#I've never draw so fast in my life

[eithniel]

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum

[ducktracy]

i've been in a very "nostalgic for SpongeBob" mood lately and that's warranted a lot of reflecting on Baby Me being a Sponge fanatic and thinking of what she'd think of now. and i have to say that one of my favorite parts of doing what i do--and also the most stupidly niche--is that one of my first online hyperfixations i recall having was SpongeBob production music. i remember animating magical girl transformations in Flipnote to SPONGEBOB MUSIC. i remember feeling so smart researching all the songs and getting to hear them without any dialogue on top. very gratifying to 11 year old me. i was and am still very fixated on production music, and so i always get very excited when seeing uploads of these songs and spotting a screenshot of a scene i worked on among them. one of my favorite aspects of watching episodes premiere is seeing what music they added on top of scenes i touched. it's just neat how many facets my thankfulness for Doing What I'm Doing gets to reach. i'm never not thinking of how grateful i am to be doing what i'm doing

[the-only-unicorn-cheese]

ah. so this is what drawing motivation feels like.

[cloudd-nyne]

.

[albaricomics]

how did you got interest in dhmis? did you start at the tv show? or way back at the web series? what is the first episode you watched?

Ooooohhh this one's a very interesting one, also the question I feared the most HADBHSDJ

I knew about the show since 2014 but I just knew it existed, saw some memes but didn't really get em, and whenever I said I wanted to give the show a try, everyone, and I mean EVERYONE told me NOT to, bc "omg it's so scary it traumatized me I can't sleep since I watched it", and I mean back then I was in my creepypasta phase so I wasn't like going to get scared that much but the pressure was inmense I ended up not watching it ):

Years went by, kept watching ocassional memes, but last year on september when I opened Twitter I saw SO MUCH content of them, fanarts were all over my home page, so I asked my brother if he knew anything about it, turned out he had already seen both the web series and tv show and said THERE'S NO WAY YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS SHOW YOU'RE GONNA LOVE IT

And the rest is history...

[wanderingandfound]

What they don't tell you about running up that hill to make a deal with God is that your calves are going to mutiny the next day.

[unholyeverything]

I just realised tomorrow marks the 7ths week of me being sick and feeling like garbage lol It's some ups and downs but generally it's been a while since I've been healthy and none knows whats up which is nice.

[staarpiece-arts]

wip of some npc's in the dnd campaign im running!

[reidrum]

how dare you think it's romantic, leaving me safe and stranded

A/N: if i stared at this any longer it would never see the light of day...so here she is! this is the longest fic i've ever written and i'm kinda gagged about that but i really hope you like it and if you don't that's okay too this is just silly angsty brainrot anyways thanks for reading this my inbox is open if you wanna yap more summary: in which your kidnapping forces you and spencer to face the fallout following your recently ended relationship cw: angst, hurt/comfort, reader is kidnapped/held hostage, implications and mentions of SA to reader but nothing happens, cm type violence, ex!spencer, lowkey lovers to enemies back to lovers, cat adams, medical jargon, miscommunication trope, the bau team is family, afab!reader, pet names wc: 5.1k

Every case you and Spencer have been on has been insufferable for the rest of the team since your falling out, if it had to be given a name. Everyone always had to deal with your constant bickering and harsh words. It was the same in every case, a difference of opinions that led to incessant fighting between you two, Hotch would have to separate you both and use your joint intelligence separately for the sake of keeping everyone alive.

This last case was nothing different, a serial killer in Athens, Georgia who was religiously sacrificing young women in the name of a cult. Both of you fighting over what you believed the other to be wrong about in their part for solving the case. Spencer thought the unsub would have struck in a zone closer to his home, you assumed he was only going after women who resembled someone in his life. The real problem was that you were both wrong.

And it ended with you being held hostage.

It all happened so fast. You were in the car with Spencer and Rossi driving out to the unsub’s house to check for new evidence when you had stopped at a gas station about 15 miles out from the house to refuel. Rossi got out of the car to pump the gas, Spencer sat in the passenger seat, and you went inside to use the bathroom and grab a quick snack.

You quickly washed your hands after finishing in the bathroom and wiped your hands on your pants, still slightly damp as you turn the handle of the door. As you’re perusing the aisle looking for a snack, you can feel the presence of watchful eyes on you. Casually, you slowly look up and around at the source and clock a figure an aisle over with a cap turned downward blocking their face. 

Your gut was sending flares up, telling you that danger was near. You nonchalantly walk over to the aisle he’s in, pretending to look at the nuts and dried fruits while attempting to get a look at his face. In a (maybe not so) bright idea, you think to knock a bag of nuts on the floor next to the lurker’s feet in the hopes he’ll bend down to pick it up for you.

With a push of your hand, the bag knocks off the shelf and onto the floor and you both bend down to pick it up.

“I’m so sorry about that,” you chuckle lightly, “I’m such a clutz.”

“No problem at all, Miss—.” He stops talking all of a sudden, you’re unsure why. You follow his gaze to your left hip where your FBI credentials are peaking out.

Shit.

He draws a weapon faster than you’re able to react with getting your own out, and by the time yours is out the barrel of his is flush with your forehead.

“Drop it.”

You quickly recognize the man as your unsub, miles away from his hunting ground and about to stray from his victimology with you.

“Come on, up. We’re going for a little ride.” He snarls, glancing outside at the black SUV with your colleagues. He grabs you by a hairful and drags you out the back door, shooting the gas station clerk before making the escape with you to his pickup truck. You’re shoved against the car door, back facing him, as he place a zip tie on your wrists and opens the door to sit you in the back seat. The unsub gets in the driver’s seat and starts the car, glaring at you through the rear view mirror, “I’m gonna have fun with you, fed.”

Meanwhile, back in the car Rossi stands at the pump waiting for the tank to fill and Spencer remains in the car looking over the case details once more. He can’t help but feel something is wrong, but can’t place his finger on it. He looks over the details again meticulously, searching for a fault anywhere in your, or even his own logic. Rossi closes the tank and hops back in the car, “She’s not back yet?” he pondered.

Spencer hadn’t even realized you weren’t back yet, “I guess not,” something wasn’t right, “She went ten minutes ago right?”

Rossi nods, opening his mouth to speak when a gunshot coming from the gas station cuts him off. The men look at each other, eyes widened and rush out of the car, weapons drawn.

