#also just to distract from the… everything…

[burymagdalene]

Take What You Need - S. Reid x Reader

After going full hermit mode during finals, you reach out to your relatively new boyfriend for a textbook he might be storing in his apartment. Or, Spencer putting you through his mattress for the first time as finals stress relief.

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader genre: Smut! Fluff? (18+ pls pls) tags: Softdom!Spencer, sub reader (bet you thought you'd never see the day I did this), pet names in Russian, finger sucking, fingering (fem!receiving), established (new) relationship, your first time together, praise kink, pinv sex, creampie, teasing!!! overstimulation. wc: 6k a/n: I GOT SO CARRIED AWAY! Writing this during my finals felt like method acting. I imagine many of you are just now finishing or in the throes of finals- here's a treat!

Your head is hurting in places that you don’t even think have been identified in the anatomy of the brain while you continue to type away at your final essay. 

You had thought you’d given yourself ample time to begin and finish the essay without any stress-induced cramming. Yet, here you are, halfway through with the deadline a couple days away.

Phone on do not disturb and your social life coming to a screeching halt– you have forced yourself to go awol in order to get everything you need done.

Which worked. For a bit.

Now, you’re panicking over a Russian literature textbook you didn’t even know was on the syllabus that you’re supposed to reference in your final. 

Shit shit shit shit shit shit.

The first time you left your apartment in the last 48 hours was to check your university library for it– no dice. You drove to your local library after, out of luck there as well. Who on earth is using the 9th edition Russian and Comparative Literature text you need so horribly? They do not need it as much as you do.

Dejected and sighing from your pounding headache, you rest your forehead against your steering wheel, the sun is going down on another day without finishing your paper. Then it hits you. The biggest distraction in your life, is also the smartest person in your life. If the library doesn’t carry what you need, you might just have to put your pride aside and call Spencer.

You had promised yourself to use him as a form of reward once you completed everything, but you just have to ask him now. You can’t possibly get too distracted. 

One of your rings sounds off in your car before he’s picking up.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise. How’s the studying?”

Even through the tinny speaker of your phone his voice releases butterflies in your stomach.

“Spencer! Hey. Umm. It’s not going very well, actually...”

“Oh hon,” his voice drips with remorse from the other line, “I told you how breaks would make it all go more smoothly than whatever guerilla method you decided on.”

You smile to yourself briefly, before a surge of emotion comes over you. Of course, he was right. Your stomach is growling, head aching and going stir crazy in your apartment these last couple of days has not turned out to be the picture perfect portrayal of self-care.

In a small voice you reply, “I know. I’m sorry. I just- I was wondering if you had a textbook I need for my final. Russian and Comparative Lit? Or something adjacent?”

“Hm? Oh, please don’t say you’re sorry. I honestly might. Would you like to come over and look with me?”

Your fingers come up nervously to play with your bottom lip, “Yeah, please, if it’s no trouble.”

“No trouble at all, Zayka.”

Whatever it is, he says it smug enough that you roll your eyes, starting your car back up to finally get to the next step in finishing your paper.

Of sorts.

Like some heightened form of sensory deprivation, once you’re stepping up the staircase to get to Spencer’s unit, you can smell his scent from the bottom of the steps. The aged leather on his clothes and hand soap he uses that clings to him all day circling around your dizzy head as you give one, two knocks at his door.

His slight stubble and loosened tie catch your eye first. You want to run a hand where the sliver of his collar bone is revealed. 

You give him a shy smile instead, Spencer pulling you into a hug in his doorway with a kiss on top of your head where he speaks against it, “I missed you. Come in, come in.”

Sighing as he pulls away you beeline towards his bookshelf. Seeing it’s a stack of differing Russian texts on the floor he must’ve pulled out on your drive over.

“Oh, Spencer, thank you. Even if it’s not here, I seriously owe you one.”

He gestures his hand in an oh stop motion and walks over to where you’re reading the spine of each ridiculously long book.

“You don’t owe me anything. Happy to help. You’ve been pretty stressed out, huh?”

This pauses your flicking through titles like a cue in your system to spill out every detail you haven’t shared in the last couple days.

A deep sigh, then, “Yeah. It’s been really tough. I thought I’d be able to crank everything out, but. I just feel so burnt out. And the library by me is always so busy that I have to study at home, and my room is a mess and I haven’t bought any groceries, I just. I feel horrible. I have this headache,” you rub your face with your hands, “I’ve been getting no sleep and my body does not know how to handle this anxiety, it’s… it like, physically hurts.”

You’re on your knees by his coffee table and before you’re finishing your onslaught of complaints Spencer is sinking to his knees beside you.

“Oh, honey. That sounds miserable. You’ve drained yourself.” His hand comes to your lower back to rub at soothingly. “You need to regulate your nervous system. Let me feed you or-”

“This is it!”

You cannot believe your eyes. A perfect condition of the exact textbook you need to finish your paper. You owe Spencer all the stars in the sky, that big beautiful brain of his. Leaning over, you peck his lips swiftly. Which was your first mistake. You always need another.

“Mm,” he hums, “I’m glad. However, I do think you should embark on whatever journey reading through this will take you tomorrow.”

“What? But I’m so close,” another kiss is being pressed to his soft lips, “I just. I just need to-”

The way he’s looking at you. The pressure of his kiss lingering on your overactive mouth. The warm light of the lamp coming from his bedroom. You know if you keep pressing, you actually are going to have to leave, Spencer not being the type to force you in any capacity. 

You have to shut your mouth.

Spencer pulls your hand into his, lifts up to press a kiss to your knuckles, “Well. If you got everything you need…”

A panic-inducing sentence. 

“I d-didn’t.”

“Oh? Is there something else-”

“I, um. What did you say earlier? On the phone, in Russian. I… was wondering, actually.”

His lips pull into a genuine smile, one that makes you ache. You missed it so much. 

“Ever so curious. It just means bunny, it’s a common nickname. Could also translate to baby.”

Embarrassment heats up your neck. 

“I’m not even! I’d argue I’m more of a cat than anything else.”

“Hm. Kotik. I’d disagree though. I could practically hear the scrunch in your nose when you called me.”

“Ugh! Whatever. What does that make you then?”

“Whatever you want.”

Is he doing this on purpose? Is he being extra impossibly irresistible because he’s trying to make you stay or because of your distance from him? Either way, you hold your breath. 

“I-if I’m a bunny you have to be one too, that only makes sense.”

“Of course. Cross-species breeding can get weird.”

He has to be doing this on purpose. You haven’t done it yet. But Spencer is no stranger to working you up. The pet names, the fucking insinuations. Spencer is nothing but careful with his words around you. He’s being a tease out of his own volition. 

Knees starting to get achy where they’re pressed into his hardwood, you shift a bit. Nothing more than a shift, but given the context, lets Spencer know exactly what’s keeping you chained to his apartment. 

“Um. I think I’ll stay.” you blurt nearing a socially awkward delivery as you break his eye contact.

“Oh thank God,” he laughs out through a sigh of relief, “I don’t think I could’ve morally let you go home.”

“I just think I deserve a little break.”

“Mhmm,” Spencer rubs your jaw lightly with his thumb, “you’ve been working so hard, you deserve more than a little break.”

“Yeah? What should my big break be? Travel somewhere warm… should we go to Mexico?”

“I’ll take you to Mexico. You look so exhausted I’d just about take you anywhere.”

You giggle and nuzzle your face into his shoulder. “How about your bedroom?”

Not even having to look up to see it, you can feel the way his eyes widen. Having made out with Spencer a fair share on his couch, more than playful sleepovers at your apartment, and even an instance where Spencer had fingered you under your skirt in the parking lot of an AMC (before turning around to drive back home, skipping the movie) you’ve built up enough confidence to tell him you’re ready to feel him this way now. 

“Wh- yeah. Yeah, course.”

With Spencer’s whole neuroses around germs and “outside clothes on the bed” you actually have not gotten the privilege of laying down in there. Sure, you’ve picked through his closet and rummaged through some bedside books, but nothing wrapped up in his silky white sheets.

Your knees feel wobbly as you stand up before Spencer, gazing softly down where he’s criss-cross on his floor. He smiles up at you softly, reaching his hand up to rub your hip with his thumb over your jeans.

“What should I do to help all that stress?” He trails off, if spoken by another person, this could seem like a bit of a sarcastic remark, but Spencer continues to live and breathe sincerity.

Laughing slightly you shrug, “Come up here first, please.”

Sluggishly, Spencer gets up on his feet, his hand remaining on your hip now that he’s face to face with you. 

After kissing you gently he rubs his nose softly against yours, “I could give you a massage- you know stimulating the parasympathetic nervous system will help your cortisol levels a lot. You also just seem tense, sitting a lot in front of your laptop?”

“I mean,” you laugh and kiss him while pausing your sentence, “I’d like that. But. I want you in a different way. More than that... ahem, in your room.”

“I kind of just wanted to hear you say it.”

Once Spencer was able to pry his hands from your waist and lips from your mouth (with difficulty, he really missed you) he takes your hand into his to walk to his bedroom.

Of course you’ve been in here before, but right now every detail in his room; every book on a desk, every folded line in his bedding seem to have a shining glow around them. Through rose-tinted glasses Spencer's belongings cast an easy feeling over you. 

Being led to the bed you’ve never been in doesn’t incite any fear because you’re so familiar with the surroundings. Already in-tune with him and how he’s so particular about the things he owns, proves just how encapsulated by all-things-Spencer you are right now, completely safe and in your element. 

Warm hands bring your arms around his broad shoulders, kissing you against his bedframe. The cool carved wood pressing indents into the back of your thighs as you allow your full body weight against it. 

In your school-induced mania, you’d nearly forgotten how obsessed you are with kissing Spencer. His pillowy lips against yours, tasting him. He’d nearly get irritated at you for kissing him too hard in public. Now, after locking yourself away you're savoring how his tongue skims your bottom lip as he’s asking for access into your mouth. 

You whine and pinch your eyebrows together when he slightly pulls away to talk, “Darling, you’re so lovely, so beautiful,”

Pouting, you pull him back in by his collar. Before, you had been so adamant about focusing on your work and now you’re falling fast into the mess of hormones he typically makes of you. A total 180 in the past hour.

Allowing yourself to give into what has been simmering the last few days has you jittery and clumsy. Tightening and loosening your grip on Spencer’s shirt you’re tugging him closer and pushing him away when the whining from your throat becomes too embarrassing. Desperate and determined.

Your open-mouthed whining is coming from an understandable place though. Mouths melding together and a taught thigh wedged between your legs, you’re losing yourself in the way he tastes. 

Spearmint toothpaste that you both use on his breath. The shared taste you two have after you bought Spencer’s (out of a moment of weakness) when you happened to run out of your own while he was away on a case. A girlish, silly pining that now has your eyes rolling back as you taste yourself on him and consequentially, Spencer on you as well. 

