#NOBODY HERE IS DOING A PERFECT JOB

[elodieunderglass]

Hey looking at the notes there’s a lot more “oh, I’ve been beating myself up over my materialistic impulses, maybe it’s … okay …? to own shoes?” responses than I like to see in you guys, whom I like! Boring long rant under the cut (sorry guys it’s what tumblr is for I guess)

Let’s get it out of the way first; a lot of it is about money, and most people on tumblr have none. There. Done. Moving on.

if you’re a person at the stage of lifestyle where you’re considering whether you deserve things like “a mattress that doesn’t disable you”, you, a material being in the material world, are officially given permission to exist, you, yes, you! you … a material creature with material needs that are at least as valid as a zoo animal or pet. Are we clear on the difference between existing in material space vs. being materialistic? One is a physical condition imposed by having a body; the other is the idea that money and possessions matter more than anything else.

That isn’t being politically bourgeois. Even Marx allows for people to have toothbrushes and “private sufficiency.” Even Catholics own mattresses. Plenty of flawed, problematic, broke humans purchase mattresses every day; witness the continued existence of mattress shops.

Please bear in mind that the little voices criticising you on this are not just your parents; they’re often weird little social media fleas. They’re quite specific to certain social media biomes and definitely not universal. If you post (idk) an expensive pet horse or a fancy coffee machine on some circles of instagram you’ll likely get responses about how nice it is!! but if you imply on some circles of tumblr that you get caffeine in any way except for miserably spooning instant coffee granules into your mouth on the floor of a public bathroom while berating yourself for your carbon footprint, you’ll be reminded that “it must be nice to have MONEY! SOME of us would be grateful for instant coffee and self-hatred in a public bathroom!” Which does, indeed, as intended, make you feel bad. Now ask: What else does it do? What will you mend with that thread?

Please be aware that these fleas are restricted to specific highly sheltered biomes; and most people on Earth, including the truly poor and impoverished ones, would prefer you to pull yourself together and just drink your coffee from a mug. Okay? Because a) it is not doing much meaningfully to improve the material conditions of the people who have less money than you, b) it’s a bit insulting tbh to people who have less money than you that the best activism you can do is “feeling wretched on their behalf”, c) it’s not a great use of your imagination and resources, d) you are taking an interpretation of political economic theory very personally, and worse, you are allowing this influence on your actual living life from people who haven’t even read Marx; e) it’s a very immature view of the world that “suffering is activism, somehow” so in addition to being ill-read, your fleas are naive, if not malicious; f) there is no level of self-abnegation you can drop to that will please the fleas, and no reward for going lower. It isn’t like speedrunning a game or something, where you get the appreciation of an audience if you finally clip through the floor. The fleas will just say, “while you’re at it, it’s awfully bourgeois of you to have a floor. Star-nosed moles don’t have any.” Okay! These are absurd conversations to have, actually! You do not have to do a whole circus to appease fleas. Performing a pantomime of your empty wallet and sad clownface, to solicit the forgiveness of an audience who apparently hate you so much that they wish you were under the floor, is a foolish use of time.

(If you find yourself engaging in flea behaviour, “yeah Greer/Elodie it would be NICE to have a couch but SOME people have only three traumas in a shopping bag!” That’s pretty normal, and doesn’t make you a bad person! I do it myself. I have never had any bloody money at all, and I get mad about it often. One immediate problem with doing this, though, is that someone will instantly tell you that they would be grateful to even have a shopping bag. The conversation does not move forward; and inevitably, if/when you get your own couch equivalent, and express a little pride in it (look how far you’ve come from just having three traumas in a shopping bag!) it will happen to you too (must be nice to totally lose sight of people who don’t even have shopping bags!) and it will be very unclear how anyone’s soul progressed from the discourse. Oppression Olympics, being circular, has no winners and no prizes.)

Next please consider that in the general context of the planet, it’s considered reasonably respectable to have a material existence, and there is a vast gulf between “having a decent couch” and “owning a megayacht,” this gulf being literal orders of magnitude of difference in resource and justice. I, politically, feel the good Earth has resource for many people to own a piece of respectable furniture, even if the good Earth does not have resource for billionaires. Surely the world we are seeking to build is something like the William Morris vision, of everyone surrounded by comfort and beauty and art; small plain humble handmade things, but made well, for everyone. Surely that’s preferential to everyone gnawing coffee grounds on the floor together. Surely the healed world we’re aiming at has room for decent couches for everybody who needs one, right? The equity we’re aiming for is everyone having access to a dignified life, often this including a couch - not having everybody on the floor.

Next, I have noticed that while the actually wealthy can do whatever the hell they like, ordinary accessible people are only forgiven for having ✨luxuries✨if we can write a grant proposal justifying them. People like us may own a gaming console; disabled people are allowed the use of cleaning agencies; people are allowed to own cars if they need them to live. Nobody can reasonably criticise the purchase of a $5,000 prosthetic leg or a £2,000 vet bill to save a pet’s life - they’re aware that they sound malicious and deranged if they do this - but they certainly feel comfortable criticising strangers on the internet for an expensive mattress that allows people to sleep without pain; expensive shoes that allow someone to walk; a mobility aid that helps someone go just a little further; a decent couch; a pet of their own, even if they aren’t wealthy; a child, even though kids are expensive; elective healthcare; a steady table and a room of one’s own -

. Do you see here how it becomes quite problematic, assigning “luxury” status to things that are to be used every day, and deciding who gets to have them, based on whether the person is easy to punch? Reflections to be had, here, on what is luxury, who is allowed to have it; why is nobody like you allowed to have what you don’t have? By what parasocial means do we decide who is allowed to have what? why do people have more energy to criticise people-like-them for finally getting a good couch, but never have any energy to say a single word about Taylor Swift’s frivolous private jet usage? What I’m driving at is how it’s usually people in the same general income bracket (the Poors) criticising each other. Who does this help? If it truly helps for (personal finance/consideration for others/mindfulness/spending habits/the environment/you to feel better) then why is this necessary and effective weapon so rarely aimed at the powerful? Commentaries on materialism are usually quite clear that they are specifically criticising materialism, excessiveness, wastefulness, consumption. How does that get transmuted in our heads to “us personally not deserving usable forks”? Much energy is wasted here, gnawing our paws bare and savaging our poor siblings, while the hand that withholds our food never gets bitten.

On that note: people, fleas and inner critics will allow the purchase of expensive hiking boots for someone who can explain that they hike a lot. I submit the ultimate solution. Purchase expensive hiking boots because you need them to walk across the top part of Spain. This is the assignment I have given you. The trails are safe, accessible, and punctuated with regular snacks; the fellowship diverse and incomparable; the pilgrim hostels can be as cheap as $7 a night; wine is $3 a glass; you can eat communal meals with fellow pilgrims, or save even more by cooking up porridge oats. I am talking about the Camino de Santiago, the famous Way, the great Christian pilgrimage, which even today convicted people in Spain may walk to receive a pardon. It doesn’t matter your faith or lack thereof; if you quest in “an attitude of search” and stamp your pilgrim passport showing you have done the minimum miles, finishing in the great glowing city of Santiago, you will receive the campostela that counts as official absolution. That’s it, the official pardon, the written intercession with God. A pilgrim by the nature of pilgrimage has sought absolution and received it. That’s what pilgrimages are! Yes, even you.

And nobody denies the importance of good hiking boots on the Way. Pilgrimages are supposed to challenge - the Camino is a spiritual hike, and with perfect serendipity and geography it nourishes you with beauty and physical exertion in the great Pyrenees mountains before throwing you brutally to confront your own soul as you march the empty plains of Spain with your own self for company - but the point is, you do them on purpose, and at the end of it, you’re forgiven. While you are doing it, you cost just a bit more money to exist than the medieval pilgrims, and burn hardly any carbon at all.

Materialism is defined as “a tendency to consider material possessions and physical comfort as more important than spiritual values.” When you are battling your fleas of materialism, are you doing it to clear room for your spiritual life? What are you putting in your empty austere inner life? It just feels like if you’re being anti-materialistic for the (very good reason) of focusing on Higher Values, then equal processing time should be spent on the More Important Values, right?

I just thought if we were being Catholic, we might as well get the benefits as well as the suffering. You know? We should also claim the way of pilgrimage, the great journey of attention and intention, at the end of which your slate is summarily wiped clean by God Themselves. You get a certificate with Latin on it, to show everyone. You get a good grade in Pilgrimage. Why not focus on that theological concept for a change: the Way of absolution. A big homework you can do. A literal modern quest with your own forgiven self at the end of it. There’s the spiritual reverse of the materialism-battling coin. If you’re going to torment yourself with spiritual guilt, just go whole hog and work for the spiritual absolution too.

I'm turning 30 this month, and for some reason have become suddenly interested in material possessions. like what if,,,,,,,,my couch was nice. what if my sheets were nice. is this what happens to you??

[the-acid-pear]

see the thing that gets me about the human centipede is that you're either a normie going to watch a movie and getting scared over nothing of you're a freak whos going like WHAT'S ALL THIS THEN?! and like both can backfire bc i cannot stress enough The Human Centipede is such a stupidly tame movie there's barely any blood at all but thing is what makes me be SO insane about it it's that Heiter's actor May He Rest In Peace just put his WHOLE PUSSY into playing him making it such a fucking enjoyable and hilarious movie.

Like you cannot go watch the human centipede first sequence expecting to be scared bc you'll get bored in the first 40 minutes of doomed yuri but you gotta embrace the sheer campiness of it. Nobody cares about the campiness bro. He makes chicken sounds. He makes horrible silly chicken noises. Are you listening to me.

[dirt-str1der]

I will always be vocal about how much dr stone sucks and how stupid it is but to be quite honest it consumes 80% of my waking thoughts and yes i also downloaded the chinese kemonomimi doujin so i could pretend to read it in my spare time

[cliveguy]

i kind of miss working in the care home but thats the devil talking...

[tofupixel]

⭐ So you want to learn pixel art? ⭐

🔹 Part 1 of ??? - The Basics!

Hello, my name is Tofu and I'm a professional pixel artist. I have been supporting myself with freelance pixel art since 2020, when I was let go from my job during the pandemic.

My progress, from 2017 to 2024. IMO the only thing that really matters is time and effort, not some kind of natural talent for art.

This guide will not be comprehensive, as nobody should be expected to read allat. Instead I will lean heavily on my own experience, and share what worked for me, so take everything with a grain of salt. This is a guide, not a tutorial. Cheers!

🔹 Do I need money?

NO!!! Pixel art is one of the most accessible mediums out there.

I still use a mouse because I prefer it to a tablet! You won't be at any disadvantage here if you can't afford the best hardware or software.

Because our canvases are typically very small, you don't need a good PC to run a good brush engine or anything like that.

✨Did you know? One of the most skilled and beloved pixel artists uses MS PAINT! Wow!!

🔹 What software should I use?

Here are some of the most popular programs I see my friends and peers using. Stars show how much I recommend the software for beginners! ⭐

💰 Paid options:

⭐⭐⭐ Aseprite (for PC) - $19.99

This is what I and many other pixel artists use. You may find when applying to jobs that they require some knowledge of Aseprite. Since it has become so popular, companies like that you can swap raw files between artists.

Aseprite is amazingly customizable, with custom skins, scripts and extensions on Itch.io, both free and paid.

If you have ever used any art software before, it has most of the same features and should feel fairly familiar to use. It features a robust animation suite and a tilemap feature, which have saved me thousands of hours of labour in my work. The software is also being updated all the time, and the developers listen to the users. I really recommend Aseprite!

⭐ Photoshop (for PC) - Monthly $$

A decent option for those who already are used to the PS interface. Requires some setup to get it ready for pixel-perfect art, but there are plenty of tutorials for doing so.

Animation is also much more tedious on PS which you may want to consider before investing time!

⭐⭐ ProMotion NG (for PC) - $19.00

An advanced and powerful software which has many features Aseprite does not, including Colour Cycling and animated tiles.

⭐⭐⭐ Pixquare (for iOS) - $7.99 - $19.99 (30% off with code 'tofu'!!)

