'm eating this/I am consuming this/something similar"

Also earlier I texted saying a Slowbro set for the Cinderace event going on in SV fucks and my friend said, and I quote: "I am begging you to never word things like that again I am not young enough for new slang"

Edit: I don't know where I went in the tags it's late