#I'm glad my brain is starting to work again

[wh0lemilk0vich]

6, 7, 18

From this weirdly specific and unrelated asks post

Crawling out of my hole where I was languishing adjusting to meds

6. Do you wear a watch - I was using a smart watch but I have GAD and I started checking it compulsively and triggering myself so my doctor told me to stop for a bit lol.

7. Animal most excited to see at aquarium - I don't really like aquaria I think they're the least fun part of a zoo *the crowd hissing and booing and someone saying call the police* but ours has penguins and I like them, and the big main tank with the sharks, or the tunnel bit. A lot of the time my eyes hurt from looking through the glass because it gets all distorted.

18. My boba/tea order - 🤤 Large half-and-half green tea/lemonade (sometimes they mix in the summer), extra bubbles, light ice, no simple syrup, no milk, with lychee and pomegranate or lychee and lemon. She's fruity 💅

Thank you for enduring my Ted talk 🙏

[derrygirlstrash]

Not to start shit, if you know me you know I'm a "ship and let ship" kinda gal and saying this I truly have no problem with James/Orla as a ship it harms no one and plenty of people like it, I like people having fun... that said...

I have never understood the common argument that James/Erin as a ship makes no sense and James/Orla should have been the ship instead. Often one of the arguments is that James/Erin wasn't set up while James/Orla was and I'm sorry... what? James/Erin have at least one ship heavy episode each season as well as plenty of background moments and several significant moments in Erin's Diary.

Even if you ignore all the background moments of the two holding hands, being inside each others personal space, the times where they're clearly matching and whatnot. There is at LEAST the implication that Erin would ignore her supposed crush for James, that she cares what he thinks, that Erin is James's type, that they're aligned in creative values and match each others energies, that Erin thinks he's handsome, that James thinks she's beautiful, that she can't imagine her life without him, etc.

James/Orla have some touchy moments... that's kinda all they have as far as romantic coding and I don't see how those two hugging in the Season 2 finale is somehow more significant than what setup James/Erin have throughout all the seasons.

Honestly, while I can see Orla liking James - you could build a case for it and convince me even though I see Orla as ace/aro in my own personal headcanons... no one has ever been able to give me a convincing argument for James liking Orla back. It kinda feels like you have to ignore that he never has a reason to fancy Orla back and just project onto him that.

Which, again, go off if that's your bag I think their friendship is fun and I could see making a ship out of it, but the common argument is that the SHOW makes a better case for James/Orla and like, no? No it really doesn't? It's just not main girl/main boy and some people really don't like that trope or Erin as a main and I think that if you say the show didn't set up James/Erin well and you argue the show would have been better with James/Orla based on what's in the show, you just might not like Erin very much?

I've also never been able to make sense of the argument that James/Erin is somehow the trope that 'guys and girls can't just be friends' like, is that not also James/Orla? Y'know, besides that Orla isn't a girl. They do use she/her during the show time period though and some people who argue this think Orla is a girl, they just think they're not THE girl. So somehow it's better even though it's the same thing.

Basically what I'm saying is that shipping is fun and we all oughta do it. Every ship besides the obvious ones is potentially fun and I'm down for it, but there is one ship the show was setting up and we all know what that ship was and I think it would be better if we all were honest about it.

PS: "James was gay the whole time!" Truthers, if you made it through this post somehow I'd like to offer a compromise: James Maguire is the most bisexual coded male character in media history we can all win here.

[cloverapple]

How I Shift On Command + How You Can Too

I don’t plan on posting anything other than this or starting a blog, so I don’t need anyone to ���believe” in me. The only person you should trust is yourself—trust yourself to resonate positively with what you see online and click away if it doesn’t serve you. This is here for you to take from if it resonates. I literally only made this blog to post this here. My hope is that it reaches at least one person who can take something from this and apply it to their shifting journey. If not, and this post ends up here untouched, I’m just glad to finally get everything down in words and off my chest. 

Jumping straight to the answer because I’m not going to make anyone sit through a long post for it. The rest, the "advice," is here if you want to read it.

The "method"

I figured out what works specifically for me as an individual instead of following everyone else’s journey. Everyone has their “thing” that makes shifting click, a sweet spot that makes reality shifting possible. For me, it’s a combination of the law of assumption and inducing an altered state of consciousness.

During the day, I spend time affirming—or sometimes just reminding myself or keeping a little note nearby—things like:

I can shift.

I know how to shift.

I could shift tonight.

Shifting is accessible to me.

At night, I watch videos, look at Pinterest boards, or listen to music that reminds me of my DR. This ingrains where I’m going in my brain. Sometimes I do this for fun, and other times I skip it entirely.

When I lay down, I always lie on my back and stay somewhat still because I like the feeling of my body going numb. This isn’t necessary to shift, but I enjoy it—it lets me feel the symptoms of hypnagogia (that in-between state of wakefulness and sleep).

To meditate quickly, I count from 1 to 100 with a few affirmations in between to remind myself of what I’m doing. I do this until my body goes numb, and I start messing up the counting. Usually, the mistakes or random, nonsensical thoughts are my signal to start shifting.

At this point, I begin affirming the things I affirmed during the day:

I could shift right now.

I have the ability to shift.

I have the power to shift at any moment.

While I do this, I focus on the feeling of being in my DR—not my surroundings, not my senses, just the internal feeling of being there.

This is where “brazen impudence” comes in. I hard-force myself to feel like I’m in my DR. It’s not about imagining my surroundings but purely about embodying the feeling of being there.

Hypnagogic imagery and sensations like floating often kick in at this point. These are symptoms of your body falling asleep so your awareness can take shape in that sweet spot for shifting.

I continue this, then stop and start counting from 1 to 100 again, with affirmations like:

I can shift.

I know how to shift.

I could shift right now.

Then I repeat the process: using brazen impudence to force myself to feel like I’m in my DR.

Eventually, I reach that threshold between sleep and wake—a liminal state of pure consciousness. Body asleep, mind awake, I call this the “rabbit hole” which is honstly just a deep state of hypnogogia. It’s a state where anything is possible: lucid dreaming, astral projection, slipping into the void, shifting—anything.

When I’m in this state, I use brazen impudence to force myself to feel like I'm shifting to my DR and don't take no for an answer (I tell myself I'm in Barbados and shut the door in my own face). This can involve affirmations or just talking myself through it, either way I wake myself up there. Occasionally, I simply relax, expect to wake up in my DR, fall asleep, and wake up shifted.

Does all that sound complicated? Let me simplify:

Lay down and get comfortable.

Count from 1 to 100 on a loop with affirmations in between until you mess up the counting, get sleepy, or have your mind wander. Like this:

Me: *counts from 1 - 100* Me: *says a few affirmations/askfirmations* Me: *counts from 1 - 100* Me: *says a few affirmations/askfirmations*

On a loop until...

Persist in the feel of being in your DR—not focusing on surroundings or senses, just the feeling. Feeling is the secret.

Alternate between steps 2 and 3 until you’re in that relaxed body asleep/mind awake state, OR just straight up hypnogogia tbh. (That is, if you don’t already shift lol)

From there, choose what feels right: shift from a lucid dream, affirm, slip into the void, or just feel yourself in your DR like I do, convince yourself that either you shifted and are there, or are shifting and will end up there.

One thing I’ll tell you now—regardless of your circumstances, how long you’ve been trying, how long it’ll take, who you are, etc—is that you already know how to shift. You, reading this right now. You know how to shift, and there’s nothing you did to learn it. There’s nothing you can do to unlearn it. It’s something that will stay with you until the end of time.

Why do you think people shift randomly without prior knowledge of shifting? Even people who don’t believe in it? It’s because everyone can shift. You can shift.

Right now, stop reading this post and say in your head or out loud, “I already know how to shift.” Or, if that doesn’t feel right, “I already have the ability to shift,” “No matter what, I have the power to shift,” or “My mind knows how to shift no matter what.”

Can you argue that? No, you can’t. And if your mind starts throwing out “buts,” go back and read that again.

Shifting isn’t difficult, and no one struggles to shift. I’m sure you’ve heard it before—that shifting is simple and happens in seconds—because it does. You don’t struggle with shifting. You can shift; everyone has the power to. What you “struggle” with, so to speak, is figuring out what works for you, what your brain likes, how it operates—because everyone is different.

What ended up working for me more than anything was figuring out how I operate and modifying shifting to fit me—not forcing myself to fit shifting.

Will my method work for everyone? I have no idea. Unless you assume it will work for you, this is what works for me. I’m me, and you’re you.

Before you say “Oh, but I’ve tried everything and nothing has worked so far” and expect me to sit here and ask you “but have you really tried everything? <3” , listen to me. 

I could shift perfectly well with my own personal method before I started shifting regularly. I knew it worked well for my brain, but the thing that “blocked” me (so to speak) were my assumptions. 

When you sit there and say “I’ve tried everything and nothing has worked” that’s your assumption about yourself. You believe that nothing works for you, that you don't know how to shift, that you’re this powerless, lost baby shifter who needs guidance. 

There’s nothing wrong with this, it’s not your fault, and theoretically you could shift even with your “blockages” (I really hate that term), as shifting waits for no one.

This is why so many people shift randomly and with poor assumptions without meaning to. But you clicked on this because you want to know how you can shift consistently + on every time, and this is the answer I’m giving you. 

You find out what works better for you, be it affirming, visualizing, scripting, shifting awake, shifting asleep, shifting with hypnagogia, shifting with hypnopompic, shifting through lucid dreams, shifting with brazen impudence, through SATs, robotic affirming, through letting go, through putting your DR on a pedestal, through listening to music, through law of assumption alone, and many more. 

If that sounds overwhelming, please note that all of these are the same vehicles that get you to your destination. Just in different shapes and colors. Like how some people drive a car, others drive a motorcycle, others walk, others swim. The movement forward is always the same. 

What you’re doing, no matter how you’re doing it or in whatever state of consciousness you’re doing it from, will always be:

Assume it's true, feel it, receive it. “Assume and persist,” “ground yourself in the assumption,” you’ve heard it all before. 

How to Find What Makes You Shift On Command

You could either test different techniques (affirmations, visualizations, scripting, lucid dreaming, etc.) and see what feels natural to you. 

You could (and I love this one because it’s a cheat code) Assume you already know what works, and let the law of assumption guide you. “Manifest it” so to speak. 

Pay attention to your life, because you already shift on command, you've been doing it your whole life, but I guarantee you haven't noticed it. Pay attention to you, like how easily you slip into hypnagogia, your dream recall, or how strong your intuition is, maybe you put too much emotion into a scenario you don’t want in your life and it inherently manifests, things like that. Pay attention to the thing that makes you go “huh, that was weird”

“But Clover, I tried everything you mentioned above and still haven’t found my method!” 

My darling. Listen up. Come closer—I’m about to let you in on a secret. The way you apply the law of assumption isn’t one-size-fits-all, because assumptions and beliefs are not linear. It's the same every time, yes, it's a law. But just like you, the way you can use it is unique to each person.

Let me tell you how easy it is so you don't think I'm over-complicating it

You could, for instance, believe you’ve got $1000 in your bank account right now and act like it, fully living in the end. Or you could believe you’re going to have $1000 in your account and act like it’s already on its way. Or maybe you believe something’s going to happen that’ll bring you that $1000.

The same applies to shifting. It’s been a game changer for me. I used to struggle so much with things like:

“You’re already in your DR, just act like it.”

“Ignore the 3D.”

“You’ve already shifted.”

Do those methods work? Absolutely, they work beautifully. But like I said, if it doesn’t feel good or true to you, don’t force it.

My dearest, darling reader. If the story you see in your 3D is that you can’t shift, can’t find what makes you shift, are you just going to sit there and accept it? What is more satisfying? Think with me here: accepting that you don’t know how to shift and cannot shift, or persisting that you do know how to shift? 