Probably the best app available for iPad users, in active development, with new features added all the time.

Look! My buddy Jon recommends it highly, and uses it often.

One cool thing about Pixquare is that it takes Aseprite raw files! Many of my friends use it to work on the same project, both in their office and on the go.

⭐ Procreate (for iOS) - $12.99

If you have access to Procreate already, it's a decent option to get used to doing pixel art. It does however require some setup. Artist Pixebo is famously using Procreate, and they have tutorials of their own if you want to learn.

⭐⭐ ReSprite iOS and Android. (free trial, but:) $19.99 premium or $$ monthly

ReSprite is VERY similar in terms of UI to Aseprite, so I can recommend it. They just launched their Android release!

🆓 Free options:

⭐⭐⭐ Libresprite (for PC)

Libresprite is an alternative to Aseprite. It is very, very similar, to the point where documentation for Aseprite will be helpful to Libresprite users.

⭐⭐ Pixilart (for PC and mobile)

A free in-browser app, and also a mobile app! It is tied to the website Pixilart, where artists upload and share their work. A good option for those also looking to get involved in a community.

⭐⭐ Dotpict (for mobile)

Dotpict is similar to Pixilart, with a mobile app tied to a website, but it's a Japanese service. Did you know that in Japanese, pixel art is called 'Dot Art'? Dotpict can be a great way to connect with a different community of pixel artists! They also have prompts and challenges often.

🔹 So I got my software, now what?

◽Nice! Now it's time for the basics of pixel art.

❗ WAIT ❗ Before this section, I want to add a little disclaimer. All of these rules/guidelines can be broken at will, and some 'no-nos' can look amazing when done intentionally.

The pixel-art fundamentals can be exceedingly helpful to new artists, who may feel lost or overwhelmed by choice. But if you feel they restrict you too harshly, don't force yourself! At the end of the day it's your art, and you shouldn't try to contort yourself into what people think a pixel artist 'should be'. What matters is your own artistic expression. 💕👍

◽Phew! With that out of the way...

🔸"The Rules"

There are few hard 'rules' of pixel art, mostly about scaling and exporting. Some of these things will frequently trip up newbies if they aren't aware, and are easy to overlook.

🔹Scaling method

There are a couple ways of scaling your art. The default in most art programs, and the entire internet, is Bi-linear scaling, which usually works out fine for most purposes. But as pixel artists, we need a different method.

Both are scaled up x10. See the difference?

On the left is scaled using Bilinear, and on the right is using Nearest-Neighbor. We love seeing those pixels stay crisp and clean, so we use nearest-neighbor. 

(Most pixel-art programs have nearest-neighbor enabled by default! So this may not apply to you, but it's important to know.)

🔹Mixels

Mixels are when there are different (mixed) pixel sizes in the same image.

Here I have scaled up my art- the left is 200%, and the right is 150%. Yuck!

As we can see, the "pixel" sizes end up different. We generally try to scale our work by multiples of 100 - 200%, 300% etc. rather than 150%. At larger scales however, the minute differences in pixel sizes are hardly noticeable!

Mixels are also sometimes seen when an artist scales up their work, then continues drawing on it with a 1 pixel brush.

Many would say that this is not great looking! This type of pixels can be indicative of a beginner artist. But there are plenty of creative pixel artists out there who mixels intentionally, making something modern and cool.

🔹Saving Your Files

We usually save our still images as .PNGs as they don’t create any JPEG artifacts or loss of quality. It's a little hard to see here, but there are some artifacts, and it looks a little blurry. It also makes the art very hard to work with if we are importing a JPEG.

For animations .GIF is good, but be careful of the 256 colour limit. Try to avoid using too many blending mode layers or gradients when working with animations. If you aren’t careful, your animation could flash afterwards, as the .GIF tries to reduce colours wherever it can. It doesn’t look great!

Here's an old piece from 2021 where I experienced .GIF lossiness, because I used gradients and transparency, resulting in way too many colours.

🔹Pixel Art Fundamentals - Techniques and Jargon

❗❗Confused about Jaggies? Anti-Aliasing? Banding? Dithering? THIS THREAD is for you❗❗ << it's a link, click it!!

As far as I'm concerned, this is THE tutorial of all time for understanding pixel art. These are techniques created and named by the community of people who actually put the list together, some of the best pixel artists alive currently. Please read it!!

🔸How To Learn

Okay, so you have your software, and you're all ready to start. But maybe you need some more guidance? Try these tutorials and resources! It can be helpful to work along with a tutorial until you build your confidence up.

⭐⭐ Pixel Logic (A Digital Book) - $10 A very comprehensive visual guide book by a very skilled and established artist in the industry. I own a copy myself.

⭐⭐⭐ StudioMiniBoss - free A collection of visual tutorials, by the artist that worked on Celeste! When starting out, if I got stuck, I would go and scour his tutorials and see how he did it.

⭐ Lospec Tutorials - free A very large collection of various tutorials from all over the internet. There is a lot to sift through here if you have the time.

⭐⭐⭐ Cyangmou's Tutorials - free (tipping optional) Cyangmou is one of the most respected and accomplished modern pixel artists, and he has amassed a HUGE collection of free and incredibly well-educated visual tutorials. He also hosts an educational stream every week on Twitch called 'pixelart for beginners'.

⭐⭐⭐ Youtube Tutorials - free There are hundreds, if not thousands of tutorials on YouTube, but it can be tricky to find the good ones. My personal recommendations are MortMort, Brandon, and AdamCYounis- these guys really know what they're talking about!

🔸 How to choose a canvas size

When looking at pixel art turorials, we may see people suggest things like 16x16, 32x32 and 64x64. These are standard sizes for pixel art games with tiles. However, if you're just making a drawing, you don't necessarily need to use a standard canvas size like that.

What I like to think about when choosing a canvas size for my illustrations is 'what features do I think it is important to represent?' And make my canvas as small as possible, while still leaving room for my most important elements.

Imagine I have characters in a scene like this:

I made my canvas as small as possible (232 x 314), but just big enough to represent the features and have them be recognizable (it's Good Omens fanart 😤)!! If I had made it any bigger, I would be working on it for ever, due to how much more foliage I would have to render.

If you want to do an illustration and you're not sure, just start at somewhere around 100x100 - 200x200 and go from there.

It's perfectly okay to crop your canvas, or scale it up, or crunch your art down at any point if you think you need a different size. I do it all the time! It only takes a bit of cleanup to get you back to where you were.

🔸Where To Post

Outside of just regular socials, Twitter, Tumblr, Deviantart, Instagram etc, there are a few places that lean more towards pixel art that you might not have heard of.

⭐ Lospec Lospec is a low-res focused art website. Some pieces get given a 'monthly masterpiece' award. Not incredibly active, but I believe there are more features being added often.

⭐⭐ Pixilart Pixilart is a very popular pixel art community, with an app tied to it. The community tends to lean on the young side, so this is a low-pressure place to post with an relaxed vibe.

⭐⭐ Pixeljoint Pixeljoint is one of the big, old-school pixel art websites. You can only upload your art unscaled (1x) because there is a built-in zoom viewer. It has a bit of a reputation for being elitist (back in the 00s it was), but in my experience it's not like that any more. This is a fine place for a pixel artist to post if they are really interested in learning, and the history. The Hall of Fame has some of the most famous / impressive pixel art pieces that paved the way for the work we are doing today.

⭐⭐⭐ Cafe Dot Cafe Dot is my art server so I'm a little biased here. 🍵 It was created during the recent social media turbulence. We wanted a place to post art with no algorithms, and no NFT or AI chuds. We have a heavy no-self-promotion rule, and are more interested in community than skill or exclusivity. The other thing is that we have some kind of verification system- you must apply to be a Creator before you can post in the Art feed, or use voice. This helps combat the people who just want to self-promo and dip, or cause trouble, as well as weed out AI/NFT people. Until then, you are still welcome to post in any of the threads or channels. There is a lot to do in Cafe Dot. I host events weekly, so check the threads!

⭐⭐/r/pixelart The pixel art subreddit is pretty active! I've also heard some of my friends found work through posting here, so it's worth a try if you're looking. However, it is still Reddit- so if you're sensitive to rude people, or criticism you didn't ask for, you may want to avoid this one. Lol

🔸 Where To Find Work

You need money? I got you! As someone who mostly gets scouted on social media, I can share a few tips with you:

Put your email / portfolio in your bio Recruiters don't have all that much time to find artists, make it as easy as possible for someone to find your important information!

Clean up your profile If your profile feed is all full of memes, most people will just tab out rather than sift through. Doesn't apply as much to Tumblr if you have an art tag people can look at.

Post regularly, and repost Activity beats everything in the social media game. It's like rolling the dice, and the more you post the more chances you have. You have to have no shame, it's all business baby

Outside of just posting regularly and hoping people reach out to you, it can be hard to know where to look. Here are a few places you can sign up to and post around on.

/r/INAT INAT (I Need A Team) is a subreddit for finding a team to work with. You can post your portfolio here, or browse for people who need artists.

/r/GameDevClassifieds Same as above, but specifically for game-related projects.

Remote Game Jobs / Work With Indies Like Indeed but for game jobs. Browse them often, or get email notifications.

VGen VGen is a website specifically for commissions. You need a code from another verified artist before you can upgrade your account and sell, so ask around on social media or ask your friends. Once your account is upgraded, you can make a 'menu' of services people can purchase, and they send you an offer which you are able to accept, decline, or counter.

The evil websites of doom: Fiverr and Upwork I don't recommend them!! They take a big cut of your profit, and the sites are teeming with NFT and AI people hoping to make a quick buck. The site is also extremely oversaturated and competitive, resulting in a race to the bottom (the cheapest, the fastest, doing the most for the least). Imagine the kind of clients who go to these websites, looking for the cheapest option. But if you're really desperate...

🔸 Community

I do really recommend getting involved in a community. Finding like-minded friends can help you stay motivated to keep drawing. One day, those friends you met when you were just starting out may become your peers in the industry. Making friends is a game changer!

Discord servers Nowadays, the forums of old are mostly abandoned, and people split off into many different servers. Cafe Dot, Pixel Art Discord (PAD), and if you can stomach scrolling past all the AI slop, you can browse Discord servers here.

Twitch Streams Twitch has kind of a bad reputation for being home to some of the more edgy gamers online, but the pixel art community is extremely welcoming and inclusive. Some of the people I met on Twitch are my friends to this day, and we've even worked together on different projects! Browse pixel art streams here, or follow some I recommend: NickWoz, JDZombi, CupOhJoe, GrayLure, LumpyTouch, FrankiePixelShow, MortMort, Sodor, NateyCakes, NyuraKim, ShinySeabass, I could go on for ever really... There are a lot of good eggs on Pixel Art Twitch.

🔸 Other Helpful Websites

Palettes Lospec has a huge collection of user-made palettes, for any artist who has trouble choosing their colours, or just wants to try something fun. Rejected Palettes is full of palettes that didn't quite make it onto Lospec, ran by people who believe there are no bad colours.

The Spriters Resource TSR is an incredible website where users can upload spritesheets and tilesets from games. You can browse for your favourite childhood game, and see how they made it! This website has helped me so much in understanding how game assets come together in a scene.

VGMaps Similar to the above, except there are entire maps laid out how they would be played. This is incredible if you have to do level design, or for mocking up a scene for fun.

Game UI Database Not pixel-art specific, but UI is a very challenging part of graphics, so this site can be a game-changer for finding good references!

Retronator A digital newspaper for pixel-art lovers! New game releases, tutorials, and artworks!

Itch.io A website where people can upload, games, assets, tools... An amazing hub for game devs and game fans alike. A few of my favourite tools: Tiled, PICO-8, Pixel Composer, Juice FX, Magic Pencil for Aseprite

🔸 The End?

This is just part 1 for now, so please drop me a follow to see any more guides I release in the future. I plan on doing some writeups on how I choose colours, how to practise, and more!