Spencer curls your tongues together, grabs your hips flush against his and you whimper out a small final plea of a moan against his lips before he’s pulling away again.

“You’re being a little siren,” Spencer grins and places a kiss underneath your jaw where he knows you’re the most sensitive. 

“Sorry- was I? I missed you so much,” you trail off and kiss the warm skin of Spencer’s neck before he pulls you off him slightly.

Unabashedly staring directly at your bitten lips while replying, Spencer falls into an easy grin, “Don’t say sorry. How many times have I said I love your sounds?”

Shame creeps up in a gentle heat across the back of your neck, “Um. Too many!”

You get a simple tsk from Spencer in return. Not having the energy to argue with you over the shyness around moaning, he settles on a simple noise of disapproval.

Gently taking both of your wrists, he pulls you up from where you were propped against his bed frame and maneuvers you till the back of your knees are being tickled by his lush bedding. Maybe it's a tickle or just your skin's hyper awareness of what's to come.

Having tasted him earlier, there has been a discovered pining demand for Spencer you cannot keep at bay anymore. His sweet lips, a sugary glaze to the sour week you’ve had. Like the time you licked a dribble of honey off his finger when he was making you a cup of tea and you had to perch yourself on his lap for an hour kissing him senseless. You have no control over that dam inside you once broken. 

Cradling the back of your head while he guides you to his bed, you instinctively wrap your legs around his narrow hips, hoping to do anything in your power to keep his body weight on you for as long as humanly possible. 

“Babe- baby,” Spencer whines out, having to wiggle away from your grasp if any clothes were to be shed tonight, “let me undress you, please.”

Fine, you think, separating for that, should be livable.

Teasingly, Spencer rubs his hands up and down your waist, pulling your shirt up slowly as he massages into your skin. A wiggle in your hips has him smiling in acknowledgment but continues to toy with your top.

“You’re giving me goosebumps,” you pout.

“Good goosebumps?”

“Mmf. Yeah.” You turn to hide your face defiantly into his bedding.

“Always good goosebumps with you.” He smiles and pulls your shirt off, wiggling and arching your back, you help him even through your faux sulking.

Spencer’s sheets meet your bare skin (no bra, you couldn’t manage something so menial during your studying) and glide over your torso like a flat pebble skipping over a lake.

The seam of your jeans between your legs are pushing into your center as Spencer’s thigh remains pushing in small intervals while kissing over your chest. Approaching an overwhelming stimulation, your hips writhe as you grab silently at Spencer's tie. 

“T-take my pants off too, Spence, wanna feel you.”

“Aww,” he pulls up from your chest, “they look so good on you though.” He relents still, sitting on his knees as he fiddles with the band of your jeans.

A playful flicker in his eyes and he’s gently pulling up and down at it. You scrunch up your face, subconsciously aware of his bunny comment, and grab at his wrist. Only a small fuck falls from your lips.

“Mm, too much, huh? I’ll get them off of you, my love.”

Your hands reach up to tug off his barely knotted tie to fling it off while he slides the rough fabric down your legs, placing a kiss to a bruised knee on the way. Once your jeans are making a home on his floor he continues moving down further so he can take off your socks, kissing over the fabric of your panties.

You giggle a little, they’re not your sexiest, moreso cute; cotton with a little bow. 

“These are my lucky panties.” You explain through your laugh. 

“Yeah? Did you put them on in hopes they’d help you find your textbook?” His hands are holding the sides of your thighs now and he bends down to take the small bow between his teeth tugging up before letting it go in a snap against your belly.

“Mm-mm. I just decided that now.”

“From now on they’re your lucky underwear?” He looks up at you between your legs with a lopsided grin.

“Yup,” you pop out the “p” sound, “but you can still take them off even though they’re lucky.”

Spencer hums into a kiss against your inner thigh, “This is great news. May I?”

“Yes, you may.”

You can feel how wet you are by the slight resistance there is while peeling your panties off. Spencer hasn’t made you cum in quite some time, busy schedules and all. Now with finals, you can’t even remember the last time you got yourself off. The dripping into your panties reminding you of how long it must have been.

All that time not thinking about it is catching up to you as you feel more deprived than you have in your entire life.

“God- Spence. I want it… really bad.” These are the begging eyes you give him when you have to pull out your biggest trick in the books. When you’re making him drive you to the mall or begging to leave a hickey on his neck when he has to leave for work in thirty minutes.

Safe to say, they work pretty well.

“Baby, you can’t look at me like that,” he laughs, “I’m not in any mood to tease you.” His voice fills with a teasing tone anyway, the dirty liar. “You’ve been through enough already, huh?”

“Mhmm…” Your affirmation melts into a hum of pleasure as Spencer very gently runs his thumb over your entrance. With the coat of your slick on the pad of his thumb, Spencer brings it up to his mouth for a moment before sucking it off. You can’t help but shoot him a jealous look as your thighs close to rub together.

“Needy,” Spencer mumbles while pulling his thumb out, shifting up towards you so he can bring it to your lips. Sucking in happily, you bite down gently on his thumb, smiling around it as you hear a little groan coming his way. 

Thumb now covered in both of your saliva, he uses it as extra lubricant to rub circles over your already wet clit. Another reminder of how long its been hits you with how you already feel close. With just a few circles on your clit, you’re already clenching around nothing, hoping to be filled.

A squeak topples from your throat as Spencer switches his thumb to two fingers against you.

“Y-yeah, like that-”

Spencer is your boyfriend- he’s sweet and attentive and genuine. But he is also evil and horrible. He takes his hand away.

Your shocked gasp makes him laugh and move to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck.

“I’m mean. I’m sorry I’m sorry,” his laughter tickles your neck, “you’re so much fun to tease.”

You can barely hear him, not laughing along. Solely focused on wiggling under his weight, trying to gain any more friction on your clit.

No fight left in you, you want to politely take what Spencer gives you, but a slight panic fills your mind at the thought of having to wait much longer.

“Please- I’ll be good…”

“I know angel, you always are for me.”

Before the praise can affect you to its fullest potential, his fingers are returning against you. Three of his long perfect fingers dance across your clit as it thumps pathetically against them.

“Mmm! Shit, thank you, thank you-“ you babble softly. 

“Want them inside?”

“Uh-huh!”

“Really?”

“Really!” 

You’re not above this. Giving into every prompt easily as if you’re made for it. With all the planning and studying and working this week you have no issue with surrendering control over to someone else for a change.

Spencer flips his wrist so the inside is towards you and he’s positioning his ring and middle finger against you. You’ve never felt so spoiled, your clit is still throbbing painfully the second he removes his fingers to put them inside you, you never can get enough. 

The stretch of two fingers has you preening, accommodating his digits in a way that makes you so excited for the stretch of his cock soon.

“God, I missed this,” Spencer pants, “you’re so stunning, so warm.”

You allow the new wave of wetness to pool around his fingers with little to no guilt. If he says he likes it so much, what’s a little more?

He curls his fingers up and your jaw drops. He can find your sweet spot faster than you or any toy you have can and it makes you hate him and love him more and more each time. Moving languidly, you perch yourself on your elbows, wanting to gaze down between your thighs. 

Your eyes trail to the soft skin of his inner wrist, pretty blue veins, the network of his life, on display as they lead down to where you’re the most sensitive. The snap of his slender wrist as he speeds up, goes deeper and deeper until your hand instinctively comes down to pet your clit in tandem with his thrusts. 

Pushing your hand away, Spencer replaces it with his hand that’s not working at your g-spot, silent with his full attention on making you cum. You appreciate this, but if he’s trying to tip you over, he’s going to have to keep talking to you in the dirty sweet way he’s mastered.

“B-baby,” your voice is shot, “talk to me, talk to me.”

“Mm. My pretty baby-”

“Can you call me that again… t-the Russian?”

Bending down and dragging his lips across your neck he hums out, “Moy Zayka,” coming up he traces his tongue against your bitten lips, “Say it…”

Two bats of your wet eyelashes and you’re muttering “Zayka,” in the softest voice you can muster, shyness drying your speech.

“Mhm. Good. Sounds so pretty coming from you.”

“God, don’t talk like that or I’ll cum right now, fuck.”

“You said-” he begins, but you cut him off with a moan. “Sorry, sorry, you’re right.”

Five more seconds of Spencer's warmth radiating off him along with the sensation of his taking you apart between your legs and you realize you have to warn him you’re about to cum. Like seriously, about to.

“Spence! Close!” You muster, legs shaking slightly as proof.

“Yeah? Good girl.” He continues his movements until black spots dance behind your eyelids and you’re coming hard against his fingers. 

Working you through it until your chest is rising and falling, he takes his fingers out, but two fingers remain on your clit.

Shit. All that fucking begging got you here.

Moans increasing, your thighs clamp together around his wrist. Trying to stop him, but just making the sensation more intense. You gasp and try to open your legs back a bit. It’s torture, but it’s the least you’ve been able to think in the past week, which is exactly what you needed.

Sitting back on his knees, dick making a tent in his trousers, Spencer smiles at you squirming. “You okay?”

Are you? Yesyesyesyesnononono. You find yourself nodding anyway.

“M… ‘ore.”

“What’s that?”

Toes squeezing, your clit starts up that heartbeat again, reviving itself at his words. Ready to cum again.

“More!” You whisper, hoping he won’t ask again.

Spencer kisses your knee sweetly, rubs his cheek against it. “You’re doing so well. Really, making me so happy.”

Your entrance flutters at his words and the overstimulation has gotten to a point of just brain melting pleasure, and your legs fall open easily, allowing him more mobility once again.

The second time you orgasm on his fingers today you’re jolting upright. Hand pressed into the mattress while the other one clamps over your mouth as you tremble watching him rub your clit and pull away at the first whine he hears from you.

“Holy shit,” You sigh out, head falling down to his pillow.

Spencer’s face to face with you again, kissing your heated skin gently. 

“How are you feeling? Can you give me another one? We can stop here, sweetie.”

“Noooo,” your lips spread into a grin at the thought of coming around his dick for the first time. How good he must feel, how it will literally melt your brain into a puddle. “I want you-”

He kisses your lips like he would when picking you up to take you to dinner. Sweet and innocent like you weren’t just painting his fingers with your release. 

You trail a trembling hand up to begin undressing him. A shameful fumble with one button that takes two times as long to unbutton than it normally takes you. Spencer’s hands cup yours to steady them and finishes off the rest of his buttons with ease.

Maybe that’s another reason to call him Dr.- the steady hands he usually has. Unless you’re giving him head, but he definitely wouldn’t be experiencing that during a procedure. He’s also not even that kind of doctor. Maybe you’ll ask him to roleplay-

You look down and Spencer is in his underwear. You could thank God. His dick is the hardest you’ve ever seen it and it’s still under its confines. The tip has leaked enough to turn the fabric slightly see through and you can make out the details of him. Your mouth is watering. 