“Clover, but I’ve been trying for 4 years! I’ve tried everything and I still haven’t shifted”

So that's your story? Your story, your assumption is that you’ve been trying for 4 years and haven’t shifted? If you’ve resonated with the phrase above, that’s your story. And there’s nothing wrong with it, but! there will be no magic solution for shifting. Or a magic method. Or a person like me giving you advice, that can make you shift without you changing your assumptions first.

“But I don’t want to reprogram my mind! It doesn’t work for me. I don’t want to do robotic affirming 24/7, I want results now!” 

I know, right? It’s annoying having to do these 100-step methods, and drink charged water, and have to beg the universe for your desire, and loop affirmations in your mind that directly contradict what you’re experiencing in the 3D.

“Oh ignore the 3D, the 4D is your only real imagination!” they say, as you sit there, clutching your phone, rocking back and forth in bed, repeating affirmations you don’t resonate with while dreaming of being railed by your S/O.

Believe me, I've been there, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. I asked myself why couldn't these basic steps that worked for everyone else work for me. I blamed myself for not trying hard enough, for being lazy, for inconsistent. When all that time, the answer was me. I needed to manifest/shift in a way that felt good for me.

Just remember, the law of assumption isn't complicated, and the way you apply it is not one-size-fits-all. Reprogramming the mind through continuous repetition and affirmation works, and if that resonates with you or feels effective, you should absolutely go for it.

However, at its core, you don’t inherently need to reprogram your mind. It’s as simple as assuming your mind has already been reprogrammed and watching it unfold before your eyes. You do what feels right to you.

For example, if person A does better with visualization and listening to music, why on earth are they affirming and listening to subliminals?

If person B feels better scripting in a notebook, why the hell are they reprogramming their mind?

If person C feels good reprogramming their mind, why are they taking the simple route?

Funny, isn't it? Which is why if you've read all of this so far, and you have not resonated with it, just click away. Go find another post or advice that feels true to you. The words I'm writing right now are not universal, they're not the absolute truth. That's the beauty of the law of assumption. Whatever you believe to be true, becomes true.

I didn’t feel good with the affirmations “I’m already in my DR” and “I already shifted.” Do they work, are they true? Yup, but I didn’t feel good ignoring the 3D, even when I knew the 4D was the true reality. So I swapped them for affirmations like "I'm shifting to my DR", “I’m going to shift to my DR”, swapping things like “I already shifted” to “I’m shifting” because those are the kinds of affirmations my brain loves. 

I've heard a silly bit of misinfo that these affirmations stating future events put you in an infinite loop, and that they don’t make you achieve your desire. That’s not true? At all? Makes me laugh, really. Because here I am, “master shifter” or whatever name people give it in this reality, shifting as much as I want to wherever I want with these types of affirmations.

Yet here I see every day on the internet, people implanting stubborn little rules and regulations to a practice that has been done for ages, a universal law that will work even when you don’t care for it to work. 

How I Shifted The First Time

The law of assumption is what made me shift in the end. Initially, I surprised myself at the beginning of my shifting journey because I shifted three months after starting it. I woke up one morning in my DR room, felt it was real, knew it was possible, but accidentally shifted back because it was too good to be true. 

What followed was a period of losing my mind; I shift back to my DR for a few seconds (mini-shifts), fully shifted to different rparallel ealities, and filled the hell out of shifting journals with my discoveries as I went along. But I never fully shifted to my DR and stayed there. I wanted to permashift. I was so focused on leaving my CR and going to my DR permanently, frustrated because I knew I could shift, knew how to in theory, but was stuck in this endless loop of assuming I couldn't make myself shift and had to rely on spontaneous shifts.

And then one night it clicked when I was reflecting on the law of assumption and reality shifting. I knew shifting was real. I knew I could shift. Everyone can shift. I had shifted before. I would continue to shift even if I gave up on shifting. I could shift that night if I wanted to. I could shift that night even if I didn't want to. I knew how to shift. And so do you.

These are all assumptions I went to sleep with in mind, laying there, feeling like an idiot as it all clicked for me. 

If there was no doubt in my mind that I could shift that night, why wouldn’t I be able to shift? 

What followed was an overwhelming sense of peace washing over me. I let go. What more was there to be done? I could shift. There was no crying or screaming that could make me shift more than I could right then. 

I laid there and started my process. Just like I mentioned earlier. I began counting from 1 - 100 on a continuous loop. With affirmations that I could shift, I knew how to shift , I could shift that night.

And then I reached hypnagogia, and began inducing the feeling of being in my DR, just like I mentioned earlier. That liminal space rabbit hole shortly followed. I could go anywhere I wanted then. I could lucid dream. I could astral project. I could slip into the void. I could shift, and I did. Just…letting go and inducing the feeling of being in my DR. Not the surroundings, not the 5 senses, no affirmations. Just knowing that I was in my Dr. 

It was peaceful. 

I was at ease. 

And then I was woken up by a violent crack of thunder because my dumbass scripted my DR wakeup scenario to be in the middle of spring, and it was raining -_- 

I woke up in my DR, fully grounded, fully there, pinching my skin purple because I couldn't believe I was looking out the window at my DR city.

I wish I could tell you that I remained cool, but I so didn’t. I sat in bed for a good 10 minutes, mouth agape, repeating “oohh fuck it’s real….ohhh my god it’s real…whaaat the hell.” 

And then I paced around my room panicking, giggling like an idiot, checking my DR phone because all my friends and DR life was on there as evidence, opening drawers, looking at myself in the mirror, and straight-up freaking out. 

What followed after that was incredible, something I lack the words to describe. I spent a few weeks in my DR before shifting back, spending a few weeks here and then shifting back–here, back, here, back and forth, spending more time in my DR then my CR to the point where I consider my DR my true reality, and this one as my “other” reality. 

I shifted back here in early December of last year, and I’m here now before I shift back permanently—meaning, I’ll shift there, and then the next time I shift will be to another DR or a waiting room somewhere in the multiverse. I’m taking a "break" so to speak and hanging out here until events I scripted in my DR start to happen, and my life changes (positively, all good things I assure). 

I’m not sure if the person or people who find this post will care, but my other reality was originally called my “Witch DR”, where, as the name suggests, I’m a witch :) But not the fun kind, with a broomstick, a cauldron, and a pet cat though 😂The kind where I have to be up early for work in the mornings, can’t keep a cat because the building I live in doesn’t allow it, and have more responsibilities there than I do in this reality. 

One thing I didn’t expect about shifting before I lived there the first time is that—it’s life. You will have good days. You will have bad days. You will fuck up. You will laugh so hard that soda comes out of your nose. You will cry more than you ever have. And the people you once saw on a TV screen are very real, and can be very annoying lol. I miss my DR friends dearly right now, but I can’t go poking around the internet for videos and pictures of them because it feels so weird. 

Gut feelings are strange. I use them as a compass in both realities whenever I have to manually flap the butterfly’s wings and take a route. I felt compelled to write this post, and I’m not sure why. But if what this post has the power to help one singular person and help them realize their power, I'll be beyond happy.

[cheswirls]

for the third time in a row i have come up with an insanely good fic idea at the end of the year but before the end of the semester so i can't even attempt to write it. hopefully in december i'm still sold on it or maybe next week on break if i'm not too busy playing catch up w course work

[a-model-of-propriety]

you may think that bc i'm posting less that means my j&h hyperfixation is dying down, but never fear it is as strong as ever

[gguk-n]

Silent Connections (Oscar Piastri x Reader)

Summary- In a world where soulmates exist. Some people can hear their soulmates thoughts, but only when they think. Oscar isn't sure he has a soulmate.

Oscar Piastri wasn't even sure he had a soulmate. His mum would talk about how she could hear his dad's thoughts and how they met for the first time but Oscar had yet to hear a single thought from his soulmate. He even voiced his concern once; "I don't think I have a soulmate" he told his mum when he was 5. His mother consoled him and tried to cheer him up.

Oscar was shocked, he skid his kart in the middle of the race and almost crashed out when he heard it. A giggly voice, he wasn't even sure what she said but he was sure, it was her. Maybe he didn't finish that race but he knew now that he had a soulmate. He told his dad as soon as he hopped out of the kart. But he didn't really hear her after that, not for a while. He doubted himself again, maybe he hallucinated that. But as if on cue, he heard it loud and clear; she's a meany. I hate her. It made Oscar laugh out loud; he was 9 and meany was a pretty bad thing to call anyone.

With time, Oscar would hear some parts of his soulmate's thoughts. That's how he learned what she sounded like since his mum said he would hear her thoughts in her voice. Oscar loved his soulmate's voice, he was sure he would love her too; the moment they met. He couldn't wait to meet the love of his life.

Y/N knew she had a soulmate. She knew since she could form thoughts. She could hear him, in her head. It would get chaotic and annoying at times. She couldn't think properly. She could recognise her soulmate's voice even in her sleep since that boy didn't stop thinking. The first thoughts of his that she remembers are about some cars. She wasn't sure what they meant but she did learn a lot about cars from him. She was practically a natural when it came to driving and she only had her soulmate to thank for it.

Even if her soulmate's thoughts were chaotic and annoying sometimes, there were time when she was happy to have his voice in her head, especially on shitty day's like today. She failed her test, her car broke down and she had an assignment to submit in 12 hours with a blue screened laptop. She had started bawling when his smooth voice cut through her. It's fine. I can do it. I've come this far. I'll achieve my dream. I have to keep going. Y/N was glad for his constant reassurance even if it was not for her. Thank you soulmate. I hope you get whatever you want because your thoughts comfort me everyday. Oscar heard it. His brain stopped working, this was the first time they had had a conversation of any sort.

Y/N had pursued a career in cars, she wasn't sure what she would do but she did automobile engineering since her soulmate rubbed off on her. She knew she should've done some research on the company she was joining but she forgot and right now she was standing in a room full of her new colleagues when her eyes landed on a man in a orange shirt and black shorts. He's fucking hot. She thought but Oscar heard it loud and clear. Who's hot? He thought, face visibly annoyed. He's so cute annoyed. She couldn't help but swoon over the orange shirt man. Hey! you have a soulmate you know Oscar huffed. Y/N giggled Sorry Mr Soulmate, I'm sure you're hotter she reassured. Oscar smiled. I wanna make him smile like that. Y/N thought looking at the orange shirt guy smile. Oscar was getting annoyed by the second with who ever his soulmate found attractive.

Y/N was called by her team to introduce herself to the drivers who they would be building the cars for. The first man introduced himself as Lando Norris with a smile. Y/N smiled back and then the other spoke, "I'm Oscar Piastri" making Y/N's eyes bulge out. That voice, she could recognise it anywhere and he was an athlete. How long ago would they have met had she known? My Soulmate's fucking pale. was the first thing Oscar heard making him quickly scan the room. Y/N smiled at Oscar looking for her, his soulmate. "Hi, I'm Y/N Y/L/N" she introduced herself. Oscar's eyes landed on her before muttering, "soulmate" a small smile playing on his lips.

The two of them were able to slip away from the team; "I can't believe this is how I meet you. If I knew you were famous, I would've stalked you years ago" Y/N rambled. "No wonder I couldn't hear your thoughts. You don't think" Oscar laughed. Y/N caught herself blushing, embarrassed. "You're cute though" Oscar stated. "If it's any consolation, the guy I thought was fucking hot was you" she bit her lips. It was Oscar's turn to blush. "As long as I'm the only man you find hot, I have no problem" he said. "Maybe, we should exchange numbers?" she suggested. "Yeah" Oscar smiled. This was the start of a forever the two of them had been waiting for, for a long long time.

