Rereading My Own Writing Is Just A Constant Fluctuation Between "damn, Girl, You Wrote This? (affectionate)"

everyone pay attention to my already done fic it’s all your getting today also send brett requests pls thanks

Scenarios/headcanons about how Brett Hand feels safe with her!

-🌌

Stay With Me, I Don’t Want You to Leave ⭑.ᐟ

a/n — Sometimes I don’t proofread my fics because the thought of reading my own writing back makes me want to die! WHY’S IT ALWAYS SOUND SO BAD??

warnings — Just fluff, like one sex joke, gender neutral reader, hurt/comfort.

summary — Scenarios/headcanons about how Brett Hand feels safe with you

⭑.ᐟ Brett is already desperate for everyone else’s validation, so this would definitely be enhanced with his significant other.

⭑.ᐟ He would live to please you, so you need to be able to keep it real with him. Ground him, while still showing him love.

⭑.ᐟ He has so much crippling self doubt, daily affirmations from you would be very helpful.

⭑.ᐟ Telling him how cute he looks while you straighten his tie in the morning, and at the end of the day always finding something to compliment him about.

“I think you handled that situation earlier really well, by the way,” You looked out the car window. Brett seemed especially anxious, judging from the natural frown on his face and his deadly grip on the steering wheel. “Really?” He asked.

“Yeah, I never know what to do when Reagan looses one of her science-y tools. Girls already uptight, but when she can’t get her work done. Woof—” Your tone was light, he always felt more comfortable that way.

He smiled, looking up, “Yeah, she really hates inconveniences. That’s why I always carry an extra crowbar on my person — it is very uncomfortable under a suit jacket!”

“Well, that’s really considerate, baby.” His grip finally loosened, shoulders resting. “Thanks,” his smile was soft.

⭑.ᐟ You giving your full attention to him any time would also make him feel very safe and loved.

⭑.ᐟ People obviously acknowledge him, but when your attention is payed in full it makes him feel so appreciated. (Also given his childhood).

⭑.ᐟ Having an understanding of his body language is also very important, because if he’s upset chances are we won’t tell because he doesn’t wanna ruin your mood.

⭑.ᐟ So if his acting off, take his hand in yours, caress his knuckles, and subtly ask about what would help.

Ex. “Do you need anything?” “We don’t have to do anything later. I think there’s a Friends marathon on later, how’s that sound?”

Watch him kinda loosen up and look at you with such appreciation. “Yeah, yeah. That sounds good,” he’s almost sigh with relief.

⭑.ᐟ He doesn’t feel like anything is expected of him in your relationship, he can just exist and be himself without having to put on a show.

( I could see him talking to Reagan about you, “They actually like watching old 80s movies with me— Have you ever met anyone willing to sit through a Van Dam movie? I only know two people: me and them! MAN, those movies suck.

“And the sex - its great! For like 15 years, I thought my only kink was fufilling other peoples kinks, turns out there’s SO much more to me, Reagan!” )

⭑.ᐟ Brett really feels seen around you, like you actually make him feel cared about. And that is such a big part in his feeling safe with you.

a/n — btw, Reagan fic coming hopefully tonight. After that I wanna do something with Gigi, peg Brett, and then probably a Stanley Pines fic?

Hazbin Hotel characters on Valentine’s day

Lucifer would go all out and probably too far. He would literally be showering you in gifts left and right and never taking his attention off you all day. You need a back massage? He’s on it. You’re hungry? He’ll bake brownies. When you tell him that this isn’t the point of Valentine’s day and you reciprocate some of the attention, he feels super guilty. But you shower him in gifts just the same to make sure he feels special and loved, which he does. In fact he probably cries. Still, he would definitely get you flowers but like EVERY flower he can think of. You won’t be able to walk through your house. Date night for sure, and it would be insanely expensive and pretentious. Only the best for you though. Although sex would be a bonus at the end, it’s not really on his mind, as he is more focused on the romance aspect.