I'm not an expert by any means, but everything I did to get to where I am is outlined in this guide. Pixel art is my passion, my job and my hobby! I want pixel art to be recognized everywhere as an art-form, a medium of its own outside of game-art or computer graphics!

This guide took me a long time, and took a lot of research and experience. Consider following me or supporting me if you are feeling generous.

And good luck to all the fledgling pixel artists, I hope you'll continue and have fun. I hope my guide helped you, and don't hesitate to send me an ask if you have any questions! 💕

My other tutorials (so far): How to draw Simple Grass for a game Hue Shifting

[inkskinned]

at the end of the day it's not that you hate your job - actually, you like working, you like routine, you like feeling like an adult - it's that any time you fuck anything up, you feel like you're fucking dying.

because you could be actually fucking dying. because if one day you wake up and you misunderstood something - you could lose your job, and nobody is hiring, and nobody is paying, and nobody takes people like you, and that job you want hasn't gotten back to you. and what exactly are you going to do without insurance? good luck with those meds. you should have thought of that before being a person.

so it's not just that you forgot to CC someone on an email, it's that if you don't have this job, you can't afford rent. it's not that you misread a comment, it's that if you get fired, you will be in massive amounts of unpayable debt. it's not that you are bad at your job, but here are the stakes as they have been decided for you: be perfect or fucking die. like, literally, die. that is how much safety net you have: none.

it's not burnout, technically. but you literally just had two typos in your work, and you're already picturing the ending. you want to throw up & curl up & make it all go away. it is two typos. if he decides he is mad at you, you lose literally everything.

your mom says that you seem stressed. the thing is that you have never known a job that isn't stressful. welcome to capitalism. there is no other road, only this one. what the fuck is a career. you come here, and we hold your life against the barrel of a gun, and somewhere someone is spinning the chamber and pulling. eventually the bullet will come.

you live in a mugging. your boss owns three cars and has four kids. you worry about having enough to feed your dog. good luck. beg for forgiveness. CC the right people next time and be grateful, kid. somebody has it worse than you. someone, probably, has it worse than you. so what if you can't sleep or eat or focus. your work chat sound literally makes you panic. you had to change the sounds of computer notifications so you'd stop having such an upset stomach.

welcome to the real world! the rat race! the dog eat dog circus!

your doctor studies the results and frowns at you. "it's bad for your heart," she says. "try to reduce your levels of stress."

[potato-dragons]

me: receive a gift/help without asking = getting backstabbed later on and get called a "nasty person" for *insert everything that i do or do not say* here.

[almostempty]

Never made it as a wise man

(joel miller x f!reader)

Description: Joel solves your car troubles for free, and you try to return the favor with a homecooked meal. When you accidentally interrupt his jerkoff session, you take a chance and help him out.

Note: y’all are out here answering god’s toughest questions, like what if emotionally unavailable Joel was loved unconditionally? or what if Joel was the Mothman?, and I deeply appreciate that. 

However, today, I am here to answer a question that nobody asked– What if Joel was a divorced dad rock kinda guy? 

You know, like, listening to Nickelback on an old-school boombox in his garage, or unironically singing Creed on the way to work, or bonding with Ellie over Papa Roach? And also, (inspired by a genius) what if he was a little bit pathetic? 

Anyway, I present to you: divorced dad rock dilf, Joel, ta-da! (my humble submission for @hellishjoel‘s hot dilf summer challenge) obvs dedicated to: @auteurdelabre

ao3: read here | masterlist: here | part 1.5 here

Tags/warnings: AU no outbreak divorced Joel x f!reader, Sarah is not mentioned, but Ellie is your adult coworker, reader is clueless about cars and so am I, gratuitous smut and horny thoughts, implied jorkin’ joel but no witnesses, hand job, fingering, premature ejaculation, touch starved kinda loserish but hot divorced dilf joel, he’s a real tiddy guy in this one and idk why it just happened, pwp, is it a crackfic? maybe, but i meant it wholeheartedly so idk  

WC: 4.2k

You pull onto the long driveway, hoping to see Joel’s truck. You forgot to text first to see if he would be around, but he did tell you to come by if you ever needed anything. You mostly just hope he’ll be willing to accept your gift. 

Last week, he’d helped you out by fixing your car. He told you what the issue was, but he might as well have been speaking another language when he described it. You had already brought coffee and a plate of cookies to your coworker Ellie to thank her for dragging you to Joel’s to ask for help. Being in a new town was hard enough, but you had no idea how you would handle the price for diagnostics, let alone whatever the repair would’ve cost. You tried to offer Joel the cash you had as a thanks, but he wouldn’t accept it. You tried to argue with him, but Ellie told you it wasn’t worth arguing with him. He wouldn’t budge. Instead, he had offered to change your oil for you, making you feel even more indebted to him. 

At first, the most you got out of Ellie for intel on Joel was that he was the one responsible for you having to listen to “One Last Breath” and “Lips of an Angel” at ungodly early hours. Ellie claimed that her music taste was deeply influenced by Joel, and somehow, Ellie is always in charge of the music at work. When you rolled your eyes calling it divorced dad rock, she let it slip that you were right about that. 

That explains a lot when you remember the brief time you spent in his house and shop. The house was clean inside but not tidy. Stray beer bottles and travel mugs dotted the counter and coffee table. But the shop had all the Divorced Dad Barbie accessories. 

The project car and crates of assorted parts. The beer fridge and the plastic lawn chairs in the corner for bullshitting with whoever stopped by. The boombox on the workbench with the stack of CDs. And the fading calendar from another decade with the naked woman kneeling on the beach. 

You hadn’t been able to stop your eyes from darting to her sultry expression and swimsuit model-perfect breasts when Joel had been explaining what he was going to do to your car. You wondered if the heat burning in your cheeks had given you away, but he didn’t notice then. Ellie sure did, though, and she had rolled her eyes at you, noting it had been up so long she even forgot it was there. 

Luckily, Ellie didn’t notice your eyes lingering on Joel’s body. You weren’t trying to be a creep, but the way his arm flexed when he opened the hood of your car gave you some feral brand of intrusive thoughts. The ratty band t-shirt and the faded jeans were working for him, too, or at least they were doing something for you. Time slowed when your eyes trailed over his arms and down the muscles of his broad back. He just seemed so… solid. You finally understood what your friends back home meant when they said they wanted to climb a man like a tree. You had jumped a little when Ellie slammed the fridge behind you and shouted at Joel about how he can’t just live in the shop drinking shitty beer and eating beef jerky. She had grabbed your arm to drag you to the house for an iced tea while he worked. 

Her comment sparked your idea. You figured Joel must be a utilitarian type. He probably lives on frozen pizzas–or even worse, those Hungry-Man frozen TV dinners–instead of making himself something fresh. Maybe he’s one of those guys who got really into smoking meats instead. Either way, you hope the lasagna you made from scratch and the other tray of cookies will be an acceptable thank you for his help. He can’t refuse it if you already made it, right? 

You pull up next to a truck, assuming it’s his, and that he’s home. Before you grab the tray, you pause to check your reflection and adjust your breasts in your white tank top, making sure your cleavage pokes out as temptingly as possible. 

You check yourself in the mirror with a look. Why does it matter what you look like? It’s not like you’re trying to fuck your only (almost) friend’s dad, right? Although she calls him by his first name, not Dad, so maybe there’s like a loophole or something if she’s adopted. You think about the calendar model and her perfect tits hanging on the wall over his tools. It can’t hurt to just do a little harmless flirting, right? Maybe you aren’t even his type anyway. 

After knocking on the door a couple of times, you frown, wondering if he’s not home. On the way back to your car, with your head hung in defeat, your ears perk up at the sound of something clanging in the shop. Of course! 

You skitter back to the front porch to leave your goods by the door and head for the shop to find that divorced DILF–Joel, you mean. It’s sweltering out, and sweat is beading on your chest after only a few minutes in the heat. The closer you get, the more easily you can make out the sound of his little CD player blasting another brooding, raspy ballad sung by a white man with a troubled love life. 

The garage door is shut, so you knock on the door on the side of the building. You wait a minute before testing your luck and opening the door yourself. Assessing the shop, you don’t see your man, sorry, Joel, at first glance. The music blasts, and the calendar model gives you the same impish smirk through her false lashes and a layer of dust, but there’s no Joel. The evidence clearly dictates that he’s in here somewhere, as his tools are strung around his project, the lights are on, and a beer with a sweating label sits on the edge of the workbench. 

You aren’t trying to be sneaky. You didn’t think to holler and announce your presence over the music. Plus, you didn’t fully get your bearings the last time you were here. Now, you can pick up a few more details as your eyes absorb everything they can about anything that gives you a hint about who this guy is. 

The guy that’s been haunting your dreams for a week. Last week, when you walked back to the shop with Ellie to check on your car, you nearly tripped, watching Joel wipe the sweat off his face with the bottom of his shirt. You had just caught a glimpse of the trail of hair disappearing under his jeans, but it was enough to replay in your mind every night as you created your little scenarios to carry you off to sleep. 

The scent memory was somehow worse. It was so easy to transport yourself back in time with the thought of the sweaty musk and the grease or oil smeared on his fingers. It shouldn’t turn you on, right? 

You remember thinking he seemed so knowledgeable when describing the issue. You had no idea what he was talking about, but his low voice and patience were enough to tell you he could talk you through anything. 

You notice a few other details as you enter his sacred space today. The woodworking projects, the band posters, and the pictures with Ellie and other family members tacked to the wall over another workbench. 

Still, no Joel, however. 

You circle the partially disassembled project truck and see a door to another room. It would be the office if the shop were a professional business. There’s a window along the wall, but instead of a boss watching an employee, it’s you hoping to see that brawny man and his dark curls. 

As you step closer, you nearly squeal. There he is. Well, at least, you can see the broad shoulders and back you’ve been picturing above you in bed. You practically skip to the door. It’s already open a crack, and you give it a knock, calling his name as it swings open from the force of your rapping knuckles.   

The next moment is a blur. 

“Shit, fuck, hold on!” Joel shouts gruffly as he slams the door in your face. But you already heard it. The phony wailing noises that came from the busted speaker on his phone. 

You still face the closed door, trying to process the interaction before he wrenches the door back open. He’s breathing rapidly, chest rising and falling, as he looks at you with wide eyes that quickly narrow. 

“What are you doing here?” he barks. 

Your hands fall to your sides, and you start to step back, ready to turn and run. 

He catches your fear and tries to adjust, but you’re faster. 

“Sorry,” you mumble as you turn and try to dash away. Joel’s quick, too, though, and he grabs your wrist. 

“Hey, wait,” he loosens his grip when you spin back towards him, “I just didn’t hear you comin’. Wasn’t expecting you.” 

“Sorry,” you repeat, stuttering as you continue, “I-I just, uh, just wanted to say thanks for your help last week.” You stare at the floor. Unsure why you’re embarrassed, you feel so small after he saw your face and practically shouted at you. 

“All right,” he rumbles. You’re too busy staring at the crack in the concrete floor to notice how his eyes are glued to your exposed skin. Or to see the blotchy red flush that crawls up his neck and toward his face. 

But your brain starts to catch up. Joel might’ve snapped at you, but you’re the one that caught him in the act. You don’t lift your head, but your eyes trail over his stained and faded jeans until you’re studying his crotch. 

Bingo. It’s almost too easy. You can make out the outline of his erection tucked up in his waistband. Even more glaring evidence is the open fly. You wish you had caught what he was watching. How does he like it? What does he search for when he wants to jerk off in the back office on a hot Saturday afternoon? 

He clears his throat, and you snap your attention to his face. “Was there somethin’ you needed?” He asks. 

“Yes.” You tell him you’ve got a lasagna that should get into a fridge before it reheats in the sun. He follows you toward the front door and into the house, not missing how your hips sway as you lead. 

Once the tray is shoved into the fridge, nestled between some takeout containers, he turns to thank you. “You didn’t need to do all that,” he gruffs over the cookies and homemade meal. 

You step back to lean against the counter, littered with mail and more coffee cups, and let yourself check him out up close. His faded Creed t-shirt has holes around the neck. He’s got that same sweaty man musk going on, and you wish you knew why that stirred your arousal, but your pussy lacks logic. 