[mariasont]

hi bby, i also have another idea! <3

it’s a song inspired fic with spencer or hotch and bimbo!reader and how they are in the office when they first get together and maybe some moments before they do!!

the song i was thinking of is birds of a feather by billie eilish and you can choose either hotch or spence bcuz i can’t decide, lol

anyway ily and i’m so glad you’re doing better and it’s so lovely to see you here again!! <33

BIRDS OF A FEATHER - S.R

a/n: i just need you to know you are literally the backbone of my fics i swear!!! ur requests are always my favorite <3 but anyway ilysm and i'm so happy to be and so happy to fufill your request, i hope you like it!! :)

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

warnings: clingy!reader, dramatic gf calm bf best duo, established relationship, tooth rotting fluff, idiots in love

wc: 1k

You'd lost count of how many times you'd checked the clock. Five days without Spencer felt like an eternity. You weren't sure how people survived long-distance relationships. 

You’d tried everything to distract yourself. A true crime documentary had seemed like a good idea, something to make you feel like Spencer was still close, in that nerdy, FBI way of his, but it turned out to be too scary (and okay, a little boring). You’d spent most of it hiding behind a pillow, silently debating whether the narrator’s voice was creepy or just British.

All you could do was scroll on your phone and pout at the clock, wondering if maybe, just maybe, you'd somehow willed time to speed up since the last time you looked. Spoiler, you hadn't.

By the time you heard the jingle of keys outside the door, you were practically vibrating with excitement. You shot off the couch so fast you nearly tripped on the blanket you'd be wrapped in all night. 

The lock clicked, and there he was, Spencer, with tired eyes and messy hair, his satchel hanging limply off one shoulder like it weighed more than he did. He looked exhausted but perfect, the way only Spencer could.

"Spence!" you squealed, launching yourself at him before he could even get through the doorway.

"Hi," he murmured, wrapping his arms around you as you buried your face in his chest. He smelled faintly of coffee and something antiseptic, but underneath it all was that comforting, familiar scent that was just him.

"I missed you, too."

You buried your face in his chest for a moment, breathing him in like you could bottle the feeling and save it for later. Then, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes, you gripped his jacket tightly.

“You better have. I’ve been losing my mind waiting for you.”

Spencer’s lips twitched into a tired smile. “Losing your mind? Sounds serious. Should I be worried?”

"Definitely," you said, nodding earnestly. "I've been so bored, Spence. I started talking to myself, like, full on conversations. And I'm not as smart as you, so they weren't even good conversations."

He chuckled softly, his thumb brushing slow, soothing circles against your hip. “I’m sure they were better than you think.”

You stepped back and began tugging his jacket off, shooing him toward the couch. He followed without a word of protest, letting you fuss over him.

“You look so tired, baby,” you said, plucking his satchel off the floor and setting it aside. “Did you eat? You better have. I should’ve made something, but I didn’t know when you’d get here, and I got distracted, and —”

Spencer's hand caught yours, making your mouth snap shut. His fingers were warm, and the way they curled around yours was enough to make your brain go fuzzy for a second. 

"I'm fine. Really."

“You don’t look fine,” you said, wrinkling your nose at him. “You look all…” You waved vaguely at his face. “Work-y.”

“Work-y,” he echoed, his lips twitching into a small, tired smile.

“Exactly,” you said, nodding as you plopped down beside him and immediately curled into his side. Your arms looped around him, holding him tightly, as though he might vanish if you let go.

Spencer let out a soft sigh, leaning into your touch. 

“You’re very clingy tonight,” he teased, though the way his arm came up to pull you closer told you he didn’t mind.

“Obviously,” you replied, pressing your cheek against his shoulder. “I haven’t seen you in forever. I missed your face. And your hair. And your nerdy little brain. Especially your nerdy little brain.”

He laughed quietly. “My brain missed you, too.”

“Good,” you said, tilting your head to press a kiss to his jaw. “Because I’m not letting you go anywhere for at least... three days. Maybe four. You’ll just have to solve crimes from here.”

Spencer hummed, his fingers continuing their gentle movement. “I’m not sure the FBI would agree to that.”

“Then they’ll have to fight me for you,” you said with a dramatic huff, crossing your arms. “Honestly, I could probably take Hotch in a fight. He doesn’t look like he’s had a good night’s sleep since, like, 1999. One shove, and he’s done for.”

Spencer laughed, his chest shaking against yours. “You’d shove Hotch? I think that’s a violation of multiple workplace policies.”

You grinned, tilting your head to look up at him. “It’d be worth it. You’re way more important than some dumb policies.”

“You’re terrible.”

“Terribly in love with you,” you said, your grin widening as you leaned forward to nudge his nose with yours. “Now, scoot over. I’m not comfy enough.”

Before he could ask what you meant, you were already moving, shifting to climb into his lap with zero hesitation. Spencer blinked in surprise, but his hands instinctively came up to steady you, one resting on your waist while the other settled on your thigh.

“You could’ve warned me,” he murmured, though his lips quirked into a small smile as you tucked yourself against him like a human blanket.

“Where’s the fun in that?” you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning your forehead against his. “Besides, I missed you too much to sit all the way over there.”

Spencer let out a soft, breathy laugh, his nose brushing yours as he adjusted to your weight. “You don’t think this is a little excessive?”

“Excessive? No. Necessary? Yes.” You kissed the tip of his nose, grinning when his cheeks flushed a faint pink. “You’re my boyfriend, Spence. This is part of the job description.”

He shook his head, but the way his arms tightened around you gave him away.

“Love you,” you said in a sigh, nuzzling closer to him.

“I love you too, angel,” he said. His hand moved to cup the back of your head, his fingers threading gently through your hair. “I love you more than I can put into words.”

Spencer let out a long breath, his head resting back against the couch as his hands stayed comfortably on your waist. 

“You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?” you teased, though you didn’t move an inch from where you were nestled against him.

“Maybe,” he murmured, his voice low and a little gravelly.

“Good,” you whispered, your cheek pressed to his. “That means you’re staying right here.”

He didn’t answer, but the way his arms tightened around you was more than enough.

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[subbmissivesuccubus]

I will get on all fours and bark for you to make the “oh my god you were going to die” thing but with the upper moons and muzan 😭🙏(IT SUCKS THAT WE CANT ADD LINKS)

Thank you guys for 3K followers! I'm glad so many of you enjoy my stuff and I can't wait to keep providing more smut to feed <3

By popular demand, here's part 2 of this! Enjoy~

Disclaimer : Fem Reader X Muzan | Kokushibo | Akaza | Douma | Hantengu clones

As a demon living an immortal life, you knew that death and hell wasn't something you were going to experience anytime soon.

But unfortunately for you, your husband seems insistent on giving you a preview.

You tried to take in deep breaths, having never felt this exhausted even when fighting against demon slayers who were actively trying to kill you. You don't even remember why your partner was mad at you! Sure, you didn't manage to kill the Hashira you recently fought but you came back alive! Isn't that a thing worthy of celebration?

Instead, he took you to the bedroom to really teach your the consequences of failure.

Which is how you found yourself naked, sweaty and exhausted, lying flat on your back as your brain started to work again- just to realize your husband was sliding between your legs to start another round, jerking his cock as he got ready to slip inside you once more.

You gasped and on instinct started to move away, your elbows digging into the mattress as you pathetically dragged yourself towards the headboard to try and get some distance but-

Muzan suddenly shifted positions, your brain so muddled by the pleasure and over stimulation that you didn't realize you were now straddling him until he slapped your tits harshly. He was angry- his eyes glowing that dangerous red that usually got you hot and bothered but now- sent a shiver of fear down your spine. Not only did you let a Hashira escape- but now you're trying to run from him?

He won't have it.

"Ride me. Now." he said, hands on your hips as his cock stood erect underneath you, throbbing in anticipation, covered in your sticky juices.

"M-My Lord-" you babbled, tears filling your eyes and you didn't dare to try and escape again, "I-I can't. Too s-sensitive-"

"Ride my cock or you won't live to see tomorrow."

With a broken sob, you quickly placed one hand on Muzan's chest, your body crying for a break as the other one slid underneath you to grab his cock and keep it steady, your poor thighs trembling as you lifted yourself up before sinking down on his member. You knew his threat was empty but...it was always best to not risk it.

Kokushibo noticed you were about to crawl away but instead of grabbing your hips and pulling you back like you expected he would, his hand instead shot out to clamp around your neck. You gasped, air caught in your throat as his many eyes narrowed at you, giving you a look of disappointment as you writhed against his choking. Did you necessarily need air to live? No. Was it uncomfortable? Yes.

Was it sexy? Also yes-

"What do you say?"

Your face was turning red, tears prickling your eyes as his fingers seem to tighten. "S-Sorry- m' s-sorry-" you managed to choke out despite his best attempts.

"Good girl. Now present yourself to me."

With his hand still on your neck, your spread your legs wide, even bringing your hands down to push apart your pussy lips, baring you every inch of your cum stuffed cunt. With a grunt of approval, Kokushibo slipped inside you, giving you a break as he let go of your neck just as he started his intense pace.

"D-Darling- oh fuck- please-" you babbled between gasps and pants, tits bouncing as your poor cunt was once again pounded within an inch of her life, not even given a minute to rest and recover.

"Cease your pointless crying." he simply stated, his abs flexing as he rutted into you, "If you find it so unpleasant, don't fail next time."

Akaza is usually so sweet when you two have sex. But when he's frustrated with you- he will let. you. know.

The second he saw you trying to move away from him, he grabbed you by the knees before flipping you onto you stomach like you weighed nothing. The next moment, he was lying on top of you, his body weight keeping you pinned down as he slipped his cock back inside you in a classic prone bone. You squealed, unable to move as he started rolling his hips into you, the position making his cock reach deep- deep- deep inside you.

"A-Akazaaaa-" you squeal, your cries a bit muffled by the mattress, "S-slow down- please-c-can't take it-"

"You can't take it?" Akaza growled into your ear, rolling his hips in circles so his fat tip can bully your g-spot mercilessly, "No wonder you couldn't kill that Hashira. If you can't handle- hah- this, then you can't handle a battle. So consider this your training, my love."

"P-Please- I just need a break- I can't- ah fuck- you're so deep!"

"You can take it. Be my good girl. Besides, our Lord wants to know if you can get pregnant, remember? You're not getting away from me until you're knocked up."

Douma simply laughed as he watched you try and escape him, his kaleidoscopic eyes twinkling even more beautifully than usual as his sadistic tendencies got satiated seeing your fear and exhaustion. But of course, he wasn't going to let you go. With a flick of the wrist, you gasped as your ankles were suddenly encased in ice that trailed down to the floor, keeping you in place. You could try to break out of it, but your husbands hand on your cunt rid you of all thoughts except for pleas.

"D-Douma- honey- please-"

"Shhhh, sweet thing." He purred, giving your kitty gentle pets, "I'm just going to teach you a lesson before I breed you again~ Let's make this pretty pussy as red as your ass is, hmm?"

"No please- i'll be good- I promise!"

"Why are you so scared honey?" Douma asked in mock concern, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout as he cooed at you, "Oh, you really don't like it when I spank your cunt, do you? It hurts so badly, doesn't it?"

"Yes- it hurts so much!" you complained, your eyes welling up with tears at the threat. You loved it when he punished you but fuck- it hurt!

"Poor sweet thing! I have an idea then." you watched as an ice cube materialized in his hand, clutched between his fingers as he said:

"How about we make her numb first then?"

It was difficult enough to take on the Hantengu clones even when they were being nice, but when they were punishing you? It was downright impossible. But they didn't care.

"And where do you think you're going, missy?" Urogi asked, a grin on his face as he slid in to sit behind you, quickly stopping your attempt at getting away. He grabbed your arms and pulled them above your head, catching your wrists with one hand and restraining you.