“FBI!” Rossi enters, looking for any sign of you but coming up empty. Spencer takes note of the disheveled store, produce and cans lying astray. He steps around the mess to find an out of place bag of sour gummy worms on the floor in the middle of an aisle only filled with nuts and dried fruit. 

Sour gummy worms were your favorite.

A sinking feeling settles in Spencer as he tries to fight the reality his brain is trying to tell him. He looks to Rossi with a pained expression, and Rossi matches it back.

“He took her.”

___

The next few hours are a blur for Spencer.

Rossi called the team to meet them at the gas station, already telling Garcia to hack into the security cameras to find any clue of where he’d taken you. Emily and Derek were checking out the crime scene, Hotch and Rossi talking to the sheriff. JJ finds Spencer staring off onto the one road connected to the station.

“We’re gonna find her, Spence.”

He whips his head up at the sound of her voice, “I should’ve realized sooner. I knew there was something off about his MO, a—and I just couldn’t place it. And now she’s gone and it’s all my fault and I never—“

“Spencer,” JJ interrupts softly, “You couldn’t have known. None of us did, even her.”

“I should have,” he laments, “And if she…if something happens to her because I wasn’t paying attention…” He trails off, too afraid of what his brain thinks is the ending of the sentence.

JJ offers him a sympathetic look, understanding the conflicting emotions, “We’ll find her, she’s strong. You know that.”

He stares back at her hoping, praying, that she’s right and you’re going to be okay. You have to be.

He’s pulled out of his head by Morgan calling him and JJ over, telling Garcia on the phone to repeat her findings.

“Okay, I think I have a lead based on the security camera footage on the car he has and where it’s been last seen. I’m sending the last known coordinates to your phones now.” 

An idea springs to him, “Garcia, can you also check the gas station records and see how much he filled his tank?”

The clacking sounds of her keyboard ring through the phone before she speaks again, “He didn’t fill a full tank, only like, fifteen miles worth of gas.”

Everyone looks up at each other in realization of what the new information means. You had to be close by. Morgan walks over to tell Hotch, who immediately talks to a state ranger about setting up a 15 mile radius around the gas station with monitored roadblocks, no entry or exit without inspection. 

After Hotch finishes he walks back to Spencer and lays a hand on his shoulder, “Good job, Reid,” He nods back with a thin lipped smile and fiddles with his pen anxiously, “Are you okay?”. Spencer can’t tell if he’s genuinely asking him or if he’s asking him for the sake of him being able to do his job properly considering the circumstances. Ever the profiler that man is, he thinks.  He nods again nonetheless and walks over to meet Derek at the car.

Spencer and Derek get into the car and set the route for the coordinates Garcia gave, ETA 14 minutes. He swallows nervously, do you even have 14 minutes? What if he’s too late? What if you’re not even there? What if he never got to tell you—

“Reid. Are you even listening?”

“What?”

Derek raises his eyebrows as he glances at his friend, “Got something on your mind?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re a shit liar, man.”

“I’m not lying.” Even he doesn’t believe himself.

“Spencer—“

“I’m just worried! Okay? We’re all worried, it’s not a big deal.” he snaps.

Derek stops at a red light and looks over the console, “I’m going to ignore whatever that was,” guilt sweeps over Spencer’s face as he continues, “I’m not stupid kid, I know how you’re feeling. But you can’t let whatever turmoil you got in that big brain of yours affect this case. Not now.”

“I know that, Morg—“

“No, you don’t. I know you’re thinking about her, we all are. And we all want—need—her to be okay too. We will find her, but we can’t let the unsub get away too.”

Spencer sighs outwardly seeing the truth in his words. As concerned as he was about you he needed to remember this was still an active case. He couldn't let your past with each other cloud his judgement, even if the fallout still haunts him every day of his life. He needs to save you, but he also has a job to do. He just wasn’t sure if he’d remember that when they finally found you.

——

A pounding in your head stirs you awake, the bitter taste of metal flooding your senses as you come to. You blink a few times adjusting to the lowlights of the unfamiliar environment, hoping to find something distinguishable to ground you back to reality. It doesn’t help once you realize the blood crusted over your eye is the reason for your obscured vision. You attempt to rub it off on your shoulder ignoring the sharp pains shooting up from the abrasive contact. 

Once you think you’ve cleared enough you blink a few more times registering your surroundings to be a house, a cabin more accurately. Your memory is a little fuzzy as you try to recount what happened before you were knocked out cold.

Gas station. Unsub. Unsub at the gas station? But where was I…I went to the bathroom… and was getting…gummy worms?… But Rossi and Spencer were just outside… now I’m here…so does that means the unsub—

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

You jolt at the voice—the unsub you’ve come to remember—and you realize your hands are tied up behind your back, quickly coming to the second realization that you are rendered both injured and immobile.

“What do you want, Jason?” you say hoarsely after a minute.

He chuckles, “I didn’t know they made them so pretty at the academy…” he walks over and kneels in front of you, gripping your chin between his forefinger and thumb to move your head, “They probably kept you around for…entertainment right?”

You whip your head, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Oh, you’re feisty. That’s good, keep it up. Makes this more fun.” he walks back over to the table and fiddles with something, you can’t really tell from the floor, “So how’d they make it work back in—what is it called—Quantico! They take turns with you or? There’s so many of y’all, probably had a system.”

The pounding in your head makes it more difficult to process anything he’s saying, “The hell are you talking about, take turns with what?” you ask, wincing through another wave of pain.

He turns around holding a metal rod and walks over, angling the rod under your chin to tilt your face up to meet his as he snarls, “I can’t wait to see how it feels to fuck a federal whore.”

All the color drains from your face and you kick into whatever gas is left in your autopilot. Your feet are flailing in every direction, body thrashing violently to prevent Jason from getting a good grip on you. You quickly learn the purpose of the metal rod hearing the clang! first, a millisecond passing before the pain and threat of unconsciousness spreads through your brain. 

The hit takes you out long enough for him to pin you down on the floor, the weight of his body landing on you before the metal rod goes for your limbs. It’s then you realize the throes of death have wrangled you for what appears to be the last time, and it’s probably wise to start saying—thinking— your final words.

To my parents, I love you. To Derek and Penelope, thank you for letting me third wheel with you. Emily, I’ll miss our weekend Sin City excursions. JJ, please give your boys the biggest hug from their favorite aunt. Rossi and Hotch, you always cared for me like I was your own—I am so grateful for you.