“I know, I know,” you reply, “but you really saved my ass with the car, and I wanted to do something for you. You know, some way to pay you back?” 

“All right, well, thanks,” he trails off. He doesn’t seem to know what else to say. Maybe you should be on your way already, but he’s not ushering you out the door. 

This time, you do catch when his eyes drop to your chest. There’s no way you’re imagining the tension between you as you stand in his kitchen while he stares at your barely clothed tits, right? Fuck it. You’re gonna go for it. 

You take a step towards him. “I wasn’t sure if it was really enough,” your voice is soft and tempting, and your sweet perfume wafts towards him like a lust potion. Joel swallows thickly as you approach.

He knows you must’ve put it together, but he tried to delude himself. Maybe you couldn’t hear the theatrical screams of the woman he was watching get railed before he slammed the door in your face. He hopes all you heard was Chad Kroeger’s voice screaming, “This time I'm mistaken

For handin' you a heart worth breakin'” from the stereo.. on the other side of the shop. 

“You worked so hard,” you continued with one final step, and now you’re nearly toe-to-toe in front of him. “There has to be something else I could do.” You’re so close to him. He forgets to respond. It takes all his power to keep his eyes on your face. 

You have a wild urge to taste the sweat on his neck, but you keep your tongue to yourself. He hasn’t made any move to encourage you, but he hasn’t stopped you yet either, so you figure it’s worth taking a risk. 

“Maybe you’ve got a problem I could help you with.” You go for it, reaching your hand out to palm at the bulge in his jeans. 

Again, too many things happen at once. Joel snaps out a “What?” in disbelief. His hand circles your wrist tightly. His hips jerk, involuntarily bucking into your palm. Your glossy lips part into an “o” shape at the size of his not-quite-hard cock. And now you’re both locked into this position like statues. 

His fingers stay firmly wrapped around your wrist, but he doesn’t pull you away. Your fingers squeeze over his jeans, and your eyes flash wide as you can feel his cock twitch and stiffen at your touch. The touch that rapidly overrides your better judgment, drowning you in want. Your clit twitches itself in response, your nipples strain under your thin tank top, and your eyelids feel heavy immediately. 

“What are you doing?” His voice crackles like he hadn’t just used it. You slide your hand to pop the button on his jeans, and he releases your wrist as you flip it to slip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers in search of his cock. 

“Let me help,” you say in more of a whispered tone. The searing heat between Joel’s legs makes you salivate. Your fingers graze coarse curls before you acquire your target, wrapping your palm and fingers around his thick shaft. His size has your cunt throbbing in your shorts. 

Joel’s eyes are squeezed shut. He looks nearly in pain. You pull your hand back out to let the pool of saliva on your tongue drip into your palm. 

“Jesus,” he breathes out, watching your lewd maneuver. “You wanna help?” He repeats your plea in the form of a question, a little dumbfounded. He’s trying to figure out what’s happening right now. 

“I do,” you answer in a honeyed voice as you dig your hand back into his pants. He’s unable to respond with words as you swirl your palm over the head of his cock, mixing saliva and precome, but his body eggs you on. He bucks into your fist, and you work quickly, pumping his throbbing length. The slick noises are muffled by the layers of clothing, but the grunts that catch in his throat shoot piping-hot desire straight into your core. 

He looks a little desperate, eyes slammed shut again, jaw slack, arms hanging uselessly at his side. And for god knows why, the entire scene pulls a moan from your lips. The sweet sound snaps Joel back to attention. His hands shoot straight to your breasts, cupping them gently to feel them bounce against the motion of your arm wrestling with his jeans to keep stroking his cock. 

They’re so close to spilling over your tank top on their own. Joel can’t resist tugging the thin material until they spill over the top. The sight alone nearly has him coming in his pants. But then you moan so loudly when he squeezes them both and pinches at your nipples, and he really can’t stop. 

“Fuck, fuck, wait,” he spits out, but it’s too late. His hips jerk erratically, thrusting into your slick fist, and he’s coming. It coats your hand and wrist and makes an absolute mess.  You relax your grip when his whole body seems to shudder and gently remove your hand. He tries to choke his groan of frustration before it surfaces, but he immediately pauses his shame spiral when he sees you suck your come-coated fingers one by one. 

“God, that’s so fucking hot,” you tell him. At the same time, he’s muttering curses at the sight of you. You’re feeling a little giddy that all it took was your hand and showing your tits to have Joel losing control and spilling his load for you. It has your mouth curling into an impish grin. 

He’s got the sight of you half topless in his kitchen, licking your fingers, looking awfully proud of yourself, etching into his memory. Before the blood can return to his brain, he grabs you tightly by the ribs and walks you backward towards the counter. He lifts you onto it and wrenches open your shorts, yanking at them as you lift your hips so he can slide them off of you and drop them onto the kitchen floor. 

Yes! Yes! Yes! The horny little goblins in your brain shriek and chant, incited by the rough and impulsive way Joel gropes at you. It’s barbaric, and that delights you. 

Sitting on the counter, you give him such perfect access to put his mouth on your breasts that he forgets what he was going to say. He mouths at each of them wetly, his beard tickling you as he’s busy sucking marks into your delicate skin. He sucks and bites at your strained nipples until your loud whines turn into a sharp gasp, and he pulls back. 

The heavy-lidded look on your face has him diving back in for more, and you groan and arch into his touch. You rake your fingers into the curls at the back of his neck and tug at him. He grunts and moans into your skin, and it drives you wild. You need to feel him closer. 

You grab the worn cotton on his shoulders until he lets you slip the shirt over his head and drop it onto the counter next to you. It gives you the briefest moment to take in the sight of his built chest and shoulders and softer midsection with that trail of hair you had memorized. You need to taste the salt on his skin. 

Spreading your legs wider, he slots his hips against yours at the edge of the counter, and you run your tongue along his neck. You slide one of your hands down the smooth golden skin of his shoulder, and the other nestles back in his messy curls as his mouth finds yours. 

He tastes like cheap coffee and the peppermint nicotine gum parked above his teeth along the left side of his mouth. You know it’s wrong that you can’t get enough. But you're helpless when he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, and you mindlessly roll your hips, seeking any relief. 

He’s grumbling in your ear about how it seems like you need help now, but you couldn’t care less about the words coming out of his mouth. His deep voice alone could get you off. You let out an uninhibited whine at the thought. 

“Jesus Christ,” he pulls back. His head hangs, staring at the floor. He shakes it in what you assume is disbelief. You don’t want to wait for him to think any further. You grab his hand, pulling it between your legs.

“Really, fucking, hot.” You echo your earlier declaration. Doing your best to sound assertive. You figure at least your soaked panties will prove your point. 

“Fuck,” he stifles a groan. You’re so wet it coats his fingertips through the thin material. He nudges his fingers into you, over your panties, and you whimper for him. The fabric sticks to you and makes an obscene sound as he toys with you for only seconds. “Oh, you do need my help. Hm?” 

You nod, spreading your legs wider for Joel to have access. He scoffs at you, displayed eagerly atop his kitchen counter. “Just desperate for me, aren’t ya?”

You snap your legs back shut with a glare. 

“No way,” you press, jabbing a finger into his chest, “you don’t get to laugh at me like I’m a slut for you when you just came in your pants for me.” 

His nostrils flare, and blotchy red patches creep up his neck again. You aren’t sure what kind of bear you’ve just, quite literally, poked. 

“But you are, aren’t you?” He challenges. “You came all this way in this excuse for a shirt, just for me.” 

He wedges his hand back between your closed thighs, and you relax just enough to let him work his way back to your core. Your breathing gives you away when it hitches and stutters as he traces his fingers along the hem of the fabric between your legs. You let your legs fall a little wider apart, and he sinks a finger beneath the hem and right inside of you to the knuckle. 

A whiny noise rolls in the back of your throat. 

“Shh,” he sinks a second finger inside of you, and your muscles spasm and contract, “that’s better, hmm?” He slowly pulls his fingers almost all the way out and then plunges them back in. He repeats this, and your core tenses as you writhe for him. 

“You need more?” 

“Yes.” 

“Yeah, you do.” He adds a third finger, and the slight stretch makes you hum. 

“You just need to be filled up, hm?” He teases you. Awfully confident now for a guy you just caught watching porn on his phone in a grimy back office in the middle of the afternoon. 

But your noises and impatient movements spur him on. His sticky cock is filling out his jeans again. He nearly drools at the thought of the wet walls of your cunt, currently wrapped around his fingers, sliding over his cock instead. He knows you want it, too.

“Don’t you?” He asks like you could read his mind.

“Hm?” You hum absently. Empty headed. You’re still taken by the entire pulpy, messy scene. 

Reveling in the vulnerability of being spread open on his cluttered counter as you’re both half-dressed and panting in the other’s hot breath. Any semblance of the lightness of your mood is quickly replaced with a blinding need. His fingers work into you, making obscene sounds, and then you add your own fingers. Circling your swollen clit just as he lets you in on his vision. 

“You wanna bounce on my lap. Fill this pussy with my cock.” 

“Yes,” you hiss as you hover at the edge. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” he watches your fingers working deftly over your swollen clit. The encouragement tips you over. Your body jolts erratically as you contract around his fingers, and bright sparks of pleasure course through you. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna ride me like fuckin’ champ,” he decides. You pull at his wrist when you start to feel overwhelmed, and he slides his wet fingers over your soft inner thigh. He’s ready to grab you and carry you to the couch when both of your heads snap to attention at the sound of a door slamming in the driveway. 

“Shit,” he grumbles, looking for the clock on the stove before he remembers it’s definitely not set to the right time. You move nimbly, shimmying into your shorts, snapping your straps back over your shoulder, and brushing your hair out of your face. 

“Hey, wait,” he calls for you, but you’re on the move. 

“Let me know when I can pick up the baking dish,” you call over your shoulder. Luckily, Joel’s next guest seemed to know him better. They were off to search the shop first, so you didn’t collide with anyone before you got to your car. Joel stayed locked in the kitchen, catching his breath while you started to pull away. He didn’t see that you stole his dirty Creed shirt off the counter before you skipped out the door. 

When you grab it later to wear to bed, a naughty little smile tugs at the corners of your lips. When you pull the worn fabric to your nose to inhale deeply, you wonder if it’s one of those weird pheromone matches or something because you’re sure the sweaty man musk should be wrinkling your nose. 

Instead, it makes you think of his big arms and chest filling out the shirt. And how his shoulder and back muscles ripple under his sun-bronzed skin. What they’d look like coated in a sheen of salty sweat as he railed you, bent over his workbench, under the watchful eye of the calendar model and her flirty smize. 

The image has you interrupting your own scenarios-before-bed time. Maybe Joel needs a model from this decade. You giggle, bunching up the t-shirt to snap a tasteful shot of some underboob cleavage, with the faded Creed logo on full display. 

You send it off with no context, figuring it’s self-explanatory. It’s less than a minute before your phone buzzes, and you feel the intoxicating rush rip through your body before you pick it up to see just the heading on your lockscreen: 

Joel

Attachment 1 image

divider by @cyberangel-graphics

Please let me know if you enjoyed or hated this or a secret third thing (???) heheh

[ssahotchnerr]

begging for nanny!reader x hotch

aka aaron discovers reader is going on a date, our man gets a bit mean and jealous, things get a bit steamy and it ends with him begging reader not to go🙈🙈

right now

🤭 cw; fem nanny!reader, jealous and some possessive!aaron 😵‍💫, slight bratty reader?, heavy suggestion - minors dni wc; 1.2k

"Homework is done. Soccer bag is packed for tomorrow, but uniform is finishing up in the dryer now." You relayed everything on your internal to-do list, mentally checking off each box. "Oh, he has a permission slip for a class trip in his folder that needs signing. I reminded Jack to remind you, but just so you're aware, too. He's eating at his friend's, so you don't have to worry about dinner."