Without a second thought you trail a nail over his bulge. As Spencer sucks in a breath you snap the band of his underwear against his lower stomach, causing him to suck in his lips and his dick to twitch.

Almost as affected as you are, Spencer breathes shallowly and looks at you expectantly till you’re lowering the band and revealing all of him. Thick and long and covered in his precum you immediately grow hazy, giving him a few pumps to gauge how he might feel inside you. He’s going to split you open.

Spitting in your hand (not that you even needed to, he's already wet with precum) you continue to jack him off, his stomach curling in when you shift into a reverse grip on him and stroke his head a few times. His hands finally grow shaky as they reach down to stop you from making him finish too fast.

Momentarily Spencer stands by the bed to remove his underwear fully, you watch his dick as it bobs in the air, wanting to give it a steady place to move into until it’s-

“Spence, please.”

“Yeah, pretty.” He nods in understanding, his tough resolve breaking down more now as he also realizes how you’re going to feel around him for the first time.

Laying down, he positions himself between your legs. He wraps his arms around your head pulling you into a kiss before moving them to cage you in while staring into your eyes. You’re trying to keep eye contact but you can feel his cock brush your stomach and you could die.

“You still want this? You’re not feeling dizzy or anything?”

“Y-yes. Not dizzy. I just really want you inside.”

He laughs and kisses your neck, “Yeah. I really do too.”

Warm palms are positioning your hips against his bed and move to break you apart. He swipes his dick, wetting it with you, before he makes any moves to penetrate you. It feels really good- you’ve heard your friends mention it, but this feels… super good. 

Going down to collect more wetness, he draws his head back up to circle your clit again. It’s probably a form of torture for him- but with the way you’re nearly giggling with pleasure, he figures it won’t hurt to do it a few more times.

“Baby,” he shudders out a breath against your forehead, “This feels really good, but I’ll cum like this, and I’d rather it be inside you.”

You laugh and wrap your hands around his neck (Spencer is polite enough to ignore the way you squeeze it slightly), giddy with happiness.

“Kay. Can you fuck me like that until we both cum next time, though?”

The way you say it, so conversational and wholesome makes Spencer clear his throat. You’re going to be the death of him. 

“Anything you want, angel.”

Then he’s moving his head against you with intent. Eyes flickering between where he’s entering you and to check your face for pain (which remains in a blissed out expression throughout the entire thing). 

Pushing the tip fully in, both of you gasp with a newfound lucidity that hasn’t overcome you since you were in the living room. There could be a LED light sign on both of your foreheads that flashes oh fuck in pink shining blinks with hearts surrounding it.

“Oh baby-” He whispers over your repeated ah, ah, ah’s.

“F-feels so good,” You squeak out, knowing he’s gonna be a worried mess to make sure you’re not feeling any pain.

With that confirmation he allows himself to rest his head down, chin against your forehead as he moans into your hair while bottoming out. The stubble is sort of scratchy against you but in a way that’s beckoning your legs open wider.

Your legs automatically wrap around his hips to keep him at the deepest point, wanting to feel the way he’s first opening you up forever. Lips gasping and closing to place a kiss at your forehead he whimpers out, “Baby, gotta let me move.”

So you let him move. You would probably do anything he suggests right now. A comical dizzy swarm of birds circling your head with a dumb smile on your face. He wants to move, your legs spread open on the bed. He wants to cum inside you? You’re gonna let him.

His first thrust punches the air out of your lungs. You make a note to yourself never to spend longer than a day away from him again. Then, another note to do this every day with him the rest of your life.

Spencer repositions himself so that his arms are straightened, alleviating some of his weight off you (sigh), but allows him to move into you at a better angle. 

Moaning, you turn your face to the side, looking at the inside of his wrist again. The intense thrusts combined with his delicate skin and fragile veins right there, you get dizzy. Shifting a little, you place a kiss to the inside of his wrist. Then another, a wet mess of a kiss that delivers the message of complete infatuation. 

Spencer groans and realizes how far away from your lips he is right now and moves to his forearms again. He pets the top of your head and whispers into the air, “You feel so perfect- just like I thought. You’re so perfect everywhere.”

In his vulnerable state, you’re right in front of his perfect, untainted neck, and you want to lick and suck at it to work through the mind numbing pleasure, like it would ground you to reality. Usually, he needs more coercing, with the team and all, it’s very hard to hide hickeys. Yet,

“Spence, baby,” you whine, putting that lilt in your voice that tears him apart, “can I kiss your neck, please?”

Immediately, “Yeah, honey, take what you need.”

And your tongue immediately licks a stripe up his skin, salty and sweet with sweat. Sucking the skin between your teeth you leave a fresh deep mark for him to parade around the next few days. You say sorry in your head looking at it, but it doesn’t make it to your lips.

He laughs and shakes his head, knowing exactly what his skin is going to look like tomorrow and in retaliation he moves your thighs overtop his shoulders, hitting a spot inside you that has your mind fuzzing. 

Your hips thrash a bit, not used to being unable move and wiggle around the pleasure like you typically do. Especially with this new stretch inside you, you’re keening.

“That feel good, baby?”

Your eyes squeeze shut, “God. Yes.” 

“Tell me I feel good.”

“Spencer,” you whine, dragging out the syllables, “you feel so good. Fucking me so good.”

He moans high, then, “Now, tell me you love me.”

With an even smaller pause than before, “Fuck, I love you.”

“Mhm. Again.”

“Baby- I love you-” You whimper out, realizing instantly he’s about to make you cum once more.

“I love you.” He replies gently, juxtaposing his thrusts again, which are now growing sloppy with his nearing orgasm.

Pulling him into a harsh kiss, you pull his bottom lip between your teeth, trembling with his skin between your jaws. Having the power to draw blood but keeping yourself at bay. Ever a good girl for him.

Without having to ask, he brings a hand to rub your clit again. You let go of his lip with a groan, head falling back against his pillow with your back arching into him.

“C-can I cum?”

“Of course you can. Baby, ‘need to feel you coming around me, I know you feel so good.”

Who are you to deny that? Biting the inside of your cheek, you're coming for him again. It’s better than you could’ve imagined, the unstoppable stretch inside you while your walls flutter for reprieve around him. Better yet, Spencer is spilling into you. 

You whine high in your throat feeling him cum inside you, somehow making more room for this alongside his cock inside you. Overwhelmed, you grab for his hand, he interlocks his fingers with yours instantly, a whimpering mess alongside you.

When his hips are still against yours, you cannot think a single thing, you only feel. The slow slow slowness of him pulling out of you with a pop. The drip of his cum out of you like a sedative. The kisses against your face and lips.

Nails scratching lightly at the base of his neck convince him enough of your coherency, nothing to panic over. Spencer is giving you space to be fucked out of your mind.

“My sweet, pretty bunny, I wanna clean you up. Can I? I’ll be gone for just a moment.”

You groan, that does not sound like something that should happen. 

“Coming with…” You mumble, barely legible.

Spencer laughs, “Yeah. Right. You’re not walking on those two legs again today. See? I’ll run.”

You smile back and close your eyes, shooing him away with a wave of your hand. He’s right too, you barely even notice the time pass before he’s back with a warm rag.

He’s cleaned you up, positioned you to lay on top of him and is pulling teasingly at your earlobe, muttering something about a takeout order he placed for you both.

You eat cuddled up on his sofa, watching some new space documentary perched on his lap. You’re sitting right by the textbook you pulled out earlier and you haven’t even noticed, your essay so far from your mind that the only thing you could possibly learn right now is the pattern of Spencer’s breath against the back of your neck.

[robustcornhusk]

#tell me about your gnocchi meals

the main thing is that boxed shelf-stable gnocchi is really good if it doesn't get boiled; it just gets pan-fried in a bit of oil (olive, etc) & stirred occasionally while everything else is prepped, and at the end i don't have to drain the pan or fish anything out; i just turn the heat off. i can be pretty distractable, but i have yet to burn the gnocchi while doing this.

three that i've made recently that i'm fairly sure all take under 30 minutes from "i should start cooking" to "i am eating", but are all things i'd happily & without compunctions serve to guests

gochujang gnocchi with spinach & hazelnuts - is it better if you make the potato-parsnip gnocchi it suggests? probably! but if you don't, it takes 15 minutes to put this together: panfry the gnocchi, mix the sauce, put it together, plate it. 1.5tbsp sesame oil is wrong (way too strong); i think i used 1/2tbsp. i recommend doubling (or more) the spinach, 200g+/5oz+. the recipe will impress your friends but in that case you'll want a side dish of some nature, or a fancy dessert, or something.

(turn off javascript to be able to see NYT recipes:)

gnocchi, sausage, peas - serves 2 generously, or serves 3 comfortably. have been using vegetarian sausages (beyond italian). instead of deglazing with water, i'd encourage using ~90ml of white wine (sauvignon blanc or similar; i don't think i'd like chardonnay, too much wood). this will also impress your friends & family; it's not quite as easy as the gochujang but a fantastic ratio of flavor to effort, at least.

gnocchi with miso and asparagus - huge lunch for 2; hell yeah. be forewarned: it's big enough i had to mix it all together in a wok. partner wanted tofu/mustard/capers with it, which i think went nicely.

a bold idea i haven't tried is that i'm pretty sure gnocchi and tteok can be substituted for each other. gnocchi-bukki?

the really crazy thing about cooking is that once you practice it enough (for all the gamers reading this: "grind enough exp") your threshold for wuat counts as a low effort / depression / I Dont Really Want To Cook meal rises steadily and you can feel yourself becoming the kind of person whose "chill dinner" takes 1h45 and involves three pans

[distantreverbs]

Tonight's episode really highlighted how Buck and Eddie actually have a very conditional and somewhat one-sided friendship, something that deeply contrasts the romantic relationship between Buck and Tommy. Because despite the latter couples woes, they have shown time and time again the unconditional and pure love they are capable of sharing together, which will only be amplified once they work through their current shortcomings as a couple.

Buck and Eddie;

While Evan Buckley has so often offered Eddie — and many others, to be clear �� his unconditional love and support, he has also embarked on an endless journey of self-reflection. He may not be perfect and he has no doubt made some pretty significant mistakes throughout the show, but what he is is someone who is capable of looking inward, learning, and doing his best to improve, even if the process is sometimes messy or slow and too little too late. No, Buck isn't perfect, but by god, he's continuously evolving and maturing.

(I'm sorry, but Evan Buckley is very much not the one who has been stuck on the hamster wheel like so many in fandom love to claim. That lovely "honor" would actually go to Eddie Diaz.)

