#this is the first time i've written for these characters and i'm nervous

[letterlifter]

A Long Diary Entry About Me and Recent Events

I wasn't planning on posting, but now that things have settled a bit, maybe i've changed my mind .... i dont know ... i am a very quiet person online. but it turns out i have a lot to say right now. So maybe it's good to put out a little blog every once in a while. maybe this will prove to be unwise ...

Intro

this will be fairly personal and not professional and not well written, so please do not over analyze it or think too hard. i only have good intentions, i promise. im also not a very organized thinker so this might be a mess. being perceived anywhere makes me profoundly nervous, so if you misbehave, i will continue to cease existing publicly online, and i shan't perform for you again... *disappears in a mist*

ahem...herm...

*comes back on stage, taps mic... clears throat... straightens papers...wipes away my blackened, exploded hair...*

this will be a little look into my world, and very honest... maybe a lot of what i have posted previously during my time at clash was overly sanitized cause i felt like i couldnt say anything publicly without repercussions.

hi, i hope you are all doing well... im mail but i geuss you knew that already. i haven't been on the clash team since functionally early last year due to various medical problems. i prefer to keep all of these things to myself, but, i feel that it's relevant to mention.

i have disappeared everywhere because of all of the "stuff" going on with me. this may be the first time some of my friends have seen signs of life from me in months, and i am so sorry about that. i care about you and think about you often. social media is still difficult for me to use right now, but i am trying to get better with it, and this is a step in that direction, maybe…?

there's other factors to me leaving clash of course (some of which have been mentioned by former staff recently). It’s freeing to speak so openly about corporate clash, especially its internal workings, because I felt like i couldn't say much here while actively being on the clash crew. it's why "nothing i say is canon" is plastered weirdly everywhere. it was probably, mostly, just my own nerves getting in the way though

ok well i'm taking it back everything i say is THE COMPLETE TRUTH!!!!!!! (i am joking) what i will say is true is that whatever you headcanon about any character i designed gets my HONEST AND TRUE stamp of mailman's approval. i am reclaiming them (Jokingly) (Lovingly) so that you can have them instead (Telling the truth) i also have not played toontown in like two years. If someone says you're a liar you can screenshot this and said "Mailman said so" and I won't  care It's not like i'll be there. also i genuinely believe some of you are more qualified than me or anyone to speak on these beloved and often lgbt characters. Please consider yourself to be the only correct source of clash information from now on. i have no real authority here, but neither do they ... 'cause like what're they gonna do ....

Anyways Whew! Glad that's over! No offense i am just joking around...i went through a lot but overall, Clash changed my life for the better. in some ways i am a bit sad that this chapter of my life has ended. but i will always love toontown and gay furries forever and ever. i am so, so happy that people like what I have contributed so much to.

oh and of course, i agree with the statements from former staff. like 90% of them are my friends after all so maybe i am a little biased here... i prefer to keep personal matters to myself but i experienced a lot of trauma there. im sure it was accidental on the part of others and i would never blame just one person for it. theres something that is just foundationally not working with their structure and it is hurting people, and I hope they're able to mend whatever that is. i am sure you leaderships are reading this, so, hello, i hope you are doing okay. im sorry about how stressful this all must be and i hope things improve. its true that most of us 1.3 developers left, but for those of you who knew me on the team, hiii i hope you are well

but ummm hmm how do i say this.

*Gets a puppet out to speak for me so i can remain blameless for whatever information i say because it may or may not be true*

and i am just a little puppet after all, using comedy to deflect any accusations of personal wrongdoing.... But this is my theory.

Because it is not a professional project, corporate clash will always be ran by volunteers who have never worked on a project on this scale. I think this results in accidental mismanagement. It’s really difficult to run a volunteer video game like this when it isn't structured like a close-knit friend group. In fact, “volunteer video games” do not really exist in any other context, so there’s nothing to reference. The more people there are, the more they may get neglected. so, i am sympathetic about how difficult it is to keep this game continuing and to be a lead for it. Especially on volunteer time.

Who said that. Throw that freak in the trash.

BOOM...

...

...

*Mailman returns and is picking off pieces of garbage*

well anyways. you have to imagine this has been a really strange, difficult, weird, upsetting, past couple of weeks for me. Especially me, who really doesn't like being perceived at all, being perceived... the horrors... i am still trying to return to normal, but it feels like something has changed in a cosmic sort of way, and i cant stop feeling it.

Clarification

ive been thinking about whether or not to include this next section, but i have decided to do so as briefly as possible, because i feel like it is important for me to clarify it. this piece of context feels important to me. please be responsible with it, and please don't use it to hurt others.

as you are all probably aware, stuck the duck did a stream recently covering the statements made by former staff. of course i agree with former staff, as I am former staff myself and i share some of their experiences, and many of them are friends of mine. i think stuck is really cool and he is a very kind person.

at the end of his stream, a statement was made regarding a situation where i was allegedly receiving poor treatment from cranky during a severe bout of illness.

i was not involved in making that statement, it was based on someone else's perspective on how i was treated at the time because i do not remember the situation for myself. i was so sick that i do not really remember what happened in detail.

all i remember is really wanting to complete the illustration because it was important to me, i wanted the community to have it with its corresponding update. i feel like cranky's statement regarding it is probably more accurate to my memory but i didnt read it in detail because these past few weeks have been a little nerve-wracking. i have been told by others that the situation appeared worse than what I remember, but again I cannot verify any of this.

but with how hard i worked on that illustration through illness, i do think it was disappointing and a little hurtful to forget about it until one of my friends reminded them it existed. but i understand things slip through and i have also made mistakes. i truly don't hold grudges because i lack the emotion of anger. I just get really scared.... . i am not completely happy with how the picture came out anyways, but thats probably because i was so sick when making it ….

i cant say whether or not it's true, or if cranky's participation was somewhat exaggerated. i think as community lead (?) he was in control of its distribution though. the only part i can verify is that they didnt use it for a long time despite my working very hard on it. but things happen in development all the time, and i am not really interested or comfortable in being centered in this situation.. i actually do not really want to receive any attention at all but i would feel bad ignoring this statement.

but please also understand this. cranky may have made mistakes in leadership, and he may have hurt people, including my friends, but based on what i know, which of course is not everything, i really don't believe he's an evil person, and i would ask that you please do not publicly attack people you do not know. i believe that everyone working on clash has its best interests in mind, even if i don't agree with all of their approaches. they are there, working for free, because they care about it.

there is a difference between attacking someone and sharing information with others. this is just my perspective, but as ex-staff, we are allowed to speak on this because we knew them, and these are our experiences, i hope you understand where i'm coming from here. a game of telephone starts happening and dishonest things are said by mistake. it may be best to just link to an individual's statements. Please treat all clash staff fairly.

with all of this unfortunate stuff going on, i saw someone i do not know claim that some clash staff would make fun of me behind my back, which is sad if true. but i dont know if its true or not so i wouldn’t hold it against them. at this point i have grieved about clash over and over again so there’s not much grief left to have. I only mention it because i hope its not true, and i have no way of knowing, because for the most part, i like everyone at clash, and i just want whoever allegedly said those things about me to know that.

i am not perfect either though. i try to do right by everyone nowadays because it's all i can do. so of course i would forgive them immediately.

thats all i have to say on the clash situation. thank you for listening to us. many of us thought these stories would never be heard. so i appreciate you listening if nothing else.

Me and What I am doing Now

i always felt like i would have a lot to talk about once leaving clash, but i actually dont. i dont have anything to say that i, or others, havent already said. once again i agree with the majority of ex-staff / my friends, but im talking about even casual stuff about development or whatever. i dont think its all that interesting to people that weren't there, and i'm not interested enough in clash anymore to make posts about it publicly.

i would post my personal work to other accounts, that could be cool, but i don't have much to say, and Im not able to make as much stuff as I used to. … i also do not get anything out of seeing a big number (Likes Or Reposts) on my drawings. so id be posting maybe once every four months ... or once a year … i have really bad time blindness which doesn't go well with social media. maybe i'll get back into it anyways some day. it's theoretically possible that a few people would like to see my drawings, but yet i post nothing ever, and thats a little sad.

if i do make a brand new account, i will probably be stealing this url. Sorry for any potential confusion in the future.

most of the time i am just doing my own thing working on my original, personal projects. i really love my characters and i do a lot of stuff with them. i make comics, stories, drawings, 3d models. You know how it is ... im working on a 3d model right now that i will probably go work on after i post this. i plan on integrating the 3d model into a little website that tells you all about the character and i think that will be really fun. I love making interactive stuff with my characters. youll be able to rotate it all around and stuff. i definitely wont be able to do that for all of them though ...  i'm probably not capable of making as much stuff as i used to in general, but i am at peace with that.

i also plan on making this  next 3d model into a VRchat avatar (like i usually do) but this time hopefully itll be my "main" model so i can feel less embarrassed logging in to hang out with friends. maybe You and Me can play vrchat some day. i am really shy online though so we’ll see. anyways its going to be  a really cute dragon thing and i'm going to make it wear my clothes. i like to collect vintage clothing from thrift stores and i have an outfit in mind. He's actually just one of my regular characters that i turned into a cute dragon, but i'm forcing him to represent me for now.

umm what else has been going on with me ... i played a lot of "fantasy life i" recently. and deltarune. i watched a lot of deltarune theory videos on youtube. i watched a whole documentary the other day and i have memory problems so i only realized at the end that i had already seen it before. I recently customized my web browser and im using “zen” now its kind of cool. Just now, I wrote a lot about these two metallica concerts i went to a few months ago (after much preparation) but I decided to delete all the stories from it in favor of just mentioning that i went.

anyways. it probably goes without saying, but i am not a social media person, and i cannot make as much stuff anymore, so all the stuff i make now is either for myself or is for one of the various projects im working on.

i will now talk about one of the various projects im working on. this one isn't a personal project though because im making it with my friends, many of whom made up some very large slices in that 1.3 pie chart:

FriendOS

So. Of course i am still a game developer. i really love working on games, and i dont think that will ever leave me. 3d modelling and animation, making assets, and character design are among the many things i do and want to continue doing. i suppose you could just consider me the "lead 3d artist" for this project.

my main project is now "FriendOS", a really advanced furry character creator with 3d platforming and bullethell battles.

I mean, a 3d platformer with bullethell battles and a really advanced furry character creator.

our game has a lot of cool stuff in it. For instance, we put a lot of work into the really advanced furry character creator, ensuring that you can mix 'n' match whatever pieces you'd like. And this time it's fun

I will give you a rundown as quickly as possible before you lose interest.

in friendOS, you play as a "Friend". Friends are a species of "digital avatar" that navigate a world made to represent an operating system.

Friends are wild, technically indestructible, and poorly mannered creatures. We are still researching their natural behaviors, but we do know that a friend has never been reported dead for long. They cause problems, yet they are the problem solvers, tasked with exploring the deepest parts of a computer to cleanse it of its rotten, virus-infected core.

Within FriendOS, the computer is accessed via "Bliss", an interactive 3d interface known for its heavenly lands full of rainbows, flowers, and files. It is a safe pasture for which the friends shall graze. The residents of this utopian town are very curious themselves. I heard one of them claims to have been a racecar driver, but I think he's lying.

Astron is our beloved god dog. He takes out the trash and tells the truth

Who is this  and why is he doing that

This world is very real to the residents of "Bliss". There's a lot of unique struggles that come with knowing you are living inside of a computer and being okay with that.

So, you are running around inside of an old computer. It's a land full of mysteries, collectables, gay people, very customizable little friends, and minigames. Minigames including fishing.

Yes Everyone in this game is gay and no one is going to get mad at me for saying that. In what way they are gay is for you to discover or decide for yourself.

I would go into more detail, but we still have a lot to work on, so it will probably change a lot. However I encourage you all to roleplay in a lobby some day. It's really fun

if you're actually reading this entire thing and send me a suggestion with some type of item you think friends would look beautiful wearing, i can't say it won't influence me. which, thanks for reading all of this by the way, it's very nice of you. the way i have designed this 3d artstyle is so that assets can be created as efficiently as possible, considering our team is very, very small. its all round and flat so they can be made quickly.

it's so nice to work on a team where we really get each other. now that i think about it, we've been making games together for like four years. we are all very confident developers which makes us very efficient at making things. everything we do is highly collaborative and we're always listening to each other.

i have been working on friendOS for like 8-10 months and we haven't fought over anything this entire time. its so beautiful. im sure that we will continue to only ever agree with each other, our team will remain motivated, and nothing bad will ever happen.

If you are interested in following the development of friendOS, I encourage you to join the official friendOS discord server. We have a long ways to go, but it’s read only, so you can comfortably ignore it at the bottom of your server list for as long as you want!

Closing

there is a good chance i will not be very involved in toontown after all of this. Clash was a little traumatizing for me and my friends. at various points in the timeline, things happened that i cannot talk about. i was treated poorly, my friends were treated poorly, and i'm sure no one did it on purpose, but it still happened. things happened that made me cry on behalf of others, which i haven't told many people.

but you know... there isn't much more that i want to make for toontown anyways. i feel like 1.3 was already my "dream update." i'm uninterested in working on any toontown private server in the future because i already know exactly what i would be doing, and i have done enough of it. I appreciate the freedom i have in creating whatever i'd like. for both myself and friendOS, i can make whatever designs and items and characters i want, and that's really cool.

clash has taught me so much, and it has even made me grow better as a person, but i feel like i need to move on as an artist. i'm thankful for what i have learned there and I apply it every day.

i hope that doesn't make anyone sad, because it doesn't really make me sad. I think it’s an exciting thing. i will probably always be around in some way, and clash will continue on in whatever way it chooses for itself.

I have been into toontown since around 2007. as of 2025, i think thats like 18 years of my life. Jeez ... so i have watched this game go through "cycles" a few times now. the first time was when TTO closed. then TTR opened in like 2014. then everyone felt like it was dead again, and clash opened in like 2017, then they released 1.1, and 1.2, and somewhere in there, TTR released field offices. and now we're working on friendOS, which is not toontown, but saying we are taking zero influences from our previous work would be an obvious lie. ....honestly in some ways, it is too similar for comfort....

and now, with all this stuff going on, and all these things being said, people seem to be low in spirits again. so i will give you some words of encouragement as a guy who has played this game for far too long:

you have a lot to look forward to. i mean, you certainly have more to look forward to regarding this game than i did in 2015. clash has gotten through many "difficult" circumstances and it will probably have more. there were points during 1.3 where i didn't know if it would even come out. but they are still here working on stuff. and of course, there are other private servers too. i am sure EVH will put out something really cool. some of my friends worked on "grindworks" but i have not played it for myself. TTR is still working on their next thing i'm sure. the game will probably always exist in some way. toontown has a much bigger fanbase than many of the things i'm into, which is really kind of crazy!

yes, as that one blogpost article pointed out, many of us 1.3 devs are gone. clash still has a team full of new, passionate people working on future content and im sure they will continue to create cool stuff. i hope you will support whatever they put out just as passionately.

in all truth, i care about you all much more than clash. mostly the gay players, and the furries, and all the artists, and the few of you who draw sexy duck shuffler on twitter. but of course, i am biased towards my own kind. i too am just some gay artist on the internet. you are the people important here, who are keeping the game alive. so remember that your passion is what fuels your game (all of toontown) to continue. i have never, not for a moment, taken any of you for granted. i am just some guy so anyone interacting with stuff i work on is amazing to me. i hope im able to buy a keychain from you some day. i don't even know if its possible for me to see all the fanart of the characters i designed but i still love and appreciate it all. ive seen quite a bit though. including some i saw on accident that i dont think you wanted me to see. Sorry

and the creative team. i am by no means perfect and i make my share of mistakes as we all do, but i always did as much as i could. you guys are the best and your contributions matter. every asset you create will forever be a gift to clash from you.

There are many people i could list out individually to thank, but i wouldn’t want to miss anyone. Because of my spontaneous health problems, I never got to give a formal goodbye to the clash crew so i couldn’t say thanks to anyone myself. I suppose none of them really know how i feel about any of this in general…. So if you worked with me on clash, i think very highly of you to this day.

for now i will leave you with this.

i love you very much.

thank you for playing our game.

thank you so much for loving the characters i put so much of myself into. it has not gone unnoticed from me.

please continue to be kind to the volunteers who work on clash.

please thank the moderators who moderate corporate clash. They see *everything*.

please be kind to yourself, be respectful to each other, and forgive yourself, and just for me, remember the poor Parrots who are going extinct due to the destruction of their habitats and homes (They are my favorite animal) and adopt don't shop. thank you.

[psychoticwillgraham]

Title: till death do us part

quick, short soul crushing hannigram one shot

update: god this got long. expect it to go up on my AO3 once i look over it and polish it a bit more. also, it's bittersweet, but still soul crushingly sad.

TW: double suicide, major character death

The wolves were at their door, and Will knew that these would be his and Hannibal's last moments in this life, having come to terms with what they were about to do.

It wasn't going to make things any easier, though.

He could hear the sirens wailing outside, Jack Crawford on the bullhorn demanding that they come out with their hands up, and the helicopters hovering over the house. They weren't going to give Jack the satisfaction of taking them alive, of seeing them go to prison and be executed right in front of him. No, they couldn't, they never intended to, swore that they would go out on their own terms and not the government's, not Jack Crawford's. They both knew since the moment they confessed their love for each other, that things were going to end violently, and with both of them dead in the other's arms. It wasn't going to be pretty or clean, or romantic. It would end in their blood pooling together on the ground beneath them, wrapped in each other's arms. It would end with their orbits overlapping, their stars colliding in a brilliant, blinding show, devouring each other in one last action of their short, destructive lives. Will knew, in this moment, that he had always been destined to die with Hannibal, in one last act of defiance.

And now that it was here, Will was strangely at peace.

He knew that Hannibal was as well, by the look in his eyes, watery with unshed tears, but accepting of his fate and Will's as well.

"Don't think of this as goodbye. Think of it as just the end of this chapter," Hannibal's voice was oddly calm, steady as he cupped the side of Will's face, cradling his wet cheek in his hand, fingers wiping through the tears that flowed freely from Will's eyes.

"We'll find each other again, in the next life. Perhaps, under better circumstances this time," Hannibal smiled, a sad, yet hopeful one. But Will could start to see the cracks in Hannibal's expression, how scared he truly was. Will choked out a sob as Hannibal drew him close to his body, his arm moving back to cup the back of Will's neck, lifting his chin towards his face.

"What if there isn't a next one?" Will choked, his voice trembling as he spoke. "What if this one is all we get? What if this really is the end?" It was getting harder for Will to speak around the sobs that were wrenching themselves from his hoarse throat, harder to maintain eye contact with Hannibal.

"If it truly is the end for us, then it was truly a privilege to have known you, to have loved you, to have been loved by you," tears were flowing freely down Hannibal's face now, his voice trembling as his lips ghosted Will's. "To have been truly, utterly seen by you. And I can think of no greater way to die, than with you by my side, and at your hand." The last shreds of Will's composure shattered as Hannibal gently brought their lips together, in one final kiss, as Will held onto Hannibal with a death grip, afraid to let go.

The commotion outside of their small, peaceful room that would serve as their final resting place, could no longer be ignored. The hounds had caught up with them, stalking just outside of the closed door, ready to pounce and claim their pound of flesh. After several long, sorrowful moments, they separated, and Will took one last, long, look into his lover's eyes. What he found there was profound sorrow, immesurable grief, and the great, undying fire of his love and devotion.