Aaron nodded along to your instructions. You looked throughout the kitchen, as if something would pounce out and remind you of something you'd potentially forgotten.

When nothing availed, "Okay, that should cover it."

"You're amazing, per usual." Aaron complimented, exhaling an at-eased breath. He glanced around the clean apartment, before discreetly admiring you. "I can't tell you how nice it is knowing things are taken care of here. I'm able to come home and breathe. Jack adores you. Seriously, what would we do without you?"

You blushed at his praise, warmth sweeping through you. "Happy to help."

"How was he today?" He asked, swiftly grabbing the mail from the table, beginning to poke through it.

"Perfect. Per usual." You shared, tossing Aaron a grin. Jack made your job tremendously easy - he was cooperative, kind mannered, overall the sweetest kid. "Although, I did have to remind him to stop leaving his shoes in the middle of the entryway." You added jokingly, as if it could be an inconvenience.

Aaron chuckled. His eyes squinted humorously as he quipped in return, "I'll have a chat with him."

Your smile lingered, fading away gradually as you began packing yourself up. "And thanks for relieving me early. I know how busy you are, so I really do appreciate it."

Nervousness pumped through your veins at the thought of your evening plans. You've been in the Hotchners' lives for a few months now, so casually discussing your plans should've come naturally, easily, but it didn't. Not with all things considered.

"No problem, happy to accommodate. You deserve to relax too." His eyebrows furrowed, tossing aside unimportant, junk mail. "If you don't mind me asking, what're you up to tonight?"

"I, um," Your gaze dropped, grabbing ahold of your bag. Your cheeks flushed, suddenly feeling very guilty. You took your time answering, "I have a date, actually."

He stopped stifling through the mail at once, his gaze lifting. "A date?"

"Yeah." You continued to pack up, throwing your bag over your shoulder and avoiding his eyes altogether. "A date."

"With who?" Aaron's words were harsher than he anticipated, causing you to freeze this time. He didn't like the concept of you seeing someone, not a bit.

Your eyes finally met his - his hardened stare. The expression awakened something in you, and you reciprocated back, your words equally as blunt. "Nobody you know."

You've never witnessed Aaron like this, and likewise, it brought something out in you as well; a newfound attitude. You wanted to disobey, solely to see how he reacted. He clearly wasn't happy, and you were entranced to find out more; curious as to what he would do, and hoping it was what you had in mind.

Aaron stood there rigidly, silently seething. The atmosphere had changed completely. No longer was it a light, witty one - but filled with the utmost tension.

"Well, thanks again-" Your hand found the doorknob, pulling the door open a few inches. You didn't make it far; Aaron's hand found the door above your head, pushing it shut.

"What's he like?"

You always caught whiffs of Aaron's cologne all throughout the apartment, whether he was in the residence or not. It was spicy, yet subtly sweet; suitable for him.

But now with his close proximity, mumbling into your ear, it was dizzying. You couldn't think straight even if you tried. You turned, coming face to face with his chest. His button-up was stretched tight against his torso, adding to the illusion of the strong muscle he possessed underneath. His arm had also stayed put, to the right of your temple.

You were caged in, and not complaining.

It had a notable effect it had on you. You wanted to be all consumed by him; you needed him to take charge, and you'd willingly allow it.

Your back met the door, as well as your head as you gazed up at him. You were lost with words, your heart thumping wildly in your chest, restricting any normal breathing.

"What's he like?" He repeated, urging you to answer. While his voice remained taut, it was joined by a condensing tone. As if he knew better. Knew you better, and you weren't the one to object.

Needless to say, he was enjoying this: making you noticeably squirm, and the fact it didn't take much to do so.

Your breath hitched, going fuzzy at the edges. "I don't know. A friend set us up."

"I think you should cancel it."

"Excuse me?'

"By all means, you can go. Only," His eyes flicked up and down your body, slotting a thigh between your legs. "What you're exhibiting tells me you'd rather not."

You resisted the urge to grind down on his leg, attempting to remain as neutral as possible. "Are you profiling me?"

"Maybe." Aaron smirked softly. His eyes were dark, a deep contrast to the glow you had witnessed earlier. "Maybe I have been for a while."

"Okay." You challenged him, forcing yourself to speak up. With an arch of your eyebrow, "What have you noticed?"

A delightful little laugh escaped him. As stern as he was portraying, there was still a gentleness to him. "You want me to touch you right now."

"What?" You squeaked out. He wasn't wrong.

"Don't interrupt. Let me finish." He leaned in closer, his hands itching to make contact with your waist - to firmly hold you - to dig his fingertips just enough into your hips to leave marks. "I see the way you look at me. I always have. Similar to now, only your pupils are dilated. Your breath has picked up so dramatically, it's almost amusing."

You remained silent, holding your gaze, while he continued.

"This is the closest we've ever been to each other, and by no means are you trying to move away. You have the space to." He relaxed his stance, to emphasize his point. "You're in no hurry."

You bit your lip, resisting the urge to squirm. You were getting worked up, arousal pooling in you - it didn't help with your need for friction.

"I haven't done anything yet, and just look at you."

A soft whimper left you as you forced your posture to straighten, slowly perching up on your tiptoes. Your lip ached to meet his. The gap between the two of you was maddening; you needed him on you, you on him, you didn't care. As long as the contact was there.

"Do you want me to? I need a yes, sweetheart." He inched closer, his lips dangerously close, centimeters apart.

And with that, you succumbed to him completely, scrambling to throw your arms over his neck and pulling his body to yours.

"Yes."

[samaraxmorgan]

Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time He Sabotaged My Date”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: yandere(ish)!Sukuna, fluff but he’s kinda very toxic, stalking, fem implied reader (wearing a dress and heels), brief mention of a bomb (there aren’t any bombs present), narration is from Sukuna’s POV

Word Count: 1.78k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Whoever decided this dingy shithole is a decent place to take you on a date should be fucking shot.

Maybe it was wrong of Sukuna to eavesdrop on your private conversation this morning, but in his defense you were talking on the phone loud as hell in the middle of the living room. Should’ve been quieter when you were telling your friend about the date you had planned for tonight.

And maybe it’s weird that Sukuna secretly followed you here to keep an eye on you, but it’s not like he has nefarious intentions. He’s heard of this place and one, it’s fucking gross, and two, it’s got one hell of a reputation to say the least. Definitely the kind of place for someone to get murdered, he’s just watching out for your safety!

Oh christs sake, who is he fooling? No, he followed you here because he’ll be damned if you get a boyfriend.

He feels like a creep, sitting at the bar behind your table in a black hoodie and an old baseball cap, eyes fixed on the back of your head. The guy sitting across from you is so bland, yet for some reason you’re still giggling and twirling your hair around your finger as if you don’t know that you can do so much better.

There was no need for you to doll yourself up for this fuckin’ loser; you’ve got on a pretty red dress and stiletto heels, probably anticipating him to take you somewhere nice, decent, at least. But he brought you to some run down shithole restaurant that hasn’t been renovated since the 70’s and is definitely bearing several health code violations. It’s honestly embarrassing, Sukuna would take you somewhere so much nicer than this, he knows what you deserve.

He’s been sitting at the bar sipping on his drink for the last half hour, watching the way you prop your elbow onto the table, cross your legs in your seat, tap your heel against the leg of your chair, listening to you laugh and chat about your job. Meanwhile, mister nobody in front of you is chewing with his mouth open like some kind of ape, not realizing how much of a privilege he has by being able to treat you to dinner. Un-fucking-believable.

Finally the moment he’s been waiting for happens. Bland And Boring stands up from his seat and leaves you at the table to go use the restroom, so now it’s time for Sukuna to get this fool away from you. His eyes follow the man as he walks past the bar, not even trying to be discreet. He gives Sukuna a quick glance and nods his head politely, making his way towards the bathrooms near the front of the restaurant.

There’s no time to waste.

Sukuna stands from his seat at the bar, trailing behind your date and following him into the bathroom. As the door clicks shut behind him he realizes that it’s just the two of them. Perfect, no interruptions.

He walks up behind the man, watching him through the large mirror above the sinks. Now that he’s up close he can really see how pathetic this guy is, nervously looking up towards Sukuna as he absolutely towers above him, his stature menacing and the look in his eyes bordering on deadly.

“D-do you need some-”

“You should leave.” Your date jumps at the sound of Sukuna’s voice; dark, deep, and serious.

“Um… why?” His eyes flicker around the room, definitely praying to whatever god he believes in to come save him.

Sukuna is surprised he isn’t immediately obeying. Has he grown soft? Surely not, this guy just needs a little extra push.

So Sukuna says the first thing that comes into mind.

“I have a bomb.”

Maybe that’s a little dramatic, but god damn does it do the trick. The guy looks like he’s about to fucking piss himself, eyes widening in terror as he quickly nods his head and runs out of the restaurant.

Sukuna keeps a keen eye on him through the windows, watching him nearly leap into his car and hearing the tires screech as he speeds out of the parking lot. It seems you also had an eye on your date, your jaw nearly dropping to the floor as you assumed that he just ditched you with the bill.

Now’s his time to shine.

He stuffs his hat into the front pocket of his hoodie and strides up behind you to your table, bending down to be eye level with you in the booth and putting on his best mildly surprised and kind of amused expression, “Well look at that.”

“Ugh, god.” You bury your face into your hands, “And here I thought my day couldn’t get any worse.”

He can’t help the smirk that grows on his face. It is his fault you’re in this situation, but I mean come on, that guy was no good for you anyway. “You sample the whole fuckin’ menu or something?”

You groan and roll your eyes, perfect, you took the bait, “I just got dine and dashed, asshole.”

Sukuna lets out a laugh as he flops down into the seat across from you, god if only you knew. A man would have to be a real idiot to stand you up, but he has to try and keep his act together, “Yeah? Guys are fuckin’ assholes, surprise.”

The pout on your face is too sweet, makes it hard for him to really feel bad, “I was really liking him too.”

Oh, he definitely doesn’t feel bad now. He pulls his card out of his wallet as the waitress approaches the table, handing it off to her nonchalantly as he continues the conversation, “Don’t know why you bother going on dates with these guys.”

You try to interject the waitress but she walks away before you can stop her, a defeated frown pulling down your lips, “What are you doing here anyway?”

He plops his elbow onto the table, shrugging his shoulders casually, “What? Am I not allowed to go to my favorite shitty restaurant?”

You perk up slightly, “Right? I saw a roach on the way in, I can’t believe he recommended this place.”

The waitress comes back and hands Sukuna his card, he quickly scribbles his signature on the receipt and stands from his seat at the booth, “Let’s get you out of here before you get ringworm or some shit, nasty fuckin’ place.”

Finally a smile creeps onto your face, lighting up the dreary atmosphere. You adjust your dress as you stand up and he can’t help but smirk at how good you look all dolled up, dark red dress hugging your figure as if you wore it for him. He leads you out of the restaurant, making sure to hold the door open for you since he noticed that your loser date let it slam in your face on your way in.

Droplets of rain were starting to sprinkle down, which is pretty unlucky considering it’s a ten minute walk back to the apartment. But that’s not a problem for Sukuna, if anything it’s a perfect opportunity. He catches the frown curling down your pouty lips as you fix your fingers through your nicely styled hair, probably trying to keep it from getting messed up, and without missing a beat he pulls his hoodie off, sliding it over your head and down your arms.

“I’m sure you spent hours dolling yourself up, would hate to ruin it.” His voice is smooth as butter, leaning down to eye level with you as he adjusts the hood to make sure your hair is covered.

A blush creeps onto your face, mumbling a quiet “Thank you” as you pull your arms through the sleeves. It honestly looks like you’re drowning in his massive hoodie, the sleeves too long for your arms that your fingers can’t even peek out and the hem at the bottom falling at your upper thighs.

Sukuna thought you looked good in that red dress, but god damn you look heavenly wearing his clothes. Why didn’t he do this sooner?

You both start to walk down the sidewalk to the apartment, the evening is quiet save for the muffled sounds of music and chatter coming from the bars and restaurants that you pass by. You’re walking right up against his side, your arm occasionally brushing against his and he can’t help but wonder if you’re getting closer on purpose.