Buck also has a lot of love in his heart, to the point where it sometimes overwhelms and leads him astray. But even so, his intentions are almost always pure and connected to the important people in his life. In summation, his heart and the love cast from it is extremely unconditional and wrapped within a casing of overwhelming loyalty and selflessness, some missteps aside.

Eddie Diaz, on the other hand, is quite the opposite. He'll love Buck — and other people, to be clear — but with a condition, one that is so often unspoken, but always lurking beneath the surface. With Eddie and conflict — be it his own or belonging to others simply seeking his guidance and support — there always seems to be this line drawn in the sand, a line representing what Eddie is and is not willing to put up with. And once you cross that line, he'll have very little patience or consideration for you and your feelings. It will show through not just overt or passive aggression, but also unapologetic projection.

The way he came at Buck in tonight's episode is a glaring representation of this:

It's easier for Eddie Diaz to look at everything as black and white, especially when it's convenient for his narrative, than it is to partake in self-reflection pertaining to his personal grief and struggles. It's easier to put the blame on his best friend, rather than acknowledge how he is not processing his own grief very well at all. It is easier to accuse his best friend, who is clearly hurting and crying out for help, that he's being selfish, than to make any attempt at taking on the pain of others while also grappling with his own. It is easier for him to fly his son back to LA to distract his best friend, than it is to take any semblance of accountability for his recent actions and actually fucking apologize. (Hoping this ages poorly because he apologizes in the finale.) It is so much easier to accuse his best friend of making everything about himself, than to acknowledge that, in this moment, he's actually the one doing so. It is easier for Eddie to grab Buck, corner him, and generally physically intimidate him, than it is to actually hear Buck out and understand his reasoning and perspective. Because... God forbid, he has his often black and white ideologies — and the emotions rooted in them — challenged. It's easier for Eddie Diaz to keep repeating the same mistakes in his life, than it is to actually work on his issues and truly evolve, even if those mistakes trickle down to the people around him, including his own son.

In summation, if Buck and Eddie were actually canonically together, I would be praying that the writers were setting up a season finale breakup, so that Buck can move on with his life and find someone who won't minimize his feelings to highlight their own, all while using physical aggression to intimidate and shut him down, or use their son to manipulate him into forgetting about what happened. Because whether the writers intend to follow up on this or not, or do or do not recognize the severity of Eddie's actions, I know what bullshit I witnessed unfold on my screen tonight.

Buck and Tommy;

I'll just be blunt here because this post is already in danger of getting too long...

Tommy Kinard would never pull the type of shit Eddie Diaz just did. Tommy may have some issues of his own that he needs to address — including his own tendency to project onto others, in addition to running away versus talking shit out. But had he been the one with Buck tonight, he would have never minimized the pain Buck was experiencing just to elevate his own, nor would he have grabbed and cornered Buck to maximize the severity of his pain and anger.

At "worst", Tommy would have gently reminded Buck to remember that people are grieving in their own way, similar to how Maddie handled Chimney, or Karen handled Athena, in the very same episode. And he would have done so, all while still considering and prioritizing Buck's feelings. And at best, Tommy would have asked Buck how he could best be there for him, because that's the type of person Tommy is. And to give Buck his own credit, he would have apologized if Tommy expressed needing more support and consideration, and then followed through after said apology. And Tommy would have been completely receptive of this and worked with Buck to ensure that both of them received the emotional support and consideration they both need. Because, ultimately, they are both mature and emotionally loving and supportive individuals — again, some missteps aside. While Eddie Diaz, sorry — but not sorry — has shown he just isn't. Not yet, at least. Buck and Tommy have shown they're capable of being a true partnership in all the ways that matter, while Eddie has made his friendship with Buck incredibly one-sided.

(Man, Buck. I am honestly proud of the man you've evolved into. You've come a long way, despite some in this fandom pretending you haven't and gleefully waiting for you to crash and burn more than your loved ones and other colleagues whenever a challenging situation occurs.)

While Eddie is quick to make Buck feel like he and his problems are "too much" to take on, Tommy would be mortified if he ever did the same, much less more than once.

I'm so glad Buck will have Tommy back in his corner soon, whether it be in the finale or sometime during 9A, because Tommy is the person Buck so clearly needs in his life right now. Buck needs someone who is going to reciprocate everything he is so eager to offer, and Tommy so clearly needs and is willing to do the same.

[sourb1tter]

Hi can I request Lara and y/n live streaming with Manon and the fans catch Lara and y/n kissing a little in the background and Manon tries to cover them? Thanks. Hope that makes sense

𝓢ynopsis: You, Lara, and Manon are livestreaming on weverse, Your cuddling all on top of her the whole live stream and ofc yall start making out and manon has to cover yall so nothing happens.

𝓦arning: you and Lara makingout 😛😛 ( yesy yes yeysysygeh) and manon being angy at yall bc she has to protect yall ( such an amazing unnie ), also slight choking kink 😛🙏

“ 𝓔LLO MATE.. “ Manon had yelled as she entered the apartment that you and Lara were sharing. Lara smiled back at her, acknowledging her presence, “ 𝓔LLOOO MATEEE… “ Lara yelled back at her, them both laughing as you clinged onto Lara, your head on her shoulder, and your arms wrap around hers, you felt Lara’s head touch yours. Manon plopped herself onto the bed, the white sheets crinkling a bit due to the weight of Manon “ yall i got food, yall want? “ Manoned had asked us due to her kindness, me and Lara both knew she didn’t wanna share her food, that wasn’t a hard problem to solve. You both said no and started reading the weverse comments, most were talking about your new release. Gnarly, and your future comebacks and how different they were from Gnarly.

You nuzzled your face into Lara’s neck, kissing softly and lighty sucking, Lara’s head turned to you immediately, Manon was explaining something to the live. Distracting the live while you two had this interaction, Manon was slightly in front of yall, and she noticed what yall were whispering about and moved herself infront of yall…

“ Babe.. you know we can’t do this right now.. “ Lara whispered to you, putting her hand on your cheek… while Manon explained something about there new comeback and there tours for Gnarly, “ Please… “ You whispered as your lips connected to hers, Lara simply couldn’t resist and of course there came the comments..

“ WHAT IS LARA AND Y/N DOING? “

“ ARE THEY MAKING OUT?!?!? WJATTT “

Manon quickly denied everything while giving us a cue to stop, but you and Lara didn’t, the kiss only further intensified as her lips sloppily moved together with yours, hot and sweaty, your pants started getting louder, her hand reached your neck and started pulling you downwards onto the bed. Manon had to relocate the phone, moving herself and the phone so they could barely see you two having the time of your life. On the other hand though, you and Lara parted lips for a moment, smiling at each other and catching your breaths before continuing, she leaned back into you, small soft kisses were first, then it became longer, more passionate, her lips tasted sweet, like candy. You found your hands roaming across her body, your breathing became louder once more as your tongues danced against each other and her hands started roaming against your body and you both kept a smile plastered on your faces each time you released from the kiss.

Manon finally muted the livestream and yelled at you and Lara for being reckless.. “ Are you two crazy?!?! Do you know how bad this looks for our company? You can’t be doing this on live! What the hell, stop it. Both of you!! “ Manon had yelled at you two, you Lara climbed off of your with smudged lipstick and you sat up with your tanktop off your shoulders and halfway down your arms, and you two just looked at her and blinked… before bursting out laughing, Manon looked so irritated at you two. “ You two better fix yourselfs now. “ Manon said dead serious, you’ve never seen her so serious, you and Lara stopped laughing and started fixing yourselfs up. Lara fixed her lip combo as you fixed your tank top and kept it up right, you two snickered to yourselfs, “ Yall better not be laughing over there! “ Manon yelled at you with a slipper in hand, ready to throw it at you, you and Lara stopped laughing, “ Yes mother… “ you responded to her…

She threw the slipper at you and you fell on the ground and hit your head on the dresser and Lara and Manon laughed at you. Manon turned the audio back on and showed you to the live… “ HEYY, MANON, AND LARA THIS IS NOT FUNNY, IMA KILL BOTH OF YALL IN REHEARSALS TODAY, ME AND SOPHIA ARE GONNA BE ON YOUR ASSES WHEN YOU MESS UP, YOUR GONNA BE SO MAD WATCH.. “ you yelled at both of them while getting back up and fixing yourself up, and taking the phone away and walking away. “ They’re always so mean to me yall.. Fucking bullies.. “

“ A little bit scandalous… “

Produced by sour

[ruinix]

Can you please write about Quinn writing letter to y/n before he leave for every road trip?

You are making me soft. Heart, mushy. I am officially distracted once again. Also, side note, I just bumped my head while opening a cabinet. I, for some reason, was leaning forward?? Crazy. Natural selection would catch up to me soon if I don't get it together. Anyway...

Fluff thoughts ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Quinn would always take his time to stare at your sleeping form while he did his last-minute packing. Your breaths were heavy and accompanied with soft snores. You looked incredibly content under the heavy blanket with a pillow between your thighs and a plushie in your arms.

Looking at you would make Quinn want to cuddle with you again. He would pay the world millions if he could. You just fit so well between his arms. Your soft scent would easily make him sleep, because it was truly comforting. You were a perfect mix of soft yet firm, delicate but strong. He loved cuddling with you.

However, he got somewhere to be. Somewhere being the away games. He would be so tempted to call in sick but he wanted to play.

So, shaking his head to push away the temptations of you, he finished packing his luggage. Then he would quietly sit on the armchair that was set up in the corner of the room, taking a paper from your stack that you usually used for annotations and journaling.

Quinn would write his letter. It was like his little ritual prior to any away games. It was one of the reasons he woke up earlier. It started because he saw you keep the little sticky notes that he would leave whenever he goes out for a run or for his morning skate. At first, he just wanted to up his game. Just wanted to see how you would react. Oh, you did react. You instantly videocalled him with the prettiest and happiest smile that made his heart beat like thunder that could shake the whole fucking world. He fell in love with you harder when he was already head over heels for you, and all he could think about was seeing you smile like that instead of looking so lonely when you call him. So, he continued writing.

He wrote about the things he loved about you, the things he would love to do with you once he was home, the things you've told him in passing, the things you've dreamt about and wished for, the things he may or may not be planning.

He would drop so many hints about anything. Sometimes you would catch on. Sometimes you wouldn't. He wouldn't mind either way.

His heart would be pounding in his chest as he glanced at the specific little box you've kept everything he has written, as he stared at you shift in your sleep, murmuring his name.

He would write and write and write.

Every word were little pieces of his heart.

Every thought put into them were little slices of his soul.

He would give everything in these letters, knowing that he, along with his words written with his life, would be safe with you.

Good night, lovelies. Love you all.

-> more thoughts? List.