"Is it too much for you?" Karaku teased on your right, holding your knee and pushing it open to expose your sex. His hand slid between your legs and his fingers glided between your pussy lips, cooing as he made contact with your slick and cum, "Your poor, sweet cunny is all fucking and stuffed huh? Must be so difficult to take more~"

Aizetsu whined even as he bent down to take your left nipple into his mouth, whining even more as you squealed at the sensation of his tongue against your raw, sensitive nipple. "M-Maybe we should give her a break..." he suggested after giving your bud a few sucks, still laying his head against the fat of your breast as he pulled at your left knee, "We've made her cum...and cum inside her so many times...i'm sure she's learned her lesson."

Before you could latch onto Aizetsu's words and beg for mercy, Sekido slid between your legs, his frown even angrier if that was even possible. He glared at you as he tugged at his cock, clicking his tongue as you tried to wiggle your hips away when he pressed his tip against your entrance.

"Don't you dare try to fucking run away." he snarled as he pushed into you, his cock sliding back into your poor, fucked out cunt. You gasped, tossing your head back against Urogi's shoulder as you were filled up once more, instantly knowing that you had pissed off Sekido by your anticts by his instant break-neck pace.

"You're only done when we say you're done." Karaku purred against your ear, licking said ear as Sekido pounded your pussy, making you babble stupidly as his cock slammed against your cervix, "And you're not going to be done for a long time~"

[katz-rambles]

Aphrodisiac sex with Viktor has taken over my brain. So I'm gonna write about it 🤭.

My first Arcane fic!! Wooo!! I hope I wrote his character well!

(nsfw, fem!reader, use of aphrodisiacs, alcohol mentioned, masturbation, oral (fem and male receiving), dom-ish!reader, sub-dom!Viktor, Viktors a tease, friends to lovers?, I think this is it!)

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰

The night started out normal, enough. You went out with some friends for a nice girls night out filled with drinks and gossip, and it was an amazing night. You're relatively tipsy by the time everyone is ready to go home, it's about half past midnight, and the only thing you can think about is going to bed. That is until, about half way home. A sudden spark flows through your veins, creating a dull fog in your mind. Maybe you had a bit more to drink than you thought you did.

You've decided to walk a tad bit quicker to get home. A small apartment in the downtown of Piltover, it's a nice size and not too expensive, especially since you're sharing it, and the fact that there's only one bedroom inside just adds to the fact. You're just glad that Viktor doesn't mind sharing a bed.

You have to fumble with your keys for an embarrassing amount of time before you can actually unlock the door. It's silent inside the apartment, there's no sign that Viktor has already come home. Although, that wouldn't surprise you, ever since he and Jayce started to work on the Hextech, you've been seeing less and less of him in your shared apartment.

You push off a shower until the morning, it can wait a few more hours, it's too late. When you enter the bedroom, you almost scream when your eyes focus well enough to see someone sitting at the small desk in the room. So he is home, you rub your temples and sigh. He’s always staying up late. You don't want him to hurt his back, more than he already has, by being in such an awkward position all night. So you gently grab onto his shoulders to try and wake him up, his shirt has slipped and your palm rests on the bare skin, the warmth that comes from him could burn you. From such a simple touch that foggy haze fills your head once again, when Viktor is in a better position you'll get a drink of water. You tighten your grip on his shoulders and carefully shake him, a sad attempt to wake him. You would just carry him to the bed, you're strong enough, but you don't want to irritate his leg.

“Hey, Viktor.. are you awake?” You whisper, when you feel him stir. No response comes from him, but you're not going to give up any time soon. So this time you try a different method, you crouch beside him and lift up his head to try and see if he's awake, and he's not. Of course he's not. But you're determined to save his back from his hunched position. Each time you try something different and your hand makes contact with him, you can feel another spark flow through your veins and the foggy haze in your head gets stronger. Maybe this time you'll just splash him with ice cold water, but that'll probably give the poor thing a heart attack.

“Viktor, come on. You can't stay like this,” you groan and try to shake him awake, once again to no avail, and your feet are starting to ache from crouching in your heels for so long. At this point you're starting to give up, and you try to shake him one last time. Your hand rests on his waist this time, the other on his arm, you can feel the warmth of his body, along with his scent, a mix of oil, metal, and his shampoo that creates an intoxicating smell that you'll never get enough of now, from this position and, as much as you may hate to admit it, it sparks a dull throb in your core. “Vik.. please?” You shake him, trying to ignore the fire that's sparked inside of you, and this time he does wake up. A shallow gasp escapes from him as he pushes his head up and rubs the back of his neck. He lets out a low groan and looks over at you, the noise has you thinking about just how he would sound if you had your way with him.

This time it's his turn to shake you from your, not so innocent, thoughts, and he pushes himself up from the desk, now standing while you're still crouching. The position puts you at the perfect level that your thoughts start to wander again. “Just how much did you have to drink?” He chuckles as you stand yourself up, one of his hands reaches to press against your forehead, and it burns. You can't tell if it's him or you that's warmer, but the contact has a familiar pulse starting at your core. Just before he's able to say something you push his hand away from yourself. “Enough,” you reply, trying to shake the feeling away.

He scoffs and leans against the desk, and you can't deny how fucking hot he looks. His hair is messed up, his clothes have wrinkles in them, and his hands, god his hands, have traces of whatever he was using back at the lab on them.

You decide to take a shower now, maybe this way you can deal with the problem of your hormones raging like a horny teen. The warm water feels like it's been sent straight from heaven and down on your aching muscles, you can feel yourself relaxing under the water. You let your hand drift to your breasts and massage the flesh of one and then the other, feeling your nipples harden under your palm. Each touch you give yourself, you let yourself imagine that it's Viktor. You place your free hand over your mouth to silence your gasp when you push a finger inside your hole to find yourself dripping from such light touches. You curl your finger up to try and hit that one spongy spot inside you, and when you finally find it, you hope that your hand muffled the loud moan you let out. You slowly add another finger, wishing it was his instead of your own. You set a steady rhythm of your fingers, while grinding your swollen clit against your palm. You bit down on your hand in a sad attempt of silencing yourself, silently praying that the mix of your palm and the running water will be enough to not let your moans escape the bathroom. You start to speed up your fingers as you feel your orgasm get closer, desperately grinding against your palm for the friction you crave against your clit. Soon enough your orgasm crashes down on you, and you let out a loud moan. Now you're left panting from the aftershocks of your orgasm, yet even after that, the haze and pulse is still evident. Maybe you should just sleep it off.

The shower you had was relaxing and when you come out you find Viktor sitting up on the bed, with a book in hand. You crawl into bed beside him and lay your head onto the pillow, closing your eyes and relishing in the cold feeling of the fabric against your, still burning hot, skin. Even after a long shower the feeling hasn't stopped, and now being right beside Viktor, it's seemed to double. “Are you okay?” Viktor asks, when you lift your head up from the cold release of the pillow, all you can muster is a nod, if you open your mouth you're afraid you might just moan, you can feel his body heat from under the covers and his scent is evident in the bed. “I'm fine, Vik, think I just had a little too much to drink,” you laugh and rest your cheek on one of your arms, “but I'll be fine after a good sleep.”

Viktor sighs and lifts your face up, his hand holding your chin. He studies your face and you can feel your face heat up from his intense gaze. “Hmm, you don't seem fine. You're practically burning up,” he states. The way his accent sounds when he speaks has you clenching your thighs and hoping he doesn't see you doing so. He keeps your face in his hand for a few more seconds before he finally lets go, “maybe it was one of the drinks you had making you burn up.” He brushes some stray hairs out of your face and he shuffles so you're both laying down, he pulls your face closer to him and squints his eyes at you, before he can say anything else you pull him closer and kiss him, feeling his reciprocate the kiss just spurts you on more and you thread your fingers in his hair.

He rests a hand on the curve of your waist and when you feel it you pull away and feel yourself internally panic, “holy shit, I'm sorry. I have no fucking clue whats gotten into-” Before you're able to finish your scentance he pulls you back down and kisses you. His hand trails down your waist towards your thigh and he strokes the side of your thigh, occasionally giving the fat of your thigh a squeeze. “I told you. It was one of the drinks.” He mumbles against your lips and grabs your hip and pulls you closer, you take the hint and quickly climb on top of him, straddling his hips, and he groans when you grind down on his semi hard erection.

You pull away from his lips just long enough to tug his shirt off, quickly doing the same with your own, before connecting your lips again. You start to trail kisses down his jawline, towards his neck, leaving a kiss on his adams apple, and moving to the side of his neck to leave more kisses and occasional harsh sucks to form a mark, savouring the noises he lets out every time you do. Being careful to not hurt his leg, you move yourself down to trail your kisses lower and lower until you reach the hem of his pants. “May I?” You ask breathlessly and he chuckles, “you practically tore off my shirt, you think I'd say no now.” He scoffs, a teasing undertone to his words that causes the throb in your core to heighten. You pull down his pants and boxers to let him dick out, wrapping your hand around the base and giving him a few strokes before you wrap your mouth around the tip, licking up the bead of precum that's settled there. He groans and tangles his fingers in the strands of your hair, not pushing or pulling but just resting his hand there. You start to bob your head, making sure to tease the tip, relishing in the noises he's making, a mix of delicious groans and whimpers leave his lips and it spurs you on more. He thrusts his hips up and the tip hits the back of your throat causing you to gag around him, his fingers gently tug on your hair and when you look up at him he lets out a loud groan. You use one of your hands to reach down and rub your clit, matching the pace of your fingers with the pace of your head. He thrusts his hips up again, this time a little rougher, and you know he's getting close. You swirl your tongue around the tip and he pulls your head off him. “No, when I cum, it'll be inside you.” He says, and you whine at the loss of friction when you pull your hand away from your aching clit. He pulls you to him and kisses you, savouring the way you taste and groaning when he tastes himself on your lips. You pull your pants off and straddle his hips again, lifting yourself up and lining his cock up. You give him a few strokes and slowly start to sink down.

The stretch is delicious and you moan when you've lowered yourself all the way. He brings one of his hands to your thigh and rubs it, you place your hands on his chest and start to lift yourself up. You whimper as you do so, adjusting to the stretch. A few seconds of just having his tip inside you, you lower yourself back down and repeat, slowly getting faster and rougher with each bounce. Soon you're riding him, one of your hands is on his chest, supporting yourself and the other rests on Viktors hand that's squeezing your thigh. You speed up a bit more and he groans when he feels you clench around him, his head falls back onto the pillow. His hand leaves your thigh and he brings it up and starts expertly rubbing your clit, for a second you find yourself jealous of his experienced fingers.

“Viktor! Fuck.. please don't stop!” You moan and clench around him, his hips start to rut up to meet your bounces. You both know that you're close and you know you aren't going to last very long. Your moans start to become more frequent and at a higher pitch, one of your hands leaves red scratches down his chest as you feel your orgasm get closer. Your nails dig into his skin and you bury your face in his neck, biting down on the sensitive skin when your orgasm hits you, your pussy pulses around his cock and with a few more thrusts up he's cumming inside you, his muscles tensing and he's moaning.

You both lay with each other for a few seconds before Viktor speaks up, “do you feel better?” He chuckles when you nod, you're still panting and you rest your forehead against his, a sheen of sweat on you both. You whimper when you push yourself up and feel his softening cock slide out of you, the globs of cum that drip out of you make you whine. He grabs your hips and pulls your pussy closer to him. “I can't have you dripping on the bed, we just changed the sheets.” He groans and pulls you so you're sitting on his face, his tongue lapping at your folds and tracing your clit. You can feel the vibrations of him laughing when you squirm on top of him, his hands have a tight grip on your hips, ensuring you don't move too much. You thread your fingers in his hair, tugging on it as you start to grind your hips on his face. He ravages you, eating you out like a starved man. The curve of his nose bumps your swollen and sensitive clit deliciously and you pull on his hair at the feeling, when you do he groans into your pussy. He doesn't slow down or even hint at stopping as you can feel your third orgasm of the night creep up on you.