Velvette would be definitely less giving than Lucifer. In fact, she’s expecting you to do all of that and more. Absolutely overjoyed when you get her flowers, fancy jewelry, or breakfast in bed. She is going to expect these gifts periodically throughout the day, actually. However, I do think she would get you something. Maybe she would make a custom shirt or outfit for you, or post a very long appreciation post with very flattering photos. Although it’s not as much your gifts, it’s her way of showing she cares! Make sure to cuddle with her all day though. Better yet, just don’t leave her side. Actually, just don’t stop touching her period. No matter where she goes, keep your hand on her waist or back at all times. It’s valentine’s day so of course everyone should know that you’re hers.

Vox isn’t super big on Valentine’s day, so no crazy gestures are to be expected. He will however send you losts of roses, curtesy of voxtech drones, thank you very much. If anything, I can see him sending a lot of voxtech gifts in general, a new phone, new headphones, etc etc. Now, when he gets off work I could see a small slow dancing session as he is from the 50s so that’s probably peak romance for him. I do think he is expecting something in return though. Not necessarily flowers or new tech gear, although those would be very nice. Maybe like his favorite chocolates or something because let’s be real, he needs to be romanced properly. Now, unlike Lucifer, he probably is expecting sex. He would treat you very well up until that point, however. After a couple rounds I think he’d probably just light a couple candles and snuggle into you to watch some TV or something relaxing like that. Preferably with a glass of wine.

Vox x Reader SMUT where reader has some animalistic features and tendencies which meaaaaannnsss… it just happens to be a time where she’s in heat and riding Vox while he’s begging to have a break bc it’s been going on for several days at that point and poor baby just needs to recharge 🥺

Sorry if it’s too much 😭 head canons, oneshot, both idk but thank you for the Hazbin Hotel content regardless!

a/n — Wow this really reminds me of my old (cringey) hazbin hotel character who was like part lion? i haven’t seen her in years but i did lowkey ship her with vox so this was kinda funny of a request receive!

Also i’m not quite sure how to write a character ‘in heat’ and I did this in a rush. However, I do wanna post it tonight so… edits will be made tomorrow

Help, i’m rambling here’s the fic, even though it’s short.

“P—zzz—lease wait!” Vox pleaded from beneath you. “Fuck—bzz— please stop just wait—“

You didn’t even acknowledge his pleas as you milked his cock for all it was worth. You didn’t process what he was even asking, just that he had something you wanted. 

“Oh—nngh— oh god,” Vox moaned and buffered. You had been riding him like this for what felt like days, not even letting up once after he came.

It was insanely hot but incredibly tiring. Vox felt like if you kept going like this for much longer, he would blue screen. 

Unfortunately for him, you didn’t look like you were slowing anytime soon.

“Mm, so much—bzzz— it’s too much,” Vox whined loudly. He felt like he was loosing the ability to breathe, even though he wasn’t. 

The only responses you had been letting out were animalistic growls and yet, he still liked a thousand times more wrecked than you.

He could barely think, his brain fuzzy with your relentless attention. Every now and then a spurt of electricity would shoot from his dick and he’d be sure the shock would slow you down. 

Alas, it only made you ride him harder. He sobbed pathetically on the bed, exhausted and ready for a break, but both you and his dick disagreed.

“Please— tsk tsk— please stop,” He pleaded, earning a half audible growl from the back of your throat. 

“Slo—ooo—ow down—“ He cried, buffering and moaning. He felt his dick twitch at your indifference. 

He sniffled loudly, as if he even had been crying for a long time, and then, with nothing left to do, whimpered pathetically.

Finally, your growls and snarls built up into a final, almost dry orgasm on his cock.

With that, you went still, breathing heavily, pupils shrinking back to their normal size. You looked as if you were snapping out of a trance.

When you slid off his dick he whined at the emptiness. You leaned over and kissed his screen lovingly.