[sqgeism]

Amphoreus men with reader who has insomnia? Maybe they have perpetual eye bags and can fall asleep literally anywhere but in bed

Hope you're doing well

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 he'd stay and treat his lady | amphoreus men x gender neutral reader

💌     —      ; give everything to his new baby !  sleep is hard, or at least it has been on specifically your bed, as of recently. despite concerns raised by your boyfriend, he finds it a little funny. considering the fact that you've not only managed to fall asleep in the garden of your home, but some chimera's have somehow found you.

love mail — did i put 5 requests together.. yes... 5 birds with ONE STONE 🩷🩷 but they all had similar prompts so i just put 'em all together :3 sorry individual anons that you won't get the notif i answered !! i love u guys, thank you for requesting anonnies f(^ー^; ♡ please forgive my laziness i swear i'll lock in. ACTUALLY had to drink two mountain dews writing this bc i could not force myself to finish this within the day if i didnt

anaxa doesn't know what to do after he finds you asleep on top the coffee table, which is right in front of the very comfy couch you two bought.

he knows you and him are busy, the academy has been working the professors overtime recently and you teach multiple subjects to multiple classes, so it's no wonder you're practically restless. it's just.. he wishes you could sleep in bed again. when you do get the opportunity for shut eye, it'll always be somewhere stupid. his least favorite was on your desk, as being hunched over like that can have long lasting back pains as a consequence (trust him, he knows)

so when one night, expecting to see you on the counters or atop the fridge, anaxa's natural frown deepens at the realization you don't seem to be sleeping in any unconventional place. have you finally relearned the skill to sleep in bed again? nope.. not quite, since the sheets are flat and untouched.

where on amphoreus are you?

that's when his train of thought is interrupted by little chitters outside, *the garden?* animals aren't typically seen around your home, but he supposes that it isn't impossible. but that's also the one place he hasn't checked, and if he's a moment too late to you getting mauled by.. whatever's out there, anaxa doesn't feel like losing another eye in hopes to see a loved one. though something that makes such a cute noise can't be too harmful.

and as always, anaxa is almost never incorrect. because there you are, in all your genius, asleep in the middle of the freshly cut garden with.. chimera's around you?

the little things are slipping into your coat, or rubbing themselves against your sleeping body. they seemed to think you'd give them attention, but they were just helping you fall deeper into sleep. fluffy balls of sweetness acted like a warm blanket, and you stood no chance, even with your issues with sleep.

and here anaxa is, having to deal with your antics for the millionth time. but if it was an issue—he'd be complaining, and even if he does, you know he doesn't mean it. like this very moment; "you're so weird," the scholar grumbles under his breath, yet he's careful as he approaches, careful to not startle you or the chimeras. "—i can't believe i have to deal with you." while he takes off his coat and covers you, all while he slowly carries you into his lap on the grass, settling you down comfortably to lean against him. "and you're just.. the worst."

he says these things while you're now asleep on him, his arms securely around you and keeping you close to support your body. if you were awake, surely you'd be teasing him about how affectionate he's choosing to be at the moment. and it seems the chimera's have gotten comfy too, the colorful critters beginning to yawn as he runs his fingers through your hair.

he wants to think he hates you for distracting him from his greater goal, for softening him up. for making him afraid to lose again.

but he can't, not when you're here and you wear the ring that reminds him of his promise. his promise to love you for however long he has and for far longer past death. his prophecy is neverchanging, but so is his love. and his legacy after death will never be truly told if your name is not mentioned alongside his.

mydei gets it. honestly, he does. sleep doesn't come easy to any of them, but mydei knows you're not exactly a heir. you're mortal, and you need things that he doesn't quite understand but he tries to. when he began catching you still up long past 2am, whether your nose buried in a book or eating leftovers from dinner, it worries him. he tries to soothe you back to sleep, but nothing works. and he has to watch you walk out that door with clearly not enough energy to function.

and it's the same thing tonight, he's laying on the couch with a novel in hand as you walk over to him. the time? 12:48 am. mydei wants to hide his unpleased expression, but he's sure his eyes narrow and his brows furrow slightly, however they're quick to melt into a much more tender expression as you move between his legs to lay on his chest, huffing.

"i'm tired, mydei." your voice is weak, and you feel limp on top of him. it actually causes somewhat discomfort to the warrior for a moment, as the feeling of a body on top of him is not foreign.. unfortunately. "i wish i could sleep. i really.. really do."

your hands ball into fists out of frustration, a trembling breath escaping you. but large, careful hands go over yours. breaking down that fist as he intertwines his fingers between the gap of yours, a perfect fit, as your two hearts are. "i don't know how i can help, but if i can find something, i'll be sure to tell you as soon as possible."

his lips softly kiss your forehead. "but i'm here. every night, and day, just come to me when it's too much." then he kisses each of your eyelids, and to mydei's surprise.. they don't open after he moves away. and you've fallen asleep, after a week of restlessness, you're brought into a dream state from kisses.

the chrysos heir would laugh, but he chooses to let you rest, rubbing soothing circles to your back as he waits for day to come.

phainon.. oh.. phainon... he's been so worried about the whole thing. he's gotten you some sleep medication, which does work, but he wants you to be able to sleep without them again. especially since there are times where you purposefully don't take them, and he has to find out when he comes home at 11pm and you're still up.

although tonight, when you're the one that comes home late, he's quick to catch on to the clear fatigue that's caught up with you. "baby?"

"work was horrible." you grumble, slugging towards him seated at the dining table before making yourself comfortable on the nearest chair (him). "i missed you, and i'm tired."

you feel his laugh echo in his throat, hands on your thighs pull you closer, before they move to your waist and stay there, humming teasingly. "i'm sorry to hear that, honey. you need anything? there's some dinner if you're hungry. i'll heat it up for you." he offers, caressing your form as you shake your head. what a touchy chair.

"i just wanna be able to sleep normally again, phai." you yawn, but you know well enough that your body will still refuse to rest. you forgot to stop by a pharmacy before going home, and you've run out of your sleeping meds. "i know, and you will soon baby. don't make your pretty head hurt any more than it already is, alright?" he dips down to kiss you tenderly with great passion. hey, if you can't sleep, he'll at least try to make the moments you're awake enjoyable. his left hand cups your cheek in order to tilt your head, his own shifting the opposite way to deepen the exchange of love. "you're alright, honey." he murmurs against your lips, pressing one last peck before he smiles. "i know you'll bounce back, you always do."

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[alisonsfics]

what about me?

pairing: bucky barnes x ex-gf!ex-avenger!reader

summary: as an ex-avenger and the ex-girlfriend of james bucky barnes, you’re shocked when you see the new avengers announcement on tv. so, you decide to pay avengers towers a visit to reminisce, until you run into bucky. then you both realize you’ve been holding some grudges.

word count: 2k

warnings: ⚠️thunderbolts* spoilers⚠️ angst between you and bucky

You were having a peaceful start to your day. Or as peaceful as it could be. The past couple years had really messed you up. You’d basically lost everything. The Avengers. Your friends. Your boyfriend. Your home.

Nothing had felt the same since then.

You tried to start over. You weren’t exactly built for the real world. You had telekinetic abilities. Your father was a successful scientist, but after you were born, he became captivated by the idea of superheroes. Then, he started to experiment on you, accidentally giving you abilities.

When you became an Avenger, you learned to harness your powers. You also blossomed into a great fighter, training with both Steve and Natasha.

Your skill set was very specific. And it didn’t exactly suit a corporate life, or any kind of regular life.

A couple of months ago, you got a call from Sam, whom you hadn’t spoken to since Tony’s funeral. He said it was about Ross going out of control. You were happy to help, and for the first time in years, you felt like you were doing the right thing with your life.

But nothing had happened since then. You started hanging out with Sam more often, craving any tie back to your previous life.

That’s where you were right now, out for lunch with Sam.

“So, is our new President showing any possibility of turning into a raging Hulk of a new color?” You joked, earning a chuckle from Sam. He quickly shook his head.

“Nope. All clear, but if it happens again, trust me, you’ll be the first one I call.” He told you. The thought of another president turning into a Hulk shouldn’t have comforted you, but it did. Because it meant having a purpose again.

“How have you been? You’ve seemed a little distracted since the whole Ross thing.” Sam asked, switching into counselor mode.

You laughed to yourself, thinking about the best response that would make Sam worry the least. “I don’t know, Sam. I feel like I’ve forgotten what being okay feels like.” You said, honestly.

“Just a professional opinion, maybe it’s cause I’m the only person you talk to. You can’t isolate yourself.” He mentioned. You switched your gaze to the ground. Of course you knew he was right. It wasn’t the first time you’d thought about it.

But all your friends, your family, were scattered around the globe or dead. You were alone.

Before you could respond, you both heard commotion around you the patio of the restaurant. You could hear the sound of phones dinging all the way down the street. Hushed whispers grew louder.

You felt heads turn towards you and Sam.

“Sam, what’s happening?” You asked, quietly. He glanced down at his phone. “Oh, shit,” he mumbled under his breath, before flipping around the screen for you.

You immediately recognized Val, and then you noticed Bucky. He was bruised and bleeding and standing behind her. The headline scrolled across the bottom: “Welcome the New Avengers after NY Attack.”

People started to rush towards you both. As two ex-Avengers, everyone wanted to know why you both weren’t on this new Avengers group.

“C’mon,” Sam said, quickly standing up and rushing towards you. He tapped a button on his watch and his flight pack appeared on his back. He grabbed you, and you wrapped your arms around him.

Your feet lifted off the ground as Sam flew you both to a nearby rooftop. You stepped away from him as soon as your feet hit the concrete.

“You alright?” He asked, watching you begin to pace. The words “New Avengers” repeated over and over in your head. And the image of Bucky bruised.

Sam repeated your name, pulling you out of your thoughts. “I don’t understand. There was an attack? Why didn’t he call me? Or you? He could’ve been hurt. He’s like family to me, and he’s just moving on? Why do we all act like the Avengers didn’t happen? I mean, everyone is moving on, and I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know who I am if I’m not an Avenger. And I just— I need to go home, Sam. I really need to think.” You rambled.

Sam nodded, understanding where you were coming from. “Come on, I’ll bring you home.” He said.

You spent the next two weeks sitting in your apartment, basically wasting away. You’d always struggled to cope with change, but you felt yourself being tugged back to the good old days.

Then, one day it was different. You woke up and felt yourself being pulled out the front door. You didn’t know where you were going until you got there.

You stood on the cold street, looking up at the tall building: Avenger’s Tower. It had been your home for years, and now it was a building you hardly recognized.

You walked up towards the front gate. The security guard immediately recognized you and brought you inside. He gave you a security pass, so you could freely roam the building.

You took the elevator up to the top floors where most of the rooms were. It was a path you’d taken so many times before.