“Fuck! Viktor.. ‘m so close!” You whimper and grind your hips down on his face, the obscene slurping noises that come from him just fuel your arousal. You tighten your grip on his hair and your thighs tense around his face as your orgasm hits, your squirming as he helps you ride out your orgasm. He laps up all of your juices until you're trying to push yourself off from sensitivity. “There we go,” he sighs when you move off his face, he has a sheen of your arousal around his mouth and he licks his lips and smirks at you, “now you won't drip on the clean sheets.” You laugh and he pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you, you can taste yourself on his lips and it’s one of the best things you’ve ever tasted.

“How did you know it was the drink?” You ask him, feeling your eyelids grow heavy with each word that leaves your lips. “Aphrodisiac, it was easy enough to figure out when you came out of the shower. You're not as quiet as you think you are,” He smirks when you groan at him. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, one of his hands rubs your back, drawing random shapes and figures, and successfully lulling you to sleep.

[ohcorny]

How I Made the Colors in Hunger's Bite So Good

first of all: buy my book. buy it and look at the colors. (if you cannot buy the book, ask for it at your local library or i GUESS you can look at these spreads i posted)

we're gonna talk about colors, but more specifically we're going to talk about overlays. if you're an artist you are probably familiar with overlays. we love our overlays. we love to color a picture and then at the very last minute go 'hm. looks bad. i'm going to put a yellowish overlay on it to make it look less bad :)'

do not do this.

i mean you can, and it'll work sometimes, but all you're really doing is tricking your brain into thinking different is better. you've been staring at the image for potentially several hours. none of the choices you made at the beginning mean anything to you anymore. you're just finishing what you started. one of the big reasons you might look at your art and go 'man, this doesn't look that good' is because You drew it and are intimately familiar with it. you know all the flaws and mistakes because You made them and You know what your vision was. one of the great frustrations with art is that the piece in your head doesn't look like something you actually made. you want it to look like somebody else did it, so you can enjoy it as a viewer, not as the creator.

so when you put that overlay on, and suddenly the image looks very different, your brain will go 'this doesn't look like the thing i've been staring at for 2-3 hours! this is different! now it's good!'

and again, sometimes it Is good. but do you actually understand why it's good? or is it just different?

okay so what am i supposed to do smart guy

i'm glad you asked. the trick to making overlays work is to have them on from the start. this requires knowing what mood you want to convey in your scene from the very beginning. hopefully you know what mood you want to convey. you do, right? and i don't just mean happy or sad, i also mean safe, threatened, familiar, strange, soft and harsh. blue is not always sad. green is not always healthy. yellow/orange are not the only way to convey a companionable warmth.

okay did you pick the mood? do you have an idea of what color you want to use to represent that mood? great. i'm gonna use blue to convey the cool, clean white of a ship's maintenance corridor without making things literally white. and i'm going to stick in two characters whose color palettes consist of bright yellow, brown, and wine red. awesome. i definitely know how those colors would behave under blue lighting.

(here's the thing: no i don't.) this is where a gradient map correction layer comes in. i want my page to be Blue. alright. let's make a gradient map that's Blue.

a gradient map is basically just A Gradient with specific colors connected to specific values. you have your darkest values on the left, and your lighter values on the right. at 100% opacity, this gradient map layer will read the value of anything below it and go 'okay this bit is this dark, so it should be This shade of blue. and this bit is this light, so it should be This shade of blue'.

kind of like a hue or color layer except determined by a gradient rather than one color, so it could also go 'this is light, so it's green' and 'this is dark, so it's purple'. it's math. i don't really get it either. but anyway this is probably not what you want if you want your characters' palettes to be recognizable. emery's sweater is supposed to be a wine red! neeta's skin should be brown, and her shirt should be yellow. these are their Key Colors. generally, i want them to be recognizable. so let's lower that opacity down.

nice! you can definitely now see that emery's sweater is red and neeta's shirt is yellow. and everything is relatively balanced. nothing is too saturated, nothing is significantly brighter than anything else. it's all got a little bit of blue in it. but i've skipped the step of actually picking your colors. because here's the thing with gradient maps.

they hate you and want to fight. when working with gradient maps you must imagine there is a monkey sitting on your shoulder dumping paint in every time you pick a color. the monkey has a tube of blue and he is going to put that blue into everything you paint, but it's not normal paint. it doesn't mix, it overtakes. it won't turn something yellow into green, it will turn it blue. it wants everything to be blue. if you want something to look like the color it's supposed to be, you will have to make it extremely saturated under the layer to essentially fight the paint monkey's blue. hence, emery's sweater is a BRIGHT red, so it will look a little more purpley under the blue. and neeta's skin is very orange, so it can be dulled down into a soft brown.

this is the sort of thing you will have to learn by feel, because it will be different with every gradient map, especially if you start getting into weird ones that aren't monochromatic. you want to know one of my favorite maps to use?

i have memorized where on the value scale all of these colors appear. i can color something using only shades of gray when i have this filter on. i am evolved. if you want to use gradient maps effectively, you'll have to get a lot of practice.

anyway this post got really long and i'm about to go to a movie so i'll talk about how to use screen/multiply/overlay layers later. but gradient maps are the main tool i used to make hunger's bite's palettes so unified across scenes. but you can see way above how they work to turn insane saturated colors into the nice harmonies--and the trick is that i'll never see those saturated colors while i'm working. because i have accepted the paint pouring monkey into my heart, and i trust him. except when i'm coloring wick's coat. holy mother of god every gradient map hated that man's purple coat.

[azrielbrainrot]

The Feel of Your Skin

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader x Rhysand

Description: Azriel and Rhysand have a quite interesting way of waking you up and making you forget your duties.

Warnings: Smut, fingering, handjobs, grinding (?), just filth really but kind of soft, morning sex

Word Count: 1,6k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Notes: This story is part of the All Over My Skin Universe. I haven't written smut in a while but I got inspired out of nowhere and this basically wrote itself. Hope you enjoy!

Your brain was still dazed when you started feeling your two favorite males kissing your body awake, gently licking over any marks that had survived the night. The whispered good mornings in their sleep tinged voices sending shivers down your spine as their hands roamed your body, pulling you even closer, trapping you in between them.

It was impossible to miss the scent of desire in the air, even more to miss the High Lord's obvious arousal pressing up against your backside. He wasted no time in holding a hand over your stomach, keeping you in place and grinding into you unhurriedly, breaths and soft groans of pleasure escaping him as he busied his mouth with your neck.

At the same time Azriel's hands started traveling lower and lower, soon finding its place over your already leaking cunt with an appreciative hum. It was only then that you opened your eyes, finding him already watching you intently, desire conquering the beautiful hazel as he spread your wetness around, teasing you.

“There's no time,” you pant just as he pressed his finger against your entrance, not hard enough to enter you, only toying with it, with you. “I have work soon.”

“We can make this quick,” he murmurs, leaning in to drop a kiss over your lips and kissing a trail down to the underside of your jaw, sharp canines teasing the skin.

“But I still need to go back to Winter.”

“I'll winnow you in, I'm faster,” Rhys offers, only pulling himself away from your neck long enough to whisper the words in your ear.

You should have told them that you'd still need a long bath and to scrub your body thoroughly to wash off their scent, that dousing you in it once more would only make the task that much harder. There really wasn't any way for you to get to work on time even if Rhys took you there, knew it meant arriving late and making up an excuse even though you hated lying to your coworkers. But with the promise of the delicious pleasure you know they can bring you, you find that you don't care that much, certainly not enough to get up and away from in between their warm bodies, you're not sure anything would be worth that.

Both males smile against your skin when they feel you make up your mind, your body relaxing further against theirs and your hand finding its place on the back of Azriel's neck, grasping onto his curls as theirs kissed become rougher, Rhys' hips rolling deeper into you, the way his entire body pressed against yours making you infinitely glad you hadn't put on any clothes to sleep last night. A hum travels up the High Lord's throat, the agreement sending goosebumps across your skin.

Azriel finds the end of his patience and finally pushes a finger into you slowly, relishing in the feeling of your gummy walls accepting the familiar intrusion, making way for him. He soon adds another finger, pumping them both in and out gently, the way you squeezed around them reminding him of how you had felt around his cock the night before, so warm and tight; and the breathy moans you let out so close to his ear making him want to make them louder, to hear his name coming out of your pretty lips unabashedly once again.

His teeth sink into your throat, leaving a mark that you would likely chastise him for when you both came back down to earth but that in the moment gave him exactly what he wanted; a moan of his name sounding around the quiet room, and more would have followed as he sped up and pumped his fingers into you deeper, the heel of his hand pressed perfectly against your clit so you could grind against it to your heart's content, if he hadn't captured your mouth with his, effectively swallowing the whines threatening to escape.

Of course Rhysand takes this as his opportunity to stop holding back as well, his hand moving to hold your hip as you ground against Azriel's hand, against him, biting and sucking across your neck, your shoulder, anything he could reach, making sure that if anyone saw Azriel's mark they would have no way of missing his.

You couldn't even find the mind to care or tell him off as you usually did, could only focus on the way their bodies moved against yours, instincts kicking in and making you desperate for release, to feel them reach theirs at your hand.

It's only then you realize that Azriel's cock stands untouched against his torso, his hips twitching every once in a while, trying to chase any friction as he sends you into an ocean of pleasure without giving any thought to his. Touch him. The command echoed in your mind, though you couldn't be sure if it was an order or a plea. Either way you didn't have to be told twice.

Your hand travels down his body much like he had done to you earlier, feeling the hard muscle tense and relaxing under your touch, before reaching his abdomen, easily finding his impressive length leaking and ready for you. Running a finger over the soft, thick head, you attempt to pay him back in kind and tease him, but you found you don't have the patience and heart for it, definitely not in the moment, and with the first buck of his hips, you wrap your hand around his cock, squeezing him just right and set a rhythm moving up and down.

Azriel pulls away from the kiss to let a deep groan escape his lips, pressing his forehead against yours and moving his hips along with you, fucking into your hand while you did you best to ride his fingers and helped Rhysand chase his own orgasm - after knowing each other so intimately your bodies moved in tandem like a well oiled machine.

Sounds of pleasure echoed around the room as you lost yourselves in the pleasure. You didn't pay any mind to the sweat gathering in your skins, the way the muscles that hadn't quite woken up and still ached from the night before made their discomfort known, the awkward angle your arms and legs were stuck in. Nothing mattered but each other.

Ecstasy finds Rhysand first, the rhythm he had set up wavering as his hips falter against the onslaught of pleasure. His hand grips onto your hip harder, bruising the flesh as he buries his face in your neck and lets go with a deep groan.

It's with the way his canines sink into your skin and the feeling of his release over your back that makes the rough skin of Azriel's hand toying with your clit and how expertly his fingers work your cunt become too much to bear and you follow suit, a powerful orgasm shaking your body as a silent scream keeps your lips parted.

Azriel cums last, as he usually does, only surrendering himself to the pleasure after he sees you and Rhysand do it first. Letting the grip you still had on his cock and the spent breaths and whimpers coming from both of you walk him into oblivion.

When your ears unclog and the world doesn't sound so muffled behind the daze, the only sound that can be heard around the room are heavy breaths and the distant voices of the people walking on the street, telling you it wasn't early morning anymore.

Your body tries to find its way back to sleep while you struggle to clear your mind and finally get a start on the day. Rhys helps you make a decision as he drops one last chaste, wet kiss on the back of your neck before rolling over onto his back, seemingly in the same predicament as you. Unfortunately that kiss helped wake your body up, but it only made it harder to think clearly as desire rose up again, even hungrier than before.

A burst of recklessness has your body moving before your mind can find a reason not to, pushing Azriel onto his back and moving to straddle him, sitting right over his sensitive cock, a tremble running through you at the feeling of it pressing against the place you need him most. Similarly a shudder runs through his body as he tries to adjust his wings, pressed against the sheets as they were at your quick and less than delicate change in position, the aftermath of his orgasm making them that much more sensitive than usual.