“C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

a/n — i’m not very proud of this tbh, it’s not proofread but I hope you guys like it!

Reblog for sample size and also tell me why in the tags. I want violence. I want discourse. I want bloodshed

ooofff or actually stanford smut

fluff requests? 😁

SPSPSPSOSPOSO SO CUTE 😭💗 OH MY GOD your art is actually so satisfying to look at HELLO!! Also you totally nailed Bill with the weird cat thing, I fear that’s all he really is terrifying godlike power aside Oh and the quotes are so Bill, as well. Fantastic job, this is all ADORABLE!!!!!

|| ⚠️👁️❝ 𝙷𝚎'𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚌, 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝-! ❞

Specially dedicated to :

|| @bigfatbimbo @ihavetoomanyfictionalcrushes

[[Their work is so silly!!]]

❝𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐 𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚞𝚗 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚌 𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛 itself. ❞

━ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆 𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄/𝐇𝐈𝐌 ᵎᵎ

THIS IS SOOO SWEETTT 😭💕💕

i’ll be honest i still fan girl over my own mutuals

@hazbinhotelmollykisser (aka that one Molly anon aka me)

YIPPIE! Glad to know you didn't like didn't or smth :) hope your doing well!!!

OMG YOUR BACK!!!!!! THE WAY IM OVERJOYED WHEN MY OLD ANONS FIND MY NEW BLOG.

Thanks babes!! I hope to see you in my inbox <3

So basically

Bill Cipher in a nutshell is just

OOOOUHHHH GIRLLLL DON’T PLAYYY… this is MY typa shit.

Thoughts on milking Shadow Milk through his ass instead of riding him?

GET THE STRAP! GET THE STRAP

His reaction? At first, it’s pure mockery. His usual cocky, dramatic self—grinning wide, tossing his jester hat aside, pacing in a slow circle around you like you’ve just brought him a toy. "Ohhh~? What’s this, sweetheart? Planning on topping me tonight?"

He laughs—low, sharp, confident. But there’s a waver to it. Because even as he’s teasing, his eyes keep darting to the strap. The size. The intention. The fact that you’re serious.

Smut incoming/ MDNI

So now he’s already lying there, dramatic as ever—head tilted back against the pillows, legs lazily parted, chest rising and falling with slow, expectant breaths, and his lips curve into that familiar sharp grin. "Oh? So now you’re going to worship me first? I knew you couldn’t resist." He’s cocky. Smirking. Mocking you even as your fingers slide between his legs.

But the moment you touch him—properly, with care, with purpose—his voice catches. Just a little. His lashes flutter. And that grin? It wavers. "Nnghh… I— I was only teasing, you know—" You feel him tense under you. You press in deeper. Stroke over that tight ring of muscle, slow and teasing, coated in slick lube or your own spit—anything to make the glide smooth, comforting, perfect. He gasps. Bites his lip. His hips twitch against your hand. And now he’s trying to pretend he’s not into it."Y-you’re… hah… really taking your time, aren’t you? How generous of you—nnnghh—tch…" He’s a mess. Clenching around your fingers, squirming under your hand. "more—give me another one…" Trying to mask the way his hips are starting to roll down against your hand, seeking more. And that’s when you stop.You curl your finger just right, hit that sweet spot one more time, and then—Pull out.

Not roughly. Delicately. Teasingly. Cruelly slow.

"Ah ah—You think you can tell me what you want?" He’s trying to save face—just barely. His lips twitch in a half-smile, something strained and shaky. He wants to pretend he's still in control. "Aha… you’re being rather stern, aren’t you? I only meant to suggest—" Your grip closes around him. Firm. Tight. Your hand closes around his cock in warning. Enough to make him jerk, breath catching in his throat. His eyes go wide—lashes fluttering—his voice cutting off with a strangled, high-pitched breath. "Hh—!" You lean in close, breath ghosting over his cheek, your tone low and sharp like silk-wrapped steel: "I said. You don’t tell me what you want." You give him a slow, deliberate pump in your grip—enough to make his thighs tense and a sweet, helpless whimper catch in his throat. "If you beg before I tell you to, I’ll stop." "If you demand again, I won’t touch you at all."