And Spencer…Oh, Spencer. How I hoped I would have the time to say I’m sorry for what happened, I hope you’ll forgive me in due time. I wish I told you that nothing about us ever changed for me. You were and will always be, My Spencer, I just wish I could tell you one more time how much I lov—“

“FBI, Drop your weapon!”

A clattering sound of something dropping rings directly next to your ear and the weight that was on you alleviates at the same time. You groan out and instinctively curl up on yourself, the pain spreading throughout your body. The sensory overload is so much you don’t hear the approaching figure crouching next to you.

“Hey Hey Hey,” Spencer stutters, quickly making work of the ties on your hands and holding you gently as he lays your head on his lap cradling you close, trying to hide the forming tears when he hears your whimpers of pain, “You’re okay, it’s okay. The medic’s coming.” He looks back to where the unsub was and watches Derek put him in cuffs, nodding at Spencer before walking out with Jason.

“…Spencer?” you whisper out weakly. You think you’re dreaming honestly, that in the wake of death you learn heaven isn’t a place but only his arms.

“Yeah, honey, it’s me.” he chokes out looking back down at your bruised face. He’s unsure how you still look angelic even when you’re hurt, but it doesn’t surprise him that you do. You were always good at defying the laws of nature, he prayed it extended to your immortality.

“It hurts.” you pout pathetically.

He brushes a strand of hair out of your eyes gently, “I know it does, honey I know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry this happened. I should’ve been there. I’m sorry, baby.” he whispers tearfully.

You cough out and whimper in pain, “I’m sorry too.”

Spencer shakes his head vehemently, “No, don’t apologize. Don’t do that, just keep your eyes open for me, okay? I’m right here, I won’t leave you.”

The tiredness soon wins and your eyes flutter close. Before Spencer can even panic and beg you to open them again the medic finally comes and asks him—pulls him— to move so they can start working on you.

He reluctantly backs up and watches on with glossed over eyes, barely registering all the things they were sticking in you to wake you up. The medics stabilize your neck with a C-SPINE and lift you onto the gurney, wheeling you back to the ambulance. The same medic who asked Spencer to move comes up to him again, “We’re taking her to Georgetown Medical, you’re allowed to ride in the back with us if you want.”

You slowly come to again on the gurney and Spencer meets your open eyes before you even realize they’re on you. Without hesitation he says, “Yeah, I’m coming.”

The medic team lifts your gurney inside the rig, and right before Spencer gets in he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns around to find Hotch, “You’ll be okay?” 

It’s a loaded question. He’s not asking if Spencer is okay at this moment, because it doesn’t take a profiler to see that he’s the farthest from it. He says it as a grounding reminder knowing how Spencer gets about you. It didn’t matter to the team if you both fell out, the pair of you never faltered in your subconscious for each other. Both of your actions always moved faster than your brains, especially when it involved the other. 

That’s what worried his Unit Chief.

He nods and Hotch gives his shoulder a light squeeze, “Keep us updated,” the concern clearly etched in his eyes breaking through his usual stoicism as he looks inside the rig, “We’ll meet you there as soon as we can.”

Under the bright lights of the ambulance he’s—unfortunately—able to really take inventory of the injuries you sustained. The blue and black bruising scattered your limbs, the congregation of it on your stomach telling him you have at least two broken ribs. His eyes trail further down your body before abruptly stopping, but not on an appendage.

Spencer’s face pales even further than it already has staring at the glint on the undone button of your trousers shining in the reflection of the light.

If they didn’t get there when they did…If he got to you a second later…He can’t even fathom to think about what would’ve happened.

He’s broken out of his spiral by the EMT sitting next to him offering a tissue, which is when Spencer feels the tear and snot streaks rolling down his face. He takes it and wipes his face mindlessly before muttering, “Can I just…” hands reaching out to you before his words come out. Spencer doesn’t notice the EMT tearing up as he gently buttons your pants.

——

You were a fighter.

At least, that’s what the doctors told Spencer when they came and updated him in the waiting room. He blanks out for most of the conversation, eyes unfocusing and ears on low lest your name be spoken.

“She’s stable and awake now, the nurse can take you back to see her.”

He shakes his head to recenter and mutters a thank you before following the nurse through the double white doors. His senses are heightened as he walks closer to your room. The scuff of his shoes on the linoleum floors, the pedantic beeping of machines in the rooms he passes, until he hears the only voice that’s ever been enough to calm the warzone in his mind.

“Hi, Spence.”

His feet move on their own accord right next to your bedside, hands hovering awkwardly at his side. He’s silent for the first couple minutes, just a faint sniffle here and there before he takes a seat near your bed and hears you speak again.

“You can touch me, Spence. I won’t break more than I already am.”

“Don’t say that,” he chides quickly, “It’s not a joke.”

“Well, someone should be the comedic relief here.”

He lays the tips of his fingers right on top of the tips of yours, “You could have died.”

Your face softens, “I didn’t though.”

“You could have.”

“Spencer—“

“Stop down playing it. You don’t know what it was like finding you like that.”

“I mean I have some idea, ‘cause like, I was there.” 

Spencer deadpans at your poor attempt at lightening the mood, a faint smile peaking through while he shakes his head, “Insufferable even at your deathbed.”

“Yeah, the Grim Reaper heard me yapping and said ‘keep her’.”

He chuckles softly as his hand moves further up to rest the front of his palm on the back of your hand, “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve…been better. The doctor said one of my broken ribs punctured an artery, a big one apparently,” you flip your hand over so both of your palms are touching but not laced, you softly continue, “Told me I was lucky I came in when I did. Any later the internal bleeding would’ve spread to my lungs.”

Spencer feels the tears springing again and a lump forming in his throat, “I’m so sorry, sweet girl,” the pet name slipping out before he could realize, “I should’ve gotten there sooner, or realized something was wrong at the gas station.”

“Hey. Don’t do that. You saved my life.” your fingers intertwine with his and squeeze with whatever strength you can muster, which isn’t a lot and it makes his heart clench tighter. “I’m here.”

He lets out the breath he’s been holding since he walked in, “You’re here.”

“I didn’t forget what you promised me when we…broke up,” God you wish it didn’t sound so terminable as it did, “I knew you’d find me. You always do.”

Another sniffle leaves him as he rubs his thumb soothingly on your hand, “I always do…Look, there’s something I need to tell you—“

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Penelope & Company burst into your room bearing balloons, chocolates, and many, many stuffies.

“How’s our girl doing?” Penelope huffs, hauling an entire Hallmark catalog worth of gifts in tow.