It wasn't often you found yourself on top of him, your hands falling onto his waist as you took him in, so beautiful in the afterglow of his orgasm, the evidence of it still staining your fingers and his abdomen. It gave you a quite mischievous idea.

Both the Shadowsinger and the High Lord look up at you with a questioning but excessively interested look in their eyes, any remnants of sleep disappearing at the sight of your naked body sitting on Azriel with a particular twinkle in your eyes.

“I'm going to be late anyway,” you say with a shrug, knowing there's no need for further explanation or convincing when it comes to them.

Rhys lets out a chuckle, a truly wicked and delicious sound, one that tells you he's had the same idea as you, before running his nail over the tops of Azriel's wing, delighting in the shudder that runs through his spymaster once again.

“We need to make the most of it then.”

[ghstyles]

Details | His Angel

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Pairing: College!Yn x CrimeBossl!Harry

WC: 3.6k

Summary: Harry, drunk, calls Y/N in the middle of the night. The alcohol loosens his tongue, dragging out confessions he’d never dare say sober.

His Angel Masterlist

· · ─────────── ·· ────────── · ·

The digital clock on Y/N's nightstand reads 2:37 AM when her phone starts vibrating incessantly against the wooden surface. She stirs from sleep slowly at first, then more urgently as the buzzing continues, her hand fumbling to locate the device in the darkness.

Without checking the caller ID, because only one person would call at this hour, she answers groggily.

"Hello?" she mumbles, voice thick with sleep as she pushes herself up to sit against her headboard.

There's a pause on the other end, then a familiar voice, though it sounds different somehow. Less controlled, the words slightly slurred around the edges.

"Angel." Just that single word, but Y/N immediately senses something is off.

"Harry?" she asks, now fully awake, concern sharpening her tone. "Is everything okay?"

A low, rumbling laugh comes through the speaker. Its not his usual calculated chuckle, but something looser, almost vulnerable.

"S'fine. Everything's...fine," Harry replies, his words running together slightly. "Just wanted to hear your voice."

Y/N frowns into the darkness of her bedroom, reaching to switch on her lamp. The sudden light makes her blink as realization dawns.

"Harry, are you drunk?" she asks incredulously. She's seen Harry drink before as he enjoys fine whiskey, expensive wine, but she's never heard him like this, his carefully maintained control slipping.

"Maybe," he admits after a moment, and she can almost picture him shrugging, that casual gesture he rarely allows himself. "Had a...difficult meeting. With Russians. Fucking Russians, always with the vodka."

Y/N sits up straighter, suddenly very alert. Harry never discusses his business with her, certainly not specific meetings with specific groups. The fact that he's mentioning it now confirms just how intoxicated he must be.

"Where are you?" she asks, already sliding out of bed, reaching for a pair of jeans.

"Home," Harry answers, and she hears the clink of ice against glass. "In my office. Alone."

Relief washes through her. At least he's safe, not wandering the streets or still out with dangerous associates.

"That's good," she says soothingly, pulling on a sweatshirt over her tank top. "Maybe you should get some water, go to bed."

Another laugh, this one almost bitter. "Can't sleep. Keep thinking."

"About what?" Y/N asks cautiously, sliding her feet into sneakers, phone pressed between her ear and shoulder.

There's a long pause, so extended that Y/N checks her phone to make sure the call hasn't dropped.

"You," Harry finally says, his voice suddenly much quieter, more serious despite the slight slur. "Always thinking about you. S'the problem."

Something in his tone makes her heart skip a beat. "I'm a problem?" she asks softly, grabbing her keys and wallet.

"The biggest," Harry confirms, but there's no malice in his words. "The best kind of problem. The kind that...that makes everything else seem less important."

Y/N pauses at her door, taken aback by this unexpected vulnerability. "Harry..."

"Do you know," he continues as if she hadn't spoken, "that before you, I slept maybe three, four hours a night? Always working, planning, watching my back. Now I sleep...better. When you're there. Like my brain knows it's safe to shut down for a while."

The admission strikes Y/N speechless for a moment. This is more personal insight than Harry has offered in months of their relationship.

"I didn't know that," she says softly, resuming her movement toward the door. "I'm glad you sleep better with me there."

"There's a lot you don't know," Harry says, and she hears the sound of liquid being poured, ice clinking again. "A lot I don't tell you."

Y/N steps into the hallway of her apartment building, locking the door behind her. "Like what?" she asks, hesitant yet curious about what secrets might spill from Harry's loosened tongue.

Another pause, this one filled with the sound of his breathing, slightly heavier than usual.

"Like how fucking terrified I am," he finally says, the words coming out in a rush. "All the time. Not of the business, not of the risks. Of losing you. Of you seeing...really seeing what I am, who I am, and walking away."

Y/N freezes on the stairs, her breath catching. In all their time together, she's never heard Harry admit to fear of any kind, let alone fear of abandonment.

"Harry, I know who you are," she says carefully, continuing down the stairs. "I've always known."

"No," he insists, his voice harder now despite the slurring. "You know what I show you. The...the filtered version. The version that might keep you around. Not the real thing."

She exits her building, the night air cool against her skin as she looks for a taxi. "Then tell me about the real thing," she challenges gently.

The silence stretches so long that Y/N thinks he might have hung up or passed out. Then:

"I killed my first man when I was seventeen," Harry says, his voice unnervingly calm despite the subject matter. "Not ordered it. Did it myself. With my hands. And I felt...nothing. Nothing at all."

Y/N swallows hard, spotting a taxi and waving it down. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because you should know," Harry says simply. "Before you decide...if you stay. What kind of monster you're with."

As she slides into the taxi and gives the driver Harry's address, Y/N takes a deep breath, steadying herself.

"I've never thought you were a monster, Harry."

A bitter laugh crackles through the phone. "Then you haven't been paying attention, angel. I've done things...terrible things. Things that would make you look at me differently."

"Try me," Y/N says with more confidence than she feels.

There's the sound of movement, like Harry is standing, pacing. "Last month, when that shipment went missing from the docks? I didn't just 'handle it' like I told you. I found the man responsible. Made an example of him. The kind of example that keeps others in line for years."

Y/N closes her eyes briefly, trying to process this information without letting her imagination fill in too many details. "I assumed as much," she says quietly. "I'm not naive, Harry."

"No? What about when your professor was giving you trouble last semester? The one who suddenly decided your paper deserved an A after all?"

This pulls Y/N up short. She had assumed her appeal to the department head had resolved that situation. "What did you do?" she asks, her voice barely audible.

"Nothing permanent," Harry says, and she can almost hear the dismissive wave of his hand. "Just a conversation. About his gambling debts. About how they might disappear if he reconsidered his grading policies."

Y/N feels a flicker of anger. "You had no right to interfere in my academic life," she says, her tone sharper now. "I can fight my own battles."

"I know," Harry says, surprising her. "That's why I never told you. You're...fierce. Independent. It's one of the things I lo—" He cuts himself off abruptly, and Y/N's heart hammers in her chest at what he almost said. "One of the things I admire about you."

The taxi turns onto Harry's street, the upscale neighborhood quiet at this hour.

"Is that why you called me tonight?" Y/N asks softly. "To confess your sins? To warn me away?"

There's a long sigh on the other end. "I don't know why I called," Harry admits, vulnerability seeping back into his voice. "I just...needed to hear you. To know you're real. That what we have is real. Sometimes it feels too good to be true. That someone like you would choose someone like me."

The raw honesty in his voice makes Y/N's throat tight with emotion as the taxi pulls up outside Harry's building.

"I'm coming up," she says, paying the driver and stepping out onto the sidewalk. "Stay where you are, okay? I'll be there in five minutes."

"You're coming here?" Harry sounds genuinely surprised, as if the possibility hadn't occurred to him despite calling her in the middle of the night. "Now?"

"Yes, now," Y/N confirms, nodding to the night doorman who recognizes her and lets her in without question. "Just stay put. Don't drink anything else."

"Bossy," Harry murmurs, but there's affection in his tone. "I like when you tell me what to do. Only you get away with that, you know. Anyone else tried, they'd be missing teeth."

Despite everything, Y/N smiles as she steps into the elevator and presses the button for the penthouse. "I'm aware of my special privileges."

"Special indeed," Harry agrees, his voice softening. "You have no idea what you do to me, angel. How you've changed everything. Before you, I was just...existing. Building the business, eliminating threats, accumulating power. But not living. Not really."

The elevator ascends smoothly, and Y/N leans against the wall, taking in these unprecedented admissions.

"And now?" she prompts gently.

"Now I have something to lose," Harry says, his voice suddenly clear despite the alcohol. "Someone to lose. And it fucking terrifies me. Makes me vulnerable in ways I can't afford to be."

The elevator doors slide open at the penthouse level, and Y/N steps into the private foyer, using her key to unlock Harry's door.

"I'm here," she says into the phone, then ends the call as she enters the apartment.

The main living area is dark and silent, but she can see light spilling from beneath the closed door of Harry's office. She moves toward it, hesitating only briefly before knocking softly and pushing the door open.

The sight that greets her is one she's never seen before: Harry Styles, the feared mob boss who commands respect with just a glance, sitting on the floor with his back against his desk, tie loosened, top buttons undone, an almost-empty bottle of expensive whiskey beside him. His hair is disheveled, as if he's been running his hands through it repeatedly, and his eyes, when they lift to meet hers, are bloodshot but startlingly alert despite the alcohol.

"You actually came," he says, something like wonder in his voice.

Y/N steps into the office, closing the door behind her. "Of course I came. You needed me."

A smile flickers across his face, not his usual controlled smirk, but something more genuine, almost boyish. "I always need you. That's the problem."

She crosses the room and sinks down to sit beside him on the floor, their shoulders touching. Without hesitation, she reaches for his hand, intertwining their fingers.

"Needing someone isn't a problem, Harry. It's human."

He looks down at their joined hands, his thumb absently stroking over her knuckles. "Not in my world. In my world, it's a liability. A weakness others can exploit."

"Is that why you called me tonight?" Y/N asks again. "To remind yourself of your weakness?"

Harry is quiet for a long moment, still staring at their hands. "I called because I had a gun to my head tonight," he finally says, so matter-of-factly that it takes a moment for the words to register. "Metaphorically speaking. A negotiation that went bad. Had to make choices I didn't want to make. Compromises that will cost us."

Y/N's blood runs cold at the casual admission of danger, but she keeps her voice steady. "Us as in...?"

"The organization," Harry clarifies, glancing at her. "Not you and me. Never that. I'd burn it all down before I'd compromise what we have."

The fierce declaration, spoken with such certainty despite his intoxicated state, makes Y/N's heart race.

"So you made a difficult business decision, and then decided to get drunk and call me in the middle of the night to confess your darkest secrets?" she summarizes, trying to understand.

Harry laughs, the sound surprisingly genuine. "When you put it that way, it sounds pathetic."

"Not pathetic," Y/N corrects him, squeezing his hand. "Human. Like I said."

He turns to look at her fully now, his gaze intense despite the slight unfocusing of his eyes. "Do you know when I realized I was in love with you?" he asks abruptly, the question so unexpected that Y/N's breath catches.

It's the first time he's used that word—love—in relation to what they have. She's thought it, felt it, but never voiced it, following his lead in keeping certain vulnerabilities unspoken.

"When?" she asks, barely above a whisper.

"That night at Thomas's restaurant," Harry says, a small smile playing at his lips. ""When you walked away from me."

Y/N shifts to look up at him, her hazel eyes catching the dim light.

Y/N remembers the night vividly. It was one of their first serious fights, early in their relationship when she was still establishing boundaries.