Those words ring in his brain. And you squeeze—once. A reminder. A promise. His head tips back, breathless. His fingers curl in the sheets. You feel him throb in your hand, shivering under your control. "Y-you drive a hard bargain," he breathes, voice cracked but giddy beneath the heat. "But I’ll behave…Please."

He’s panting now, jaw tight, shoulders trembling—absolutely owned by the feel of your hand on him, and the knowledge that you’re in control of everything.

...

You guide him with care—hands still firm on his thighs, holding him open as you position yourself. The strap brushes against his entrance, slick and warm, and you feel his breath catch. His hands grip the sheets. "Ngh… wait—w-wait—"

But he’s not telling you to stop. He’s just overwhelmed. Already.

You smile. "Breathe," you murmur against his ear. "You said you could take it. Were you lying?" And oh, the way he shivers under that. The way his lashes flutter, and his lips part in a soundless, whimpering little gasp. "N-no. I wasn’t… I—I can…" So you press in, slowly, carefully. Until the tip slips past that delicate ring of muscle, and his whole body arches.

"Hhah—!" You don’t stop. Not yet. You rock in with slow, deliberate pressure—inch by inch, letting him feel every second of it.

"Ahhh—s-so full—so… ohhh…" You bottom out with a final push, your hips flush against his. His breath stutters in his throat. His thighs tremble. He’s quivering, his body clenching sweetly around you as if trying to adjust and beg for more all at once.

You pause. Let him feel it. Let him tremble. Let him want.

And then you start to move. Rhythmic. Slow. Deep.

Your hands pin his hips in place, guiding the pace—not letting him escape, not letting him rush. His breath comes in short, high whines, his voice soft and broken:

"Nghh… ngh… s-so good, I—it’s too much…" "No," you breathe against his throat. "This is what you begged for."

He moans—quiet, strangled—his fingers curling tight around your wrist, pleading for more even as his body struggles to handle it.

You adjust your angle. You thrust again—deeper, this time. You hit it." That spot.

And he breaks. "Hh-AHH—!" His back arches, his whole body tenses around you, "T-that—again—please—again—" You slam back in. Over and over, steady, deep, merciless—but not cruel. Claiming. Worshipful. "You're so tight," you whisper. "You take it so well… look at you. My perfect little thing." He can't speak anymore. Just moans. Just gasps.

Shadow Milk Cookie—Master of Mischief—has been reduced to your soft, gasping, needy puppet.

His thighs are shaking. His breath is shallow, stuttering out in hitched gasps. You feel the way his body tightens, writhes, pulls you in with every roll of your hips. "A-ahhh—nnngh, I—I can’t—" "Yes you can," you purr. "Be good for me. Let go."

And then—You grab him. Wrap your hand around his throbbing cock in a firm, practiced grip—stroking in time with your thrusts. And his entire body convulsed. His head snaps back, lips parted in a loud, broken moan that echoes off the walls. Then he cums...

Hard. Messy.

Rope after rope spilling over your hand, over his stomach, his voice trembling as he whimpers through the high. His chest heaves, flushed and slick, legs weak and twitching. "Nnnnhh... o-ohhh… oh witches..." He shudders, soft, overwhelmed gasps escaping him even after he finishes—his body still twitching around the strap buried deep inside him, clenching rhythmically in the aftershocks. You stay buried inside, holding him close as he melts into you, the last remnants of his pride dribbling away with every gentle breath. And when you lean down, kiss his temple, whisper,

"You did so well for me."

He just nods, eyes lidded. voice gone, and completely yours.

--

WHO MADE THAT MESS? YOU DID KIIIING, I MADE THAT MESS? YES KINGGG!!!