You stepped out of the elevator and were met by a million memories. Memories you hadn’t thought of in years came rushing back to you.

A loud metal door slammed shut, bringing you back to reality. You jumped and turned towards the noise.

Then, you saw him.

Bucky Barnes.

“Hi,” you stuttered. His eyes met yours. You saw his eyes soften and the weight lift off his shoulders. “What’re you doing here?” he asked, breathlessly.

“I don’t know. I think I just wanted to see you.” You admitted.

He walked towards you, closing the distance. “It’s nice to see you, really. I’ve been thinking about you recently.” He said, sincerely.

“It’s definitely not because you moved back into the place we used to live. Don’t think that would make you think of me at all.” You quipped, sarcastically. A soft smile spread across his face.

“It’s been too long.” He said, his voice only coming out at a whisper. He felt every memory of you come rushing back to him at once. He remembered movie nights with the rest of the team. And the first time he kissed you, after a mission. And sneaking out of training to be with you.

“Yeah, it’s been a couple years. Y’know, since the world almost ended and you dumped me a few months later.” You said, your tone coming out harsh.

You had really missed Bucky. But you were also mad at him because it was his fault that you’d had to miss him. He’d gone radio silent for years, and you lost your best friend.

Bucky wore a pained expression. “I’m sorry about the way I handled everything. I was in a really bad place with Steve leaving and everything.” He apologized.

“C’mon, Bucky. Of course I understood that, but what you didn’t understand was that my world was also turned upside down. So many of our friends died or left, but I thought I’d always be able to rely on you. I loved you so much, and you left me like it was nothing.” You argued.

Each word felt like a cut to Bucky’s heart. He’d never wanted to hurt you.

“It wasn’t nothing. Do you really think that wasn’t the hardest thing I ever had to do?” He shot back.

“Then why did you do it? Nobody forced you into that, Bucky. And if you regretted it, why haven’t you reached out to me since then?” You asked. Bucky was growing visibly frustrated. He ran his fingers through his hair. You noticed the way the light bounced off his metal arm.

“I can’t do this. I can’t have this conversation right now.” He huffed, turning away from you and starting to walk in the opposite direction.

Before your brain could even process it, you were yelling “Yeah, go run back to your new friends and leave me behind with all the problems of your past” at him.

He stood still before slowly turning back towards you. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He asked through gritted teeth.

“You’re talking about being sorry that you abandoned me before and now you’re doing it again.” You accused.

Bucky scoffed and shook his head. “Well, you should know a thing or two about abandoning people. I heard about you and Sam taking on the Red Hulk.” He snapped.

“What does that have to do with anything? I helped out a friend.” You said, defending yourself.

“Neither of you thought to call me to help, and you know I would have been there in a minute. And you didn’t exactly show up to help me when the Sentry almost destroyed all of New York.” He said, finally letting it out even though he promised himself he wouldn’t. He knew it was petty, but he couldn’t help that he’d been so affected by you helping out Sam and not him.

“I didn’t show up because I didn’t know it was happening. And you know how I found out? I found out while also learning that apparently there was a New Avengers team.” You argued.

“That wasn’t my idea, I swear. That was all Valentina. I was just as surprised as you were. But why do you care so much if I’m on a new team?” He asked you, and you realized how close you both were standing.

He was close enough that you could smell hints of cedar wood from his cologne. You focused your gaze on the floor to avoid looking him in the eyes. “Cause it means you’re moving on and leaving the Avengers in the past. And what about me? What if you decide to leave me in the past too?” You asked, softly.

His metal fingertips grazed your hip. His touch was soft and unsure, like he was waiting for you to pull away. When you stayed still, he used his other hand to pull your chin up, so you were looking at him.

“I actually asked the team if you could join because it wasn’t the same without you. I promise, I am not leaving you in the past.” He whispered.

He leaned in, pressing his lips against yours. You leaned into his touch, and it was like he never left. His arm snaked around your waist, while your fingers found their natural place weaving through his hair.

The kiss was soft but also hungry. Bucky had missed having you in his arms, and he wasn’t going to let you go anytime soon. A warmth started in your chest and spread throughout your body.

Bucky's grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer to him until there wasn’t any space between the two of you.

His lips explored yours, taking the time to refamiliarize himself with everything about you: the taste of your strawberry lip gloss, the way you smiled as he kissed you, and the way that your fingers tugged on his hair.

Bucky nipped at your bottom lip, smirking cockily when you lightly gasped. “I’ve missed you, sweets.” He mumbled against your lips.

You both jumped when you heard someone clear their throat down the hall.

“I see you’ve got a friend, Barnes.” The man scoffed, smirking at Bucky.

“Walker, this is my old friend—” Bucky started to introduce you to the man.

“I know exactly who that is and all about your friendship.” Walker responded, smirking and using air quotes around the word “friendship.”

“Now, who do we have here?” Another voice came from behind you. You and Bucky spun around, his arm wrapping around your waist until your back was pressed up against his chest.

A blonde woman with light blue eyeliner under her eyes stared back at you. She smirked at you and Bucky. “Well, we’d love to stay and chat, except we wouldn’t. So, we’ll see you guys later.” Bucky said, steering you towards the stairs.

“You’ll have to introduce me at some point.” You whispered in Bucky's ear.

“That’s a later problem, darling. We have some catching up to do.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple.

taglist: @laurakirsten0502 @miraclesoflove @nathaliabakes @millipop18 @lillyssh-tposts @shyinadarkplace @vanteguccir @missroro @guiltandguitarstrings @sw33t-cupid @ice-dtae @leyannrae @sia2raw @nyx2021 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @shyconversationalbookworm @shadowhuntyi @iamavailablesstuff @ruzannetheseahorse @superdeath @wandaswifeyforlifey @spookyqueen @mcuswhore @astheskycries @n3ssm0nique @peakascum @cjand10 @namsey1987 @supernaturalstilinski @stephv213 @sunwardsss @studentville-struggles @impossibleapricotlampbat @infjkiki @weirdfishy @lickmymelaninn @eternally-timeless @andreasworlsboring101 @glassesandthunderthighs @holding-on-to-my-youth @fanofalltheficsx @spiderstyles04 @mostly-marvel-musings @madisondelstan @spookyparadisesheep @beyondthesefourwalls @basicfangirlx @rivirox @i-wish-i-knew-what-i-was @reniescarlett @multiplums @alotofrandomfangirling @bbl32 @bob-fucks @stressydepressyandlemonzesty @faykyrie @dorothea-hwldr @cherryyxbabyy @lovethemfictionalboys @starsdancegirl @akumune @harrysthiccthighss @warriormirkwood @one-sweet-gubler @narliesstuff @bibissparkles @stupiidfrogs @navs-bhat @marvelcasey05 @velyssaraptor

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for all my imagines or for a specific character/fandom!!

[rafesbabygirlx]

ꨄ︎ AFTER CARE ꨄ︎

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜

Masterlist

a/n: by seasons + some aus. Also my first time doing headcanons don’t judge me.

ꨄ︎ S1 Rafe - Rafe was a playboy. A fuck ‘em and leave ‘em type of guy. There’s no cuddling, no remembering of any girls names. He’s probably too high to even realize that a girl might want that. If he hooks up with a girl at a party, he’s tossing them a box of tissues from bathroom and heading straight back to the party. If they’re at his house, he’s tossing them a dirty towel from his gym bag, telling them to get dressed and leading them to the door, shutting it before they even have the chance to turn around.

ꨄ︎ S2 Rafe - Rafe would invite them over as a distraction from everything. His dead dad, the pogues, that damn cross. They’ve hooked up before but it was nothing like this time. He was rough and disassociated. When he was done he’d lay with them for a moment before taking off to the bathroom where’d they hear a sniffing sound followed by a slight sob. Then he’d walk them out with a hand on their lower back and tell them he’d call, but he’d probably just call someone else.

ꨄ︎ S3 Rafe - Rafe would be on a new high from cashing in the cross. His mindset was clearer and his brain wasn’t foggy. He’d meet her at the party he threw at Tannyhill. After he’d hold her in his arm and let her spend the night. The next morning they’d wake up and it wouldn’t feel like a burden that needed getting rid of. They would exchange number and they would leave at their own pace.

ꨄ︎ S4 Rafe - Rafe was all in. He adored his girl. He was the boss at work and in bed but the after care was all about her. He’s make sure she was cleaned up and giving a pair of his sweats and a shirt to make sure she was comfortable. They’d lay in bed together and he’d rub circles on her back as she’d get settled in her stomach. They’d stare into each other eyes until one of them drifted off into sleep first.

ꨄ︎ Dilf!Rafe - Rafe worships every part of his wife’s body. The body he fell in love with and birthed their beautiful children. After fucking her hard in every which way, per her request just like they used to before the kids, he’d fly out of bed still naked to set up a warm bath. Heading back to the bed he’d lift her into his arms so she didn’t have to walk on unsteady legs and he’d set her in the tub and slide in behind her.

ꨄ︎ Stepbro!Rafe - Rafe got her to cave again. He loved it, she secretly loved it, but she was terrified of anyone finding out and he loved to mess with her about it. He’d her in, her head on his chest, while he brushed his hands through her hair. “Y’know I love what’s going on between us so much, I could run downstairs and tell our parents right now, because I’m so proud.” He’d smile when he’d feel her breathing speed up at the thought. “Don’t worry Angel, I won’t…yet.”

ꨄ︎ Rafe with Pogue!Reader - In the heat of the moment caused by drunken flirtations all night Rafe and Pogue!Reader ended up sleeping together. They stared at the ceiling breathless, slightly laughing at what just happened. It was incredible but they’d never admit it. His hand would meet her wrist rubbing soft circles into it. Rushing out once reality set in because it was a mistake and his reputation could be on the line of that ever got out. “Keep your god damn mouth shut about this.”

ꨄ︎ Rafe with Pogue!Reader - OR he actually likes her. He found comfort in her. Aftercare with her was completely different to anything he’s ever done before. They’d take turns soothing each other. Creating a calm moment in a storm that would brew up from their secret affair. “I wish things could be different.”

ꨄ︎ Boynextdoor!Rafe - Rafe had watched her for the longest time. To finally be invited over and have all of her was a dream come true. He got his chance and he didn’t want it to end. He’d help her up and over to her bathroom, and offer to order food while she’d shower. He’d remake her bed and fluff up pillows setting up their food and putting a movie on. Comforting her for the rest of the night.

an: I love how you can see the progression Rafe goes through in the season. It’s slowly them and him not caring to her being his whole world. I need.