"It's time, mylimasis," Hannibal whispered to him, signaling for Will to raise the knife he'd been given earlier, the very one that Hannibal had once gutted him with. Tonight, it would now know the taste of Hannibal's flesh as well. In the next moment, Hannibal's own knife found itself at Will's throat, and Will's found it's mark at Hannibal's, both pressing against the other's skin.

"I love you," Will sobbed, as Hannibal gave him one last sorrowful smile.

"And I, you."

The next few moments happened in a blur of chaos and noise.

As the door splintered and broke under the crushing force of the battering ram, they each drew their blades swiftly against the other's throat, their knives clattering to the ground as Will's hands reflexively went to cradle his own throat, even though he knew the wound would be fatal. Will watched Hannibal drop to the floor, his hands stained crimson with his own blood, a horrible gurgling sound being ripped from his ruined throat, as Will's own body followed suit. He hit the floor with a sickening thud, his entire body convulsing in it's death throes.

Will barely registered the sound of Jack Crawford's booming, furious voice, the blurred images of the police officers with their guns drawn behind him, as he clumsily crawled towards the direction of Hannibal's voice. The paramedics were swarming around both of them, Will's trembling hands doing their best to shove them away. Will focused what energy and life he had left on finding Hannibal's hand.

"Don't you dare fucking die on me!" Jack screamed, trying to barrel his way through the throng of officers and paramedics, as if to try and save Will himself. Of course, his effort would ultimately be in vain.

As Will's body began to give out, his vision going dark at the edges, he felt a hand grip his arm, tight enough to leave bruises.

Hannibal.

Through the swarm of people trying to keep them apart, Hannibal gripped Will's arm and dragged himself as close as he could to Will, and interlaced their fingers together.

With his last, dying breaths and the fading light in his eyes, Will met Hannibal's dying gaze, squeezed his hand, and smiled. He watched Hannibal take his last, gasping breaths, and the color in his eyes fade.

With one last rise and fall of his chest, Will Graham died.

And in that moment, they died as they lived, wholly, and completely intertwined, till death did they part.

The world was black and silent for Will, until suddenly, it wasn't.

He could feel a hot breeze on his face, and suffocating heat. He heard screams in the distance, wails of other people carried by the wind. It took only a brief moment for Will to realize where he was.

Hell. He was in Hell.

And mercifully, he wasn't alone.

"Open your eyes darling."

Against his better judgement, Will opened his eyes.

He saw Hannibal leaning over him, clearly relieved that Will had followed him down into the depths of Hell.

What he also saw, was the sky.

It was a deep red, with orange and yellow hues in the distance, with clouds of ash scattered across it. It was beautiful. So very beautiful.

One of Hannibal's hands found it's way to cradle Will's cheek, moving to lean down and capture Will's lips in a chaste, short kiss. Will smiled against his mouth, grabbing the back of Hannibal's neck and pulling him closer.

"Hell really is beautiful, isn't it?" Will broke the kiss, taking Hannibal's hand in his, and staring up at the grim sky.

"It is. Just as I expected it to be," Hannibal placed a kiss to Will's forehead as he rearranged Will so he could lay his head in Hannibal's lap. "Unlike in life, we can finally make a home together. A new life together." Hannibal sounded almost wistful, petting through Will's curls as he turned his head towards the sky as well.

Will briefly tore his gaze away from the sky, looking in the distance to see Hannibal's imposing home standing proudly, and his endless garden, only now the garden that was once teeming with life, was dotted by the corpses of plants and bleached bone white branches of dead trees, with black roses tangling all along the barren, ash covered ground. Will smiled to himself as Hannibal hummed a tune only known to him, carding his fingers through Will's hair, idly picking out stray pieces of ash and debris.

In that singular moment, Will had finally achieved true happiness, something that he'd spent his entire life chasing to no avail. And now, in this afterlife, banished to the deepest pits of hell for all eternity with the love of his life, Will was happy. Truly, and finally, happy.

[sixseasonsofodestawithatardis]

Odesta Week Day 3- Free Space

Summary: Two poems by Finnick Odair- unseen by the general public. The first was given to Annie, and the second was a draft in his writing journal. No specific timeline other than post-70th Hunger Games!

A/N: I've tried several times to correct the formatting for the second poem. The singular line between stanzas two and three is meant to be on the right-hand side. The moment I get AO3 set up, you can read it there with the right formatting.

Senses

I've been warmed by sunsets held pretty seashells to my ears like a child to hear the waves and gulls

they’re lovely to see lovely to hear lovely to feel

but it doesn’t compare to the warmth in your vibrant laughter the pearls of your smile or the enchanting depths within your ocean eyes or how I feel at home when we're alone yet together in a cove or exploring a cave with bonfire lighting the place.

Whether my love is detached, distant, or bright and joyful I love to lay a piece of lavender in her hair or we swim and dive united by the water creating comfort within the chaos

I've been warmed by sunsets cupped seashells to my ears heard the gulls and currents smelled the green bread from afar

but it can't compare to you.

Claws and Surgeons Knot

everyone uses their pleasure to tear and claw at my body they're worse than hawks leaving me hollowed bloodied bruised other indentations burn and scar when I get home and see the coast and feel the seafoam on my skin the burns and scars refuse to settle I remain hollowed, bloodied bruised and scarred

at least I am home.

Annie tells me stories of what I was made to miss Mags’s new knitting pattern a seashell she collected how she redecorated her boat love, longing, regret and remorse mix together and strikes at my heart I couldn't be here to experience it yet I've kept them alive but Annie’s hands find mine calloused and scarred at the knuckles tracing a Surgeons knot gently on my palms and wrist calming the scars and burns

we're both broken, bruised and bloodied at the clawed hands of the Capitol damaged by the Games.

we're shipwrecks doing everything to be each other's lifeboats.

[griffonsgrove]

Hiiii!!! See your doing writing requests for Hazbin, Its my hyperfixation so I am in need of more content 👀 so I'd like to request maybe Vox general or NSFW headcanon ( either one is good lol-) with a afab reader maybe? This is my first time requesting something like this so sorry if I'm a little nervous or bad at requesting. I think this is how people are supposed to request? XD

General Dating Headcanons | Vox

a/n: You're totally alright dear! You said everything just fine! As I've stated before, I got early access to the first two episodes, and it's been so interesting to analyze vox's character! I hope I can do him justice!! He's starting to grow on me now. I'm gonna stick with a gn!reader just because these are general headcanons and I want them to be suited for anyone!

fandom: Hazbin Hotel

wordcount: 1299

cw: SPOILERS FOR HAZBIN HOTEL, swearing, vulgar content, stalking, death and mentions of death/murder., toxic/absuive relationships.

(PLATONIC):

Vox’s got eyes EVERYWHERE in hell. There is no escaping his line of sight unless you go completely off the grid. Which is pretty difficult to do when the entirety of pentagram city is covered head to toe in VoxTech.

However, if you don't pose a threat to him, he really doesn't give a shit about you otherwise, and won’t pay that much attention to your life.

When you first fell into hell, you were mostly confused as to how you wound up here in the first place. That quickly subsided into fear as you noticed the large variety of demons and sinners casually walking down the sidewalk like it was an average tuesday. 

You’ll never forget the sight of seeing a demon gnaw off the arm of another and swallow it whole, like it was an all-you-can-eat buffet. 

You wander aimlessly down the streets, keeping to yourself and being very cautious of those around you. Your clothes were in tatters, and you didn't have any form of money whatsoever, what were you to do??

You had two options: Somehow find a job in this new horrific realm, or, die.

You didn't care too much for the latter.

This is how you stumble across one of the largest studios/clubs in hell, owned by probably the most feared overlords in pentagram city. The V’s. 

You get hired to be nothing more than a waiter/waitress, to serve the patrons of the club, mostly serving them their drinks.

You weren't too fond of the work uniform either. It left nothing to the imagination, and exposed alot of skin, far too much to your liking. The job actually paid somewhat decently though and it was enough to be able to sustain a living. You were quick to rent out the nearest apartment.

One day, while you’re out on the main floor, making your rounds, your eyes briefly lock with the TV demon across a sea of sinners. Call it cheesy, but it was almost like a spark went off the moment he laid eyes on you. Which is something that doesn't happen often with the tech-savvy overlord. Who were you??

He lazily beckons you over with a claw, to which you obediently follow, although it doesn't hide the sheer nervousness written all over your face, He gives you his drink order in that sultry, velvet voice of his, eyeing you up. You gulp slightly and are quick to bring him his order. He thought you were so cute trembling for him.

He begins to stalk observe you closer after that. If you have any electronic devices he’ll watch you through your screens, trying to get a glimpse into what your life was like outside of work. The things you enjoyed doing in your free time, favorite shows, foods etc.

He def goes through your search history.

He would start showing up more in the sections you worked at, oftentimes minding his business, but occasionally striking up a conversation with you.

You did have to admit he was quite the charmer, his smooth voice was hypnotic to you.

OBSESSIVE TENDENCIES. If he notices some creep won't leave you alone while you're working, he’ll take care of them personally, it’s never a pretty sight afterwards. He cant have anyone taking what's his.

You're oblivious to his stalking and possessiveness, you don't think much of it, maybe that's because he puts on a friendly face when you’re around him.

But after some time of getting to know you, He’s the one that eventually asks you out on a “date”. You’re skeptical at first, but decide to accept his offer. And also partially because you were afraid of what would happen if you said no.

(ROMANTIC):

Ngl it’s kind of a situationship in the beginning.

Vox is a busy man, it’s constant work maintaining the studios (especially valentinos temper) and managing the entirety of hell's technology. So, he may ghost you at first.

That being said, He will still keep an eye on you. He often watches through your phone while you sleep, just to make sure you’re safe. Hell is a dangerous place after all.

Speaking of, you’re now under the protection of the V’s, so that’s a plus! You never have to worry about another demon laying a finger on you. They usually never get close enough to anyways.

He very easily gets jealous. He won't show it on the outside because he has an image to uphold, but you can tell every time from that crazed look in his eyes.

Vox is a possessive lover; he wants to keep you all to himself. If he could, he’d keep you locked up by his side all day.

CONTROLLING. He HAS to know where you’re at, at all times, and who you’re going to be with (lest you face one of his tantrums). Also dictates what you wear, He likes to dress you up to his liking, like you’re his own personal doll.

Insecure much?

Say goodbye to privacy btw. He constantly has you in the back of his mind and a watchful eye on you. It can be kind of suffocating at times. The two of you have gotten into a few arguments because of this.

Valentino gets jealous of you too. How dare you take his boy-toy away from him? He’s often giving you the stink eye and will threaten you behind vox’s back. You’re too scared to tell Vox, because you don't want to face Val’s wrath.

You know briefly of his and Val’s “relationship” it all had seemed very one-sided and completely unhealthy.

You're often having to calm Vox down. The man has a very short temper and is easily provoked. 

Imagine you pressing little kisses to his screen after he found out about Alastor’s return. He remains stoic, but secretly enjoys your affection.

Some of the pet names he loves to call you include; Doll, Dear, Darling, Sweetheart, Babe.

Pretty old-fashioned ik, but he's a classy man alright?

He tends to be pretty touchy, always having a clawed hand on the small of your back, or an arm wrapped around your waist. It’s more of a possessive trait of his, to keep what's his close.

He loves having you sprawled on his lap while he’s in his screen room, you stay nuzzled into his side, often taking naps while he does broadcasts.

He TOTALLY spoils you btw. He’s one of the most powerful overlords in hell, ofc he has the money to show it. Whatever dingy apartment you had before, forget about it bc this man has you living in a penthouse suite in one of the most expensive apartment buildings. He sees you looking at something in a store or online?? Boom, it’s yours now.

He loves buying you clothes, as I’ve said before, you're his “doll” and he loves playing dress up with you.

And if you buy him something?? He’s taken by surprise at first, he’s never really been on the receiving end of that affection, so whatever it is you give him he’ll cherish it.

If you ever have someone bothering you, or want to get rid of, you just say the word babe. He’ll be feeding them to his sharks >:)

The man is emotionally constipated, ok?? All he’s ever known from relationships is what he shared with Val (and trust me that was a train wreck). He’s rough around the edges, short-tempered and isn't always easy to get along with, and he’s incredibly possessive which can be suffocating to deal with at times. This probably stems from him not wanting to actually be alone, He doesn't want you to slip out of his grasp, so he keeps a tight leash on you. But underneath all these flaws, he really does love you and care about you. At the end of the day, He just wants someone that will stay.

[deerspherestudios]

Short Break and To Dos!

Hello all! 🍄🍄👻 I'm glad to see people enjoying Day 3 so far! I was so nervous about showing another side to Mychael in the update I thought people wouldn't like him as much but plenty have reacted positively! ❤️

I'll add a TLDR; above the read more, but if you don't mind my ramblings and want more details about everything, I'll write everything below! Light spoilers ahead!

I'll be taking a short break from MO development until 28th October to work on a short VN for the Monstrous Desires jam!

Most probably missed it, but there's a tiny small patch to Day 3 explained here.

Queue will return soon! I just gotta handle some housekeeping first with my Patreon.

Regarding the feedback on Day 3, I'm glad people aren't as averse to the new side of Mychael, in that he isn't always soft and sweet. I want people to fall in love with a person after all, not a yandere caricature, and that means that person can get upset, angry and sometimes irrational when we don't know what's going on in their head even towards the subject of their affections. While some (understandably!) were shocked about his reaction to the mushrooms, it'll be clear as to why (hopefully!)

Some of you have given incredibly accurate theories, and I'll take that as something I've done well in building up the mystery!!! I'm excited to share more in the next update, but for now!

1. I'll be taking a short break from MO development to work on a short VN for the Monstrous Desires jam!

What I have planned for Day 4 of MO might be the biggest update so far, since one route will lead to a few official BAD ENDINGS as opposed to 'dead ends' like the current demo has. To those who really want to, you finally get to see Mychael at his worst. As usual, writing the script takes a few months with plenty of changes in between, and I don't wanna bulldoze ahead and rush the story when it's getting to the climax!

But before I jump into all of that I just wanna give myself a creative exercise and try exploring a different theme, style and setting with a fresh new character for the jam! Since I'm a sucker for the trope... yes, the new blorbo will also be a yandere, sorry, I'm predictable.💔 The jam ends on October 28th so development on MO will continue then!

The last time I wrote something remotely sci-fi was in high school, so this will be fun to try!

2. Most probably missed it, but there's a tiny small patch to Day 3 explained here.

What it says on the tin! If you've already played Day 3, rest assured there's no significant story changes. Just an updated credits list, three extra sprites for one route and a small fix in the code.

3. Queue will return soon! I just gotta handle some housekeeping first with my Patreon.

Plenty of people have sent such sweet and encouraging messages to my inbox on what they thought of the update and I cannot thank all of you enough for the support!! I can't wait to post them out to archive them on the blog and answer all your interesting theories and queries in my queue!

But for now I'm due for a short break from my socials and to catch up on my Patreon sketch requests haha. I also plan to release cut content from Day 3 for my Yearling and Deer patrons. Plus, I'll be working on some written prompts for extra lore so that's something to look forward to!

I'll be back soon! Take care, fireflies!! ❤️

[megapteraurelia]

Hey! I just found your blog, and I love all the fluff for the jjk characters. I would love to request some fluffy hcs for Inumaki! Maybe just him and a fem reader cuddling and napping together? If you don't write for him, I'm okay with Gojo as well 🫶🏽 (my fav food is churros)

hi love!! yeah of course!! i've always enjoyed toge so i'm happy i've got a reason to write for him hahahah, i've not yet written headcanons yet, but! i'll try :3

boyfriend!inumaki who is so intent on expressing himself with you in whatever way possible; hand-written notes in writing that makes you wonder if he has ever bothered writing anything for school before, messy and scrawled. but he tries, he does — he puts pen to paper, he puts stick to the ground, he puts hidden meanings within all the ingredients he mutters in your presence.

they become a muttering of affirmations, over and over again, adorned with kisses as he mumbles salmon, salmon, salmon, salmon against your temple, your eyelids, your nose, the corner of your mouth, your lower lip. he likes kissing each individually as if to assure your mouth that he loves both parts equally, that he loves every part of you.

boyfriend!inumaki who is so incredibly attentive to your needs, already there with a blanket when he sees the slightest repressed tremble of your shoulders, whose hand is already curling around yours when you get nervous, who knows you're hungry even before you turn around to him to ask if he wanted to go eat together.

he knows your likes and dislikes by heart, his arms already forming a huge X, an adorably grumpy pout on his face when the cashier taps in anything wrong. toge thinks he might have to send the guy an unmissable gesture with his hand, only to turn over to you, a bouquet of churros already in his hand and he presents it to you on one knee, knowing exactly what kind of looks it draws from on-lookers.

his snicker is especially mischievous when you try to get him to get up again in a panic, and he refuses until you accept his token of devotion.

boyfriend!inumaki who creates playlists for both of you, songs he thinks are a reflection of his feelings for you, of what this relationship means to him, what he wishes for the future, anything he won't be able to say without fearing setting off anything becomes a means of loving you.

boyfriend!inumaki who is so very horrible at motivating you, because have you seen this guy? he loves slacking off himself, pulling you back to the bed or to the little picnic blanket you have sprawled out, caging you in his arms and even without saying anything, there is a whine to his voice when he pulls you back with a bonito flaahaaaaaaakes, nuzzling his nose in the little curve of your neck, his hair tickling your skin. he loves sleeping with you, feeling the way his head perfectly fits on your chest, slinging his leg around your hip to pull you closer. his favourite spot is right in between your boobs, the soft well hugging his cheeks.

boyfriend!inumaki who would not shy away from actually using his voice and cursed technique if you were ever to be disrespected or worse, in danger. a harsh, clear order, full of intent, his hand sliding gently around your waist, pulling you back, because he was a grade 2 sorcerer.

sometimes he does accidentally curse you, too. when you stub your toe or you trip, and he panics, yelling stop! or don't move! before he could stop himself, and you are frozen before falling face first, anyway.

(when that does happen, he likes to leave sticky notes all over you, his horrible handwriting saying 'toge's girlfriend, look but don't touch grrr')

boyfriend!inumaki who does not shy away from the silliest dares panda and you put him up to at the most inconvenient times. flirt with a vending machine? he whispers kelp seductively, his hand caressing the cold metal. quick, dance the entire chorus section of aoa's miniskirt? toge knows. every. step.

boyfriend!inumaki who gets insecure about the markings on his face, who pulls his jacket extra high to hide them, but shows no resistance when you pull his hands away and leave lingering kisses on the swirls. you brush his hair back to reveal his pretty face, the long lashes brushing the apple of his cheeks when he looks down, but you make him look at you head on.

and he looks at you with such vulnerability in his eyes, such love, because he appreciates you. he does, he can't even imagine a life without you anymore.

so, he doesn't even complain when you tie his hair into a little palm tree. (he pretends he hates it but really, deep down, he loves being silly with you.)

[sailingintothenight]

“A safe heaven.” Bob Reynolds Imagine.

Summary: Little Bob was led to believe heaven didn't exist, but now, with you, he knows it's real.

A/N: Hii. This is my first imagine about Bob. My page used to be about Tom Holland and Peter Parker but I haven't written about them in a while for personal reasons. I wasn't sure whether to keep using this account or create a new one, but I'll wait to see how my failed attempt to write about this little ray of light called Bob goes. I've been following Lewis' work for a while, but I saw him in the Marvel universe and his character is so adorable–almost everyone fell in love with him, I'm sure hehe–so I hope you like this. Thank you so much!