Sukuna breaks the peaceful silence, “So was the food good at least?”

You look up towards him quizzically, squinting your eyes in a way that’s too fucking cute for him to handle, “Shouldn’t you be the expert?”

“Why t’fuck would I know? Never been there.”

“I thought that was your favorite shitty restaurant?”

Oops.

He got way too distracted looking into your pretty eyes. Lucky for him, he didn’t need to come up with an excuse to cover him because a loud snap rings through the air as you stumble forward. His arm quickly wraps around your waist to steady you before you can fall, holding you flush against him.

You look down at your feet and let out a loud groan of frustration, “Fucks sake, really?” You lift your foot up to inspect your shoe, your stiletto heel barely dangling by a thread as it snapped off from the sole.

Sukuna didn’t mean to laugh, but there was no containing it. You look up at him with an adorable angry face, cheeks burning red as you curse him out and it only makes him smile more. You’re just too damn cute when you’re pissed off.

“It’s not funny! These were expensive!”

“Yeah yeah, c’mere.” His arm stays wrapped around your waist as he leans down and hooks his other arm behind your knees, lifting you off the ground with ease as you squeal in surprise and wrap your arms around his neck to cling onto him.

Now he could bet that other guy wouldn’t do this for you, not just was he scrawny as all hell but he wouldn’t be nearly enough of a gentleman. Your arms tighten around the back of Sukuna’s neck as he starts walking to the apartment again, your cheek nuzzled against his shoulder as you slowly relax into his hold. He’s actually liking this a lot, silently considering purposely taking a wrong turn on the way home so he can hold you longer.

Hopefully after this you’ll stop going on stupid dates with worthless men, you’ve already got everything you could ever want right at home after all. Soon enough you’ll realize that you don’t need anyone but him.

A/N: This was SO FUN to write!! I love him he’s such an asshole askakksksk, I rlly liked the idea of doing a light hearted yandere part (even tho NOBODY asked for this skaksksk) Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

[acid-ixx]

do i look like him?

— just another series concept. please note that talia sexually assaulting bruce is retconned in whatever portrayal i have of her. i will not tolerate any racist or sexist remarks towards her character for a mischaracterized version of her, written by some gooner.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

i don't know if anybody would be interested in a certain premise i'm planning. taylor's song, "like him" is resonating off of my body, and i've a draft written inspired off of the song featuring yandere batfam x damian's twin! reader x yandere! al ghul family.

wherein instead of being neglected, you're treated like royalty by your own family. your twin is subjected to the cruelty of being raised as an assassin. you're met with scarred hands, nicked back, and calloused skin every time he comes back from your shared room after another particularly harsh training. yet every time you worry for your older twin, he'd silence you with the same bloodied hands that handled bodies like ragdolls, gently like it has never killed, with hushed promises whispered by your ear that "this is necessary for your protection, akhi/akhti."

at first you'd be convinced that this family lifestyle is normal. your mother is doting, she is kind, she is where you learned the word mercy; unlike the fierce image she displays in public. you're often spoiled rotten with her favorite shades of clothes, and her teachings emanate within you a deep sense of loving for animals. you never truly see her cruelty for other humans, as she often makes you sit by her lap upon a seat you call a throne when you were all but a mere five year old, playing with your hair, muttering affirmations and cradling you on her chest every time you ponder too deeply about the word, 'father'.

a word you'd read from those fairytales by the library, a word you craved to know, a word forbidden to be stated by everybody within your castle-like home.

she'll call upon your brother every time your curiosity gets the best of you, and the duo would try their best to sway your attention away with playtime. either it'd be stories, or damian showing you new tricks he'd learn from masters long overthrown by your twin, or it would be as simple as talia dragging both her beloved children to the huge kitchen, demanding the head chefs to bake you and your brother's favorite dessert (a little moment to spoil your brother after a hard-earned day of training, even if damian isn't always fond of sweet confectionaries; your grin would always tempt him to take a bite of your food if it means spending a day being himself).

it seems even damian plays along with the sick fantasy of not acknowledging the possibility of an alive father figure to you. not like you'd be aware of it, too caught up with your grandfather teaching you about rare species' on the verge of extinction, his (rarely) soft gaze fixed on the way your small body would gently pat the face of his wolf companion, or your brother constantly vying for you, his younger twin's, attention, eliminating all possible rivals who could potentially act as your future playmate that only he has the privilege for, or how your mother seeks you, her youngest baby, out, for a day of rest after another mission, doting smooches on your face, her lipstick smearing all over the soft chub of your cheeks, dismissing your pouts

a perfect family, with not much left to desire for your part.

so why is it that talia would often hear damian complain about your sudden fixation about a father figure? you'd mumble, something about one of your servants who mentioned visiting her father for vacation, a man who works as a merchant for his family; you asked them what your father's job was, what his name was, "why isn't he here at the family dinner?"

you asked, with wide, pitiful eyes, a feature long foreign for hardened assassins, but associated only with you. a quality nobody in the league dares to criticize; your gentleness the only thing keeping their leaders sane, keeping most servants alive as you find precious each and every single living being; not exclusive to animals or plants, but to humans too.

you're the league's only hope for reprieve, for softness in the moments of emboldened duties and priorities. you're the fingers that caress on calloused skin and the lips that kiss bloody scars. the hearth that warms even the coldest of hearts.

which was why nobody attempted to answer you, no matter how much it breaks your heart; because nobody wanted to ruin your soft and kind heart, or see the sullen droop in your eyes, or red, sniffling nose.

yet once ra's heard the confession of you being aware of what a father is like through the mouth of your servant, he'd immediately demanded another assassin to eliminate whoever dared mentioned such preposterous concepts to his grandchild.

throughout their rage, throughout damian nuzzling his head on the crown of your, muttering that whatever his baby sibling is sputtering is nonsensical, mere fantasy, arms encasing your entire body. he'd cradle you, run his hands against your hair even with furrowed, always angered brows; all the same questions lingered in the back of their minds:

is your current family not enough? why is it that the more you grow, the more you... wear the same expression of stubbornness, a quality your mother is sure you've adopted from you... father.

she may not be the best mother, taking both you and damian away from the arms of bruce wayne after she had learned about her pregnancy after a night spent together with the man, but she did it for the sake of her children; for your future, too.

bruce wayne will not be a good influence to you. if he tries so much to subject you into becoming another one of his robins, destroying your innocence, your perception of the world into a bleak portrayal of lackluster colors— ra's wouldn't hesitate to destroy the entirety of bruce's home.

and the manor is nothing! nothing, mind you, compared to the castle you call your home. only you deserve the richest of the rich, the shiniest jewels and the best treatment in the world. what more can gotham offer you? what more, if not for broken bones and bruised knees?

and so they settled upon ruining your perception of your father, with no known face to be plastered upon your memory, no known source, or picture— at such an early age.

if you yearn so much for a father, why not paint the image as dark as the cowl he wears?

why don't they feed you lies about him never wanting you and your twin in the first place? you'll be given opportunities to call an empty line, hoping your father would pick up, would respond and tell you that he's coming for you. they'll give you time to write letters, even if it takes your crummy fingers hours to finish a dedicated letter for your father, after years of being unable to meet him; it causes all the more ache in your mother's chest, witnessing her beloved youngest stay up late, whispering whimsical wishes about how excited you are to read your father's reply to you.

all your mother could do was kiss your forehead as she sat by your side, and rub your delicate cheeks with her fingers, mumbling that her baby should sleep now.

your mother never lies to you, no?

at least, not outright in your face.

damian, hates seeing the heartbreak in your eyes, but he's the very same twin who comforts you every damn time you fall to your knees after discovering that the letters you sent to your father's locations were long since unanswered — even if they're all hidden away in a vault of every possession you thought you lost. he'll pick you up with his trained body, and you'll melt even further into his form, shivering at the prospect that you're an unwanted child in the face of your father.

soon.

soon, you'll learn to despise bruce with every being of your soul, and learn to only reserve the association of warmth for your only family. you'll be the spoiled royal of the al ghul, and you'll come to find yourself grateful that you're raised without his presence, deluded into thinking that he abandoned you, that he never truly cared in the first place.

you love your family, you hate bruce wayne.

he is not family.

he is not your father, he lost that status long ago right after you thought he'd ignore all your calls, your messages, letters, gifts, every and any signal sent to the man you once called your father right after learning his name. he made you hope, he left the light flicker once flickering within you now blown away, leaving only an empty husk of your wanting to meet your father.

you hate bruce, you hate him so fucking much, you're ashamed that he's even your father in the first place— even if he's the very same man working tirelessly, day and night, to save you, once he caught news of what his children looks like, and locks eyes with your hopeful ones, a rare sight amongst the imagery of assassin. he plans to retrieve you, to save you, from the castle you call your home; truly what you call your cage.

little did you know that you are more like your father than you are with what you call your family.

— heavily inspired by @anxiousnerdwritings portrayal of twin!reader.

a/n: i honestly don't know half of what i wrote. i'm out of my mind, and i'm honestly not confident with the outcome of this concept. if people do like it (leave comments, or inputs, or whatsoever) i might post a chapter about this (since i do have one written in my drafts a week or two ago). if not, i'm dropping this and leaving it as a concept mostly, a one-time thing at best. so if anybody does like this, please do tell me. i do have a lot in store for this concept, specifically the way manipulation works within this family convincing you the other side is evil; i've been through this once w/ my family actually ngl, so writing this was a bit fun.

[i2sunric]

gynecologist sunghoon who checks up on you and makes you think that the way he touches you is part of his job and that he needs to what the problem is with you down there with touching you like that. reader is naive and nonstop apologizes for moaning and for it making her feel good. eventually she realizes because she can’t be that dumb lmao and they both just enjoy in the end

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐈𝐓 (p.sh)

a/n: let me just make this a drabble cause i don’t have the inspiration to make it long. hope you like it tho <3

“Just relax.” Sunghoon’s voice soothed when you confessed that it was your first time at the gynaecologist “It won’t hurt, I promise.”

You slowly nodded, feeling ever so small and exposed, sitting on the chair “Okay, doc.”

He gave you a sheepish smile and tugged the waistband of your panties “Let me take this off for you, mh?”

You helped him by raising your hips as he slid them off your legs and gently folded onto the table beside you “Now, put your legs here.” He told you as he pointed at the small stands on the chair.

You complied “Good girl.” He murmured and with a knob, he parted your legs until he could rest comfortably between them “Is it okay?”

You took a deep breath and nodded , “Tell me.” Sunghoon’s deep voice made you shiver “It’s okay. You can continue.”

Sunghoon nodded and started the visit, his gaze fell on your pussy and fuck— if it wasn’t the prettiest pussy he’s ever seen.

Seriously, you were so perfect, from the way you squirmed as the cold air of the room hit your sensitive skin to how you seemed so oblivious of it clenching whenever his fingers brushed against it.

“You’re healthy.” He reassured you, watching as your shoulders finally ease, tension slipping out of your body.

“Thank you—“ You were about to say but he cut you in “I need to make some more investigations, is it okay for you?”

You nodded and as you met his dark gaze, you remember you had to tell him “It’s okay.”

“Great.” Sunghoon murmured and slowly brushed his finger against your clit, making your hips jerk at the contact.

“Sorry!” You exclaimed, taken aback by the foreign feeling your body reacted “S’okay.” Sunghoon smirked.

His finger kept brushing against it and he watched as your eyes grew half lidded at the feeling. He slowly gathered your juices “I need to check if it gets wet alright.” He said a shitty excuse and brushed his finger against your sensitive bud once more.

You let out a soft hum, though you weren’t sure if it was for the strange feeling or as a reply.

“Does it feel good?” He questioned, quickening his pace just a little “I need to know.”

He also knew that if someone ever found out what he was doing, he would be fired and maybe sent to court, but how could he resist when you were literally so innocent and oblivious to his nasty acts?

You nodded, your grip on the armchair growing ever so strong when you for the itch to reach for his hair and pull his head close to your pussy “Good.”