“She’s doing fine, Penny.” you chuckle lightly, trying your best to hide the wince of pain from your side, “You did not need to do all this.”

“Nonsense, everyone knows bear stuffies are the real medicine of the world.” she gleefully ignores the nurse onlookers, “I also brought you this, of special request by someone who shall not be named.” From her back she produces a bag of your favorite candy—sour gummy worms. A fact that you knew only one person was privy to.

You act surprised nonetheless, “My favorite! Thank you, Penny. And all of you, for coming to see my crippled self.”

Spencer watches the team take turns doting on you. Emily, JJ, and Penelope sit with you for about four Gilmore Girls episodes—another lost relic of modern medicine, according to Penny—after which Morgan, Rossi, and Hotch keep you company for a little bit before bidding you good night with forehead kisses and well wishes. Spencer stays with you the whole time, never once leaving your side. 

You are so loved, he thinks. He didn’t realize how much he liked watching you be loved. It makes him miss the times when he could do that for you too.

——

Weeks pass since the day of your kidnapping. You still find it weird to call it that, even though it’s literally what happened. You’ve been on house arrest—bed rest—begrudgingly, and while Penelope’s very glittery visiting schedule has kept you entertained, it’s been hard when the only person you really wanted to see has refused to come visit since you left the hospital.

You’ve asked Penelope why Spencer hasn’t come, and all she can offer you is a sad smile and a ‘He said something come up sweetie, sorry.’. Texting him seemed even more daunting, more because you weren’t about to beg for his attention if he obviously doesn’t want you to have it. 

The doorbell steals your attention and you glance over at the schedule before you walk over to open it, not expecting a visitor at this time.

Spencer looks up from his shoes hearing the door open, “Hey.”

A minute passes, “Why are you here?” you ask bluntly.

He looks confused, “I came to check on you, brought you takeout from the Indian place you like.” The food in his hand smells heavenly but you can’t seem to enjoy it yet without getting an answer.

“Why are you here, now?” you ask again with an addendum.

He either really wants to piss you off or his ear blew out on the way over but he chooses to ignore you and enter your apartment, “You having nightmares again?”

“What? No…” you lie poorly, straightening up your back, “Just tired.”

He chuckles, “Good to know you’re still a terrible liar. Did you know you wear Doctor Who shirts when you’re feeling anxious?”

Your brows fuddle in confusion but he elaborates, “It’s probably subconscious, something you find comforting and naturally gravitate to in times of distress. It’s a normal stress response but…you’re wearing an Eleventh Doctor shirt.” My Eleventh Doctor shirt, he thinks.

“That doesn’t mean anything.” you feign.

“Maybe it doesn’t,” he nods, “But you are anxious aren’t you?”

“Spencer, what the fuck is going on, why are you here, really?” your eyes narrow, arms crossing defensively.

“I told you, I came to check on you.”

“You just woke up this morning and decided it was convenient for you to see me today?” Spencer opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. You stare at him with tearful eyes and the emotion spills out of you before you can stop it. You speak again after a few moments, voice barely above a whisper, “You left me. Again.”

He tilts his head, “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” you grit out, “You were rooted at my bedside the entire time I was hospitalized, and the second I was discharged you were nowhere to be found. I thought, maybe with Penny’s schedule you’d come by, but then I came to find out that you didn’t even put your name down.”

“You almost died!” he retorts, “You almost died, because I made a mistake and you got hurt because of it!”

“So, that gives you the right to abandon me for the second time?”

“I didn’t…” he sighs out roughly, “I didn’t abandon you. I just, couldn’t…face you.” Face you, in pain, as a result of his actions.

“Is that what happened the first time you left?” you bite back.

His eyes steel over, “That was different.”

“I don’t see how.”

“You know why I left.”

“I don’t think I do, Spencer—”

“I left because I was putting you in danger!” he yells cutting you off, “I left because loving you meant dragging you into all the messed up stuff that happens to me, stuff that’ll keep happening to me.”

Tobias. Mexico. Cat.

A single tear rolls down your face, “That’s bullshit, I’m sorry. We work the same damn job, the risks are the same if we’re together or not.”

“You don’t understand—“

“Then fucking enlighten me, Spencer.”

He stares at you, fighting an internal battle of whether he was really willing to admit his truth to you, one that he knows you deserved to know but wasn’t sure if it would put you more in harm's way.

“Cat had details about your family.”

That’s not what you were expecting to hear. Your face drops, “Wh—What?”

His eyes dart around the room nervously, “After I got out of Millburn and we went to see Cat, she was trying all these tactics to get me to break. I was doing fine, until she started talking about you. She was saying things that only you told me, stuff that’s not even on record.”

You remember that day. You were supposed to go with him and JJ to the correctional facility but ended up stuck at the BAU because your skill set was more valuable in helping Penelope locate Mr. Scratch. You remember how he came back to you that day, distant and glassed over. It was easy to chalk up his behavior following it to his recent release, but when you woke up a few weeks later to an empty bed and a throwaway note saying ‘I’m sorry.”, you couldn’t figure out for the life of you why all of a sudden you didn’t exist to him, like you didn’t matter.

“I made a choice, one that I knew would protect you.”

“That’s not a decision for you to make.” you snap.

“I had to,” he says lowly, taking a step closer to you, “If being with me puts your safety at risk…” another step, “I’d rather live in a world where you hate me and are still here…” one more step, “Than one where you loved me and died because of it.” he manages to choke out, taking one final step towards you.

It’s quiet for a couple minutes, save for the soft whistle of the breeze coming from your open window. The resolve in you has long faded, leaving behind nothing but the skin on your bones to weather the damage. It makes sense to you why he did what he did, and you don’t know if the roles were reversed would you do the same thing. But you knew that you loved him and he loved you, and that alone should have been enough.

You can’t help but let out a whine, sounding like a petulant child, “That’s not fair, Spence.”

“What’s not fair, baby?” he softly whispers.

Your whine turns into a cry, “That, all of this. The fall on your sword act in which you decide what’s best for me is to leave me stranded, thinking I did something wrong that made you stop loving me.”

He steps forward a little more, his face mere inches from your own, “You think I stopped loving you?”

“Was I supposed to think otherwise? You couldn’t even stand being in the same room as me.”

His hands raise to gently cup your face, thumbs positioned under your eyes to wipe the fallen tears. He’s missed looking into your eyes as close as he is. For a man who doesn’t believe in religion he’s pretty certain the gates of heaven lie within your irises.