Warnings: just fluff.

“Can we… uh… sleep together again tonight, (Y/N)? Please?”

When the night swallowed the sun and New York City shone with artificial lights, as fictitious as his courage (still small, like a baby plant) to face those hours alone in the darkness of his room, Bob would appear in the tower's living room or kitchen, ready to sleep but waiting for you two to be alone or just with Yelena present, almost buried in clothes that were a size or two too big for him (considering he was quite large), on his gray sweatpants, and his nervous hands tucked into the sleeves of his blue sweatshirt with the letters I ♡ Los Angeles printed on it.

His timid request would be lost in the noise of life that followed its course outside the place, his voice loud enough only for you to hear it. That nocturnal dynamic between you two started innocently and stayed that way after one night when your mind expanded in your sleep and sank beyond the walls, capturing his nightmares as yours, feeling the violent beat of his heart inside your own, visualizing his expression behind your closed eyelids, and the pain and confusion when he woke up not knowing where he was.

And somehow, you found a way for him to see your fear of a lonely room, speaking to him in your warm voice, and Bob, who always tried to do good despite doubting his own goodness all the time, suggested timidly that maybe sleeping with someone else would be a temporary solution until you two find a permanent one. It was supposed to be a matter of one or two nights together, a week maybe, (so Bob would find peace in sleeping, without feeling the terror of his past materializing in his dreams if he woke up, realizing he wasn't alone anymore) but then he started asking you that question, day after day.

You always said yes, and Bob would smile to himself before walking away first.

"You adopted a puppy and didn't tell me." Yelena chuckles that night, sitting in one of the high chairs around the granite table as she finishes her dinner, speaking softly so as not to disturb the peace that was beginning to build in the place, between different people who sometimes coexisted amidst so much chaos. "Bob is in love with you, you know? that's why he follows you around like he's a stray dog ​​and you his home."

You laugh softly.

"I can be your home too, my love."

Yelena grimaces in disgust, as if an unpleasant smell has reached her nose.

"Don't make me throw up my dinner."

"Hey, I made that dinner."

“And that’s why I love you.” She smiles, pretending to be cute as she wrinkles her nose, a failed plan because she is cute, with her beautiful face and her daily attempt to put the past behind her. “I mean, you are perfect, baby, with your amazing cooking skills, your cute little face, and the way you threaten to blow Walker’s head off when he starts acting like a jerk. It’s so funny he still hasn’t figured out why he gets migraines. So I understand why Bob likes you so much.”

Perfect, because that’s how they intended you to be, giving you powers that you didn't ask for. They made a weapon out of you, discovered in the middle of nowhere and without instructions, one that destroyed an entire complex.

When you close the door to your room, the warmth expands and stays there like a golden light, always present whenever you are present. Or at least that's how Bob sees you, with his blue eyes that once again had the brilliance of a star and always tried to hold your gaze, with you comparing the color to a new kind of ocean, safe and peaceful.

Like a force of nature, but one created in a laboratory, you arrived to destroy the little peace Bob had managed to find in his solitude, shaking his world with your magnetic presence. But Bob also loved the way your deep gaze could rest when life became routine, that little white dot that shone in the corner of your pupil disappearing when there was no threat, turning you almost into an angel when he saw the tenderness in your dreamy eyes when things looked a little better.

Now, sitting against the headboard of your bed, one leg tucked under the other, Bob shows you the book in his hand, a nervous smile on his lips.

Pride & prejudice.

"I finished it."

“At an alarming rate.” You chuckle as you sit on your side of the bed: and Bob, who liked to stop and look at the flowers in the park near the tower, pet the cats in the front yards of the houses and read poetry, smiles with the compliment. “How long did it take you?”

“About 9 hours.”

“I’m impressed, Bob.” You smile proudly, and Bob will be able to see that sweet image of you clearly in his mind for the rest of his life, even when his head becomes foggy.

Then, a thought that was meant to stay inside, finds its way out from between the cracks of his own shyness.

“You smile pretty.” With him near to your lamp on the nightstand, the amber light makes his hair and messy locks shine, especially when his sweet smile disappears from his lips and Bob lowers his head for a moment, revealing the profile of his defined face and a glimpse of his flushed cheek. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Only one of your fingers makes contact with his chin, pushing it upward as soft as a feather, but with enough determination for him to meet your smile and hold it, though his gaze falters, nervous, but always warm and sincere. “We can watch the movie tomorrow if you want.”

“Is there a movie too?”

His eyes widen slightly, eyebrows rising.

“There are several, actually.”

His surprise doesn’t seem to fit in his expression, and it’s adorable and amusing until you both lie down under the thick blanket.

It doesn't take long for Bob to fall asleep after a long day (too tired from always overthinking about everything) lying on his left side, burying half his face in the pillow that smells like you, making him feel as if you were a memory from his childhood that he knows never happened, but one that he does want to remember and not erase from his fragmented mind.

However, there's a moment that breaks the peacefulness of his night with the noise from the other side of the big glass window, in a world rebuilding itself after the horrors experienced by his darkest side.

You're lying on another pillow, half sitting, back against the headboard of the bed with the same book in your hands, now looking at him. There, with no intention of overstepping his boundaries, your own fingers, the ones you once raised so that an entire building would crack and collapse, slide across his forehead, softly pushing back that brown lock of hair that frames one side of his lovely face—but you can see, you can feel, that this dream is less terrifying, less painful.

"Bob…"

Like a whisper that finds every dark corner of his mind, disappearing every shadow of that future nightmare forming in his head, your soft voice makes Bob wake up with a slight, barely audible gasp. He opens his eyes, looking lost just for a second, but he instantly recognizes where he is, the lavender scent of the place caressing his heart until it calms his confusion.

His gaze searches yours, head still on the pillow.

“I’m sorry. I dreamed 'bout that chicken costume again.”

You chuckle softly, a warm sound like that ray of sunshine on his skin during his time in Los Angeles. Bob looks like a tiny caterpillar in the safety of his little house—or that’s what your mom used to say about you—when he pulls the blanket closer to him, his body making a slight movement to scoot closer to you.

“Don’t worry, Bob, we can do this until you feel better.”

“Thanks, (Y/N). You are so nice.” But when reason stumbles for a moment, Bob finds the strength to speak, in a whisper so as not to clash with the peaceful surroundings, closing his eyes because there with you, the darkness behind his closed eyelids isn’t an endless pit trying to swallow him up. “Can we do this forever?”

Your hand strokes one side of his hair, and a soft smile appears on his lips.

You can almost see the iron blows from his father's fists that sank into his body, that played cruel tricks on his mind until that little brown–haired, blue–eyed angel had his tiny wings ripped off and was convinced that heaven never existed.

But now, for Bob, it is real. At least with you, it is.

“Sounds perfect to me.”

[elmushterri]

I'm usually a very shadowy follower of things I like but your Robin Hood project has gripped my brain by the teeth and I just had to indulge the ideas. I adore the (hypothetical) interactions between Robin and Guy - the sketches you've done thus far have fuelled me, soooo I wrote a little thing and I hope I'm not intruding by sharing it and having taken my own creative liberties with the circumstances and character behaviours. It's (shamelessly) inspired by that tiny sketch you did where Robin saves Guy, and it's certainly not the greatest thing I've written but I like it and I hope you do to (I shall be hiding from Tumblr for the next day because sharing this is making me nervous but I'll be quiet now).

---

The ground was rather far away, which was rarely a good thing, but most times Robin was confident in his ability to remain steady and safe at his high vantage point. In this moment, however, he found himself dangling off the side of a tall, grim building. The only thing keeping him from plummeting was Robin's own five fingers; his second hand was grasped tight to that of Guy Gisborne, an added weight that strove to drag Robin to the cold, harsh concrete below.

All in all, not a position Robin had ever intended to find himself in, but he'd made his choice the moment he'd dove over the edge to save the man who'd tried, yet again, to kill him.

Not the worst situation, though, Robin mused to himself, his foot searching for a crevice, ledge, anything to secure himself on. He spared a glance down at Guy, who stared back, eyes wide, the wind tearing through his braids. "Hold on, won't you," Robin told him, struggling to muster his usual cheer. Guy said nothing.

Robin's foot finally found purchase, and with the very dregs of his strength, he hoisted himself back onto the rooftop, inch by painful inch. As soon as his knees were steady on the concrete, Robin reached down, took Guy's forearm with his now free hand, and pulled him up.

Once past the edge, Guy slumped, trembling, against Robin, head resting on his shoulder. They sat like that for several, rather uncomfortable moments, Robin thought, until Guy looked up at him.

"Why'd you save me?"

… Robin didn't think he had an answer. He could have let Guy fall, could have let him tumble to the pavement below and call it a threat eliminated. The thing was, Guy hadn't ever really been a threat, not even when he'd first jumped Robin in that alley.

Robin grinned, combing his fingers through his hair, as if it would fix the mess he'd made of it. "I've gotten quite used to your attempts on my life by now. Things would doubtless get boring had I let you die." Guy sat back, forcing a scowl, but Robin didn't miss the colour in his freckled cheeks. "Right." Robin patted him on the shoulder, the one that hadn't been wrenched from its socket when he'd caught Guy mid-fall. "You really should learn some manners." It was incredibly amusing to see Guy's expression shift from flustered to outright incredulous. "What?" Robin grinned wide and stood. He adjusted the feather in his breast pocket before saying, "A thanks is in order, no? After all, it's not every day the man you are supposed to murder saves you from your own death." Robin watched as Guy got to his feet, unsteady and wincing. His gaze fixed the floor, and Robin saw his lips move, uttering a word his hearing aids failed to pick up. Robin tilted his head, knowing well the answer to his question. "What was that? I'm afraid I didn't hear."

Guy stepped up to Robin, expression returned to the almost unbreakable bored, serious look Robin had grown far too accustomed to. However, when Guy spoke, his words were brimming with sincerity. "Thank you, Robin. I mean it."

Ah. Guy's mild irritation with him, Robin could handle. Guy's attempts to murder him, Robin could also handle. This? Guy's absolute earnestness, was a different sort of challenge.

For several seconds too long, Robin foundered for something to say, and he wondered how much of it showed on his face. Any amount was too much. Robin fixed his expression, raising an eyebrow and reassuming his smile. "Of course you mean it, I expect nothing less of my favourite assassin."

Robin turned, but not before he saw the colour return to Guy's cheeks. "You had best get that arm of yours fixed before we next meet. I could point you towards a rather good doctor should you like, but I'm afraid she's rather fed up of my antics, so you'll have to find your own way." He spoke without looking back - he didn't need to see Guy's face, didn't need to hear whatever he said next. He thought he caught something, a blur of words impossible to discern, but Robin only waved, making for the fire escape ladder on the side of the building.

Hastily, he descended, and the moment he was on the ground, Robin stepped into the busy street, implementing himself into the crowds of London. He glanced up at where he'd left Guy and spotted him near the edge of the roof. Robin wondered if he was looking for him before putting the thought aside. There were other matters to attend.

---

I also drew them because yes and I highly doubt this'll be the last I'm compelled to create and share of them, but I shall leave you be now (thanks so much for creating such an amazing story).

This is INCREDIBLE! I’m so glad you shared it, dude! So are the sketches.

You managed to write Robin and Guy so accurately, and I’m glad to see the inclusion of his hearing aid not picking something up.

Also the bit where Guy’s head is on Robin’s shoulder? 😳

What’s their ship even called? GuyRob 😭😭😭? RobGuy.. Hoodbourne 😭😭…. GreenGun? Up to you guys.

Beautiful writing, I really enjoyed it! I’d love more ofc, I always do, from all of you guys. My moons are talented!

[thenameswinterfics]

SCIAMACHY

Fandom: House of the Dragon Pairing: Cregan Stark x DragonDreamer!Reader Settings: Season 2 and post season 2 Summary: As the second child of King Viserys Targaryen and Queen Aemma Arryn, your father arranged your marriage to the young Lord of Winterfell, Cregan Stark, in the guise of an arranged marriage that would strengthen the bond between your Houses. But you are haunted by visions of a bloody war shaking the Seven Kingdoms, and the seeds of your doubt are sown when your sister's claim to the throne is challenged. Word Count: 4,4 K Warnings: Angst, mention of death, mention of grief, mention of character(s) death(s), mention of child loss, mention of sibling loss, major spoilers from the book "Fire and Blood" (if you're only following the show please do not read this fic). A/N: I'm back! (sadly for you) This is my very first fic I've written for the HOTD fandom and the very first fic of Cregan. I'm nervous, maybe even more than when I posted my first Sihtric fic, probably because the fandom is vast. It came out different of what I've planned in my head and I lowkey hate the last part, but I hope you still could enjoy it! A special thanks to @foxyanon and @zaldritzosrose for helping me with clearing my outline and for the title, and for her and @legitalicat for the quick beta reading.

Dedicated to my beautiful Cregan wife @sylasthegrim

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

Header & dividers by @zaldritzosrose

READ IT ON AO3

Sciamachy: (n), a battle against imaginary enemies; fighting your shadows.

An unfamiliar chill ran down your spine as you walked through the dark corridors of the Red Keep, the place you were born but never called home. The soft crunching of the snow under your boots was the only sound you could hear as you juggled in the darkness, the faintest light in the form of rays filtering through the cracks in the walls and allowing you to see a little. 

The sight was vivid, far too vivid, and all you could do was rub your eyes vigorously, hoping that when your vision cleared you would find yourself surrounded by the crackling fire and warmth of your room in Winterfell, the place you were sent against your will but would be forced to call home once you became its new lady. 

But no matter how hard you tried to clear your vision: you would still recognise the long, oppressive corridors you had walked as a child, emptied of the countless soldiers of the Kingsguard that guarded it. Each step became an echo of the memories you thought you had buried with time, but which rose to the surface like a breath of fire from the dragon's jaws. 

You could still hear the voice of King Viserys, the father who despised you from the moment you took your first breath, guilty of stealing your twin brother's life and living in his name. A father that neglected you for not being born as a man.

You could still hear the voice of your sister Rhaenyra, sweet as honey and warm as a mother's embrace you had never known. You were the little sister she always wanted, the glimpse of freedom amidst her duties to the Crown and the relief from the pain of losing a childhood friend. And it mattered not that you were the quietest of her family, avoiding banquets and receptions in the throne room and sneaking out whenever you could, collecting the brightest bugs and muttering meaningless words, flinching when someone touched your hand: you were still her perfect little sister in her eyes. 

And her love was all you wanted right now. 

Your bittersweet thoughts were interrupted by a loud roar from outside, the sound so loud it made your head spin and your stomach churn. You quickened your pace, hoping to find a larger crack in the wall to see what was happening outside. And there you found a vision that made you freeze.

You saw two dragons, an older one and a younger one, chasing each other across a stormy sky, their dragon scales glowing under the lightning and thunder as their bodies pursued each other in a majestic yet macabre dance. It seemed an innocent game between them, but the claws and talons of the older dragon prevailed over the younger, and you watched helplessly as he fell to the ground like a comet from the sky, swallowed by the sea.

You walked on, your eyes never leaving the scene outside, wanting to help the little dragon disappear into the water. But the more you crossed the corridor, the heavier the air you breathed became, and roars of pain, of burning lands and clashing swords filled your ears like a cursed chant. 

You covered your ears and closed your eyes, stopping your journey towards the throne room. When you opened your eyes again, you saw a room far different from the one you were accustomed to: the vibrant and noisy ambience turned into a ghostly one, the faint rays of moonlight illuminating the Iron Throne. A bloody crown, Jaehaerys' crown, lay abandoned on the throne, rivulets of blood running down to your feet, two dragons lying restlessly behind it. Two children stood before it, their backs to each other, holding each other's hands; you could feel their tortured gaze as they watched the bloody chair, and your heart broke at the sight. 

As you approached, trying to touch the crown, soft footsteps made you turn and you heard a wolf howling in the distance.

And then you woke up. 

Duty is sacrifice. It eclipses all things, even blood. All men of honour must pay its price. 

These were the words that came out from Cregan Stark's mouth as he escorted Jacaerys to the Wall. They were a testament to how the men of the North were bound by his rigid code of values and honour, and how none of them had ever forgotten or wavered from an oath. 

And when the Stark were called upon to renew their allegiance to House Targaryen, nothing would make them waver.

His father Rickon had already done so when he was summoned to King's Landing and bent the knee to Rhaenyra Targaryen, and a few years later it was Cregan's turn to renew the oath by accepting King Viserys' offer of marriage to the new lord of Winterfell. The young wolf had recently been freed from the regency of his zealous uncle Bennard, and an arranged marriage to a Targaryen princess would strengthen the bond between the two houses since the times of Aegon the Conqueror and Tohrren Stark. 

But when he saw the melancholy in your lilac eyes, Cregan realised that politics was nothing more than a sweet lie masking a more sinister purpose: you were no longer welcome at the court of King Viserys, no matter how much your sister begged to keep you under her protection, or how much Alicent Hightower dared to show a glimmer of mercy. You would have been a young dragon raised by a pack of wolves, and as his future wife it would have been his responsibility to look after you.

And now he was called to be sworn to House Targaryen again, on the brink of a civil war that could involve the North in Southern affairs. 

“The realm will soon tear itself apart if men do not remember the oath sworn to King Viserys and to his rightful heir,” Jacaerys announced solemnly, walking through the narrow corridors of the Walls, Cregan at his side. The Lord of Winterfell was holding Ice over one shoulder, the sword as heavy as the title inherited from his father. 

“Starks do not forget their oaths, my prince,” Cregan retorted, occasionally bowing his head to some members of the Night’s Watch, “But you must know that my gaze is forever torn between North and South,” he added, a hint of heavy responsibility in his voice. The threats in winter were much greater than in summer, with the Night's Watch and the men of Winterfell stepping up their activities on the Wall, ready to turn back any outside threats. Furthermore, it was rare to see the intervention of the North in matters concerning the South, but Cregan could not ignore that oaths were broken. And traitors had to pay for it.

“War is coming to the whole realm, my lord,” it was the Prince of Dragonstone’s turn to retort back, “Whilst your men plan to raise guards against wildlings, the Hightowers plan to usurp the throne. My mother’s claim has been compromised, and little I believe your lady wife could turn her gaze away,”

The words that escaped Jace's mouth left Cregan in a state of astonishment, his brows furrowing and hardening his already stern face. He had never expected the prince to use his wife so cleverly, even though she was a trusted member of his house whom he had sadly never met in peaceful circumstances.

“The Queen has not forgotten the love she has for her sister, and King’s Landing will welcome her again once my mother succeeds in keeping the realm united,”

“My lady wife has her sister's fate very much at heart,” Cregan continued, his gaze softening a bit at the thought of you, “and you arrival put her in a state of worry, my prince,”

The two young men then stood on the Wall, looking out over the untamed land, now covered in white snow. A biting wind whipped around them as Cregan explained how such powerful creatures as the dragons refused to cross the spaces beyond the Wall, highlighting the dangers of the unknown that folded these lands, while he and Jacaerys negotiated the number of men willing to aid Queen Rhaenyra's cause. Cregan himself knew the importance of keeping an oath to a man's moral integrity, and while his duties were tied to the Wall and the threat of the wildlings, he could not ignore the dispute over the king's word. 