“Bet it does.” He tsked and looked up at your beautiful face, the way your eyes struggled to keep open and your mouth fell agape. Cheeks already flushed.

“And this?” Sunghoon asked and slipped one finger inside you, cursing under his breath at how tight you were.

You let out a moan and widened your eyes. You weren’t sure why but you didn’t think that was an appropriate act from Sunghoon.

“D-doc?” You said and moaned out loud when his single digit brushed against a certain spot that had you seeing stars. “Found it.” Sunghoon murmured.

“Doc!” You exclaimed, frustrated with yourself for feeling such strong pleasure “I— I don’t think you should be doing this.”

Of course, you were naive but not stupid.

“No, I shouldn’t.” His finger brushed against your g-spot again “Do you want me to stop.”

You let out a shaky breath, debating your answers. His skilled finger moved inside of you in such a perfect way that you couldn’t even think straight, your mind clouding blissfully.

Nobody had ever touched you that way, and you had only faintly heard about how good sex was. But that was your prepping and if it felt like heaven already, you could only imagine what the afterwards felt like.

“No.” You answered, arching your back in the chair “Don’t stop.”

“Fuck.” Sunghoon cursed at the eagerness in your voice and added a second digit, struggling to even make it fit.

“You’re so tight.” He commented, having to spit on your pussy to make it wetter, so that it wouldn’t hurt to thrust his digits inside of you.

You moaned, head falling back. You felt so full, so good.

“D-doc.” You murmured “Call me Sunghoon.” He demanded and you complied “Sunghoon!”

He felt you clenching around him “Fuck, you’re almost pushing me out at how tight you are.” He bit his bottom lip, feeling his pants growing restrained by the minutes ticking.

“Mh.” You hummed in pleasure, your back arching from the chair “Sunghoon..”

“Yes, Y/N?” He asked and the way his name rolled out of his tongue, so sinful, it made you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Feels funny.” You frowned and Sunghoon chuckled, knowing very well what you meant “Does it, now?”

His fingers rubbed against your spongy walls and thrusted in and out, trying to bring you closer to the edge.

You cried out as you felt a knot tighten in your stomach “Don’t stop.” You panted as pleasure started overtaking your senses.

“I won’t stop.” He reassured “Just let it go, baby.” Your eyes rolled back at his pace quickening, the squelching sounds of your wet pussy filling the whole room.

Fortunately, you were the last patient of the day and no one was most likely to be in the waiting room.

“Cum for me.” At his words your whole body squirmed in the sit, moaning out. Your orgasm washed you in a such a delicious way, little trembles rocked through you.

Sunghoon rode you out of your orgasm, his fingers still slowly moving inside of you until you calmed down and he slipped them out, making you moan at the loss.

He looked at his cum-coated digits and almost came on spot himself. He put them in his mouth and sucked them clean, humming at your sweet feeling.

“You even taste so good, don’t you?” He chuckled and got up, handing you back your panties.

“I told you it wouldn’t hurt.” You nodded, a little sweaty from the act.

Thank you, doc.” You blushed “For everything.”

Sunghoon just smirked at you “I’m looking forward our next meeting, Y/N.”

[luveline]

more hotch with teacher!reader? maybe she’s trying to take a bunch of things into her classroom one morning and hotch jumps in to help (and flirt with) them :)) i adore you’re writing thank you for sharing sm with us lately!!!

you’re so welcome ily ty for requesting! <3 fem, 1k

Today, you and your class are going to make dioramas with a heavy focus on paper crafting. For the last few days, you’ve helped them make plans on what they want to create, and then you scoured the internet for origami and craft tutorials to suit. The only one you couldn’t find was for poor Jamie’s tractors. You’ll figure it out, you’re sure. 

You’ve been saving cardboard boxes, toilet roll inserts, and egg cartons for months. There’s a total mountain of things to bring in, so you’re here early. You figure if you carry huge armfuls, you can get everything inside in three trips. 

“Oh,” you say, as a cardboard box tumbles to the ground, and somehow doesn’t give you a clearer view, “whoops. I’ll pick that up. Jeez.” 

You step over it and almost slip. 

“Careful,” someone says. 

You jump and send an egg carton skittering across the floor. “Oh, gosh! You scared me!” You twist your head, the cardboard that had been resting on your face falling down into your collar. “Oh, Mr. Hotchner.” 

Of course it’s Mr. Hotchner. Aaron, predictably. 

“Aaron,” he says, leaning down to grab the things you’ve dropped, before he opens his arm toward you. You lean away from your tower, embarrassed but relieved when he takes the bulk of your tall tower from you. 

“Thank you, Aaron. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here so early. Is everything okay?” 

“Let me help you with this.” 

Avoiding the question. You and Aaron carry your cardboard inside to the classroom, where you unlock your door (and you never would’ve been able to do without his rescue). He follows you to the arts and crafts table toward the back of the room, and you deposit your stock. 

“Thank you,” you say when he places his armful down. 

“It’s no problem. Can I help with the rest?” 

“Would you, please?” you ask. “It seemed a lot less before today.” 

You bring the rest back in. He’s the picture of a perfect gentleman and carries more than you each time, which isn’t to say you can’t have carried the same as he did, but it’s nice for once to be the one looked after. As a teacher, you get used to giving. 

He doesn’t make you ask him twice. “I’m here early because I wanted to talk with you if you’re free, before I head into the office.” 

“His Aunt is bringing him today?” you ask about Jack. 

“I didn’t manage to get home in time last night to see him, but I’ll be here at pick up time.” 

You nod, hyper aware that you’d swayed the conversation again. “Sorry, what were you saying?” 

“It’s about Jack. Well, it’s mostly about me. I’d like to ask you for a favour, if you’re willing.” 

“Oh, sure. Of course.” 

“You haven’t heard it yet.” 

You flush under the weight of his knowing smile. “No, I mean, I’m sure it’ll be fine. So…” 

“It’s hard sometimes to get Jack to tell me what you’re doing in school. I had no idea he’d be making dioramas today. And I don’t need your lesson plans, I’d never expect that of you, but I was hoping you could summarise the week for me on Fridays? Or whenever you can. I don’t need updates on how Jack is progressing, it could be a couple of words on the topics you’ve chosen, just so I know what he’s doing while I’m away.” 

You’ve never been asked to do it. Parents of kids in the second grade aren’t usually clocked in on what their kids are learning. School is still half fun at this age, your most important job is to make sure they can all read with acceptable fluency. And it’s hard because their parents don’t help, but it’s fine. You love teaching them something so important, and you’re ecstatic to meet someone who’s actually interested. 

You beam. “Yeah, of course I can. I can do that, I don’t mind. Nobody ever wants to know what we’re doing, which is such a shame! I mean, they’re so excited and of course their parents care, but if they have just a little bit of support it makes a huge difference. I can totally send you my lesson plans, Aaron. I’d like to.” You laugh to yourself smugly. “I never get to show them off. They’re extensive. And they take ages.” 

“You want to show them off?” he asks softly. 

His voice is velveteen. 

“Is that awful?” you ask.

“No, it makes sense. You really don’t have to if it’s too much trouble, but I… feel guilty, when I call him and ask how school was, and he can’t remember what happened.” 

“Don’t feel bad about that. The kids can’t remember what I told them ten minutes ago.” 

He isn’t like you, in that he’s very still. He doesn’t move or fidget, which makes his looking at you all the more obvious. “Thank you,” he says. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“Can I pay you back?” 

You catch one of your bracelets and twist it around your wrist. 

Aaron told you without hesitation that he profiles criminals. He can read their expressions, habits, and idiosyncrasies as thoughts and feelings. He can trace movement to the source. You’re positive he wouldn’t keep asking you such leading questions, or insist you call him by his first name every time you see him, if he didn’t already know that you find him attractive. 

“How would you do that?” you ask. 

“Is there anything else you… need help with?” 

A million things, but you’re no idiot. You can read subtlety too. 

“Well, I have a bunch of textbooks on the top shelf in the stockroom you could help me with.” You smile shyly. “It gets hot in there, though.” 

He begins taking off his suit jacket. “That,” he says, his gaze on you with all the tenderness and amusement of someone who’s known you longer, “won’t be a problem.” 

[kmt123whatsthetea]

The wonders of ink

Fred Weasley x reader x George Weasley

‘Fred and George prank you by getting your clothes dirty, only to take you to the bathrooms to help you clean off’

A/N: I decided to repost (so nobody thought I was dead). I’ve been gone for so long and I feel guilty so I decided to deliver smut upon you all haha. My dear sister helped me to write this (Her Wattpad account is @Darkness_Donut. Feel free to give her a look if you’re in the Wattpad area)

T/W: Unprotected sex, The twins being kinda pervy, Groping, Double penetration

Fred and George put a lot of work into every prank.

Whether it was as simple as a ‘Hex Me’ note on Ron’s back or as sophisticated as creating a new type of chocolate that caused facial warts.

Not only did they put work into their pranks, but they also put pride into them. Each one was like their child, born and sent into the world to cause mischief. The prank they planned for you, however, was less like a prank and more like a plot for something even better than the typical annoyed scowl the pranks were usually met with.

While other students prepared for various classes and homework projects, Fred and George would stay locked in their dorm, perfecting the key catalyst for their interaction with you.

The twins were head over heels in love with you. While most people would approach you with a normal greeting and a proposition for a date, the twins needed to do more. Go big or go home was practically their motto. So when their newest creation was ready, all they had to do was wait for the perfect moment.

____________________________________________

You had been in the courtyard. Your nose stuck in the book that was cradled in your hands. So unsuspecting and sweet. The way the wind blew your hair, how your eyes were glued to the words.

George approached you, not too close that you’d notice but close enough that he could start phase one of the plan. He pulled out a small vial, the liquid inside a dark blue that stained the glass. He took a deep breath before uncorking the bottle and taking a step closer, ‘tripping’ over the tree branch and spilling the liquid over your uniform.

You squealed and moved the book aside, looking between the fresh stain and the redhead who threw it on you.

“George! What in Merlin's beard have you done?!”

George just shrugged his shoulders, putting on an apologetic look. The same look he gave his mum when she scolded him for putting a spell on Percy’s breakfast which caused the sausages to spout legs.

“I didn’t mean too, honest. I just kinda…tripped”

You did not look pleased, understandably so. George almost felt guilty but then he remembered the plan. It was all going smoothly, even if you might disagree.

“I feel awful. How about we go to the Prefects bathroom and get you cleaned up before it dries?”

With a sigh, you followed George.

The walk to the prefect's bathroom was filled with you grumbling about the stain and scolding George for not being careful. The bathroom was empty (all thanks to a little spell that temporarily made the door disappear). The baths were filled to the brim with hot water and bubbles, steam dampening the air.

Fred emerged from around one of the pillars, smirking as he looked you up and down.

“Good job, George. I knew you could get our girl here. You know, love, you should really clean up that stain. Wouldn’t want Snape taking away our hard earned points, now would you?”

George moved closer to you, his chest barely touching your back. Fred leaned against the pillar, staring at the black spot on your shirt. You crossed your arms, letting out a huff. You could practically see the burning desire in Fred’s eyes from across the room, the heat from George sneaking through the back of your shirt and warming your skin.

“You’d both like that, huh? Why don’t I just have a bath while I'm at it?”

George ignored your sarcastic tone and leaned closer, his breath tickling your ear.

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea, sweetheart. We’ll get you nice and clean”.

Something about George’s soft tone caused your hands to rise to your top button, both sets of eyes glued to your fingers as they popped open the first button of many. One by one, your shirt slowly opened. The shirt had luckily (or unluckily) caught the liquid and stopped it from seeping through to your bra and skin underneath.

George helped you to slip the fabric from off your body before Fred stepped closer and took it from him. He held it up with a smirk.

“There’s nothing here, love. Maybe you just wanted to get naked for us”.

The white shirt was clean. Not a spot or stain in sight. The sight of your wide eyes and confused look made Fred chuckle. George rubbed your arms.

“Our newest prank, disappearing ink. We heard Harry talking about how his idiot muggle cousin had some so we wanted to make our own. We made it especially for you”.