Tags - @rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @butterfly-ibuki @megiiite @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @aupernatural-teenwolflover @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @snowtargaryen @kieeslove @leather-n-velvet @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @diasnohibng @slurpdew @alphabetically-deranged @whydoesthemirrorhateme @currentresidentinhell - @slut-4-rafey @akobx @rafesheaven @laniirackssss @jjmaybankmylovee @slut4you @littlelamy @nemesyaaa @inthelibrarybtw @writingroom21 @maybankslover @rafeysvenicebitch

[nondelphic]

Where I’ve Been and the Future of nondelphic

TLDR; I’m coming back to this blog.

I’m so nervous to post this I literally had to take a nervous shit after drafting this post just THINKING about posting it but uhhh…

Long time no see!

It’s been well over 3 months since I posted regularly on this account. I never intended to take a break, but I got overwhelmed.

I started this account in the middle of August of 2024 with a very specific niche that, if you have seen my posts before, will recognise. 

Honestly, it started mostly as a distraction from my real-life problems. I’d began writing again last spring after a long time of writing block due to anxiety, depression, and getting used to my anti-depressants. Suddenly, I went from not being able to get out of bed to being able to get out of bed just to write. It became an escape. Just like writing fanfiction used to be when I was a pre-teen.

Through that, I rediscovered how much I actually love writing and creating. And when that happened, I also started craving community. I’ve never really had writing friends (the few I had were short-lived), and I found myself missing that connection.

That’s kind of where this blog came in. It was an experiment, not something I intended to take seriously. Just a low-effort, continuous space online that wasn’t too personal but could resonate with a wide diaspora of writers. Somewhere people could see themselves in my posts.

I’ve always been in fandom or hobby spaces online in some form—grew up in a developing tech society with zero internet safety guidance, so my relationship with social media is honestly decent, all things considered. But in recent years I’d mostly been a consumer rather than a creator. And I missed that. The active partaking. The sense of community. The external validation from like-minded strangers (very Gen Z of me, I know).

And also, it gave me something to do over summer, which is the worst time of year for me. I’ve struggled with seasonal depression for years, and writing got me through the worst days of my summer uni break. But it also stirred up so many thoughts and ideas I wanted to share.

So I committed to not only starting a blog about writing, but updating it continuously, with a fixed set of posts to be posted everyday. 

Part of the experiment was personal, but another part was professional. As someone studying and working in media and social media (amongst other things), I know how algorithms work. I understand how consistency, timing, and frequency affect reach and engagement. So I also wanted to test a theory—that’s not really a theory—that if you just post a lot, at the same time, every day, you’ll see growth.

And it worked. I gained over 4,000 followers in just six months.

Numbers aren’t everything, but I won’t pretend it wasn’t validating. Especially when I’d never had a following before. People were engaging, reblogging, sending kind messages. I felt seen, and I felt like what I was making had value.

It was also fascinating to experience it from both sides, both as the creator and as the media nerd in the background mentally noting what worked, what flopped, and why.

Everything was going great.

So why did I disappear?

Well, first of all, my seasonal depression carried on to constant depression and major social anxiety during autumn and into winter. I slept all day. Didn’t go to school. Could barely leave my apartment to go grocery shopping. All I did was write and update this blog. Make sure I had enough posts queued for the coming week. 

I had some visible breaks on this blog which I always announced. “sorry can’t post rn i’m stressed need time to update my queue”. Which was true, and I felt proud of myself for being transparent about it.

But the more my following grew and the more people interacted with me, the more I started doubting myself. I don’t know if it was my anxiety, depression or probable ADHD being the culprit of this, or just plain old imposter syndrome, but I started dreading opening tumblr.

I love coming up with post ideas for people to go “omg are you inside my brain rn?” or “I love your blog, your posts make me feel seen,” and I’ve had nothing but positive experiences with everyone visiting this blog. Yet, with the growing eyes on this page, I just felt this impending fear that someday it will all be gone.

So I do what I’ve always had a habit of doing! I self-destructed. And left this blog with the excuse (to myself) to work on myself and come back stronger.

And I guess that sorry excuse has kinda come true, although at the time, I was lying to myself. This post is literally me announcing I’m coming back. But back when I abandoned this blog, I, with a heavy heart, was really planning on not coming back. The more the weeks, and then months stretched on without opening tumblr, a growing guilty conscience brewed inside of me.

I’d open the app, stare at the little icon, and immediately close it again. I didn’t know how to explain myself without it sounding dramatic or like I was attention-seeking. And the longer I waited, the harder it got to come back.

Because what do you even say after months of radio silence on a blog that wasn’t supposed to mean this much to you in the first place?

But the thing is it does mean something. And even when I tried to let it go, I kept thinking about it. I’d see something funny and think, “that would make a good nondelphic post.” I’d draft ideas in my nondelphic ideas google docs, fully knowing I wasn’t posting them, but unable to turn off that part of my brain that wanted to connect with other writers, other people who got it.

I ghosted my own blog. And I won’t pretend I had a huge dramatic epiphany or breakthrough that led me back here. Just the quiet realization that I missed it. And I have better routines now. And expectations. That make it impossible for me to turn into the same all-or-nothing approach to this blog I had during my darkest days. Don’t worry, I’m still deeply insecure, anxious and depressed, so my self-deprecating posts will continue as scheduled! But I’ve found other coping mechanisms that don’t rely on…….. Tumblr’s algorithms.

I don’t need to be 100% healed or consistent or perfect to post. And everyone who has sent me a message during the time I’ve been away that I’ve been too scared to reply to has assured me of exactly that. Maybe I can just… come back. A little softer. A little slower. A little more human.

I’m not sure what the future of this blog looks like exactly. I don’t have a new “post 10 times a day” strategy lined up. But I do know I want to write again. I want to talk to you again. I want to rebuild what I tore down with my silence. Not out of pressure or expectation, but because I want to.

So this is me, stepping back into it. One foot in the door. No grand promises, just a little wave from the threshold.

Hi again.

I’m coming back soon. How soon? I think it’s best to not make any promises, but I’ve committed to coming back now, so I’m still gonna promise “soon.”

Also, genuinely thank you. To everyone who reached out in my DMs or sent something to my ask box while I was gone: I read every single message. Even if I didn’t respond, I saw you. My heart felt so big reading your well wishes and worries. Like genuinely, I didn’t know this little corner of the internet could hold so much kindness. So thank you, from the bottom of my stupid overwhelmed heart.

See you soon ♡

xoxo nondelphic

Ps. I’m gonna write another post over on @rebellenotes in the near future for anyone curious about what I’ve been up to in the last few months.

[thequeenofcurses]

summary: the world’s top model had it all: fame, beauty, and ego to match. But when an accident leaves him blind, Gojo is forced to confront life without the spotlight. AU Model!Gojo x f!Reader

tldr: blind!gojo x f!reader

cw: eventual smut, kinda slow build, gojo is an ass at first, blindness :(, dddne, a lot of angst, modeling!, depression, possibly more but I'll update it as I write! also I made this cute magazine graphic just for the story 🥺!

masterlist | jjk masterlist | read on ao3

Cracks In The Mirror

“Perfection.”

“Beautiful.”

“Natural born star.”

Satoru Gojo has heard it all. The day he was born, the world changed its definition of beauty. People from all over the world would marvel at his rare, pure white hair and captivating cerulean blue eyes. He had everything someone could want: looks, money, confidence… everything except a humble personality.

Since his birth, he was in the world’s eye. He had modeled for everything from baby diapers to bottles to new toys. Even a famous American rock band wanted to use him as the cover for their new album.

Your hands were shaking nervously as you studied the new script in your hand while you waited in a white room. You were a model, not an actor, so why were they having you study lines!? The original plan was for you to be a “professional” model, at least that’s what your agent told you.

People had always told you that you were kinda pretty. Your friends, your parents, even random strangers you’d run into on the street. Then one day, during your high school senior talent show, some scout in the audience decided to make that everyone’s problem. You’d been modeling here and there ever since, using the gigs to help cover your college expenses. 

Modeling was fun and helped build up your confidence, but you weren’t sure if you could truly “make it.” You weren’t Tao Okamoto or Mei Mei, but you didn’t let that stop you. You genuinely had fun in front of the camera, and the free hair and makeup styling before the shoots were always nice, especially since you sometimes got to keep the clothes or props (at least no one ever noticed you taking pieces home here and there).

“How are you today?” Doctor Zayne questions.  “Anything bothering you?”

You shook your head. “Nothing new, except the usual,” you confirm honestly. “I’m hoping I land this new commercial, though. I heard Suguru Geto might star in it as well!”

“Ah, that’s great to hear,” he smiles, quickly checking your vitals. “And how are your parents doing?”

“Good, I think,” you answer. You flip through page after page, trying to distract yourself while you’re being checked out. “They’re still not exactly happy with my life decision.”

He sighs. “I understand that, but at the end of the day, you're my patient, and I will support whatever decision you choose.” He quickly pulls his stethoscope from around his neck to listen to your heart. “But, I still want you to do what’s best for your health.” Up, down, left, right, he does his final check and gives you a nod that he’s finished. “Seems all good today.”

“Perfect.” You slide off the bed and stand, collecting the script and your personal items. “Thank you… for understanding.”

“Anytime.” He smiles and opens the door for you. “Good luck with that audition.”

You thank him again as you exit into the lobby. You're on your way out when you decide to pour a quick cup of courtesy coffee from the front desk. After making your drink, your attention returns to your script while you walk toward your car until– 

SMACK!

You run straight into a tall, broad chest, spilling your drink all over their shirt and your script. 

“Oh, no, no, I’m so sor –” you quickly try to apologize.

“Yeah, you should be.”

“s-sorry.” You pause, shaking your head. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said,” the man bends down toward your face. “You. Should. Be. Sorry.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. You would’ve offered to grab some napkins to help clean his shirt up, but not with that fucking attitude.

“Well, excuuuse me, princess.” You push past him, collecting your fallen script, and head towards the exit. 

“Does she not know who I am?” the man asks, probably to the secretary at the desk, but you no longer care. “Dumb, bitch.” It took everything you had not to turn around and smack him. Hospital or not, you weren’t going to take that disrespect. What a pompous jackass.

Thankfully, you had taken photos of the script as a backup just in case you ever lost the physical copy. You slide into your car and glance at the clock as you start it.

12:45 pm. Shit. Your audition that’s across town starts at 1:15. That appointment took you longer to leave than you expected thanks to that asshole at the hospital. If you sped a little and maybe skipped a stop sign or two, you might be able to make it in time.

You darted in and out of traffic, weaving left and right until finally reaching the grand building. You park in the first available (handicap) spot. Sorry, but this audition is important! They usually take less than 30 minutes; you would be gone and out of the spot before anyone noticed your car didn’t belong there. Well, technically…

1:08pm. 

You made it. 

You slip into the building and take a seat in the audition room towards the back. Modeling may have made your confidence go up, but you’re still not a super social person.

Thwip Thwip Thwip Thwip 

The slapping of blades could be heard from outside.