“My lord,” one of Cregan’s men arrived, forcing the two young men to interrupt their conversation, “Urgent news from Dragonstone,” 

The Wolf of Winterfell took the parchment in his hands, and from the brief glance he shared with one of his men, he knew the contents were far from frivolous. He let the paper slip from his hands to read the message, and a sense of astonishment struck him like the chill of the North: his lips curled into a grimace, his eyebrows furled slightly as his grey eyes scanned the words printed on the paper. He could have thought it was an unfortunate joke, but the seal of House Targaryen only confirmed what he had read: 

"Prince Lucerys Velaryon has met his death at Storm's End, slain by Prince Aemond Targaryen.”

Cregan lifted his gaze to rest on Jacaerys' brown eyes and watched as the young prince's face contorted in confusion, then grief as he glanced at the parchment in Cregan's hands, and hot tears watered his eyes, streaming down his sharp face until two small rivers crossed their path on his chin. The young lord watched helplessly as the Prince of Dragonstone staggered backwards, clutching his chest in a tight fist as if trying to hold it together; it was a sight familiar to Cregan, for he had also lost his younger brother and remembered the same sense of helplessness creeping through his veins. 

But as Jacaerys collapsed in grief, a new weight hit Cregan's chest, a sense of dread blossoming in the centre of his stomach as he steeled himself for what was to come. 

He would have to inform you and to bring the news of Lucery’s death. And it wouldn’t be easy.

The bright orange sun hid behind the imposing mountains of the North, its last rays illuminating the tops of the peaks and tinting the snow a soft pink. As the light faded, a few amber rays filtered through the windows of your chambers, illuminating them with a soft glow - the gentle warmth of the sun blending with the heat of the great fire in the centre of the room, accompanied by the soft crackle of the wood.

You sat quietly at the foot of your bed, embroidery hoop in hand, watching your son Rickon play with his wooden toys beside you. A few handmaids moved about your chambers, preparing the large table for the dinner you and Cregan would share that evening. Your lilac eyes rested on the small figure of your son, who returned them with a broad smile. But as you raised a hand and gently rubbed his swollen cheeks, you were seized by a sense of unease. 

It had been a long time since you and Cregan had been married, and from the first night you spent in Winterfell your mind had been haunted by dark omens hovering over your family name. Glimpses of what had happened in the past and what would happen in the future passed before your eyes like dancing shadows, sometimes appearing even when you were fully awake. You could still hear cries for help filling your ears, dragons fighting in the sky with claws and breath of fire, and sinister whispers plotting an overthrow of power, the image of your father's bloody crown on the throne still vivid in your mind. 

The people of Winterfell had always regarded you with suspicion, for you were far from the Targaryen princess they had always imagined. But Cregan had never dared to question your tastes, however strange they might sound, and whenever the duties of lordship allowed him a moment's respite, he would gladly accompany you to the far reaches of the North and catch whatever bugs you wanted. In winter, when the temperatures were too harsh and the bugs were nowhere to be found, he would wrap his great arms around your form and listen to your strange rhymes as he gazed into the fire. 

Your prophetic dreams ceased after you gave birth to Rickon, but they returned when a raven came from Dragonstone with grim news: the death of your father the King, the usurpation of your sister's claim by the Hightowers, and the loss of Rhaenyra's only daughter. Fear settled in your heart as you remembered the figure of the young dragon swallowed by the waves of the ocean, and you wondered if even innocent children would fall victim to this dangerous game of power. 

The doors of your chambers swung open and Cregan appeared. The handmaids greeted him with a nod of respect, and you gave him a small smile as you watched Rickon rise and reach his father, who scooped him up with his free hand and kissed his little forehead.

But it was when he looked at you that you realised something was wrong. His eyes, softened by the sight of you, held a pain that seemed to be fighting him. It was as if he were carrying a burden too heavy for him to bear, heavier even than his duties as Lord of Winterfell, and the sight surprised you: you had never seen Cregan so troubled by anything.

"Leave us alone," your husband's voice echoed in the room, once again wearing his mask of severity, "I need to have a few words with my wife in private,” 

The handmaids bowed their heads and quickly left the room, one of them holding Rickon in her arms. There was an unspoken tension in the air as Cregan cautiously approached you and sat in front of you. He had always been an attentive and protective husband, showing a side that differed from the stern image he gave his men.

“You seem quite troubled, husband,” you spoke softly, your voice faltering slightly. Cregan replied with a heavy sigh, covering your hands with his larger ones and rubbing them with his calloused thumbs.

“Dreadful news came from Dragonstone, my love,” Cregan said in a hoarse voice, choosing his words carefully, as if talking to a wounded puppy, “Your sister, the Queen, lost a child again,”

You felt the ground beneath your feet, surroundings had become as muffled as your husband's voice as he recited the contents of the parchment:

"Prince Lucerys Velaryon has met his death at Storm's End, slain by Prince Aemond Targaryen.”

Feeling like you were about to pass out, you rolled over onto your side and gripped the wooden footboard in a tight vice. You immediately covered your mouth and looked down at your feet as your mind slowly processed the news, but the shock was so strong that no tears came. Your mind raced back to the dream you'd had weeks before Jacaerys' arrival, seeing pieces of a puzzle you couldn't quite understand until now: Lucerys was the dragon that fell from the sky, and Aemond was the other one who sank his jaws into his flesh.

You felt Cregan's worried gaze on you as one of his hands moved to your arm, rubbing it gently in a soothing way. “It pains me to see you so devastated, my sweet wife,” he spoke quietly, breaking the wall of silence between you, “but you must know that House Stark will stand against-“

“I need a moment, please,” your trembling voice interrupted him as you found the strength to stand at your feet, your thick robes swooning with every step you took in the room. You paced back and forth, one hand rubbing the bridge of your nose while the other supported your lower back, grief and confusion mixing in your head as you felt like you were about to succumb to madness: for a moment you wondered if Rickon would fall victim to the Dance as well, but no bad omen was attached to him and that brought you a moment of peace.

Your restless walk ended as you approached the large window of your chambers and saw Vermax flying restlessly outside. It pained you to see such a magnificent creature as a dragon so distraught over the loss of his kin, and it pained you even more when a flash of his fate crossed your eyes as you saw the dragon dancing among hundreds of arrows.

“It is said that dragons can feel their masters’ emotions,” a rough voice came from behind, and you saw Cregan looking outside like you, “They feel their pain, their turmoil, and they share the same grief.” 

“He is preparing for his last flight,” you murmured quietly, turning your head slightly and locking your lilac gaze into his grey one. You felt Cregan’s hand resting on your waist, allowing him to pull you closer and join your foreheads together. 

"Winter is coming, my love, and I need my men here to defend the Wall," he spoke softly, closing his eyes for a moment as he felt the warmth of your skin against his, "but House Stark will pledge its support to Queen Rhaenyra by sending her thousands of Greybeards to fight in her name. Your sister's claim will be upheld and your nephew will succeed her," 

"Jacaerys will never be King of the Seven Kingdoms," you confessed defeatedly, looking down at your feet, "the only kingdom he will see is of sea and salt. He will never see his mother sitting on the Iron Throne. I have seen it,"

Your words brought a heavy silence to the room and you both withdrew into your thoughts. You saw how quickly Cregan and Jacaerys had bonded, how they spent their days hunting and drinking together while they negotiated the terms of war. Luke's death would not be an accident, and you hoped your words would reach your husband, that he would understand the destructive force dragons could be once they went into battle.

Instead, Cregan's only words were his arms wrapped around you, sealing your body in a protective embrace. He whispered words of comfort, kissed your temple and promised victory over the usurpers.

But deep in his heart, he knew it would not be easy.

Grief and anger were the emotions Cregan felt as he rolled the parchment in his hands, his eyes darting over the words written in pitch-black ink. He cursed himself for not believing the signs of your dreams, for thinking that fear had created them for you. But even this time you were right.

The Battle of the Gullet had been costly for the Blacks, and the death of Jacaerys Velaryon was a low blow the queen would not forgive her usurpers. It was Cregan again who had the task of bringing you the unfortunate news, and his eyes would forever be haunted by the sight of your grief: he saw you holding Rickon as the news of blood and cheese reached Winterfell's ears, and those same dull eyes came back to you as you leaned against the wall at your nephew's death.

Not even the news that King's Landing had fallen into the hands of Rhaenyra and Daemon could ease the paranoia you lived with, but it only served to fuel your dark prophecies. Few letters were exchanged between Cregan and Rhaenyra, with the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms constantly asking for her beloved sister and inviting her to return to court and serve if she wished. But Cregan always refused her invitation. 

For the truth was that you were safe in the great lands of the North, surrounded by nothing but the love of Cregan and Rickon, far from that viper's nest that was the Red Keep. It took time for you to adjust to the harsh cold of Winterfell and the coldness of its people, but your calm and gentle nature opened a breach in the heart of his hardened lord, and with it, the people began to love you. 

The night was cold, and the heat of the fire was not enough to protect them from the blizzard raging outside. Cregan could not sleep, tossing and turning, hoping that the Old Gods would grant him some much needed rest. It was only after tossing and turning on his side for the umpteenth time that he saw you awake too, your platinum curls falling gently to your shoulders and your lilac eyes gazing absently at the small bed where Rickon rested. 

The young wolf wrapped his naked arms around your waist and pulled you close, his chest pressed against your back, the layer of your nightgown the only thing separating your bodies. "Sleep seems to have left you too," he said in a harsh voice, his lips brushing against your neck. You closed your eyes and let out a shuddering breath. 

"I have no reason to be asleep, dear husband," you replied absently, the softness of your voice melting his heart. Cregan knew that your mind was far from him, and he feared that your prophetic dreams had imprisoned it again. He let out a long sigh before speaking again.

"A raven came from King's Landing in the morrow," he spoke quietly, keeping his voice low so as not to wake Rickon, "your sister will be pleased to welcome you to the capital and give you all the honours of a Targaryen princess,”

He felt a small chuckle escape your mouth and lowered his head, resting his newly bearded chin on your collarbone, "If it is your wish to reach her, I will order some of my men to arrange a safe journey south for you." Cregan went on, his voice faltering at the thought of leaving you alone while Rhaenyra dealt with her opponents. But you were his wife and the light of his eyes, and if you wished to regain your lost time with your sister, he would accept it without objection.

But the slight shake of your head surprised him, "It wouldn't change anything. Rhaenyra would be dead the moment I reached King's Landing, and the gods know what horrors await there.”

Cregan's brow furrowed, and for the first time he seriously considered the words of your prophetic dreams: if the Dragon Queen was indeed about to die, what would happen if he left his wife alone in the grasp of the Greens? A shiver ran down his spine, anger boiling in his chest at the thought of you being taken prisoner by Aegon the Usurper. 

"That will probably not happen," the Lord of Winterfell scoffed, tightening his grip as if he secretly feared you would disappear in his arms, "You have nothing to fear, my dear woman. Your sister is Queen now. Once the usurpers and the breakers of the oath have paid for what they have done, there will be a reign of peace and prosperity. 

"It will not be her," you murmured, rolling to the other side to face Cregan. You leaned your hand against his cheek as you looked at him with your melancholy eyes, "Rhaenyra is the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, but a crown of ashes will adorn her head and a cloak of fire will wrap her body.”

Cregan leaned into your touch, but he could not quite relax at the grim revelation you gave him: he wanted to find comfort in your presence, but your words were as hard as boulders, carrying a heavy weight he wanted to lift from your shoulders.

"I can hardly see it," he murmured, his voice tinged with doubt, "Rhaenyra is a strong woman, gathering as many noble men as she can for her cause. The kingdom will be stable under her leadership."

You shook your head slowly again, your eyes filled with sorrow, "But the Dragonfire is stronger than she is, and what she has built will crumble with her," you paused for a moment before continuing, "A throne of iron swords will give way to a wooden one, and only when the cripple breathes his last will a child step in, wearing Rhaenyra's crown like a burden.”

Cregan closed his eyes and tightened his grip, a mixture of emotions flickering across his face as he slowly digested what you had told him. He had learned over time that your dreams were not mere hallucinations of a daydreaming mind, but a prophecy destined to come true, no matter how hard you tried to alter the course of events. The deaths of Jacaerys and Lucerys were living proof. 

“I swear on my honour that I will keep raising my banners for the rightful queen, no matter how gruesome our fates will be,” Cregan retorted, lowering his head more until your foreheads met again, “What will be of us?”

"You are bound by your honour and will fight for Rhaenyra until your last breath, my love," you murmured, absently tracing circles on his cheek with your thumbs, "The wolf will cry in the dragon's nest, and his wolf will be heard in the darkest hour. And only when order is restored will the wolf return to his pack."

Cregan stood in silence, his chest rising slowly as he held his breath, the realisation dawned on him: the intense activity on the Wall and the organisation of the harvest had always prevented him and his men from making a proper march on King's Landing, hoping that the Greybeards he had sent would be enough to fight for Rhaenyra's cause. But your words have confirmed that his men will march on King's Landing, and he hopes to find a less devastated city than the one his wife has described.

“Cregan,” your gentle call awakened him from his thoughts, his head resting on your hands, “promise me you will come back to me and Rickon. Swear it,”

The young wolf stood silent for a moment, his eyes drinking in your beauty: it would be painful to leave you behind, but if your prophecy came true, he would be forced to honour his oath and fight for his queen. And so he took your head in his hands, closing the distance and sealing the promise with a long, bittersweet kiss, tasting of farewell but full of hope.

“I swear it.”

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave a comment if you want to be added in the taglist or be removed.

Cregan Stark Taglist: @sylasthegrim @legitalicat @zaldritzosrose

[glasvera]

I’m obsessed with your marvel rivals Frank X reader x Bucky fic! Whenever you open your requests for Marvel rivals again I hope you can write some more about them because I will not lie… it hasn’t left my mind since i read it 🤭 I don’t have a specific storyline in mind but anything you write will be fantastic! ❤️❤️

Ahhh thank you so much! Even if they're not my personal favorite characters, I think that might still be one of my favorites that I've written so far. Naturally, I'm more than happy to continue off of it!

Entertainment

Winter Soldier x Fem!Reader x The Punisher

Description: Fancy parties can be fun, but they're really not your style. Or Frank's... Or Bucky's... but at least the three of you are MORE than capable of making your own fun ;)

Warnings/Disclaimers: SMUT (18+ only, Minors DNI!!!!), cursing, smut, oral sex (female and male receiving), brief and inappropriate use of Bucky's arm tentacles (sorry not sorry), vaginal sex, anal sex, rough sex, double penetration, squirting, PWP

A/N: You can treat this as a sequel to Stoicism and Gratuity, but it functions perfectly fine as a standalone! One day I'll write a Bucky fic without including the arm tentacles... one day... maybe...

Word Count: 4.1k

The Hellfire Gala was in full swing, but truth be told? Fancy balls were never really your style. The dresses are still constricting and stuffy no matter how stylish you make them. Conversations are laced with hidden agendas.

No. You preferred much more honest company.

Your dress, though still uncomfortable, somehow feels much more tolerable in the privacy of your hotel suite. Perhaps it’s the way it draws the eyes of the two men who had joined you in your escape from the dance floor. It could also be the exquisite wine that warms your body.

“Finally, a decent drink,” Frank grumbles while leaning against the bar counter.

Bucky snorts. “Much better than the shit you keep in your fridge, at least.” He steps closer until he’s on the other side of you and rests an elbow on what has to be an expensive slab of volcanic glass.

Sitting on one of the bar stools, a lilting giggle pulls from your lips as you swing one leg over the other. The slit of your dress exposes your thigh and the way your tights squeeze into the plush skin. Emma Frost had called your look “uninspired,” but you felt plenty inspired with the way Frank finds his eyes glued to that sliver of flesh.

“Uh-huh,” he responds, hardly paying any mind to Bucky’s quip. His tongue pokes absentmindedly into his cheek before he recollects himself and takes a long swig of wine.

The first time you had been alone with these two, things had been so uncertain. Nervous. But after that night in Frank’s apartment, you felt powerful in their presence. Like you were the only woman that mattered in the entire world. A sexual tension permanently accompanies the three of you every time you’re together.

Can anyone blame you for using it to your advantage?

You lean forward in your seat, arching your back and accentuating the curve of your ass in your tight-fitting dress. The feathered collar tickles your cheek when you turn to flash the Winter Soldier a coy little smile and bat your eyelashes. If it weren’t for the air conditioning keeping the temperature of the room perfectly cool, you might almost believe that the sweat beading on Bucky’s forehead was thanks to the perfectly tailored suit he wears. He clears his throat.

He’s still shy. How cute.

Frank harbors no such reservations with you anymore, especially after a few glasses of wine. He slides closer and places a broad hand at the small of your back. “Know what you’re doin’, sweetheart,” he mutters into your ear. His breath is hot, tinged with the bold and earthy smell of merlot. It paints goosebumps across your skin.

You smirk, angling your neck when his lips ghost along the column of your throat. “Whatever do you mean?” you airily feign innocence. It’s soon accompanied by a sigh as he grabs your waist and presses hot, open mouthed kisses to your shivering skin. Your playfulness earns you a few nips of his teeth.

“Dolled yourself up, lured the two of us up to your room…” His hand dips lower and squeezes your ass possessively. You bite your lip.

“I think I recall you two following me of your own accord,” you purr and lean into his touch.

Bucky finally slides closer. You can feel the heat of him even before he completes the sandwich of bodies. Tentative fingers trace ticklishly between your shoulder blades, threading through the feathered collar, before smoothing up the nape of your neck and tangling in your meticulously crafted up-do. A gentle tug urges your head back and you gasp. You glance over to him, painted eyelids hooded with desire.

“Don’t play coy, sweetheart,” he accuses, the corner of his lips turned up in the slightest amused smirk. His eyes don’t linger on your face for long. They follow the curve of your neck, trail the neckline of your dress until he hungrily eyes the cleavage that disappears beneath the glimmering fabric. “The way you were swaying your hips on the way up told an entirely different story.”

“So you’re saying my hips don’t lie…?” you quip with a barely contained grin.

He closes his eyes and sighs as his smile fades. “You and your fuckin’ jokes,” he laments in half jest. His grip in your hair tightens and draws a squeak from you. He brings his face closer to yours until his lips are but a whisper away. “Why don’t we put that mouth of yours to better use?”

A shuddery breath exhales from you. No complaints there. A delicious groan sounds in your throat that Bucky swallows eagerly when his lips meet yours. The clean smell of aftershave blends strangely yet enticingly with the alcohol that lingers on his breath. His lips slide easily, sensually, hungrily, tasting the sweetness of your lipgloss with the same tongue that parts your lips. You inhale sharply before your tongue meets and dances with his. It’s hazy and intoxicating. His bionic arm takes you by the waist and wrinkles the fabric of your dress in his feverish grip.

Frank’s free hand finds that damnable slit and slips beneath the skirt. Callused fingertips slide reverently over where your stockings meet your bare skin. His touch trails deeper, higher, finding your inner thigh and squeezing it roughly. The softness of you beneath his palm draws a growl from him that he muffles in the crook of your neck. Unfortunately, his nose crinkles in annoyance when the feathery adornments of your garment begin to draw the beginnings of a sneeze from him. He expresses his irritation by biting down hard at your clavicle.

“Ah, fuck!” you exclaim, breaking your kiss with Bucky to glare at the other man. “Frank, what the--”

“Take this damn thing off,” he commands gruffly. He tugs impatiently at the zipper at the back of your dress.