“I was selfish,” he swallows, “I wanted to keep you safe but I did so in a way that I felt was most logical, which turned out to be so fucking wrong regardless since you still got hurt.”

He brings your face impossibly closer, the warmth of his breath gently hitting your face.

“There isn’t a waking moment where I don’t love you. Even when we weren’t together, I still looked out for you and I made sure you were safe in ways I couldn’t tell you. I meant what I said. I told you I’d find you in every lifetime. I love you, in every lifetime, angel girl.”

The ache in your heart only grows with his words, reminding you that he always was and will forever be, Your Spencer.

“You can’t do that again,” you stutter out through tiny sobs, “You need to tell me what’s going on, whatever it is. We figure it out together.”

He nods softly, the hair on his forehead faintly brushing up on yours, “We figure it out together. I’m so sorry for everything, baby.” his lips press a long kiss to your forehead, “I’m here now, I’m not going anywhere.”

You rise on your toes to meet your lips with his, the missed time and unspoken words flowing silently between you both. His hands wrap gently around your waist and pull you flush to his chest, with yours entangling with the brown curls you had missed so much.

Finally back in his arms, you sigh with exhaustion and relief, “You’re here.”

“I’m here, honey.”

[deoidesign]

How I save time on backgrounds as a full-time webcomic artist

Hi! I make webcomics for a living, and I have to be able to draw a panel extremely fast to keep up with my deadlines. I draw about 50 panels a week, which gives me about 45 minutes per panel if I want any semblance of a healthy work-life balance.

Most webtoon artists save time on backgrounds by using 3d models, which works for them and is great! but personally I hate working in 3d... I went to school for it for a year and hated it so much I completely changed career paths and vowed never to do it again! So, this is how I save time without using any 3d, for those of you out there who don't like it either!

This tactic has also saved me money (3d models are expensive) and it has helped me converting my comic from scroll format into page format for print, because I have much more art to work with than what's actually in the panels. (I'll touch on this later)

So, first, I make my backgrounds huge. my default starting size is 10,000 x 10,000 pixels. My panels are 2,500 pixels wide, so my backgrounds are 4x that, minimum. Because of this, I make them less detailed than I could or that you might expect so it doesn't look weird against my character art when I shrink portions of it down.

I personally find it much easier to add in detail than to make "removing" details look natural at smaller sizes, but you might have different preferences than I do.

I also make sure to keep all of my elements on separate layers so that I can easily remove or replace them, I can move them to simulate different camera angles more easily, and it's simple to adjust the lighting to imply different times of day.

Then I can go ahead and copy/paste them into my episodes. I move the background around until it feels like it's properly fitting how I want.

Once I've done that in every panel, I'll go back through the episode and clean up anything that looks weird, and add in solid blacks (for my art style) Here's a quick before and after of what that looks like!

This makes 90% of my backgrounds take me just a few hours. This is my tactic when I'm working in an environment that an entire scene, or multiple scenes, will take place.

But many panels will inevitably have a location that's used exactly once, and it would waste time and effort to draw a massive background for those. So in 10% of cases, I just draw the single panel background in the episode. I save all of these, just in case I can re-use it later (this happens more often with outdoor locations, but I save them all nonetheless!)

I generally have to draw about 2 big backgrounds per episode, and 3-5 single-panel backgrounds per episode! At the beginning of an arc/book the number is higher, but as the series is continuing and I'm building up an asset library of indoor and outdoor elements to re-use for the book, the number generally goes down and I save more time.

My series involves time travel and mysteries, so there's a lot of new locations in it and we're constantly moving around. If I were working on a series that was more consistent in this aspect, this process would save me even more time!

Like I said earlier, this also saves me a lot of pain and gives me a lot more options as I'm converting from scroll format to print format!

panels that look like this in scroll format...

can look like this in print!

because I drew the background like this, so I didn't need to go through the additional effort to add in the extra detail to expand it outwards at all.

Anyways, I hope this helps someone! As always if it doesn't help, just go ahead and disregard. This is what I do and what works for me, and I feel like I only ever see time-saving tips for comics that involve 3d models and workflows, which don't work for me at all! I know there's more people like me out there, so this is for you!

Enjoy!

Also obligatory "my webcomic" if you want to see this in action or check it out!

[tragedy-machine]

I'm honestly grieving the show.

It was one of the best shows netflix has ever put out, amazing enough to get me to run to resurrect my tumblr after years of not using it to be a part of its fandom.

I've only ever been in 1 fandom in my life before dbda, and genuinely thought I'd never find something that would grip me enough to make me want to engage with its community as much as I did in my previous fandom.

But then, after 6 years, Dead Boy Detectives came along and made me reach for a drawing tablet for the first time in over 2 years. Made me write fics, even though I don't consider myself a writer, and I've never written this many fics this fast. I haven't been this creative in a long time and it's been an indescribable source of joy to me to be able to go back to creating content.

It got me on discord, which always overwhelmed and scared me, but I'm so glad I had given it a chance because I've met so many incredible, funny, talented and supportive people there, and now I can't imagine not talking to them almost every day.

It really was a bright light during a less than ideal time in my life and will still continue to be because I refuse to let it go.

We were given something truly great and can still celebrate it and make and consume fanart, fics, gifs, metas, au ideas, crafts, moodboards etc etc to support each other.

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Being Their Weapon

Requested: a preference of femreader being the boys' main weapon, that homelander doesn't even know of..? 😫 dialogue prompt 27 & 60 - anon

A/N: Reminder my loves! Prompts only go with fic requests, no other kind of requests. It's all in the pinned post, please be sure to read! I've updated it recently to be as clear as possible :) I also only write gn!readers as it states in my rules linked in my bio. Hope you can understand! I based it loosely off this fic because I think the Supe abilities would fit perfectly! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Butcher didn't like you and you didn't like Butcher. He punched you, he hit you with his gun. He knew you thought about killing him that day, grabbing his wrist and killing him instantly, but Frenchie stopped you. When you agree to help them, you make sure it's known that you're not doing this for Butcher at all. That if it were just him asking you, you'd let him die. He thought you were stupid. Stupid and dangerous and unstable. Kicking them out like that only proved him right. Regardless of what Hughie or Frenchie or Kimiko said, nothing would change the way he felt about you. He would never admit that he was grateful for your help, but he was. If everything went to hell, at least they'd have you. Still, he couldn't help but eye you every time you came in. He didn't like what you could do. If you decided you weren't interested, if you felt threatened even a little bit, you could kill all of them without even trying.