"Really? That was the moment? When I was furious with you and you threatened to exile me from the city?" She raises an eyebrow, skeptical.

Harry's lips curve into a small, private smile. The kind only she ever sees.

""That's exactly why,"" Harry says, his words still slightly slurred but his meaning clear. "No one had ever walked away from me before. No one had ever stood their ground like that"

He shakes his head, looking almost bemused at the memory.

“You were so fucking beautiful, standing there with tears in your eyes, refusing to let me treat you like everyone else." His voice drops lower, more intimate. "I watched you walk toward that door, and something in me…broke. The thought of you walking out of my life—"

He stops, jaw tightening at the memory.

"That's when I knew I was fucked," he continues. "Completely, utterly fucked. Because I wasn't just attracted to you, or possessive of you, or intrigued by you. I respected you. Admired you. Needed you in ways that had nothing to do with sex or status or any of the usual reasons I keep people around."

“So you fell in love with me because I told you to fuck off, basically?" she teases, though her eyes are warm.

Harry laughs, the sound low and genuine. A  rare thing that she treasures each time she hears it.

"I fell in love with you because you weren't afraid to tell me to fuck off," he corrects, pulling her closer 

"In the car that night, when you made me promise not to hurt you deliberately again..." he shakes his head slightly, still seeming amazed at the memory "...I realized I'd burn this whole fucking city to the ground before I'd let anything hurt you. Including myself."

Y/N feels tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, overwhelmed by this unexpected outpouring of emotion from a man who typically keeps his feelings locked down tighter than his secure warehouse facilities.

"Why haven't you ever told me this before?" she asks softly.

Harry's expression sobers, vulnerability replaced by something harder, more familiar. "Because saying it makes it real. Makes it a weakness others can exploit. Makes it something that can be taken from me."

He reaches up with his free hand, cupping her cheek with a gentleness that belies the callousness of his words.

"Everything I've ever loved has been taken from me," he says, his voice low and intense. "My mother. My childhood. My chance at a normal life. If I admit how much you matter—how much I need you—then the universe knows exactly where to hit me hardest."

The raw pain in his voice breaks something open in Y/N's chest. Without hesitation, she leans forward, pressing her forehead against his.

"The universe isn't listening, Harry," she whispers. "Just me. And I'm not going anywhere."

For a moment, they stay like that, breathing the same air, the scent of expensive whiskey and Harry's cologne surrounding them. Then, with a movement that's surprisingly coordinated given his state, Harry pulls her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face against her neck.

"I don't deserve you," he murmurs against her skin. "Never have. Probably never will. But I'm too selfish to let you go."

Y/N runs her fingers through his hair, cradling the back of his head. "It's not about deserving," she says quietly. "It's about choosing. And I choose you, Harry Styles. All of you. The good, the bad, the terrifying."

He lifts his head to look at her, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that makes her breath catch. Then, with a vulnerability she's never seen from him before, he asks:

"Even knowing what I am? What I've done? What I'm capable of?"

Y/N meets his gaze steadily, unflinching. "I've always known what you are, Harry. I've seen the blood on your clothes, the bruises on your knuckles. I've watched you take phone calls that end with people disappearing. I'm not naive."

"And yet you're still here," he says, something like wonder in his voice.

"And yet I'm still here," she confirms, running her thumb along his jawline. "Because I see all of you. Not just the mob boss, not just the businessman, not just the lover. I see the man who brings me coffee exactly how I like it when I'm studying. Who remembers the names of all my friends even though you pretend not to. Who sits through my rambling explanations of literary theory even though I know you'd rather be doing literally anything else."

A small, genuine smile tugs at Harry's lips. "Your enthusiasm is...endearing. Even when I have no fucking idea what you're talking about."

Y/N laughs softly, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "That's why I love you," she says, the words slipping out naturally, without calculation. "Because you listen anyway. Because you care anyway."

Harry goes very still at her declaration, his eyes widening slightly. "Say that again," he demands, his voice suddenly rough.

Y/N meets his gaze steadily, unafraid now. "I love you, Harry Styles. All of you."

For a moment, Harry just stares at her, as if trying to determine the truth of her words. Then, with a muttered curse, he captures her mouth in a kiss that's desperate, hungry, almost bruising in its intensity. His hands tangle in her hair, holding her to him as if afraid she might disappear if he loosens his grip.

When they finally break apart, both breathing heavily, Harry presses his forehead against hers again.

"I won't remember saying this tomorrow," he murmurs, his words still slightly slurred but his meaning crystal clear. "So I need you to remember for both of us. I love you, Y/N. More than I've ever loved anything or anyone in this godforsaken world. More than power, more than money, more than life itself. And it scares the shit out of me every single day."

Y/N's heart swells at the raw honesty in his voice, the vulnerability he's allowing her to witness.

"I'll remember," she promises, cupping his face in her hands. "And maybe someday you'll be brave enough to tell me when you're sober."

A flicker of regret, perhaps, or resignation, crosses Harry's face. "Don't hold your breath, angel. Some walls don't come down easily, even for you."

"That's okay," Y/N says, surprising herself with how much she means it. "I know the truth now. That's enough."

Harry studies her face, as if memorizing every detail despite the alcohol clouding his system. "You're too good for this life," he says softly. "Too good for me."

"That's not for you to decide," Y/N counters, her tone firm despite the tenderness of her touch. "I make my own choices, remember? Even when they involve controlling, overprotective mob bosses who wake me up at 2:30 in the morning with drunken confessions."

That draws a genuine laugh from Harry, the sound rich and unguarded in a way she rarely hears.

"Speaking of," he says, glancing at the nearly empty whiskey bottle beside them, "I'm going to feel like absolute shit in the morning."

"Probably," Y/N agrees, sliding off his lap and standing, offering him her hand. "Which is why we're getting you some water and aspirin now, before bed."

Harry takes her hand, allowing her to help him to his feet. He sways slightly, steadying himself with a hand on his desk.

"Bossy," he says again, but there's nothing but affection in his tone.

"You love it," Y/N reminds him, slipping under his arm to help support him as they move toward the door.

"I love you," Harry corrects her, the words coming easier now, as if having said them once has broken some internal barrier. "Everything else is just...details."

As they make their slow way through the penthouse toward the kitchen, Y/N can't help but wonder if he'll remember any of this tomorrow. Part of her hopes he won't, that she'll get to keep this version of Harry to herself, a secret glimpse beneath the armor he wears so constantly.

But another part of her, the part that loves all of him hopes that something will linger. That maybe, just maybe, this night will crack open something that can't be fully closed again.

For now, though, she focuses on the present: on getting water into him, on helping him to bed, on being there when he wakes with what will undoubtedly be a spectacular hangover. On loving him, exactly as he is, with all his darkness and his light.

Because that's the choice she's made. And Y/N, like Harry, doesn't back down from her choices, no matter how complicated they might become.

· · ─────────── ·· ────────── · ·

a/n: If I forgot to add anyone to the Taglist please remind me 🫶🏻 hope you enjoyed this one. Didn’t turn out how I was hoping but it’s 1 am and I want to sleep :’(. But I promised you guys I’d post today.

I love you 💕

Taglist:  @silastylesswift @babegoals @harryssunflower17 @puzio19 @goldensunflowerss-blog @drewrry @tinawritesstuff @dipmeinhoneyh @spinninc @harrystyleshotwife @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @estaticheart @harrysguccihandbag @mads3502 @harrydeary @valuunit @myfavfanficsever @lunaharrygurl

[godoreo22]

Saja boys x Manager reader: Part 2

Fake it till you make it

(Name) is ushered into the apartment by the group of guys.

"Whoa." (Name) gapes as they take in the lavish home. Flat screen TV mounted on the walk plush couches in the living room, white marble counter in the kitchen and a fountain in the middle of the foyer because why not?

"I'd have to sell every organ in my body to even afford one of those couches." (Name) sits on one and melts into the soft material as if they were sitting on a cloud.

"Well we're glad you like it." The sweet husky voice of who (Name) assumed was the leader coaxed her out of her relaxation. (Name) straightens and stands up. "RIGHT yes this is still a job interview technically."

"Hello my name is (Name), i am here the the manager position, but you all already knew that." (Name) stammers a bit with a deep bow.

All five of the beautiful men smirk.

"Oh they're adorable" said the one with with long pink hair causing the rest of them to chuckle and murmur in agreement

"You've already got the job baby" The one with their eyes covered says while holding their chin. (Name) can practically feel their brain buffering. They take and a big step back and takes a deep breath to calm they haywire nerves and burning face.

"That's amazing but we need to keep a professional relationship... mainly for my sanity." (Name) mumbles the last bit but plasters a large smile.

All the boys look at each other a little surprised at the swift shut down but each of them have a challenging look on their faces.

"Alright Boss, no more funny business." Said the one with long pink hair says with a flirtatious smile.

"Right... So this manager job, i assume you're all a boyband?" (Name) inquires.

"You assume right, I'm Jinu" Said the one with dark hair and deep eyes. "This is Romance." He gestures to the one with long pink haired boy who blows them a kiss at that forms a heart that actually flies.

"Interesting..." (Name) notes watching it before focusing back on the others introductions.

"That's Abby." The boy with a chiseled jaw line flexes causing his shirt to stretch and his abs to become exposed. (Name) pupils dilate as they stare at his magnificent physique, imagining how it feels to lick them like a glazed doughnut. They take a deep breath and pinch their side hard to steel themselves.

"Mhm" Abby chuckles a their reaction and relaxes.

"Mystery." (Name) looks at the boy with long silver hair who gives them a small smile and a nod of acknowledgement which (Name) returns

"And finally, baby." (Name) looks at the last boy with an adorable face and a cute smile "What's up girl?" Only for his deep voice to completely catch her off guard.

"Hmm well you're all... unique individuals. Definitely boyband esque." (Name) nod in thought. "So i assume you all your roles."

"Yup, I'm lead singer, Abby is on choreo, Baby is the wrapper, Mystery is the lyricist, and Romance is the vocalist." Jinu says which makes (Name) sigh in relief. Less work.

"Ok great well first your gonna need a debut, put your name out there." (Name) starts pacing with a purpose.

"We gotta deal with booking a venue, Instruments, choreography." (Name) starts the drone now feeling like they've trained their whole life for this.

'Cute.' All the boys think in unison.

"Whoa whoa Boss calm down, let us get to know know you first." Romance wraps their arm around (Name)'s shoulder.

"I don't know, I'm sure there is so much we have to get to for the debut." (Name) squeaks out as they feel heat rise in them. "Come on, we're gonna be spending a lot of time together, might as well."Baby adds getting closer to them.

"Whoa you just kinda popped up outta no where." (Name) chuckles nervously before gasping loudly.

"I have the perfect idea for your debut."

UGH i wanted to get this out like yesterday but i fractured my knee on top of getting braces again because i have some rare teeth condition. I'm just out of it kinda but i have my computer so i will continue to type.

Taglist: @imaginarydreams @sparky2020sworld @strayharmony943 @lysira340 @crescent-z

[maaeveeee]

Your work is so whimsical and fun! May I request one about snotlout having an attitude when the others tease him, but practically starts giggling and kicking his feet when reader does it? bonus points if the others confront him about it and he tries (and fails) to deny it 

thank you ♡

The GIF will be updated with an HD version after the movie releases, allowing me to obtain scene packs.

Pairing: live action Snotlout x female!reader

Author’s note: thank you so much for your request and your support. I'm very glad you enjoy reading my fanfics & I hope you will enjoy this one too!

Snotlout could dish it out, but he could not take it.

Any time someone made fun of him — which, to be clear, was daily, often hourly — he acted like a royal insult had been hurled from the top of a mountain.

Complete with wounded grunts, offended gasps, and the occasional dramatic hand—to—heart gesture like he was seconds from fainting onto a velvet couch he didn’t own.