Bucky can’t help but chortle at Frank. His metallic fingers pull playfully at your dress. “Could just rip it off… save some time…”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you snap. Your words lose some bite with just how breathy they are, but your finger pokes into the silky tie at his chest. Bucky smirks before leaning in and taking your bottom lip between his teeth. He sucks on it gently and starts kissing you again. The indignant fire in you wanes with a mewl and your fingers wrap around the tie to pull him closer.

Despite how tempting Bucky’s idea sounds, even The Punisher can respect that you probably spent an exorbitant amount of money on this. That doesn’t assuage his impatience. It just means the purr of the zipper stops above your ass and he yanks your dress down your shoulders and breasts. The fabric pools around your waist and you gasp into Bucky’s lips as the cool air pebbles your sensitive nipples. Large hands cup your breasts from behind and roughly mold the flesh. It leaves you squirming in your seat, uttering soft whimpers when those practiced fingers pinch and tug at the hardening peaks. Unimpeded, his lips and teeth find the skin of your neck again. You feel hypersensitive, the contrast of his body heat through the starchy, slightly scratchy suit against the softness of your bare back forming an exquisite torture.

“Can’t get enough of these tits,” he grumbles appreciatively. You can feel the way he smiles into your shoulder. “Can’t get enough of the sounds I get from you when I play with ‘em, either.”

You keen when he gives a particularly hard twist of your nipples. The growing bulge in his pants presses insistently against your ass, and you swear you feel it twitch impatiently in its confines when you moan.

Bucky breaks away, panting, admiring your kiss-bruised lips and the spittle that coats them. “Gotta taste more of you.” His eyes flicker over to Frank as he laps and sucks at your neck. “Get her up on the counter.”

Before you even get a say, you feel yourself being manhandled off of the stool. You let out a yelp as Frank loops his arms under yours and lifts you up with ease. Bucky leans down and wraps his arms around your hips, taking advantage of this position to kiss and nip at the valley of your breasts even as he swings you up and onto the obsidian counter slab. They’re as gentle as they can manage, but the shock of the cool stone on your back still draws a hiss through your teeth.

“Fuck this is cold,” you groan.

Bucky vaults over the counter, miraculously avoiding any of the glasses or bottles. He slots himself between your legs and hikes the skirt of your dress up and over your hips. “Let us warm you up then, sweetheart.” Blue eyes darken as he lifts up your leg and presses heated kisses to your inner thigh. A syrupy warmth melts through you with every press of his lips. Your breath comes out in shaky gasps.

A shadow darkens your field of view as Frank stoops over you. He claims your lips in a searing kiss. His hands are quick to busy themselves, fingers curling around your neck while the other palms and gropes at your breast. The cold is long forgotten as his tongue plunders your mouth, swiping over the back of your teeth, the roof of your mouth, and he draws your own tongue forth before sucking it between his lips. The stubble on his chin drags roughly yet pleasantly across your cheek. It leaves your head spinning.

Your hips jerk when Bucky’s teeth nip playfully into your skin. Whispered mewlings hum in your throat. His mouth travels closer, closer, inching towards the prize that already taunts him as the earthy sweet smell of your desire fills his nostrils. Still he teases you, sucking dark hickies into the plush of your thigh before easing the sting with long swipes of his tongue. Your legs tremble. In stark contrast to his hot tongue, the cold metal of his bionic arm squeezes your thigh before he’s spreading your legs wide open. Bucky groans when he sees the lacy panties you wear. They leave nothing to the imagination. Hell, they have an opening right at the crotch.

“Cheeky fucking minx,” Bucky chuckles. His breath fans across your dampened core and you lift your hips desperately towards him. He flattens his tongue and drags it languidly over your clothed pussy, drawing out a guttural groan that echoes in your throat. Somehow the lace barrier only adds to the sensation, the friction on your folds leaving you shivering with pleasure.

Frank’s hand leaves your breast and begins fumbling with his belt. The buckle clangs and clinks softly with his clumsy efforts. You reach a hand out to palm at his hardness, teasing him through his pants as he hisses sharply. A groan spills into his mouth as you anticipate feeling his hard, heavy cock.

It’s a wish that does not go ungranted for long. Finally he frees himself and you hastily take him in hand. He’s hot, thick, and throbbing, the pre-cum oozing from the tip spilling into your palm as you spread it over his length. Your touch is eager and nearly trembling with excitement.

“That’s it,” he purrs, voice gravelly with desire. “Keep on stroking it just like that. Can’t wait to fuck that pretty mouth.”

You feel your mouth water in anticipation. Your gaze darts down to the angry swollen head of his cock and you lick your lips. Fire pools in your belly. You want, no, need to take him into your mouth, to suck, to taste.

“Surprised you don’t wanna fuck her ass again, Castle,” Bucky taunts between swipes of his tongue. The vibration of his voice momentarily brings your attention back to him and sends trembling quakes of pleasure to your core.

“Who says I won’t?” he snorts, gritting his teeth as your grip slides the velvety skin of his shaft up and down. “I ain’t planning on going back downstairs tonight.”

“Mm,” Bucky moans, opening the slit in your panties to lap up the desire that coats your folds. The tip of his tongue flicks at your clit and you squirm. “I’ll take my time, then.” His thumbs spread you wider for him as his tongue delves deeper.

“Shit,” you curse, eyes rolling back. “Ah, Buck, yes…”

He smirks and pulls back slightly before swirling his tongue around the bud. Silvery fingers collect the essence that drools from your entrance. “You trust me, right?”

It almost feels silly for him to ask, but you indulge him. You roll your lips between your teeth and nod. “‘Course I do,” you reply breathlessly.

“Be a good girl and sit still for me then,” he commands you before his bionic arm begins to shift.

You wait with bated breath, but Frank doesn’t give you the pleasure of watching whatever it is that Bucky is about to try. The hand at your throat slides up and under your chin, tilting your head back. A wicked grin spreads across his face as he takes his cock in hand and strokes it just in front of your waiting mouth. He taps the mushroom head to your lips. Your brows worry together and you impatiently stick your tongue out, desperate to taste, to please. So eager. It brings him an almost sadistic satisfaction to see your confident and seductive persona turn into such a cock hungry, mewling mess. Teasing you further almost sounds more appealing than giving you exactly what you want. Almost.

Slowly, he slips the head past your spittle slickened lips, and your eyelids flutter closed as a satisfied groan rumbles from you. Your jaw slackens as he pushes further, deeper. Sweat and musk overwhelm your senses as you remember to breathe through your nostrils.

“That’s it… shit… take it all the way,” he huffs, smoothing his fingers up and down your neck and chest. He gives one of your tits a light slap just to watch it jiggle.

So preoccupied were you with Frank’s thick cock inching down your throat that you nearly missed what Bucky was continuing to do between your legs. Though, to be fair, it’s not exactly easy to miss the cold tentacle that prods at your entrance. Nor is it easy to miss the other tendrils that wrap around your thighs and spread them wide. You gasp around the cock in your mouth as you feel the strange metallic appendage thrusting in and out of your slit. It feels alien. It feels good. It writhes and wriggles, presses and prods. Even if it’s thinner than either of their cocks, it leaves no part of you unexplored. Better still when Bucky closes his lips around your clit and sucks hard.

“Mmfff--fugghhh--!” you blabber around the dick in your mouth. Spit bubbles at the corners of your lips. The intricate loops and knots of your hairdo are all but ruined as Frank’s fingers tangle into the complicated strands. Your nails dig into your palms as you fight back your gag reflex. Still he thrusts deeper, holding your head in place, groaning out broken moans as he sees and feels your throat bulging from the size of him. Smoky black lines streak down your face from the mascara that bleeds with your tears.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” Bucky moans between loud slurps of his tongue.

“Woulda--” he pauses, finding words difficult as the vice grip of your throat breaks his voice. “--woulda done this a lot sooner if I knew you were so good at it.” His praise has you gushing around the tentacle that fucks your aching cunt.

They were so good to you, so rough yet so giving, but it wasn’t enough. You needed more, needed to be filled--

Frank pulls out of you suddenly, gripping the base of his spit slickened cock and gasping for breath. You whimper at the absence of it in your mouth and he chuckles airily.

“Get her on the bed. Wanna fuck her proper this time,” he addresses Bucky, pulling the Winter Soldier out of his pussy drunken stupor.

“Proper…?” you whine softly while pouting, much to their amusement. “You boys should know by now I’m not a proper girl.”

You gasp when the tentacle slithers and withdraws from you, and soon Bucky is scooping you off of the counter into his arms. “This has nothing to do with that kind of proper, sweetheart.”

The round bed draped in mauve sheets looks like something straight out of a love hotel. If anything you’ve heard about Emma Frost is to be believed, though, perhaps the design choice really shouldn’t be all that surprising.

At least you can appreciate just how soft it is when they unceremoniously toss you onto it.

Honestly, though? You were much more interested in appreciating the view before you as both men hurriedly divest themselves of their formal attire. Perfectly sculpted planes of muscle, chest hair that leads your gaze down, down, following happy trails until you’re met with their achingly hard cocks.

Strange to think of all the things the three of you have done without seeing each other fully naked.

You lick your lips before putting on a show yourself, easing your gown over your hips and shimmying it down your legs. You kick off your heels before the dress follows suit, crumpling into a puddle of glimmering fabric on the hotel floor. The two men stride towards you, closing in on you like predators vying for the same prey. When you hook your thumbs into one of your stockings, Bucky stays your hand.

“Keep those on. For me?” His blue eyes, despite his lust blown pupils, are pleading. How could you say no?

Instead you busy your hands by lacing them in the shaggy brown locks that frame his face, pulling him down with you for a kiss. His bionic arm catches him, keeps him from falling on top of you, while his organic one slides down your side and hooks one of your legs up around his waist. His fingers dig into the spot where your stockings meet your thigh, groaning into your mouth when he feels the way the elastic squishes into your skin.

“So fucking perfect,” he mutters as he kisses the corner of your mouth. His lips travel lower, leaving love bites along your jaw before sucking at the spot just beneath your ear. It makes you shudder and you wrap your arms around his neck, arching your back up until you can feel his naked body against yours.

“Quit hoggin’ her all to yourself,” Frank chastises as he settles down on the bed next to the two of you. You let out a lilting giggle before reaching an arm out to him, drawing him in and cradling the back of his head to pull him into a kiss while Bucky is occupied with your neck. Not a single inch of the skin there is going to be unmarked by the end of the night, you realize.

Appreciative moans hum from your throat as you set your hands to exploring their broad, muscular frames. Fingertips squeeze into the biceps that flex as the two of them hover over you. Palms smooth over defined pectorals. These men were perfect. They were built to ruin you.

Frank rolls you on top of him, much to Bucky’s chagrin, but The Punisher doesn’t care. All he cares about is the way your drooling cunt feels as he starts to grind it down on the length of his cock. Your thighs feel heavenly draped over his hips. And gods, you knew he was big--this wasn’t the first menage a trois the three of you had dallied in--but something about straddling him like this with his huge hands wrapped around your waist made you realize just how big of a man he really was. It doesn’t take long before you’re rocking your hips against him of your own volition, moaning like a whore while his hands slide up to cup and squeeze your breasts that he was so fond of.

Bucky doesn’t remain idle. It was practically inevitable that the three of you would find yourselves in a situation like this at the gala, so of course you came prepared. And of course he’s not surprised at all to find the small bottle of lube that you have stashed in one of the nightstands.

So while you busy yourself grinding on Frank’s cock, occasionally teasing the tip of it past your folds, Bucky gets to work spreading that lube on his fingertips. The sink of the mattress gives him away before he’s behind you, pressing doting kisses to the back of your neck even as his fingers ease their way into your back entrance. You still your movements, and Frank takes full advantage of this to line his cock up with your pussy before he’s guiding your hips back down onto him. You let out a long winded groan as your head lolls back onto Bucky’s shoulder.

Gods, but you had forgotten just how full these men made you feel.

He starts out with shallow thrusts. Don’t want to hurt you while Bucky is preparing you from the other end. But soon it’s clear that you’re more than ready, and his barely-there patience is already wearing thin again.

“So tight around me, fuck--” Frank curses, scrunching his brow as he begins bouncing you up and down on his dick. Your mouth falls agape in the shape of an “o” as he takes complete control, gripping your hips and fucking up into you. “Your holes were made for this cock, taking me so fucking well…”

Bucky kneels behind you and between Frank’s legs, fisting his cock with lube and gasping out quiet moans as he watches you get utterly ravaged. Only moments pass before he joins in on the fun, and Frank at least has the decency to slow his thrusts a little to allow him to slide slowly into your ass. Or at least, it would have been slower if Frank’s movements didn’t hammer you down onto Bucky’s cock with every piston of his hips.

Fuck, there it is.

You’re full to bursting, so full you could cry, and these men know just how you like it. There’s no alternating this time, no gentleness. Now that they’re both situated, they rut into you like animals. Bucky’s breath is hot and heaves across the skin of your neck as his arms wrap around your waist while he fucks into you. Frank grits his teeth as he times his thrusts with Bucky, his hands on your tits almost bruising as he gropes them and uses them for leverage. Desperate for something to hold onto, you lean back and wrap your arms around Bucky’s neck.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes!” you squeal between breathless cries. They hammer into you so perfectly, fuck you so exquisitely. You feel the orgasm building even before Bucky’s fingers sloppily circle at your clit from behind. And he can certainly feel the way you spasm and tighten around them both.

“Atta girl… fuck,” Bucky curses before biting your earlobe. His labored breaths puff against your ear and you can hear every moan and growl that pours from his throat. It’s the sweetest music, knowing it’s all just for you.

The swell of Frank’s impending release has his cockhead dragging deliciously along your walls, feeling every inch of his length and the cock in your ass. It’s all so much, too much, and your moans grow higher and higher in pitch. Each thrust leaves your head lolling limply, draws stars in your vision, breathes fire into your veins. Your thighs tremble and quiver around Frank’s legs.

And then Frank lifts his hips up, angles you ever so slightly, and every thrust now has you screaming. Their frenzied pace has your mind going blank and your every nerve sparking alive with a thousand volts of pleasure. You’re going to die on their cocks, and you can’t think of a better way to go.

It makes you impossibly tighter, and Bucky finds himself clamping his teeth down into the crook of your neck. The sudden pain coupled with the overwhelming pleasure snaps something within you and you can’t stop the tidal wave of pleasure that floods your very being, your very soul. You come with a staggered, broken, sobbing cry that has you squirting onto Frank’s abdomen. They watch you in awe, taking a moment to breathe, to feel and revere their goddess as she comes undone under their ministrations. It never gets old. And, if they have anything to say about it, that’s only the first of many orgasms that they’re going to draw from you tonight. Hellfire Gala be damned.

[ghxstlike]

in hiding

synopsis: he finds you crying and comforts you.

featuring: dan heng & aventurine (seperate)

content: sfw. comfort, pre-established relationship, dan heng has feelings for reader, tiny bit of flirting/compliments from aventurine, aventurine is kinda awkward, social anxiety (aventurine), anxiety attack (aventurine), reader’s gender isn’t specified, not proofread.

author's note: this is super self-indulgent lol. also this is the first time i’ve ever written these characters, so i apologize if they seem ooc! this also has been buried deep within my drafts- i finished this MONTHS ago….i felt too nervous to post it 😭 anywho, enjoy!

dan heng

you're another member of the astral express crew.

you've known dan heng enough to get the gist of his distant personality, even though you find him slightly intimidating.

you still managed to develop a crush on the guy, so he can't be that intimidating.

anyway, dan heng was tasked to go and 'fetch' you (pom pom's words) so all of you could eat dinner.

you’re usually in ‘his’ room, reading a book on his makeshift bed. when he enters said room and doesn’t see you, he grows a little worried.

in fact, now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t seen you in days. now, he’s really worried.

the only other place that you'd be is in your room.

when he finds you in your room, his heart sinks.

intensely worried about you the moment he realizes you're crying.

type of guy to immediately jump into action. he's not aggressive about it, no, he's gentle.

softly sits beside you where you're on your bed, his hand reaching out to touch you while asking to do so.

if you say no, he obviously listens to your wishes. would not want to harm you or make you uncomfortable while you're in this state.

he sits there, watching you cry in silence. it's a little awkward, having him watch you cry, but he doesn't know what else to do. he doesn't want to ruin anything.

he says a few things to try and calm your crying down.

"let it all out."

"it's okay, you're safe."

"i'm here for you."

if you say yes, his hand comes up to rub your back gently, making you scoot closer to him. also says comforting words in this moment as well.

after you're done crying, he listens intently if you start to talk about what is bothering you.

man's just wants you to feel better.

"i'm sorry," you mumble, wiping your snot with the back of your hand. you don't see it, but dan heng shakes his head while he smiles softly at you.

"no need to apologize." his deep, monotone voice instantly calms your nerves. "crying can be helpful to some. don't worry about it." he places a hand on your head, ruffling your hair ever so slightly. you sigh, then sniffle. even though he said it was okay, you still feel a little ashamed at yourself. you almost feel embarrassed. you sort-of know what you look like while crying, and you know it isn't pretty. your heart soars with discomfort as you realize that dan heng has witnessed you at one of your lowest moments in life.

"gosh, i probably look like a mess right now." you croak out, a dry laugh following short after. you try to wipe the dried tears off your cheeks but to no avail. you'll have to wash it off with some cold water later. you hear dan heng hum, which catches your attention. your eyes look into dan heng's. you notice how dan heng's blue eyes soften at your stare.

dan heng's hand reaches out to a strand of hair that's in the way of your face, pulling it back behind your ear. you feel your face heat up, and your heart skips a beat at the intimate eye contact. you notice how dan heng’s face is in a similar predicament to yours; a light pink blush covers his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

"you don't," he whispers. "you're beautiful."

aventurine

guy doesn't know how to comfort other people.

type of person to let the person cry it out by themself, then come back later with gifts.

i've seen a headcanon where aventurine is bad at comforting other people due to his past trauma and i truly believe it.

aventurine can rarely take stuff seriously, what makes you think he can comfort someone?

anywho. he finds you curled up into a ball in an alleyway in penacony. he heard the sobs come from a mile away and was curious at what the sound was.

he honestly thought it was a stray cat.

he's seen you around before. yeah, he remembers! you walked up to him at the bar and complimented his outfit, telling him he looked like a peacock.

he thought that it was very cute when you blushed, explaining you didn't mean to say that outloud and kept apologizing.

but now here you are, sitting on the gross ground of the alleyway with your chin propped up on your knees, crying your eyes out.

aventurine bites his lip, trying to figure out if he wants to help you or just leave you alone.

but that's when you placed your hand flat on your chest, and he noticed how you began to breathe heavily.

he knows exactly what's happening, and he can't leave you alone now.

"hey, breathe. you need to breathe."

you hear a somewhat familiar voice call out to you, but it seems so far away. you don't understand what he says and try to brush it off. though, he doesn't go away. his legs are in your line of sight, and he doesn't seem to be moving. you watch as he crouches down, his hands shakily reach towards yours.

"i'm gonna touch you, okay?" he gulps, almost flinching at the skin-to-skin contact. you don't answer, you just continue to hyperventilate as your wide eyes dart across the environment around you. the man seems to notice this and blocks your field of vision with his face.

"y-you- you're-" you try to get out, but all you can manage is a few hiccupped mumbles. the man in front of you smiles.