Hughie had no problem with what you could do. It's not like you could control what the V did to you. And you never wanted the V in the first place. It was intimidating sure, but he wasn't scared of you because of it. Underneath the fear, the resistance, was someone who just wanted to be treated with a little kindness. He could do that. He could do more than that. He tried to talk to Annie about why she was so hesitant, but she just couldn't explain it. You warmed up to Hughie pretty quickly. He was curious about your powers. You showed him what you could do with plants, fruits and vegetables mostly. They'd rot in your hands. You could kill everyone and everything. You admitted to him all the things you missed, but were too scared of doing, even with gloves and protection. Hugs mostly, petting animals. He hadn't realized how much your powers would affect you. The least he could do was not be scared of you. The least he could do was be your friend.

Annie tries not to stare. Alongside the whole "killing people with your touch" You were a little cagey. The last time she saw you you were screaming at everyone to get out of your apartment. Now you stood beside Frenchie, trying not to draw attention to yourself. You clung to Frenchie and Kimiko, keeping everyone else at a professional distance. She tried to be nice, she tried not to flinch when you moved too fast or abruptly, but she couldn't help it. Like M.M. she was wary about you. You'd all done things you weren't proud of, but you turned your Supe-ability into a prpfession. A dangerous one that left a lot of innocent (and not so innocent, you'd like to point out) dead. She knows your upbringing wasn't the most traditional, but was that really an excuse? You could tell how she felt just from the way she looked at you. You tried not to take it personally.

M.M likes you, but he doesn't like the idea of you. Killing people just by touching them is just too much. Too dangerous. He makes sure he's never too close to you. Unlike Frenchie who is quote affectionate and far more easygoing than everyone else, Marvin was stressed out. He watched you carefully, keenly, making sure he only came near you when you were wearing gloves or something else that prevented any skin from showing. You know he feels this way and you don't push it. There were tons of people in your life like him, scared of you, petrified even. You knew it was better to keep your distance and not to try anything funny. It was just easier. No jokes, nothing. You didn't mind keeping your relationship professional. Marvin knew how important you were, that it was a big sacrifice given your past to accept this offer, but he couldn't let go of the idea that you could kill any number of them with your pinky alone.

Frenchie is the first person you trust out of the whole group. He comes back to see you alone. If you truly don't want to help, he won't force you. He just wants to talk. Despite yourself, you let him in. Maybe loneliness is finally getting to you. You're still wary, but eventually you let go a little, realizing he was going to keep his word. You become friends. He's the first friend you've had since you were a kid, before being locked up. He wasn't as afraid of you as everyone else was and you were constantly reminding him to be careful around you. You start to ask questions, logistical ones about what it would mean to join the team, what it would mean to take down Homelander. He assured you they would never let anything happen to you. You trust him. When he brings you to meet the team officially, there's a collective sign in relief. If the plan went wrong, if they ran out of options, they would always have you. You were the perfect weapon. To Frenchie though, you were just a new friend, teammate.

Kimiko likes you. If Frenchie likes you, then she does too. You're a little hesitant to start signing with her. Your hands flying everywhere wasn't such a good idea given that you could kill someone. Still, she didn't mind. She understood the fears, your past. The both of you had been used. The both of you had been given Compound V. You both killed people. Kimiko was the second person you trusted and this tome it was immediate. She wasn't scared of you, though she understood your hesitation. Good things were never truly good. There was always something horrible lingering just behind it. Friends were nice. Friends were a good thing. But doing this? Killing Homelander? That could lead to something awful. You had to be hesitant. You had to be careful. She wasn't going to hold this kind of thinking against you. You had as much a right to be afraid as they did.

[dollya-robinprotector]

"Slow down, look around you"

This is kinda the pose on my pinpost, but the design of Robin and Lya is already so different. Things subtly changed, little by little, without my notice. Only looking back after a long while do I realize I've been in such a rush for so long, so so long that I forgot how relaxing it feels to just sit down and work on something with care and appreciation.

I love how round I draw Robin's face now, like he has such soft cheeks that you want to kiss, to run your fingers on the skin, and lightly pinch them. I love to draw each and every line in Lya's hair, to describe the thick and thin strands, to show how they part, how they run along her figure. I love drawing dancing flower petals in the bg, and dotting each of all the small white dots to resemble Clamp's copic dots. I love drawing in pastel colors, so lightly and gently sometimes my strained eyes can't differ from Lya's eye color with her hair color, but when finished it always looks so nice and soothing to me. Everything is coated in a light pink hue, so sweet...

But everything goes on. When the light of day comes so does the rushing life, and I'll be back to the never-ending cycle of work and production. Time goes by so fast, before I know it another day ended without any real result or any work done. It's tiring, and I grow afraid of checking the clock.

Maybe I should be thankful. At least I'm still keeping it up. I'm going somewhere, no idea where exactly, but I'm still moving, even slowly. For that, I should pat myself on the shoulder and keep going.

It's 5am. Another day is about to come.

[dunebrat]

FORBIDDEN HEIR part2

Feyd Rautha x reader ⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Part 1

Summary : Despite your attempts to end the affair, Feyd's magnetic presence draws you back time and again, and as your pregnancy progresses, you find yourself craving Feyd's touch more than ever, the bond deepening as you explore each others bodies and minds

ㅤ────────────────────────

It’s been 6 months since finding out about your pregnancy. You were shocked at how fast things were going the baby. Physically, the pregnancy takes its toll on your body, yet amidst the discomfort and exhaustion, there's a sense of exhilaration knowing that you carry Feyd's heir within you. Each flutter of movement, each kick, serves as a poignant reminder of child that binds them together. You stand in front of the mirror, the faint glow of the moon filtering through the window casting shadows across your face. Your hand rests gently on your stomach, feeling the life growing inside you. As you make your way through the bustling corridors of the palace, you catch a glimpse of Glossu, your husband, his rugged features softened by a rare smile. Despite the strain of your marriage, he remains oblivious to the clandestine affair that has consumed your thoughts.

"There you are, my dear. I've been looking for you." Glossu said as you made your way through. You offer a polite smile, masking the turmoil within as he draws near, his presence igniting a flicker of unexpected warmth within you.

As the months passed, Glossu remained oblivious to the affair between you and Feyd. His attention focused elsewhere, he seemed to hardly taken a care of you your growing belly or the subtle changes in your demeanor. But you hadn't expected feyd to continue pursuing you after the announcement of your pregnancy, but he sought you out every week.