Your hand darted out to snatch the fabric from Fred, smoothing your fingers over the fabric that was once stained to see if it was really gone. Both boys watched as your expression turned from confusion to shock to a mix of desire and anger. You were angry that the twins had tricked you and pulled you away from your book but you couldn’t help but feel hot at the thought that they made an ink just to get you in your bra. Maybe a reward for all their hard work wouldn’t be so bad.

George tugged on the bra clasp, his lips ghosting down your neck before pressing a kiss to your shoulder. A shiver ran up your spine at the feeling, but you didn't push him away. Fred toyed with the hem of your skirt, watching as your eyes glazed over with desperation.

“I need you both. Please make me feel good”

Fred tugged your skirt up, using his other hand to trace his fingers over the elastic of your underwear. He slowly trails your underwear down your smooth legs and helps you step out of them so your dripping folds are on display to him. As you look upon their faces, both of them lick their bottom lips in unison. George finally pulls your bra off, tossing it with your discarded shirt.

How could you look so innocent in just your skirt with your tits out? To the twins, you were like a graceful doe who wandered into the hunters' den. George practically growled as his hands groped your tits, squeezing the sensitive flesh. Your eyes closed and you let out a whimper that was sweeter than any sugary treat from Honeydukes.

Fred took the opportunity to unzip his trousers, shimmying them down enough to pull his cock out. Every noise that escaped your lips made it jerk in his hand. He stepped closer, his tip pressing snugly against your clit and leaving a splodge of precum. His hand wrapped around your thigh, tugging it up and over his hip while George held you upright. His head speared through your folds, your slick coating his shaft.

“Do you want this, love? You want me inside of you? Maybe we should see if that tight little hole can handle Georgie and I at the same time. I can feel how wet that makes you, Sweetheart. The thought of taking two cocks, we’d break that sweet pussy open”

George tugged at your earlobe with your teeth, only pulling back when a whine bubbled up from your throat.

“I think you want us to ruin you for other men”

Your voice couldn't have been more than a whisper, but it was filled with every dirty promise and beg that would only be privy to the twins’ ears.

“I want you two. I want other guys to look at me and know that I belong to you”

“Sweetheart, you already belong to us”

George moved his hand down to push his trousers down and pull his cock out, pressing it at your entrance before pulling you against him. His cock slid inside of you, your warm cunt hugging his shaft.

Fred brushed his fingertips against your clit, taking in the sight of your hole stretched around his brother's cock. It was gonna be a tight fit. He nudged at your entrance, his tip trying to find a space big enough to squeeze into. With a bit more persistence, he was pushing forward, the desperation to be buried inside of you fueling him.

You tried to stay still, trying not to squirm or clench. The stretch was so intense that you swore you could even feel the blood pumping through the veins decorating their shafts. Every pulse, every nudge felt like it would rip you in two.

When Fred’s tip finally pushed through the small opening, the squealed moan that left your lips was enough for George to press his hand to your lips to muffle any sound. As much as they loved the noises you were making, they couldn’t get suspended so close to graduating. There would always be other occasions to hear your pretty moans.

The sight was one to behold. The twins wished they could photograph your pussy stuffed with both of their cocks and frame it, only to watch the replay over and over.

An obscene squelching filled the room as they repeatedly stuffed their cocks into you. The stretch brings you closer to the edge than ever before. Your walls clenched, trying to both push their cocks out and pull them deeper. It didn't take long before you were cumming, clenching around them in a desperate need to be full of their cum.

George's hand stayed over your mouth, his lips whispering sweet praises in your ear. Fred lips were pressed against your forehead, giving chaste kisses here and there. Their groans echoed throughout the room when they felt you cum around them. You felt too good to be true. It took them 3 months to make that ink.

It was worth every single minute.

A mix of their cum flooded your insides, but there was so much that it started spilling out. But they didn't pull out just yet. With how much effort went into getting you between them, they were gonna make this last for as long as possible. It was only after they came down from their high that they noticed just how much of a mess you all made. Cum spots stained your skirt and their trousers. Fred’s chuckle caught your attention.

“Maybe we should clean you up for real this time”

[pbnbucks]

you should do a smut based off of coach p…😛maybe like her gf wanna learn basketball and she teaches her and gets handsy

word count : 1.1k

warnings : smut, mention of pregnancy.

summary : you see paige teaching the little kids at her camp, makes you horny so you fake want to learn basketball just so she can touch you and then bam she fucks you on the middle of HER court.

you sat in the bleachers rewatching clips of her 5th basketball camp teaching the children drills and tips on how to get better.

guiding the kids on how to keep their body healthy and keep their muscles strong.

the connections and love she had for the young kids made you want one of your very own.

your legs shut tightly together feeling your wetness as you where by yourself in the empty gym waiting for paige to exit the locker room.

“paigey” you called out begging for her attention as the slowly exits the door you go up to her jumping in to her warm presence.

“you want to teach me baby?” she shutters her eyebrows together confused at your short sentence since you never had a desire for the sport.

“why now, i have been begging for months princess?” you hide your face in her shoulder as she sets you down trying not to expose your twisted plan.

“you were just really cute cute with those kids today ma” you retort teasing her as your playing with your finger tips avoiding contact already feeling the heat radiating off of her.

“no you just want to be fucked” leaning into your neck feeling her breath run don’t your now hot and sweaty skin.

“i promise i just want to learn” you coo as she rest her hands on the lower bottom of your butt caressing and palming the area. you sneak out of her arms getting the first basketball you so laying around tossing it to her.

“come here” she remarks making you follow the sound of her voice leading you to the free throw line as she places the orange ball in your grasp placing your hands in the right spot.

“okay keep the ball above your head and shoot” her voice echoing through the gymnasium making your nervous while she watches the ball intensely as your shot misses hitting off the top of the backboard.

“mama your close but this time let it guide out of your hands don’t throw it” she presses your back against her stomach as your hands lay on your curved hips as her warm breath runs down your neck forming goosebumps on your melanin skin.

her words running through your head trying to perfect your shot as the ball finds its way above your head again you shoot it as you watch the ball slowly fall from the air hearing the swift noise of the net as you watch it fall out of the hoop fitting perfectly through making you turn around in excitement to hug the blonde.

“good job” your soft hands run up paiges stomach hiding under her shirt playing with the band of her bra sending shivers down the blonde’s spine.

“if you wanted me to fuck you so bad, all you needed to do was ask” she grits through her teeth tightening her grip on your waist feeling the loss of circulation come back as she removes her hands only to bring them to your shirt removing it for you along with your tiny jean shorts.

“such a fucking slut” she groans lifting you into her arms getting onto her knees placing you on the cold gym floor as your left in your laced thong and bra as she licks a long stripe with her tongue starting from your lower stomach heading up to your collarbone when she swiftly pulls away.

“keep your pussy warm for me, ill be right back” she spats heading out the gym doors going to retrieve the silicone strap from the car heading back on to her feet leaving you by yourself praying nobody walked in on you.

your fingers play with the band of your panties slipping under to form circles on your clit not giving you the same sensation paige does with her skilled hands.

your fingers diving into your dripping core as soft crys fall from your mouth at the little amount of pleasure when you finally hear the gym doors open back up to see paige strutting towards your naked body.

paige releasing the strap when she pulls down her sweats pulling your thong to the side sending shivers down your spine when your slick hits the cold air.

she wastes no time to thrust into your deep core as her hands moves the hair at of your face before grabbing a fist full of your hair forcing you to look at paiges assault on you core.

“look at how i fill you up perfectly baby, always taking what i give you” she coos as the image of her taking you on her court clouds her mind turning her on by the second.

“make me feel so good mommy” you cry out as she lets go of your hair as you fall back on to the court as your breast move with each thrust.

paige takes the initiative as her hand cups your breast as she takes the other is her mouth swirling her tongue over your hardened nipple.

“want your baby so bad” you blurt out fucking yourself back onto the strap as your hands roam all over paiges abs running down from her chest to her lower stomach.

“you want mommy’s baby huh? is that what this was about?” she lets her cocky smile shine through as she grabs your wrist putting them both in one hand as she pins them above your head.

“yes please, want it so bad” her hips pressing against yours as she brings her other hand to circle your clit making your legs tighten around her waist.

“you will look so fucking sexy pregnant with my baby pretty” her moans coming in to sync with yours as the strap hits her clit at the perfect angle making her speed up her movements

“yes” you sob unable to say anything else as your eyes roll in to the back of your head at the gut wrenching pleasure while your hands squirm in her firm hold as she squeezes them tight causing your movements to fault.

“your going to have to beg ma, tell me how bad you need to cum” she teases as her thumb playfully slips into your core only to be pulled right back out bringing her thumb to your mouth for you to suck dry.

“need to cum- so fucking bad” you sob feeling the knot ready to break any second knowing she has full control of your body and you will do anything she says.

“go on baby cum with me. wanna see your face pretty” you say maintaining eye contact with her as both your liquids spill out on each other feeling your combined release run down your thighs.

you lay there all fucked out as she takes a picture of you quickly to remember the intimate moment before she helps you get up helping you gather all your clothes.

“don’t worry princess, ill give you my baby real soon promise.” she says pulling your waist into hers pressing a kiss behind your ear.

[queenie-the-court-jester]

Love isn't dead

Yandere cupid x reader

Tw: yandere, minor mention of body horror, obsessive and possessive behavior, isolation

💌you couldn't remember when he first appeared or when you could feel another presence near you. All you knew was that you had a cupid trying to set you up.

💘always nonchalant when you'd open a closet door and he'd be hiding inside. Pausing to stare before continuing to put the towels away. He swore you could see right through him and at him at the same time. But that shouldn't be possible. Because humans can't see cupids. They're not supposed to

💌but that obviously wasn't the case with you. Sweetheart quickly became more bold. Watching you quietly and forgetting his task of finding your soulmate. It got to a point where you blatantly confronted him after you finished bathing, noticing a pair of pink heart eyes staring at you from the top of the shower curtain half way

"are you going to keep staring at me like a creep or are you going to actually introduce yourself?"

"gah-!! Ah.. uh right! Ofcourse! I-im sweetheart! Pleasure to meet you!"

💘after Introducing yourself, you set some ground rules. 1. Don't watch you while you shower, use the bathroom, or sleep 2. Don't Invade your space 3. He can't stalk you while you're out and about

💌at first he followed these rules, nodding obediently and following them diligently. But then he noticed something.. when did you become so beautiful? He swore you were more beautiful than his mother.. so kind and patient, he almost didn't want to finish his job, just stay here with you forever. Offering him food, caring for him, giving him hugs and cheek kisses. He wanted more.

💘he broke your rules, but he never let you find out. He'd never want to upset you! Having gotten better in hiding, he silently watches from the shadows. taking things he's sure you won't notice. All he talks and asks about now is what you like, what you're thinking of or if you got your eye on anyone. Claiming it's because he's curious about humans

💌 growing possessive, he uses one of his hate arrows whenever a suitor tries to approach you. How dare they try and take what was his! Can't they see you're too perfect for them!? He saw everything else as inferior to you, nobody was worthy to see your smile. A god/dess among rubbish.

💘he started using his arrows to distance your loved ones, until he was all that you had left. Comforting you, holding you close, wiping away your tears. He felt a foreign burning feeling in-between his legs whenever he saw you cry. Wanting nothing more than to lick them up but he knew you would consider it weird

💌he didn't dare use a love arrow on you, he wanted to see you. The real you at all times. Ignoring the angry calls his mother and siblings would send him, urging him to finish his job and come back home. So he did something he never would have thought of doing. Something irreversible. He cut off his wings, turning him mortal

💘he smiled up at you with a lovesick grin, while you could only stare at him in horror. You had just gotten back from a miserable day at work and stumbled into the bathroom to find it bloody and covered in familiar pink feathers. Slowly walking backwards, glancing at the small bones of where his wings use to be, sticking out. Bloody and mangled.

"this is all for you.. don't you see? I'M your soulmate! We were made for eachother my darling! So let's be together forever.."