"hi again." you can clearly hear his smooth voice now. "can you take a deep breath for me? i'll do it with you." you nod, looking into his multi-colored eyes. they're so pretty.

you follow his actions- breathe in for 4 seconds, pause for 4 seconds, breathe out for 4 seconds. you both repeat this a few more times until your breath doesn't sound choppy or uneven.

silence overcomes the two of you. your eyes glance down at your intertwined hands, then back up at the man in front of you. suddenly realizing he's still holding your hands; he quickly drops them from his grasp while clearing his throat.

"you alright?" he says softly. his eyes glance down at your body, trying to see if you're hurt anywhere. your words interrupt him.

"no, i'm fine now," you sniffle. "thank you, um.." you pause, waiting for the man to give you his name.

"aventurine. it's no problem." aventurine shrugs. he stands up quickly, holding a hand out for you to take. "now, can i get you a drink? you must be dehydrated." his gloved fingers wiggle slightly, encouraging you to take his hand.

he grins down at you, "you can also tell me why you were sobbing in the alleyway." you chuckle at his words.

without another thought, you take aventurine's hand.

[cillianhead]

Red Eyes || Cillian Murphy x Reader

summary: You and Cillian take a plane trip and a certain Jackson Rippner steals his spot.

PART TWO to A New Pair Of Glasses

put my vibrator on and smoked a j and then wrote away on this one so i'm so very sorry if it is bad or strange or something.

Enjoy my lovely readers <3

warnings: SMUT!!, unprotected p in v, DUBCON AND NONCON THEMES!!!, Daddy kink, vulgar language, swearing, choking, car/airplane sex / public sex, tight spaces, handjobs, oral sex (f and m receiving + reader sucks on his balls?!), slapping, spitting, claustrophobia, roleplay (Cillian is roleplaying as Jackson Rippner), some mentions of subspace/being in subspace sort of, some more dacryphilia, degradation, overstimulation, talks of FAKE! Explosives and talks of FAKE! plane crashes, biting, fake cheating scenarios, vibrators, and general adult content!!!

LONG FIC!!

18+ MINORS DNI

Standing in the crowded airport, you leaned against Cillian for support as you waited in line to check in your bags for your flight. You were going on a trip to New York, and the flight would be almost eight hours.

"How are you feeling, love?" Cillian whispered, subtly kissing your neck. "You nervous about our flight?" "I feel a little nervous... yeah..." You nodded, smiling softly up at him. "But we'll be fine... just... you know how I get..."

"It's alright, I'll be right there with you... the whole time," He hummed, resting his chin on your shoulder. The line was long and the waiting was tedious but at least you had the comfort of your boyfriend beside you.

After checking in and waiting for your flight, which wasn't for another hour and a half, Cillian and you decided to stroll along the airport stores, hand in hand.

"What's happening with that interview you have tomorrow?" You asked, leaning on him a bit.

"Oh... erm... I've forgotten his name..." Cillian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's literally something I had written down 'cause I t'aught it was funny..." Cillian groaned. "Oh... it was some bloke literally called Neil Lewis... some American guy..."

"No way," You laughed loudly, and Cillian looked at you, grinning fondly. "That's awesome, what's the interview even for?"

"I betcha a million bucks it's gonna be like sumn' about like..." He said these words while painting the air with his hands to make imaginary captions. "Neil Lewis.... and how he would react to different characters of mine..." He snickered and you laughed.

"That's a fun idea, though! Neil Lewis has always been a sweet spot of mine..." You sighed dreamily. You remembered when you and Cillian had first started talking and were only really doing all that sugar daddy stuff; you watched 'Watching The Detectives' for the first time. Of course, you hadn't seen all the Batman films at that point. You saw Inception when you were high and in some guy's Mom's garage and weren't comprehensive of what was happening except for when that one really sexy guy, Robert Fischer, showed up. That's when the movie had your attention. The guy was kissing your neck, and suddenly Robert showed up, and you didn't give a single shit about how hot the guy kissing you was; you'd look at the TV and moan louder than you did before. Neil Lewis had really awakened something else inside of you, though.

Something a little more tender.

He was just so cute, and as Violet said, 'You're like the sweetest guy I've ever met' (or something along those lines). You were sitting in a cute new little nightgown Cillian had bought you (oh, and a new vibrator with his initials carved in the middle). It was Valentine's Day, and unfortunately, he was in America shooting a film, and he wouldn't be back until the 17th. You were bratty and whiny, but you were grateful, and he knew that; you just liked to get sassy. You put on the romcom, an obvious choice as to why you picked it.

'Watching The Detectives' Starring Lucy Liu and Cillian Murphy.

You were already riled up when you saw him in the opening shot, but as time went on, you grew increasingly jealous of Violet and more in love with Neil Lewis, thus falling in love with Cillian Murphy. You remember calling Cillian up, despite the time difference, and rambling on about how cute he was in the movie.

Anyway... as you walk through the airport together and look at each other with your blazing love. Cillian lovingly kissed you on your forehead as you walked back to your gate.

"So about this flight..." Cillian cleared his throat after you walked along quietly.

"Yeah?" You hummed, tearing your eyes away from the cute dress you saw in one of those window stores and looked to Cillian with a grin.

"I won't be... erm... boarding on with you," Cillian cleared his throat. "I'm sitting in a different part of... de.... er... plane."

"What?!" You exclaimed, eyes widening and grabbing onto his arm tightly as you two swayed along. "What do you mean, Cill?"

"This flight is quite packed... and so I couldn't manage to fit us together so... yer gonna be in first class while I'm in coach..."

"What? Cillian? No... y-you take first class... you need it more than me..." You were pouting at him with the most pitiful eyes.

"No, baby... it's okay," Cillian hushed. "I'm sure you're gonna meet some guy in first class... who you can pretend is me..."

"I would never do that," You whispered, shaking your head insistently as you fiddled with the red ruby around your neck, thinking about Jonathan Crane. "Why would you say that?"

"It's okay, baby... you'll be able to sleep..." Cillian and you walked into a quiet little cafe. "They'll wake you right before we land... I doubt you'll be sittin' next to anyone since you're in first class..."

"Cillian... why didn't you tell me this sooner?" You whined, sitting down right beside him and clinging onto him while you still can.

"'Cause I know you'd never come if you realized we won't be sittin' together..."

"That's a fair point..." You mumbled, resting your head on his shoulder.

After sitting for a while and sipping the teas you had gotten from the airport coffee shop, it was time to board the plane. You wrapped your arms around Cillian and kissed him passionately.

"I'm gonna miss you so much... Cill..." You whispered against his lips breathily.

"I know, baby," He hummed, stroking your hair. "You're gonna do so good for me... you can handle it... I love you so much..."

"I love you..."

You couldn't dare look back as you walked off with just the weight of your onboard bag. You found your seat... and fuck, it was nice, you had plenty of legroom, and you could even push your headrest back so you could lie down. You watched people start to board the rest of the plane, waiting to see Cillian walk past, but he never did. You sighed and rested back in your seat, buckling up for the takeoff that always made you anxious.

"...F7... F8... Oh, here we go..." You heard an American accent from behind you and turned to look Cillian in the eyes. He had styled his hair differently and was wearing a completely different outfit from what he was wearing before. Cillian smirked as he coldly approached, and you realized what he was doing. He was being Jackson. Honestly, you had completely forgotten about that conversation you two had and didn't expect Cillian to follow through with it. "Oh, hello, seems we're sitting together?" He gave you a strange smile as he sat beside you and smirked. "The name's Jackson..." He reached out his hand for you to shake.

"Oh... it's... it's Y/N..." You smiled, playing along. It was unnerving the way he moved and spoke. It was truly like it was just another person who happened to look exactly like Cillian. Jackson shook your hand with a nod before receding back into his chair beside you.

The flight took off, and you clutched onto your seat for dear life, trying to ignore the feeling of having Jackson's eyes on you the whole time.

"You're a very pretty girl..." He hummed once you were in the air and could unbuckle yourself, looking at you with a tilted head and lustful eyes. "You got a boyfriend?" He asked as if he were interested.

"Y-Yes..." You nodded, feeling flustered, playing along with a hidden grin.

"Aw... that's a shame," He cooed mockingly. "If only he had been here... to protect you..."

"Wh-What?" You looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, laughing nervously. He just shook his head, scratching at his stubbly chin.

"Oh, don't worry," He reassured, mocking your trembling lip with a pout of his own. "I'm gonna take good care of you... sweetheart..."

"How... how...?" You stammered.

"You stupid slut," He spat, rolling his eyes at how pathetic you were. "You know how I'm gonna take care of ya..." Jackson's mouth got real close to your ear as he spoke the words, "I'm gonna fill that perfect little pussy with my seed..." He hissed.

"No... you can't... please..." You whimpered. About five or six people were sitting in the first-class cabin, yet luckily, none were sitting in front of you or behind you. "My boyfriend's in the... other cabin..."

"Oh, I know all about your little boyfriend... in fact... in the left pocket of his jacket... you see... I've been taking some sewing classes... and I was in your room one night while you were there, and he wasn't..." He laughed dryly, licking his teeth as he sucked in more air to speak. Your eyes were wide with horror and dismay... yet your legs squeezed together with arousal. "Anyway... as I was saying, in the pocket in his jacket is a tiny... yet very powerful explosive..."

"Wh-What...?" You panicked, speaking a bit too loudly. Jackson slapped a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet.

"If you don't do everything I say, I've got the remote here in my pocket and this whole fuckin' plane will go down over the Atlantic," He whispered, only loud enough for you to hear. "Do you hear me, bitch? I'm an impatient man. You're going to do every fuckin' thing I tell you to do or say bye-bye to your boyfriend and the death of everyone on this fuckin' plane..."

You nodded your head desperately, tears slipping down your cheeks. He pulled his hand off of your mouth and wiped your spit off his hand with your shirt. "I understand..."

"Good," He said gruffly, checking his watch. "They won't be bringing out any of the meals for another hour, so I say we have a little... fun while we wait for our meals... and then, of course... there'll be dessert after our dinner..." Jackson smirked.

"We'll get caught... we'll get in trouble," You protested, tucking your knees up into your chest.

"Oh babydoll, don't you know what I do for a living?" He snarked, flashing his sharp teeth at you in that cold, threatening smile. "I know how to do many things... and not get caught..." He whispered into your ear, biting at your neck. "Now open your legs for me. I'm gonna put this cute little vibrator in your pussy, do you understand?" "Al-Alright..." You slowly opened your legs. Your shorts were loose and thin, so you felt him slip his fingers up your thighs and in through the sides of your underwear.

"Fuck, you're soaking for me, princess..." He panted in your ear as he easily pressed two fingers into your cunt. "Doesn't that boyfriend of yours treat you well enough?" He teased. "I wasn't expecting you to be this turned on... I bet he doesn't make you cum enough, is that it?" His fingers began massaging your already sensitive G-spot.

"O-Oh... god..." Your head fell low as he continued panting in your ear, clearly getting affected by how good it felt to have his fingers inside of you. His cock strained against his tight sweatpants. "Jackson..."

"Wow, you gave in to that easily," He laughed, and you felt ashamed at how good you were feeling and how hard you were trying not to make much noise. It was good. The lights were quite dim since it was an overnight flight... everyone else was asleep or had their earbuds in. "You've gotta stay quiet, don't make me gag you," He demanded quietly as you saw the small pink vibrator that perfectly sucked on your throbbing clit. He slipped it into your underwear and turned it on... it was dead silent, but you could feel the intense vibrations. "Look at you, squirmin' for me, and that's only the first setting." His American accent was sickening and impossibly sexy.

"Jackson... I can't... it's too much," You dug your fingernails into the leather seats, clenching your teeth together. Your pussy quivered as he slipped his left hand into your underwear and covered you in a blanket provided to first-class flyers. Anyone walking by wouldn't even notice where his hand placement was. "I'm too... sensitive... it's too much, Daddy..." You whined, pressing your face into his shoulder and biting down on the material of his coat to quieten your stifled moans.

"Wow, look at that, I've got you calling me daddy..." He snorted, leaning back in his chair as he finger-fucked you and turned up the setting on your vibrator that sent crippling waves of pleasure through you. "Bet your real daddy wouldn't be too happy to hear that sweetheart..."

"You're not... you're not my daddy... it was a mistake..." You mewled quietly.

"I am right now, sweetheart," He took a whiff of your hair and bit back a groan. He was so turned on right now, and he wanted to drag you into the bathrooms and fuck you right now, but he wanted to prolong the pleasure for as long as possible. "I'm your daddy, say it... I'm gonna fuck you so much better than your daddy... gonna show you how a real man likes to fuck."

You caved in on yourself, squirming further into a ball as your entire body tensed. Your pussy clenched onto his fingers. Every time he flicked them out of you, a quiet yet distinct squelch of your arousal would be heard. Your orgasm lit you on fire, and he didn't slow down. In fact, his fingers moved even more precisely against your G-spot, causing you to croak and bury your face in your hands. You saw stars as you gushed around his fingers, and Jackson showed no signs of stopping as you came down from your high.

"Jackson... stop... stop it..." You cried, tears streaming down your face. "It hurts!"

"Oh, shut up, you spoiled brat," He grumbled, continuing to fuck you brutally with his talented fingers. "I saw what you did with that little doctor last week," He chuckled. "Your blinds are never closed... anyone passing by could see you whoring yourself out to other men..."

"Jackson, please... I just... I just need a break..." You whispered, flinching every time he massaged your spongy walls. He slowed down his fingers just a bit, it was enough to give you some relief.

"Does your daddy know about what you did with that doctor?" Jackson chuckled. "Imagine when he finds out about that... and finds out about... what you did with me on the plane..." He was getting off on your tears of guilt. "What a shame..." He whispered. "Especially since this means he'll have to cancel the reservation at that restaurant where... I'm pretty sure I saw him out shopping... the same day you fucked your doctor... could he have possibly bought a ring?" Jackson laughed mischievously. It would sound like someone told a funny joke to anyone else but to you... it was bloodcurdling at the realization of what he was implying.

"N-No..." You whispered, clutching at his wrist to slow him down.

"Would you have married him, or are you too much of a whore to settle down?" You could tell there was a deeper meaning in that question. Obviously, he was still playing along with the character. But you realized he wanted to know if you were ready for him to propose.

"Of... of course, I would have... I want to spend my whole life with him..." You whispered. "I... I... he doesn't have to know about what happened between my doctor and I..."

"I'll keep my mouth shut," He smiled with a rosy blush on his cheeks... burning through his cold demeanor. He grabbed a hold of you and kissed you sloppily, tongues and spit clashing together. He made out with you as he picked up the speed, and he was probably playing a dangerous game here by reaching up and groping at your tits. But the plane was dead silent, and he was getting desperate.

"Oh fuck... oh fuck..." You whimpered as he ran soft circles over your shirt, perfectly teasing your hard nipples. "I'm... cumming...." You whispered, arching your back into his hands, and you heard the familiar sound of him clicking the button to turn the vibrator up. You quietly thrashed around as he milked you for all you had.

"That's it... make even more of a mess all over my fingers..." He cooed, watching you throw your head back with your vision going black. "Such a fucking slut..." He grunted as he pulled his sticky fingers out from your underwear and popped them in his mouth. You watched, still mewling and squirming around with pleasure as you came. He closed his eyes and groaned with satisfaction as he licked his fingers clean. "Open your mouth,"

Hesitantly, you opened your mouth, and he grabbed your jaw roughly and spat onto your tongue. You moaned at the taste.

"Swallow it, bitch," He barked quietly, turning off the vibrator and slipping it back into his pocket. You had no idea how he managed to get that thing through checkage, but right now, you were too fucked out to care. "That's it..." He sighed happily as you gulped his spit down.

"Jackson..." You whispered, chest rising rapidly. "Need a break..." Jackson scoffed. "You're not gettin' one, princess," He chuckled darkly in your ear. "Right now, you're gettin' up and going into that bathroom there..." He points to the first-class bathroom. "And in five minutes, I will follow in after you... and you're going to take my cock... like a good girl..."

You opened your mouth to protest but he looked away with a firm nod of his head. "Go on, Y/N, or I'll fuck you right here."

You hurriedly stood up on shaky legs, smoothing out your shorts, and tried your best to act casual as you made your way to the tiny stall at the end of the aisle. Jackson's eyes burnt holes in the back of your head. You glanced back at him momentarily to see him smirking at you devilishly.

The bathroom was small and tight, but it was enough to fit you in it {almost} comfortably. The following five minutes were long and torturous as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your once neatly combed hair was now messed up like you had just gotten out of bed. Anxiously and insensibly, you looked over yourself in the mirror, making sure you looked good and fuckable for your boyfriend. Two soft raps were heard in your stall.

"It's me," Jackson mumbled. "Let me in."

You quickly unlocked the door, and just as quickly as it opened, it was closed and locked. Jackson didn't say a word; he just grabbed you by the throat and pushed you up against the wall. Fuck, it was cramped in here with the two of you. He immediately latched himself onto your neck and you had to slap a hand over your mouth to stop you from crying as his hands worked to undoing your top and bra.

"Fucking hell, of course you've got perfect tits," Jackson groaned, lowering his mouth even more to pop your nipples into his mouth. Jackson's mean glare relaxed into shut eyes and furrowed brows of concentration. He moaned into your tits as he now slid down your shorts til you were just in your shorts and your blouse was wide open. "Whore..." He growled demeaningly as he was now face to face with your throbbing cunt. "Look how wet your panties are..." He whispered, tracing his fingers along your clothed slit. "This all for me?" He smirked as he pushed your panties to the side and kissed your clit.

"Oh... oh... god... J-Jackson..." You whined breathily, pushing your hands into his hair as he sucked on your clit like it was a cherry lollipop. His lips sucked harshly on your bud as his tongue slipped down and lapped your arousal up. His mouth was sinfully talented, and with the impending pleasure, you squeezed his head with your quivering thighs. "Fuck... you eat my pussy so good... fuck... oh..." You were giving it everything you had to not scream as he slipped two fingers into your juice-gushing cunt.

You were simply the sweetest of them all. Cillian grew high off of the way you tasted. It was like no other, truly incomparable to anything. None of the ripest and sweetest fruits could even begin to beat the taste of you. He'd happily die right here with your pussy in his mouth and the sound of your pretty sighs. Despite the deafening grip your thighs had on his skull, he was reveling in the way he was completely wrapped up in you. Like you were a spider luring in prey, and now you've caught it. But let's not forget who's in charge here... of course, it's Jackson. He's not eating pussy to get her off. He's eating pussy to get himself off. It doesn't matter if she screams or cries for him to stop. If that's what he wants, he'll drink her up like the essence of life for the rest of time. And oh, how good your fucked out pussy tasted. Jackson made you cum over and over again on his tongue until you were sobbing and trying to shove him away from you, but you were so fucking dizzy and still in the middle of cumming, so you had the strength of a twig.

"Pl-Please... Jackson..." You mewled, tugging on the roots of his hair to get him off of your pounding cunt. "It's too much... please... it's too much... fuck... stop... please!"

Tears were streaming down your face, and with your blurred vision, you looked down to see Jackson's newly opened ice-cold eyes staring straight up at you. You had seen that look from him a million times. You knew how much Cillian loved eating your pussy, and at this point, it wasn't even about being his character but enjoying the feeling of your heavenly sex in his mouth. The look in his eyes was identical to what a blood-drunk beast would look like as it devoured its unwilling and innocent victim. His pupils were blown wide, and his nostrils flared at the sight of your overstimulated tears. And this only made his cock that much harder.