Despite the risks and the guilt that gnawed at your conscience, you found yourself drawn to Feyd more than ever. You weren’t scared of what your husband would do to feyd it was the other way around. If exposed you know feyd would never let anyone lay a finger on you. His presence offered comfort, his touch igniting a fire within you that you had long thought extinguished. You didn’t have to feel alone during your pregnancy because feyd made you feel wanted and desired even when you didn’t feel at your best, with his gentle hands, he caresses the roundness of your belly, feeling the faint kicks of the child within. His touch is tender, as he held your breast which had grown due to the pregnancy. You remembered him calling you "more beautiful than ever," while you were insecure of your changing body. The first time you ever heard his voice filled with awe and tenderness. "You've changed," he whispers, his fingers tracing the delicate lines of stretch marks that adorn your skin. "But it's a beautiful change. A testament to the life we've created together." You smile to yourself remembering his words

As your pregnancy progressed, you continued to see Feyd, the cravings for Feyd intensify, his touch igniting a fire within you that cannot be quenched. With his heir growing inside you, the it was a connection only you and Feyd knew about. But you knew this wouldn’t last and you knew you had to end it before things got more messy. So later that night when you met up you tried to cut the relationship.

"Feyd, we can't keep doing this. It's too dangerous, too reckless."

His gaze meets yours, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity that sends shivers down your spine. He steps closer, closing the distance between you until there's nothing but a mere breath separating your bodies. "I never ever want to hear those words again from your mouth" he said as he took your face in his hands and pressed a hard kiss on you. You feel the heat of him, the weight of his body pressing against yours, making it difficult to breathe.

His hands roam over your body, tracing the curves of your hips and cupping your breasts. He groans against your mouth, his arousal evident as he grinds himself into you. You can't help but respond to him, the heat and desire building between you palpable.

He punishes you for trying to end the relationship

He pulls away, his eyes dark and intense as he looks down at you with a possessive glare that makes your heart skip a beat. He spanks you, hard and fast. You cry out in pain but he doesn't stop until your ass is red and sore from his handprints. He knows you are with child so he tries to be gentle but he can't help it, you are too much for him. You beg for more, the pain making your pussy wetter than ever.

He fucks you from behind, and your orgasm is so intense that it makes him cum too.

ㅤ────────────────────────

Three months had passed and it’s the night you welcomed your child into the world. Now, nestled in the healer's wing of the palace, you cradle your newborn son in your arms, marveling at the tiny miracle that has forever changed your life.

As you gaze down at his sleeping form, a soft smile plays on your lips, the weight of motherhood settling over you like a warm blanket.

Suddenly, the door creaks open, and Feyd steps into the room "I came as soon as I could," he says

As he approaches, you can see the tension in his muscles, the clenched jaw betraying the storm of emotions raging within him.

"Feyd," you greet him softly, a weary smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I'm glad you're here."

His eyes soften as he takes in the sight of you and the baby, a surge of love and protectiveness coursing through him. "How are you feeling?" he asks, his voice laced with concern.

You nod, brushing a gentle kiss against your son's forehead. "I'm okay," you assure him, though the truth weighs heavily on your heart. "But Glossu..."

Before you can finish your sentence, Feyd's expression darkens, his fists clenched at his sides. "He hasn't been here, has he?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous. You shake your head, a knot forming in your throat. "Barely," you admit, feeling a pang of sadness at the absence of your husband during this precious time.

Without another word, Feyd turns on his heel, his steps purposeful as he storms out of the room. You watch him go, a mix of fear and admiration swirling within you, knowing that he will stop at nothing to protect you and your son.

Hours later, the sound of clashing steel echoes through the halls of the palace, drawing a crowd of onlookers to witness the duel that unfolds between Feyd and Glossu. As the clash of steel fills the air, Feyd's skill and determination prove unmatched, his movements fluid and precise as he maneuvers around Glossu's defenses. With a final, decisive blow, Feyd stabs his brother, leaving him at his mercy.

Glossu, bloodied and broken, gazes up at Feyd with a mixture of defiance and resignation. "Finish it," he rasps, his voice barely above a whisper. Feyd lowers his sword, his eyes burning with an intensity that pierces through the darkness. "You will die knowing the truth," he declares, his voice resolute. "So you must listen to me."

As Glossu struggles to comprehend his brother's words, Feyd leans in close, his voice a deadly whisper. "The child she carried is mine," he reveals, his words hanging heavy in the air like a death sentence.

Glossu's eyes widen in disbelief, a mix of betrayal and rage contorting his features. "You dare betrayed me.." he begins, but Feyd cuts him off with a wave of his hand.

"It is the truth," Feyd insists, his tone unwavering. "And I will not stand idly by while you neglect her and my son." With his last breath, Glossu's resolve crumbles, his defiance giving way to resignation. And as he fades into the darkness, Feyd goes back to you bloody and all, turns to you, his eyes softening with love and determination.

"He is dead, you are mine," he declares, his voice a promise and a vow. "I will take you as my wife,

︵︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿୨♡୧︵‿୨♡୧ ︵‿︵‿

Tag list : @aaaaaamond

@meetmeatyourworst

@mamawiggers1980

@wo-ming-bai

@szapizzapanda

@avidreader73

@moonsoulk

[jezabelle9299]

Morning Sunshine S.R x fem! Reader

Overture- Sleepy Spencer x Morning person fem! Reader. They're sharing a room, and he has no idea how you're so lovely this early.

Cws- Exhaustion

A/N-Wow, before it's even midnight--I'm practically productive. Day 17, I'm very excited. This is shorter, but I do kind of really like this idea.

If you'd like to read the other things I've done this month you can do that here: October Masterlist

**************************

By Day 4 of this practically endless case, morale was at an all time low. The small motel had enough rooms for everyone for the first 3 days of the case, but now it was the weekend and they were nearly packed. And of course Spencer’s luck had him stuck with the woman he couldn’t get out of his head for months now, in some cosmic joke where he’s trapped with quite possibly the love of his life–sleeping four feet away from him in a different bed. 

Of course it wasn’t actually a matter of fate, just a gentle push from JJ.

He stayed behind at the police station until he was sure you’d be asleep, then he muddled back to your shared room thanking every deity he could name that you were fast asleep. Only to thank each of them again at his exhaustion allowing him to just pass out without thinking himself into a panic just by being near you. 