“Oh, real mature, Fishlegs.”he snapped, brushing soot off his armor like it had personally betrayed him. “You try riding Hookfang while he’s in a mood and see how you land!”

“In a pile,” Fishlegs said. “You landed in a pile.”

“He made a noise when he fell,” Tuffnut added, thoughtfully. “It was like a sheep giving up.”

“Or like a grown man crying into dirt,” Ruffnut offered.

“I was strategizing,” Snotlout said. “You can’t understand battle tactics at my level.”

“You hit your head on a rock and yelled ‘my beautiful face!’”

“I’m a visual asset to the team!”

Cue eye rolls all around.

This was the usual rhythm: the gang roasted him, he deflected with bravado and rage, someone (usually Astrid) sighed too loudly, and it all ended in mild bruising or a slightly singed tunic.

But then you walked up.

And the energy changed.

You looked at him — unimpressed, arms crossed, dry smirk creeping in like fog before a storm.

“Nice landing,” you said casually. “Was that part of the performance, or did gravity just give up on you?”

Silence.

Then Ruffnut gasped.

Tuffnut gasped louder.

Snotlout blinked at you, stunned.

Then—against every law of nature and masculinity he’d ever pretended to follow—he smiled.

Worse. He beamed.

That stupid, sun—drenched grin where his eyes got squinty and his whole face lit up like you’d just told him he won a medal in something vaguely heroic.

“No, yeah, totally fair,” he said, voice a little too high. “I, uh—I was trying a new technique. Real advanced stuff. You noticed, huh?”

And then—and then—he laughed.

A real, bright, almost—giggling sound that ended in a foot—kick he immediately tried to cover by adjusting his boot like it broke.

The group watched in horror.

There was an emergency meeting at the edge of the dragon stables.

“Okay,” Astrid said, “what is happening with him?”

“I think it’s a medical thing,” Fishlegs whispered. “Like a brain rattle. He smiled. With teeth.”

“No, no,” Tuffnut said, eyes wide. “It’s worse than that.”

“He’s in love,” Ruffnut said, poking at Snotlout’s helmet like she expected it to start smoking.

“I am in control of my feelings,” Snotlout said from the ground, laying flat like he’d been dramatically felled by truth itself.

“You giggled,” Astrid deadpanned.

“I choked! On dirt! From the battlefield!”

“You kicked your foot.”

“I HAD AN ITCH!”

“You leaned in,” Ruffnut accused. “You blushed. I saw it.”

“I had windburn!”

“From what?” Fishlegs asked. “A compliment?”

Snotlout sat up suddenly, pointing at no one in particular. “I don’t like [Name], okay?! I am a man of action and danger and no emotions!”

“Sure,” Tuffnut said. “You flirt like you’re being held at swordpoint, but yeah. No emotions.”

Snotlout groaned and fell back again.

You walked by in the distance, glanced their way, and gave a small wave.

He waved back. Too fast. Too eager.

The group collectively screamed.

[archangeldyke-all]

Papa me want more movie (paramedic sevika) 😞

okay baby here comes the airplane vrooom

men and minors dni

sevika is very protective of her ambulance.

unless you're her patient and she's in the back to treat you, sevika's usually the one driving the rig to the hospital.

it's her baby. when she's not working, silco's the other paramedic driving it. the two of them are precious about the truck, like it's a living creature. they text each other updates during their shifts; if they filled it with gas, when the last stock up was, if the brakes have been sounding squeaky, stuff like that. like it's their baby they're co-parenting, or something.

before she met you, her phone lock screen was just a picture of the ambulance under a sunset. she's such a dork.

so you know sevika's lost her mind when she shows up to pick you up from work in the ambulance.

"sevika. what the fuck." you laugh as she leads you to the giant red truck. she giggles and shrugs.

"gotta take the old gal in to get her oil changed, figured i'd treat my girl to a spin around the block."

"and i'm i the old gal or the girl, in this situation?" you ask. sevika grins and pops open the passenger's side door for you.

it's surprisingly boring in the front seat. granted you've only ever ridden in the back under the influence of pain and drugs but you expected something a little more high tech than this.

"not even a gps?" you ask as sevika jumps in beside you, starting the rig up with a loud sputter from the engine. she snorts.

"what do i need a gps for? i've got the city streets memorized up here." she taps her forehead. "seatbelt." she demands.

god, she's sexy. that big brain of hers-- memorizing every street. you dart out of the passenger seat, ignoring sevika's squawks of protest to press a kiss to her cheek.

that shuts her up pretty quick. she's smiling all shy when you sit back down in your seat and pull on your seatbelt. you giggle, and she shoots you a glare.

"no funny buisness." she grunts. you giggle.

"then why's there a bed in the back?" you tease. sevika glares at you again.

"it's called a gurney, and silco will kill me if i'm late gettin' the rig to the shop."

"doesn't the department send you a replacement rig while yours is getting fixed?" you ask. she nods.

"yeah, but it's hard to find a truck as driveable and reliable as vivian."

"vivian!?" you cackle. "she's got a name?!"

"it was the sexiest name me and silco could come up with." sevika chuckles. "ran wanted it to be 'ruby' but that was way too obvious."

"you think the truck's sexy!?" you cackle. sevika glares at you again.

"baby. you better watch your tone. this is my rig you're talking about. she's been in my life much longer than you."

"oh my god, i can't believe i'm jealous of a truck right now."

"you don't need to be jealous, i'm not fucking the truck."

"you called it sexy!"

"when a vehicle this big can go from twenty to ninety miles an hour in ten seconds, stop on a dime, and carry as much life saving medicine as vivian does-- that's sexy!"

"you hit ninety?!" you screech. sevika cringes, knowing she's in the dog house now. you absolutely despise hearing about how she drives in this truck.

"no-- just-- hypothetically." she mutters, her eyes suspiciously glued to the road. you chuckle and reach over the center console-- where your favorite iced beverage is waiting for you beside sevika's pina colada slushie-- and grab her hand.

"vivian's... beautiful." you try, not sure what a proper compliment for a truck is. "she's a great ambulance. she drove you into my life. she's given me several rides to the hospital. she's protected you every day you work. i'm glad you have her in your life."

sevika smiles sweetly and drags your knuckles to her lips, kissing your hand sweetly. the action makes you feel all fuzzy and warm.

it's quiet for several moments as sevika eases to a stop at a red light, but when she's still she finally turns to study you. "what're you thinking about?"

"i don't think i've ever gone ninety before." you admit.

something about the lack of judgement in your voice has sevika cocking a curious eyebrow at you.

"do you... wanna feel it?" she asks with a mischevious smile.

you gulp. if there's one person in your life you trust to drive a truck going that fucking fast you suppose it's sevika.

sevika's smile is only growing as she watches your nervous excitement.

"we are running late to the rig shop. had to stop for our drinks before hand... we could flick the sirens on... get there on time?" sevika offers, goading you.

you groan and shake your head in shame. "uuugh. okay, fine, but--"

you're cut off by sevika blaring on the horn and flicking on the loud sirens. in front of you, cars merge to make a path for her, and before you can even find something to hold onto sevika's slamming on the gas and taking off.

you squeal. sevika giggles. she's got a bit of a show off smile, but mostly she's focused. on the dashboard, on the road, on the oncoming traffic-- making sure everyone's stopped for her, swerving around assholes who aren't. you realize that if sevika hadn't become a paramedic she could've found a lucrative career in formula 1 racing.

"this is only fifty, drama queen." sevika laughs. you flip her off from the passenger's seat. she hits a turn and you squeal-- and then she's on the freeway, and the city is speeding past you.

"we're so fast!" you giggle. sevika grins.

"soak it up babe, next exit is ours." she laughs.

for just one moment you let go of your fear and let yourself feel exhilarated. sevika's a loon, and she's the love of your life, and you're giggling like a dizzy kid as she speeds down the exit ramp.

"oh, shit!" you gasp as sevika comes to a hard, fast stop at the bottom of the hill, the tires squealing as you somehow manage to stop for the red light.

sevika flicks the sirens off, turns on her turn signal, then turns to grin at you. you cackle.

"you're insane. you do that all the fucking time, don't you?" you ask. she giggles and shrugs.

"i get paid like shit to get shat on all day, i gotta find my perks somewhere. vivian's pretty fuckin' cool, huh?"

you cackle and nod. "she's fucking awesome." you say, admiring sevika's proud little smile. but you're not talking about the truck at all.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette @ellieslob

@xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp @iamastar

@sevikitty @butchchase @nhaaauyen @notlores @mirconreadzztuff22

@veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @strawberrykidneystone @vkumi

@fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25 @sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown

@ruiwonderz @flowersandsuch111 @teethinamber @blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion

@dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth @leeidk87 @cinnamowor1d

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @runawaybaby3 @vikasfemme @lesbones

@chezze-its @lez-zuha @vikashoneybee @shanesevikasfuckdoll @imheadintothemountains

@ferxanda @helaenabugmom @spookymomfriendtm @mzkaylalol @fruitsnpebbless

[devswritingcornerorsmth]

Stress. (Dorian/Reader Oneshot)

VERY self-indulgent dorian oneshot work keeps kicking my ass and a hoe cant do this no more

might be a lil ooc so sorry about that

---

"Alright, what happened now? Was it that bloke again?" Dorian asked, sitting next to you on the couch near your legs. You were currently sprawled out over it, still in uniform and face-first into the pillows. Work was... work. Annoying, and filled with stupid people who would gladly give your life for a fifty-cent raise.

You flinch when you feel Dorian's hands on your back, gently starting to massage your shoulders. You sigh and shake your head.

"No... It's both the new girl and the GM. I understand she's new, but you put a person on hold to turn and ask: 'Hey, I keep trying to put in their request but it's asking for a phone number, what do I do?' I dunno, maybe fuckin' ask them for one?! 'Where do I put these papers?' Where have you put them the last seven fucking times?!" You exclaim, becoming frustrated at the memory of their stupidity. "I really, *really* don't mean to be mean or rude, but GOD, just use your brain."

Dorian listens silently, continuing to rub your back. He moves and shifts so that your head now rests on his lap, his hand on your shoulder and holding you close.

"'m sorry, luv. You don't deserve that, no one does." He replies softly. "Why don't I order some food an' we can sit 'n watch the telly while we relax, hm?"

You nod, briefly wondering how Telly was doing at the mention of watching TV. Instead of moving, Dorian stays, eyes never leaving your form as he tries to comfort you with his touch and silence.

"I'm so tired of this job... it feels like nothing I do is ever enough for them." You murmur, turning so that you face Dorian. He frowned, eyes turning to worry at your exhausted expression.

"There's a host position opening up at the club I work at if you want to join me there." Dorian offered, carefully threading his fingers through your hair.

"I don't want to work with people anymore, Dorian... they're all... too much." You sigh, closing your eyes as you lean into Dorian's touch. He hums in response, trying to think of ways to help you. He hated seeing you like this, stressed and exhausted, instead of that lovely smile he'd kill for.

"Maybe you could get in contact with Celia or Volt and Eddie? 'm sure they'd be happy to give you a job." He suggested. "Penelope or Holly might be able to help, too. Hell, maybe even Willi."

You think Dorian's words over, going over every object turned human who would be glad to help you. Nodded, you sit up, leaning back against the couch cushions.

"Yeah... I'll talk with a few of them. See if they have anything better for me." Dorian smiles at your words, his arm wrapping around your shoulder and giving you a half-hug.

"Great. Lemme go get us somethin' to eat an' then we can do whatever ya want."

"Whatever I want?" You question with a smirk, hinting at something more.

"Of course, luv." Dorian replied, a cheeky grin forming on his lips. "Whatever you want."

---

god i suck at writing endings mb mb.

once again VERY self-indulgent but too nervous to write for a s/i or oc lol

anyways thanks for reading, stay safe and happy mwah