"I'm serious, stop... please..." You whimpered, eyes falling in and out of focus. It truly felt like he was consuming you. "F-Fuck... you've had enough... please... Jacks... Jackson..." Your head falls back as you dissociate from reality. The confined space of being in this airplane bathroom with him wasn't helping with the overstimulation. Jackson had you cornered, as a predator would with its prey, and there truly was nowhere else for you to go from here.

"Alright..." He panted, lips smeared in cum and arousal as well as his own spit. "Time for me to fill you with my fucking babies."

"Just need a break... please... I need a break..." You wheezed, leaning against the wall for support. "Please... Jackson... I don't think I can handle it..."

"Oh, but that's not what your cute little pussy is saying... is it now?" He purred, spreading your folds open with two lazy fingers to peek at the sight of your dripping hole. "I'm fucking you whether you like it or not, princess... don't fucking deny me of what I'm so fucking entitled to..." He growled as he manhandled you into being in a more bent over position. You were completely helpless to him now. "If you even make a noise, I swear to god..." He huffed as he shoved your now discarded panties into your mouth to gag you. You let your head hang low with shame as you heard him undo his belt and zipper. "You're gonna enjoy this, I know you are," He whispered condescendingly into your ear, swiping a falling teardrop off of your cheek and licking it off of his thumb.

Your eyes squeezed shut as he poked at your entrance with the thick head of his cock, slowly teasing it in and out. Not enough to honestly give you anything, but just enough to rile you up. You pressed your ass back into his hips, and he willingly slipped in his cock. Despite how overstimulated you were just moments ago... your pussy changed its mind and decided it needed cock like your entire life depended on it.

"Look at that," He cooed as he slowly rutted his dick in and out of you. "I didn't think you'd fit so snugly around my cock. I thought you were gonna be a loose whore based on all the men you sleep with..." He said, and you mumbled through your cotton panties, but it barely made a sound. "Fuck... I see why he wants to marry you now..." Jackson hissed as he began truly pistoning his cock in and out of you. The wet noises were disgustingly loud, and anyone walking past could hear what was happening and immediately be suspicious. As well as the sound of his hips clapping with your ass as he fed you with his cock. Your mind was completely blank, like a loading screen almost the feeling of his dick was the only thing that mattered to you, your mind barely perceiving anything else.

The claustrophobia you felt before was non-existent, and it no longer was clear to you that you were literally in an airplane bathroom. You felt like you genuinely just were made to be fucked in the best way possible. Only by Cillian, of course... or well... uh... Jonathan... or Jackson...

"Excuse me?!" A knock from the outside pulled you out of your dumb whore state and made you look back at Jackson with a panicked expression. "How much longer are you gonna be in there? I really need to use this bathroom!"

"Too bad, wait for another one," Jackson grunted to the unwanted customer. "I'm gonna be a while."

"For fuck's sake..." The stranger grumbled before you heard the sound of them waddling away.

"You heard that?" Jackson growled in your ear, piercing your G-spot with every thrust of his hips. "I'm gonna take my sweet time with you, princess..." He moaned, hips trembling a bit at how good it felt to fuck you like this. The thrill of doing this was also an aphrodisiac to this situation, only fueling the fire. Of course, you'd done sneaky little things like this with Cillian before, but nothing this... outrageous... this risky. "How will your boyfriend feel about getting back to your hotel to find you full of another man's cum?" Jackson was groaning quietly. He was on the edge of bursting inside of her, but he wanted to hold on just a little longer. "He's not gonna be very happy, hmm?" He laughed at your tears, feeling the way you squeezed around him and told him you were starting another orgasm. And holding on to the edge was getting much harder for Jackson... with the way your cunt was absolutely trying to milk him for his cum.

"Mmmphhff!!" You moaned through your cotton gag, now soaked in your spit. Jackson laughed at the sounds you were making. He grabbed ahold of you by your hair while also keeping a steady grip on your lower back to keep you in place. He yanked on your hair like you were just a doll and looked at your big red eyes, sore from all the crying.

"Keep on cryin' like that, baby," He huffed, squinting his eyes on your orgasmic face. "Gonna spill my load into you cause of how fucking pretty you look when you cry..."

You cried in shame and embarrassment but also in pure pleasure that he was making you feel with his cock alone. You felt the hot spurts of cum begin to fill you up, and with that sensation alone, you felt yourself coming undone again. Jackson used you like a fleshlight, painting the inside of you white with his seed and getting off on how fucking pathetic you looked with tears smeared all over your face as well as your tits hanging out of your top. He looked away from your wet face to your coincidentally gushing pussy. He had never seen you so wet before, and his cock slid in and out of you like a waterslide. His cum was spilling out of you as his orgasm intensified at the beautiful sight of what his cock was doing to you.

"Shit," He hissed. His movements were sloppy, but it didn't matter to you because you had pretty much left this realm with how fucked-out you were. "Fuck, I need you to have my kids," He cried out, and you noticed that little bit of Irish slip out in his shaky voice. "Need to see ya pregnant... and fuck... fuckin' plump with my baby in ya... and... everyone will know who you fuckin' belong to..." Cillian whimpered, his hands now on both of your hips as he stilled himself completely. He shot the last squirts of cum deep into your womb.

He panted heavily as he remained inside of you. You both came down from your highs collectively. He slowly pulled out of you and that softness that lingered in the air immediately dissipated as he pushed you roughly down on your knees, face smushed against his wet cock.

"Lick me clean, slut," He commanded, hand placing your head firmly against his cock. "Want to see how good you are with your mouth."

You closed your eyes as you sucked off his cock. He was biting his lip to keep in the soft moans. His cock was still highly sensitive, but fuck... the feeling of you licking and sucking on him like he was a lollipop or some kind of sweet treat. He watched you with hooded eyes as you kissed down his clean shaft, now only coated in your saliva. Your lips wrapped around one of his balls, and swirled your tongue around them softly. He let out a loud gasp, growing properly hard again at the feeling of your mouth on his balls.

"Fuck... open your mouth... I'm gonna cum again... fucking hell..." Jackson grumbled, pushing you off of him and stroked his cock with his tip on your tongue. "I want you to swallow every last drop..."

"Yes... sir..." You nodded obediently, mouth watering, ready for the taste of his cum on your tongue.

With one last groan, he released his sperm into your waiting mouth. "Oh... fuck... princesss..." He sighed, cum spilling from your full mouth. As you tried to gulp it all down. His cock twitched a few more times before he stopped and pulled away, panting for air.

You licked your cum-covered lips and chin, smiling dopily like you were stoned. He tucked himself carefully back into his underwear and did his pants and belt back up, all while smirking at you.

"Jackson..." You whispered, melting to the floor after putting your underwear back on.

"Cillian, now, love," He whispered, crouching before you to help you back onto your feet. "You did so good for me... I'm so in love with ya..." He kissed along your face, holding you in his arms. "It's okay... baby girl, I'm right here," You buried your face in his neck and breathed heavily. You stood there while hugging until Cillian was fully dressed and stepped out. You waited it out in there for a little longer. You looked at yourself with red eyes and a dazed expression on your face. What had just happened to you, if anyone were to see you, was pretty clear. So as you slipped out of the bathroom, you didn't notice the two air hostesses watching you leave the bathroom that reeked of sex and cum now.

Cillian was sitting calmly, reading a book, and when he looked up at you, his eyes were full of love and also a look of concern.

"You alright, baby?" He hummed, stroking your hair affectionately. You nodded and pushed your face into his soft shirt, whining. "What is it? Did I hurt you too much?" He whispered with knitted eyebrows.

"N-No... daddy..." You whispered and he knew immediately what was wrong.

"Oh... baby," He hummed, quickly realizing you could push the armrest between you up, and he did just that, scooting closer to you and pulling your legs over his lap to cradle you more. "You sweet thing... you did so good for me," He praised lovingly, leaning down and kissing you softly. The position was a little suggestive to onlookers but not quite enough to necessarily get you in any trouble. "You're so fuckin' beautiful," He whispered with your spit drenching his lips, teeth, and chin. "Best girl... my best girl," He muttered before placing wet, sloppy kisses on the crowns of your forehead. "I love you..."

"I love you... Cill..." You smiled sleepily up at him, pussy mildly throbbing as you looked up at him. You just felt heavy with love and primal desire. It was hard to even focus on what you were saying or doing. Too preoccupied with taking in everything Cillian was doing. In a way, it was as if you were feeling everything he was feeling as if you had become one in mind and soul, both just existing, eternally connected and synced. It was symbiotic and so full of love. "You take such good care of me..."

Cillian laughed softly and kissed your face harder. "I could never care more about anything than you..." He hummed into your scalp. "You're my girl... you're... my world."

After those six words, nothing else really was comprehensive for you. You two cuddled up for the rest of the flight until you were made to buckle up for the touchdown. The long and treacherous journey of getting off an airplane into one of the busiest airports in the world was all a mind-numbing bore to you, and all your mind could really focus on was that Cillian was by your side with his hand resting on your lower back, guiding you through the maze-like hallways. In fact, you were in a trance at the way his arms looked carrying the heavy bags. You practically drooling with your lips parted, nearly wanting to take a bite from him. His arms drove you crazy, and the pure strength that he radiated from his body... that older, warm man.. sort of energy.

"C'mon, honey, this way, we're catchin' a car," He wrapped you up in one of his arms as he pushed along the trolley with your suitcases on it. "Don't wanna lose ya in New York City..." Cillian chuckled, and you just smiled up at him, silently looking around in amazement. "Still bein' quiet for me? Tha's okay, love, take your time..." He whispered sweetly.

You sat in the back of a black car, headed to a hotel on the city's other side. You sat in the middle, leaning on Cillian to rest as he looked down at you, the rising sun shining on his face angelically.

"Cillian..." You mumbled into his shoulder. "I'm cold."

"Yeah, baby, that's okay... you can hug me, c'mere... let me hold ya..."

This time, Cillian wrapped you up into his arms and ran his hands up and down your body. Checking into the lobby was long and tedious and dealing with Americans and other women ogling at Cillian made you want to puke your guts out. Like... stop looking at him like that. It was irritating the way they looked at you too, but at this point, you were too tired to care.

"Go on, baby... they've already sent our luggage to our room. I'll meet you there... Just gonna get us a snack..." He whispered in your ear as he was speaking to the receptionist. "It's okay..." He slid you one of the key cards to the room and patted you on the back. Hesitantly, you looked at him with a pout before walking to the elevator to find your room.

You were on one of the top floors of the tall building, and the hallways were long and white and blinding. It took you around another ten minutes to find your room. You sighed as you unlocked the door at the sound of a loud *BEEP* and waddled your way in; you let out a bloodcurdling scream at the sight of a man sitting on your bed with a sickening smile.

"Hello, darling," Jackson's cold voice chuckled in the dark. "I guess you weren't expecting me..." He laughed as he stood up from the bed. Your heart dropped, and part of you panicked... stupidly, you knew it was just Cillian continuing this little affair you were having. But part of you genuinely believed that it was Jackson, and you thought Cillian was downstairs, utterly unaware of this. He was so convincing.

"Wh-What...?" You murmured dumbly as he walked over to the door and locked it behind you.

"Oh darling, did you miss me?" His eyes in the dark were still eerily bright and unnerving, pupils blown wide as he looked at you like an owl in the night. "I bet your little pussy did," He said in faux sympathy, his hand cupping you through your shorts. You still hadn't fully recovered from what you two did just four hours ago, or however long it had been. "I can feel how hot you are for me..." Jackson spat. You were so entranced by what was happening that you didn't notice the complete outfit change. He was wearing a full suit. How would Cillian have time to beat you to your room and also get changed into a nice suit? But you didn't care. He was here, and that was all that mattered.

"Jack-Jackson... Cillian will be back... at any moment..." You whimpered as he pinned you against the wall and tugged your shorts down. "He'll... He'll hurt you... for touching me!" Jackson laughed wildly at your whimpering.

"Oh baby, I'd like to see him try," His laugh was sadistic and that of a villain's. "Think I'd... strap him to a chair and make him watch as I fuck you better than he ever could..." Jackson growled, pulling off his clothes. "Imagine how jealous he'd be... seein' me treat you like a whore, taking my cock so nicely... bet he'd never be able to look at you the same way again..."

"Jackson..." You said with tears in your eyes.

"Oh, you gonna cry more?" He snickered as he curled his fingers around your throat and pushed you down onto the bed. As quickly as you fell, he was on top of you, undoing his pants. "Fucking hell... thought about this tight pussy... gonna have to fill it with all of my cum..."

"Pl-Please... I'm still too sensitive..." You whispered and squeezed your eyes shut as he pulled your shorts down completely and ripped open your shirt. He was treating you like an inanimate object.

"Oh shut up, I know you fucking want me," He huffed. Your underwear was pushed to the side now, and the tip of his cock was pressing into your used hole. "Fuck..." Jackson groaned, shutting his eyes as your cunt squeezed around him like a vice.

"Please... I can't... I can't do anymore..." You cried, trying to push him off you, but it was no use. Your arms were like noodles at the moment. "Jackson..."

"Your pussy says otherwise," He laughed menacingly before slowly pulling back out with just his thick head in you. "You're so cute when you cry..." He snapped his hips back into you roughly, and you mewled as he brushed against your G-spot.

"Oh!" You cried. His hands groped at your tits as he began fucking you like some sort of inanimate sex doll. You couldn't deny the pleasure that was mixed in with the pain. It was all-consuming and truly debilitating. "Fuck..." Tears were slipping down your face as your body bounced with each thrust.

Jackson was fucking you like a feral animal, with absolutely no concern as to how you were feeling. Sweat was dripping down his neck, his pelvis slapping against your swollen clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your trembling body. God, it was shameful how good he fucked you. Cillian was really giving it his all to be this character.

"So fucking easy," He grunted. "You're such a fucking whore..." He growled. His American accent was spot on and eerily felt like someone else was talking and not Cillian.

"J-Jackson... you need to slow down... you're hurting me..." You whined as he pulled out of you and shoved you over onto your stomach before shoving his fat cock back in you. "O-Oh!" You choked out, reaching out your arms and gripping the bedsheets. "Slow... slow down... Jackson..." You whined, pressing your face into the sheets as you moaned pathetically.

"Shut the fuck up," He hissed, holding your plush hips in his hands as he rocked you back and forth on his cock. Jackson was loving the sight of your ass bouncing back and forth while he fucked you like a doll. The way he was fucking you was simply animalistic. Like he was the predator and you were the prey, he had found your weak spot, and he was now tearing you open, licking his teeth as he prepared you to eat. "Take my cock like a good girl would, bitch."

"Fuuuuuuck...." You cried out dizzily, mouth gaping wide as he tugged on your hair from behind. It was like a shot out of a porno, the sickening way his skin slapped against yours, or the way his hips were like literal pistons, drilling in and out of you. Meanwhile, the harsh grip on your hair was lulling you into a state of pure sex. You truly did not give a fuck what was happening, too distracted and in love with the fullness of his cock, fucking like all you were good for. "Jackson... Jackson.... please... fuck... please!" You weren't quite sure what you were trying to say. Your brain was no longer in coerce with your teeth and tongue and you were just spewing out broken sentences.

"What? You gonna cum?" He laughed sadistically. "That's right, cum on my dick, get it wet."

"Ernghhggghhg....." You drooled, moaning as he dropped your hair and quickly grabbed at your ass to fuck you further into your orgasm. Gee, you hoped the walls were thick with how loud you were being. With the slamming headboard and the way you were screaming for it, the surrounding hotel guests and people passing by in the hallways outside would surely hear every echo of it.

"So pretty when you're cockdrunk," Jackson grunted. "Bet your pretty boyfriend never fucks you like this... bet he's never got you seein' stars," His American accent made you squeeze. And in a way, he was right. You had never been so thoroughly spent as you were right now, and every nerve in your being was lit in some sort of rampageous flame and was endlessly burning in the pleasure. "Mmmm... I'm right... and you know it." He slapped your ass hard, having you seeing stars hanging around the room.

"J-Jaaaaccck...." You whined, pussy clenching down on his cock.

"Fuck..." He hissed disapprovingly. "Don't fuckin' do that, bitch... I'm not cumming in you yet."

"Please..." You whined. "Please, I need you... daddy... please..."

At this point, you were too dumb to realize it truly wasn't Cillian who was fucking you. You'd never call another man daddy if it weren't Cillian, no matter how in love or obsessed you were with that person, no man could ever be your daddy the way Cillian is. There was something fundamentally twisted inside of you that you didn't realize or immediately recognize the fact that this cock wasn't uncut and was a different shape. But anyway... on with the story...

"Aw... daddy?" He cooed mockingly. "You need your daddy?" Jackson cackled, gripping your hips in a painfully hard way, enough to leave hand-shaped bruises. "That's right, I'll cum in you... you can make me a daddy..." He smirked. "You're gonna take all that cum I give you and make us a fuckin' baby."

"Fuck... whatever you want..." You sighed, still delirious on pleasure. "Please... just want you to cum in me... please..."

Jackson chuffed cheekily and continued using you like some sort of cum-dump. "You're gonna do good in being full of my cum... I think you'll be able to handle it."

You nodded helplessly; your ass and your hips were throbbing with the way he was holding you. A never-ending give-and-take pushing you over the edge over and over again. It was a miracle when he finally came, groaning and moaning.

"Fuck, take it, milk my fucking cock," Jackson moaned loudly, throwing his head back and his hair splayed out on his face. His cum was thick and strong, hitting you like some sort of shotgun. You moaned with each spurt, gasping for air with how much arousal you were spilling from your used cunt.

"Oh... fuck..." You whispered, biting into your arm. "So good... so good... daddy..." He groaned as he pulled out of you and pushed you down onto the bed carelessly, not even bothering to watch how his load slowly leaked from your pussy or even to watch you finger it back in cherishingly.

"Wh-Where are you going, Cillian?" You asked softly, looking back up to meet him in the eyes. A chill went down your spine at the sight of his slightly longer hair and lighter-colored roots; he stared at you with the face of a thirty-year-old man, not a forty-year-old one. You were so confused and still so out of it.

Jackson just laughed and pulled his pants back on, grabbing his things before waving goodbye as he walked out of the room. What the fuck just happened? Cillian was doing a convincing job at how he was playing this Jackson character. You wondered how long he would be gone for. You needed comforting. You tucked yourself into bed with shaky legs and tears because Cillian wasn't there. You really needed him to hold you and to hear his voice.

Eventually, after about a dozen tears were shed, the door cracked open, and Cillian came with two small plates of cake for you to eat. "Oh baby, was I gone that long?" Cillian whispered, setting the plates down neatly on the bedside table. "I'm so sorry, my sweet girl," He whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed and kissing you on the forehead. He seemed... so... not sweaty... and different. You stayed quiet and just nodded sadly as he pulled away and quickly got changed.

He crawled into bed with you, pulling the covers up, and quickly wrapped you up in his arms. "Daddy..." You whispered.

"Mmm?" He hummed while brushing your hair with his fingers.

"You were really rough with me... just then..." "What?" He asked with a confused tone. "What do you mean? I'm so sorry... did I sit on your hand or something?" "N-No... I'm talking about when... you were just in here... doing Jackson..."

"What do you mean?" He sat you up now. You two were sitting in each other's arms and staring at each other. His eyebrows were knitted as if he didn't recall what just happened. "I did pretend to be Jackson... on the plane? Yes?" He nodded, trying to see where you were going with this.

"No... I'm not talkin' bout the plane, silly..." You shook your head, laughing softly. "Just now... in the room... when you... you know... from behind..." You bit your lip, looking down at the sheets that were covering your bare legs entangled with Cillian's.