You however were just a little bit overjoyed when Hotch was handing out the second round of room keys. Packing cuter pajamas was no longer an option, but you were still looking forward to Spencer being the last person you saw after this terrible day. If only he was actually there. You honestly assumed he decided to just sleep in Derek’s room to avoid you– a thought that hurt your feelings more than you’d like to admit. 

When Spencer did wake up to the lovely sound of his alarm screaming at him, he opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was you. He knew you were a morning person, but he never expected this. It was barely 5am, and you were bopping around in front of the mirror, headphones on, applying makeup while singing along quietly to yourself. He watched you for a moment, only drawing your attention when he sat up and you caught his reflection.

“Good morning” You looked at him in the mirror, and even though your makeup was only halfway done, he still thought you were utterly gorgeous. His first thought was how beautiful you were, but his exhausted brain couldn’t form a singular other thought yet. But you thought he was adorable, with his hair lovingly disheveled.

“It’s so early.” He knew you had been getting as little sleep as he had, barely 5 hours for 4 days in a row. How on Earth were you awake, up, and nice at this hour?

“You could probably go back to sleep for a few more minutes, we aren’t supposed to meet until 6:30.”

“No it’s ok, I usually like to read and drink my coffee before I have to get back to work. But what are you doing up so early?” He slumped over forwards, burying his face in his hands to rub his eyes. When he finally sat back up, he was reaching around to grab his glasses off the hotel nightstand, and you had to fight to keep from swooning.

“I was going to go get breakfast before we have to meet up with everyone, you can come with me if you want? I saw this place on the way here, it’s only like a block away. You can even bring your book, and I won’t bug you. I know not everyone’s chatty in the morning.”  You turned your attention back to your own reflection, and he hated the assumption that he would just ignore you over breakfast. Even if he hadn’t slept at all, he’d want to talk to you.

“I’ve been told I’m chatty all the time. Well chatty isn’t usually the word used, but that’s the sentiment–I’d love to go to breakfast with you.” 

“I like listening to you talk, for the record. But I’m going to finish up with my makeup while you get ready, ok?” 

“Ok.” He made no move to get ready, only starting to lean back further against the headboard. You had extra time this morning, but not quite that much. 

“That may require getting out of bed.”

“Ok.” He still made no move to get up, and you just laughed. He had to get up eventually, but you’d let him stay there if he felt like it. You could be a few minutes late for the morning briefing.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

So I 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your casual arrangement turns a bit too serious.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

A crack of thunder wakes you. You catch a scream in your hand as lightning flashes. The storm outside mirrors the chaos of your life. 

That same tension crushes you. Waiting, waiting, waiting. You almost think it's worse that whatever Bucky plans to do. 

Your breath evens out and you lay back. You check the time on your phone. Only another house before you need to get up and get going. There's almost no point in trying to get back to sleep. 

Laying awake in bed isn't new. Those last few days have seen you restless only to be exhausted at your desk. Bucky’s infiltrated every part of your life even while absent. Your sleep, your job, your few hours to yourself, his threats make all of it fraught.  

You sit up and dig the heels of your hands into your eyes. You're not ready to be awake. You could take a sick day but for what? To be alone and scared? 

"I was gonna draw this out, doll, but I'm getting bored." 

You're almost relieved to hear Bucky's voice.  

Lightning flashes and illuminates his figure. You might think you're having a nightmare but it's all too real. 

"We can still talk this out. I never meant to hurt you--" 

"I'm done talking. Done waiting. Done wasting time." He fills the doorway. "I've been around too long for that." 

You push your shoulders back and sit up, "what do you want?" 

The window flashes again. He looks different. His eyes are like pits and his square jaw is set. The shadows make him a stranger.

He doesn't answer. He walks forward and you look at him. You're trapped by more than his physical barrier, your snared in the fear of that moment. His vibranium fingers trace the edge of your nightie and follow the strap over your shoulder. His other hand tugs on the other other side and he pulls the silk and lets it go so the fabric slumps below your chest. 

You shiver and his hand frames your throat. He pushes you flat and bends over you. He parts your knees with his. 

“Bucky...” you gulp. 

He smothers your mouth with his. Time thaws and suddenly flurries around you. It all happens so fast. 

His lips on yours, his hands all over you, the silk slipping down your body, the bed jostling as he forces you further up. The smell of his sweat, the taste of him, the weight of him over you suffocates you. He takes control with precision, dissembling you a caress and a nip at a time. 

He fondles your chest as his naked flesh sears into yours. His fingers crawl down and find that part of you that makes you wine. His breath clouds in the crook of your neck and he bits down on the muscle of your shoulder. 

He curls his fingers into you and grows. He rocks his hand, pressing against your clit as he twines you around his touch. You whimper and babble. It feels good. Even as your heart pumps with horror and your mind tells you it’s wrong.  

You told him it’s over. You told him no. You tried, you tried, you tried. You can’t stop him. You were stupid to think you ever could. 

Your heartbeat competes with the thunder crashing outside as it pounds in your ears. All those times he taunted you about how he could hear, about how he could feel your blood coursing, and sense your temperature. He told you then that he could pull you apart just like this. 

He pushes against his knuckles, spreading them as he forces his tip inside of you. You yelp as her stretches you around him. He keeps his fingers deep as he tilts his hips. He invades you completely as his teeth pinch your skin. 

He huffs as he thrusts. He works himself to a steady tempo. His grunts are stunted as he holds them back. He fucks you in almost a mechanical rhythm. He is a soldier on a mission. His victory is close. 

You writhe and tangle your fingers in his dark hair. You yank but he doesn’t react. Your other hand shoves his shoulder but he remains. 

You arch your back and let out a yawling moan. You cum around him, even as it hurts, even as your adrenaline floods through you, even as your instincts scream. Your orgasm is your white flag. You give up. You can’t fight anymore. 

He is relentless. He drags his fingers free, a trail of your slickness left along your pelvis, and he grips your hip. He ruts into you, harder and harder, flesh slapping. He flattens you against the mattress and lifts his head.  

He puts his hand on your forehead and pins your head down. He leans in and nibbles on your lower lip with a growl. His body tenses as his bicep bulges against you. The storm continues to flicker outside, limning his beastly figure as he rolls over you like thunder. 

He spasms and you feel him spill inside of you. He fucks you until his cum leaks out around him, and even past that. He doesn’t stop. He won’t stop. He just keeps going and going and going...