"I haven't been in here for..." Cillian hummed while checking his watch for the time. "Twenty minutes or so?" He looked back up at you, blue eyes flashing even more confusion. "Did you fall asleep and have a wet dream about daddy?" Cillian teased, leaning in and nuzzling your cheek while giggling.

"N-No! It was real... what do you mean?" You asked, now slightly offended that Cillian was trying to trick you. But part of you was putting the pieces together in your head, even if they didn't make sense. "Cillian... I've still got your cum... dripping out of me..."

"That must've been from earlier," Cillian sighed as he laid you back down, still in a laughing fit. "You're so cute... baby... can't believe you dream about me..." Cillian laughed, not noticing your silence. He looked up at the ceiling with a big grin on his face while you just pressed your face to his chest in hopes of it calming you down. Your eyebrows were furrowed deeply, and your mouth held a heavy frown. "Do you dream about me often?"

"Yes... but this wasn't a dream... Cillian... why are you trying to make that up? I'm being serious..."

"Love, I haven't been in here this whole time..." Cillian said a bit more seriously. He ran his thumb along your cheek lovingly. "You must've just fallen asleep... and had a little sexy dream about 'ye old Jackson Rippner."

"Yeah..."

"I know how sleepy you can get," Cillian whispered before pecking you softly. He talked against your lips, and for a brief moment, as if a screen were flashing, you saw Neil Lewis talking to you hotly against your lips, his breath and yours connected. He had you pinned on the couch. It was straight out of that scene with Violet and Neil on his couch. But as quickly as it came, it left. "We did travel quite a lot."

"Yeah..." You whispered, still taken aback by your vision. "Erm... let's just go to sleep... Cillian... I'm really tired..."

"Okay... yer not upset by me are ya?" He asked softly as you laid down and got into your usual spooning position. You faced away from him with that look on your face.

"No, baby, I'm just tired..." You whispered with red eyes. "Please just hold me... I love you so much..."

"I love you too, darling..." Cillian hummed, kissing along your shoulders. "Goodnight, my love, sweet dreams."

"Goodnight..." You murmured back absentmindedly.

Eventually, Cillian was snoring softly behind you, and though you felt sleepy, you just lay there and stared at the glowing clock face. You truly felt like you were going crazy. Why would Cillian lie to you and say that that was just a dream? You glanced down at your hips, which now held faint purple bruise-like indents from where Cillian had held you so hard. That did happen, right? You didn't dream that. Your dreams are never that vivid... or realistic.

Or maybe you were that tired? You have been traveling a lot. It was literally impossible for a movie character to come to life and fuck you. Right? You're just tired and confused, that's all. It was a dream. You convinced yourself.

Just a dream.

Just a...

Harmless...

Little...

Dream...

You repeated in your head as you let yourself fall asleep.

Was it?

-

EHEHEHEH ENJOY <3 I CAN'T WAIT TO RELEASE THE THIRD PART YAYAYAAYAYY!!!

(there will be a part 3 and it'll be the last part)

[cyberluvzu]

TICCI TOBY DATING HEADCANONS

Ticci toby x reader

Hello people, I haven't written in years but I have some spare time and have been DROOLING over Toby lately so I thought that I could do this.

(please go easy on me I literally haven't wrote anything like this in 2 years)

- COMPLETE LOSERRRR

- Absolutely no dating experience at all

- You're his first everything

- And because you're his first everything, he gets incredibly nervous when it comes to doing new romantic things ( especially something physical)

- He wants to do all the cute couple things with you but he's scared that he's gonna end up scaring you off or making you uncomfortable

- At the beginning of the relationship he would probably be so awkward

- You'd go to hug him and he'd just stand there like🧍

- Don't get me wrong he appreciates the affection, he just doesn't know how to respond because he hasn't had a good relationship with physical touch

- After a couple of months he would slowly start to be more open to physical affection and being more romantic

- Just give the man some time

- When you get to the point of being completely comfortable with eachother he goes CRAZY BRO

- When he does get comfortable he is constantly on your ass

- He comes back from missions and immediately wants to go to sleep with you in his arms

- Bro doesn't even care if he's all bloody, he WILL have you

- You will have to pry him off of you and get him in the shower, or at least change his clothes

- After you get him to clean up he is all over you

- Holds you so close and just knocks the fuck out

- I also like to think that he'll bring you little knick knacks when he goes out

- Flowers, cool rocks, maybe a couple of things he got stole when he was in town!

- He's kinda like a crow

- In the sense of, if he likes you, you're gonna get some stuff

- He likes going on walks with you, it's nice just being alone with you, away from his life

- Is somewhat totally obsessed with you

- When he's not with you he is always thinking of you

- On his mind 24/7

- Totally infatuated with you, loves you completely.

- Has an irrational fear that he might lose you and doesn't want you to ever leave him, because you're the best thing that's happened to him

- Gets jealous, but not in the aggressive way, at least not with you

- Might go kill that person that was hitting on you, but you don't need to know that!

- Will absolutely be passive aggressive with you though

- Says little things to let you know that he's still upset at you

- He just worries he'll lose you to someone else

- Someone give bro a hug already

- Speaking of that, he absolutely adores your hugs, wants to stay in your arms forever

- He likes hugging you from behind

- He also really likes to silently creep up behind you and scare the shit out of you, but ends up giving you a hug to make up for it

- He just loves you

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

GUYS IM BEGGING ON MY HANDS AND KNEES FOR Y'ALL TO REQUEST 😭🙏

I'm literally so in the mood for writing about silly little characters now, I have so so many more headcanons for Toby and all of the other pastas, but I'm gonna post this because I've delayed doing it for a while because I'm irrationally nervous 😭

[11queensupreme11]

Yes, I am making a reaction fic....... eventually lol

i know it says i started this back in 2023, but all i really did was make a cover. i didn't start making any chapters until a few months ago hehe

BUT ANYWAYS YES YOU READ THAT RIGHT! i am making a reaction/reading the books/watching the movies fic for arsenic blues!!!! in this case, it will be ror reacting to pjo

for anyone interested to learn more, go under the cut!

(this started off as me just giving you some info about cerulean cyanide, but then i ended up ranting about how much i loved the pjo tv show lol, soooo if you haven't watched it, don't go down)

first off, THIS IS MY FIRST TIME MAKING A REACTION FIC! i've read a lot of them, but i have no experience in actually making one. i'm kinda nervous ngl 😅

secondly, i've already started... somewhat. i've copied all chapters of the lightning thief into a google doc and made necessary edits, but i haven't written any reactions... YET. i want to include the ror gods AND humans as members of the audience, and since i haven't written about the ror humans as thoroughly yet, i won't be writing the reactions until i get to act 2 of arsenic blues, since that's when the ror humans are introduced. this is important for me because i don't have their characterizations down yet, and won't until i actually start writing about them and their dynamics with percy. same goes with cú chulainn, he's a literal love interest, but won't get introduced until act 2!

thirdly, because of what i said up there ^ cerulean cyanide won't be published until act 2 is finished to avoid spoiling what happens during ragnarok and the god's apocalypse.

fourthly, IT WILL BE INTERMIXED WITH THE TV SHOW!!! i fucking LOVED the show and (most of) the changes that were made, so i'm totally going to add them into percy's past that the ror characters will be reacting to.

so what elements of the show should you expect to see? glad you asked!

POSEIDON 💙

poseidon in the books is great, but i loooooove the new stuff they put in the tv show. in the books, we're mostly told that poseidon loves percy and there are times where it's shown, but it's kinda hard to pick up since the books are written in PERCY'S POV, and since poseidon is literally restricted from interacting with him, it's hard to notice how much he actually loves his son when he's not even allowed to be AROUND the dude who's perspective takes up the whole series.

but in the tv show, it's not just percy's perspective that's explored! that little moment poseidon had with sally told us SOOOO MUCH about how he actually felt for the both of them. and when he and percy finally met??? THE ANGST AND LONGING THEY BOTH SHOWED UHDFSIGVSVGD I LOVED IT SO MUCH

AND THE FACT THAT HE NOT ONLY SAVED PERCY FROM ZEUS BUT ALSO SURRENDERED??? HE GAVE UP HIS PRIDE AND PRIDE IS SUCH A HUGE AND IMPORTANT THING FOR GODS BUT HE GAVE IT UP WITH NO HESITATION AHHHHHHH 😭

so yes, expect to see a lot of the poseidon scenes from the tv show

HERMES BEING AT THE LOTUS CASINO

i actually really like the fact that hermes was shown in here instead of the next season. some people were confused as to what the point was for having him in the casino and why he tricked the kids into staying at the casino longer, but i found this post on tumblr that explains why he could've been there:

in the last olympian, we (and percy) find out that hermes knew all along what luke's fate would be; that he would rebel against the olympians, bring forth kronos, become his host, etc. he knew ALL OF THAT. but he was never allowed to tell him (ancient laws), so he tried to CHANGE luke's fate in order to save him even though he knew it was pointless.

we get a bit of that in the tv show. hermes was there because he wanted to change luke's fate. he tricked the kids into staying at the casino longer so they would pass the deadline. war would come, and luke would get away with his thievery and nobody would know it was him because they're all too busy trying to kill each other. but ofc, like always, it didn't work because you can never change fate.

i love how the show showed us that hermes was trying to change his fate in the first season whereas in the books, it only started in the second book where he was introduced for the first time.

THE GODS' CRUELTY AND THEIR LOVE

the gods' cruelty and apathy was much more obvious in the show's first season compared to the first book. in the first book, most of the gods shown were jerks at best but the tv show really showed us how horrible of a family they are (most of them at least) to each other and their kids

like what show!ares said, his family loves to stab each other in the back, they love to hurt each other to get a higher leg up; they're not really a family. the audience and percy becomes VERY aware of that unlike in the books where it's more sugar-coated at the start.

we're shown very early on that they're not good people, but at the same time, we're shown that some of them DO care.

hephaestus was abused and mistreated by his family, but he refuses to be like them which is why he released percy from his trap; because he realizes that he and annabeth are good kids (ending the cycle). hermes loves his son and desperately wants to change his fate despite being told over and over again that its pointless. poseidon loves percy and wishes to be a proper family with him and sally, but isn't allowed to.

there are some good gods out there, which is why percy decided to stand by them instead of taking luke's offer to bring it all down. he's been shown that some gods ARE good. unlike in the first book where you don't really meet any decent gods, so book!percy honestly didn't have much of a reason to defend them, yet he did anyway when luke left camp. the show gave him (and us) a better reason to actually defend them

in the show, he's exposed to the god's cruelty, but he sees that it's not as black and white as he once thought "oh all the gods are bad and none of them care for their kids >:(", he sees the good in some of them and it's enough to make him want to save them instead of letting them crash and burn (like luke, who's blinded by his anger and hatred *cough cough* fatal flaw!!!! *cough cough*).

LUKE AND PERCY'S RELATIONSHIP

SHOW!LUKE WAS SO MUCH BETTER THAN BOOK!LUKE IMO.

book!luke was trying to kill percy very early on and was pretty much pretending to be his friend the whole time. yes his intentions and character get fleshed out as the books go on, but his relationship with percy... didn't offer much.

then there's show!luke who genuinely liked him and wanted to recruit him rather than kill him (that's why there's no scorpion scene). his betrayal was more personal and painful for percy. the fact that annabeth was there to watch it all happen was even better (not for her though LOL).

(and dont even get me started on how show!luke didn't hate grover like in the books. the genuine fear in his eyes when he found out that percy gave the shoes to him and the way his eyes got all misty??? he fully blames thalia's "death" on him and him only THE ANGUISH WAS SO 😭😭😭)

AND I THINK THAT MIGHT BE ALL?

so yes, these are some of the changes you should expect to see!

i wanna really contrast how different things are between the ror and pjo verse. ror gods are very close and tight-knit whereas the pjo gods are... well, "a mess" as percy so eloquently put it.

ror gods aren't forced under the tyrannical rule of zeus, their zeus is chill and just wants to have fun. they have no restrictions to follow and their divine laws aren't as oppressive

whereas pjo gods are under the tyrant rule of zeus and can't even interact with their kids.

ror gods are independent while pjo gods have to rely on the preservation of western civilization to stay alive and use demigods to break rules, etc etc.

pjo gods (some, at least) are kinder and have no issues falling in love with humans and loving their demigod children while ror gods are cruel assholes who commit genocide against humanity despite being the ones to create them

and etc etc.

ANYWAY, I HOPE YOU GUYS ARE AS HYPED UP AS I AM!!!! 🥳🥳🥳 can't wait to start writing reactions for the first time ever 🫨

[crownmemes]

Advice; Everyone Should Be Making the First Move

There's been a trend within the rpc here for years now where nobody is willing to make the first move. The problem with this is that if nobody ever makes the first move, then nobody is ever going to write anything. Considering that, everybody should be making an effort to be the first one to reach out to their writing partners more often.

Examples of making the first move:

Sending an IM to say hi, then suggesting a plot

Sending a meme to start a new thread

Responding to starter calls and open starters

All of this is just as valid for old partners as it is for new. If you haven't written with someone in a while, maybe it's time to reach out to start a new thread?

The most common reason I see for people not making the first move is social anxiety. I'm going to give you all a bit of tough love here: speaking as somebody who once had crippling social anxiety (and still does in irl settings), the best way to overcome it is to push yourself to try the things that make you anxious.

Communicating with people is a really important part of rp because it's not a solo hobby, therefore you are going to have to talk to people at some point. It's unavoidable. Here are a few reminders to help you feel a little less nervous:

If somebody follows back, they're doing it because they're interested in writing with you. They are not going to be upset if you send them an IM with plot ideas

Most people are friendly! In 12 years of rping on this site, I can count on one hand the number of people who I've talked to that were actively rude to me

It's okay if someone says no to you! People have different styles and not all of them will work together. If someone says no, say thank you for the consideration, then move on. There are more people to write with out there

If somebody is nasty to you, you can block them. Don't be afraid to do this; you don't have to explain yourself, and you wouldn't want to write with someone who's rude to you anyway

If you're not sure what to say, I usually go with a version of "Hello! Thank you for following/following back! I've looked through your rules and about pages. Would you be interested in plotting something for X and my character, Y? I have an idea already, if you would like to hear?"

Don't just say "Hi!". Cut to the chase and tell them why you're messaging so they immediately know what the conversation is about

Reasons why it's good to message first:

You look actively interested in writing. This is a huge boost in your favour when it comes to asking to write with someone

It makes it a lot easier to get new interactions

It makes you appear more active

If you're a new blog, you won't have a lot of examples of your writing on your blog yet. People will be more willing to give you a chance if you approach them first

If you don't message first, you are likely to be waiting a long time before somebody messages you

It's easier to make friends if you have an active conversation!

Some other thoughts on messaging first:

You have followed the person because you are interested in writing with them. Think about why you are interested, and suggest this as a plot idea

Make sure you read through the rules still. It's very obvious when you haven't. Also, look through the muses on offer so you can suggest which you'd like to write with

If the rules say they're not mutuals only, or that you're welcome to IM to introduce yourself if you want to plot, don't be afraid to message. They wouldn't have put that in their rules if they didn't mean it

If someone is reblogging memes, it's because they want to write responses to them. Send them in! If they didn't want them sent in, they wouldn't have reblogged the meme

IMing to plot is often a better idea than liking a starter call or sending memes if you have never interacted with the person before. It gives you a chance to work out what kind of thread would work well before you start something, so the resulting thread has a lower chance of fizzling out quickly

However, all that being said, it's not just up to the person messaging first to make all the effort. If the receiver doesn't put any effort in in return, then the person making the first move is going to think they aren't interested. Eventually, they may give up messaging people at all, because what's the point if it never goes anywhere? Some tips for not seeming uninterested:

If someone IMs you, try to reply to them in a timely fashion. Especially try to reply to them if they sent you a plot idea. You don't have to agree to do the idea - it's just very annoying to be ghosted the second you actually start plotting

Suggest your own plot ideas in return, or build on the idea that the other person has given you

If you agree to write a starter, or one is written for you, follow through with it. Write the starter, reply to the thread. If it's going to take a while, let your writing partner know that you've seen it but you're going to be slow for a while

Similarly, if you post memes, reply to the ones people send you. If you never reply, people will pick up on this and eventually stop sending you things

If you go on hiatus, message your writing partners directly when you get back to let them know you'd like to write again. This will demonstrate that you really are active and ready to write again

[gyaruhana]

Hai since you aren't taking actual fic requests right now and only headcanons I wanted to ask if you also do those rankings? If you haven't seen basically people ask a question like 'who would be the biggest gentleman in a relationship' and the person who asks either gives a few characters for the writer to rank and write a few sentences or let the writer choose which characters they think fit best

But yeah I've basically have been seeing this a lot recently and had to think of you and your blog because I think I'd be something nice and short to write when you don't wanna do hc's/fic's and could help with potential writers block !

And if you plan on doing that then here would be your first ranking request !! :3

So out of Thanos, gwi-nam and niragi who would be the most freaky and rough in bed?

(btw I know this is long and I hope this wasn't a bother to you, I just ramble a lot about things I'm interested in and I just love your blog and everything you've written so far and I hope you continue <33)

im in love with this ranking system thingy uhm oh em gee ?!?!?!?!

i will absolutely be ranking now it's such a cute concept😭😭

below is my personal ranking.. (also thank you for liking my writing it always makes me so nervous when people compliment me..)

No.3: Choi Su-Bong/Thanos (Squid Game)

Thanos is rough, yes. He likes choking you, he likes making you cry - not to mention he really enjoys edging you for as long as possible to watch your face contort in slight pain as you beg him to let you cum.

However, I'd argue he's not entirely the type to force you into anything if it makes you super uncomfortable. The only exception for this is when he's high and not really mentally present but most of the time he doesn't push you too far over the limit.

Of course, don't mistake this for me saying he's not rough! He totally is. But, compared to the others I'm ranking, he's def less extreme..

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No.2: Yoon Gwi-Nam (All Of Us Are Dead)

This is pretty self-explanatory.. we've seen plenty of scenes with him and he does NOT play.

Again, he also likes seeing you cry and choking you and blah blah blah but he's more freaky than Thanos which is why he's number two on my ranking.

He's ONLY degrading. There's nothing nice about this man. Maybe he would've pretended to be a little nice but he drops all that when he's fucking you honestly.

However, he's still only no.2 because while, yes, he isn't above being violent toward you and man handling you - he's not quite as bad as who i put as no.1

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No.1: Suguru Niragi (Alice In Borderland)

No.1 for a reason.

He's the roughest and the freakiest best believe it !! He really doesn't bother playing nice whatsoever. If he sees you and he likes you, he'll just claim you without a care in the world.

Just really kinky in my opinion!!

prolly into gun play, knife play - anything incredibly violent sorry not sorry. I mean.. we all know the typa guy he is so..

i'd argue he views you ENTIRELY as a doll for his pleasure. Not anything more honestly.

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CONCLUSION: First time ranking and I may have made it a little fancy set up bc i got excited at this concept..

But, yes - Niragi is No.1 on this list. I feel like he's just a real kinky and rough asshole. Although, I do totally see Gwinam being similar to Niragi in the future when he reaches PEAK dickhead-ness.

My king Thanos is only No.3 bc he's not totally mean at heart i feel.. he's just really rough when he's high but I don't think he'd be the same level of rough as Gwinam and Niragi.

anyway, hope my ranking was good !!

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(thank you sm for this idea i need more holy moly..)