“Is it him?”

“Suguru Geto!”

“I’ve always wanted to work with him.”

“He’s so talented! I hope I get this job!”

Most of the other girls in the room run up to the window to verify if their theories were correct. The sound of the helicopter’s engine comes to a halt and two large men dressed in black hop out. Makes sense that someone as famous as Geto would have security.

“Everyone act natural, we don’t want to scare him!” someone shouted as the girls sprinted back to their seats. You watched them scatter like cockroaches in daylight, all the while you’ve mindlessly focused on studying your lines on your phone. 

You were so engrossed you didn’t see the person following the two security guards to the front of the room.

“Thank you, ladies,” a man said. You could hear the smirk in his voice. “I know I’m late, but Suguru will not be joining us. I will be doing the scene with you all instead.”

You pause your reading. That voice… it couldn’t be.

“He’s feeling a little under the weather, so naturally, who better to replace him in the commercial than yours truly?” he continues with a bright smile, and you swore every other woman in the room swooned. “Hope the wait wasn’t too long,” the man says with a dazzling grin. “I had to pick out a new outfit just for you all, and call in the chopper last minute. Traffic is such a bore, don’t you think?”

A chopper. He actually said that with a straight face.

You resisted the urge to scoff and finally looked up. He towered over his own guards, dressed in a crisp lilac shirt and perfectly tailored black pants — crease-free, of course. A hat and sunglasses masked most of his face, but his presence screamed money. And ego. His outfit alone looks like the most expensive thing in the room.

“Now then, let’s begin.” He drags a chair into the spotlight and casually scans the room. “I won’t have time for everyone, unfortunately. Any volunteers?”

A sea of hands shot up. Nearly every woman squealed, frantically waving to get his attention.

“Eenie, meenie, miney…” he points slowly, theatrically. “You. In the back.”

No way. He was pointing at you.

“Me?” you croak, blinking. Fuck. You were still skimming lines and absolutely not ready to go first. Every woman in the room whipped their head toward you like you’d just spit in their coffee.

“Yes, you! Come on, don’t be shy.”

“Who even is she?”

“What’s she wearing?”

You tried to ignore the whispers as you made your way up, rehearsing your lines silently like a mantra. Don’t trip. Don’t freeze. Don’t vomit.

Fuck. You’ve had less than twenty-four hours to study this script, and you were nearly praying that you went last, just so you had extra time to study. 

Well, shit. There was no going back now. You just had to stay calm and say the lines. You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.

You kept your head down, glancing at your phone on your walk up, trying to get as much prep time as you could. Once you were underneath the lights with your scene partner, you slid your phone into your back pocket, finally giving you a chance to focus on your duo.

“Let’s get started.” That voice… it sounded so fucking familiar. 

The man was huge up close — broad, tall, with an annoyingly familiar energy. He pulled off his sunglasses and tossed them to one of his guards, then peeled off his hat in one smooth motion, shaking his snowy white hair like he was starring in a Maybelline commercial.

And then it hit you.

Oh. My. God.

It was him. The asshole from the hospital lobby.

Your scene partner was none other than the world’s most sought-after model.

Satoru fucking Gojo.

[theartofwoompwoomps]

Im too old for this nonsense 

Tfp Ratchet x Human! Reader

Summary: hates love, hates distractions. But he doesn’t hate you. Though he thinks you’ll be grossed out if you knew how he felt

———————————————————————

We all know that he’s a grumpy old mech. Too tired, and too exhausted to let himself be distracted by others.

Heck, he hates the idea of getting close to anyone else. Having lost too many, he can’t bare to relive the pain again.

That’s why he works and works, till his servos can’t move and his optics can’t see. Overworking himself until he can give no more.

The only thing grounding him when he reaches his limit is your own small hands moving around him. Checking him to see if he’s alright. He appreciates your company. 

You always stuck around.

Even with his grumpy attitude that didn’t stop you from cleaning anything you could, keeping his things organized, and getting supplies he needed. 

And here you were once again. Though this time it you couldn’t keep up him. Your body sprawled on his lap, slowly sub coming to sleep as he continued working on his datapad.

Why did you always do this?

Humans are much more delicate than him. You know this. Yet you always worked hard to help him.

He knew you might think it’s not a lot, but a lot of small things build up to something bigger. And that’s what it was with you. Every detail or help you gave, no matter how small, ended up warming his spark. You had him wrapped around your finger and you didn’t even know it. 

So no matter how annoyed he was with you and everything else. He genuinely cares for your wellbeing. Picking you up gently, he moved you onto the couch. Placing a blanket on you before he heads back to continue his work.

He should have known better. The fact you were overtaken by your fatigue should have been a sign for him to take a break. 

But he couldn’t afford it.

This could help everyone. Including you. He kept working despite feeling his body getting twitchy and heavy, but he had to get this done. He couldn’t fail.

But alas, his optics were closing and he could no longer resist the plea his body oh so desperately need for some sleep. 

When he gained consciousness of his surroundings again he felt the work space he recharged on. 

Feeling his back sore, he opens his options groggily trying to see what’s going on. Looking over a clock it showed it was past noon. 

Past noon?! He had to finish last night. Frustrated, he got up, quickly logging into his notes only to see the writing was different.

In fact, everything he was working on was reorganized and label. And he saw an energon cube nearby with a small note.

“Morning Doc, went out to get some coffee. We ran out of the good stuff. As you can see I left you some alien breakfast. Also hope the rearrangements help you find your notes faster lol. See you in a bit my lovely hardworking doctor :D <3”

Rolling his eyes at that last part. Ofc you always had to include your strange nonsense, but at this point he’s not surprised why he fell for you. 

He chuckled, just thinking about you endeared him. But he knew he couldn’t allow himself more than that. You are human. He is an autobot. You deserve to be happy, not to be burned with his problems.

Hates that you have this control over him without you even realizing it, but that’s probably for the better. He shoves those thoughts aways as he starts to work where he left off.

Only that your note kept coming to mind.

How that heart you drew at the end twists his spark. Imagining you with an unreasonable amount of coffee on your way this instant brought a small smile on his face.

“Of course, it’s always the coffee over me isn’t it.” He chuckles at his own thoughts. 

“Oh cmon doc, give me more credit than that.” Playful as always, you indeed came back with too many bags of instant coffee. 

Rolling his eyes at your comment he scoffs playfully at you. Once again, biting his tongue from ever letting the conversation go on longer. Worried that the consequences of getting close to someone will hurt him.

Especially when the someone he likes romantically is a human.

A human would most definitely want to be with another human.

Not with him.

He’s just a bucket of metal who’s too tired for all of that. He could never treat you the same way a human would, it’s better if you just stay with your own kind.

But it seemed you had different plans. Always finding ways to stay with him and wriggle your way into his spark. He kept this to himself. 

He finished his work for the day and was about to recharge but your soft whisper interrupted. “Hey doc.”

“Yes (y/n).” He groans a bit as he responds with his eyes closed. “As an expert in the biology for cybertronians i got a question.” He hums in interest, wondering were you’re going with this.

“Is it possible, in theory, for a cybertronian to have a romantic relationship with a human.” 

Now he was fully awake. 

“(Y/n), why in the world do you need to know that? I don’t see how it’s beneficial to explore the topic.” 

He hope he hid it well. How flustered he actually was from your question. “yes, I know, I know. But is it possible?” 

Turning to face you on his night stand. You were in your own human berth staring at him.

He wanted to say yes. The urge to say that’s what he wanted with you was strong. His own spark pressuring him to shared his true thoughts.

But, He didn’t know what consequences his response would lead to, and that scared him. 

you were genuinely asking for an answer, and he just couldn’t just ignore you. No matter how much of a waste of time it was.

“Well, in theory, yes. It is possible.” 

He’s not sure cause he barely caught it, but he’s pretty sure you got flustered at that comment before you hid your face. 

“Oh alright.” You were giddy and a bit flushed yourself. Wasn’t sure what your reaction specifically meant, but he hoped it was a hint that you indeed feel the same he did about you.

———————————————————————

Masterlist

[c00lwips]

runaway princess

an / hi again! another clark kent post because why not? also, timeline? what timeline? don't ask me questions because I don't know either :)!

word count / ~2k

warnings / none / fluff

The first time Clark truly noticed how beautiful you were was during prom night. Lana's friends wave goodbye and as she's distracted, you use the opportunity to slip away. The shimmering blue of your skirts crashes like against your legs, violently whipping in the air as you run. Clark watches from his loft, curiosity nipping at the heels of concern. Lana lingers on the porch before going into the blue house but Clark is too distracted to have noticed, watching you disappear within thin woods.

He doesn't know what pulls him to follow you. It's a tight ache in his chest and nagging feeling at the back of his mind. It's late and you don't know the area that well. You can get lost or worse, hurt with no one around to help.

You're Lana's friend, she cares about you, so he's doing this to keep her happy...right? Your heart is wildly beating against your ribs, lungs burning by how sharply your pulling in air through small gasps. The ends of your heels dig into the flat earth and the sheer shawl nestled in the crooks of your arms grazes your skin before slipping through you arms, fluttering through the open sky.

You don't care or seem to notice.

The air is suffocating and staying here any longer brings devastating dread in the pit of your stomach and back of your throat. To caught up in a whirlwind of emotions, you don't notice Clark tailing behind from a distance. The lights of Lana's house — and Clarks — are pin pricks through the trees, your legs giving out at the top of a clearing. The hill nearly plateaus and you fall against the long grass with shuddering breaths. Arms spread out, legs tangled in layers of fabric, and you've kicked off your heels.

The night air is cool and stark against the heat of your skin. Goosebumps litter your arms, the halter top of your dress feels tight around your neck, chest heaving against the cinched bra. Back flat against the earth, all you can see is the night sky. Stars glitter against an inky back drop and it's startling, how many there are. Thousands of glimmering lights, burning gas, glowing even after they've collapsed billions of lightyears away. They've shinned although time, witnessed planets form and collapse, the creation of life and beginning of humanity. They'll be there long after you and everything around you is gone.

Your melancholy eased in an oddly comforting way. The crickets and the wind rustling through long stocks of corn and grass are the only sounds grounding you. A cool, gentle breeze chilling your heated skin. That's why when Clark calls your name a few feet to your right, a heel flies towards his face at a startling speed.

The heel nearly gets him in the face but reflexes kick in before it can touch him. "Clark!" You cry out in exasperation and disbelief, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Being a dummy for target practice, apparently," he smiles, and it's alarming how charming he is. A huff leaves your chest without your permission and Clark hesitantly settles down next to you, treating you like a startled calf. He's sitting with his elbows resting against his knees, fiddling with the heel in his hands, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. "Didn't your Mom ever tell you not to sneak up on a woman?"

"Well, you're in the middle of a field at night. I don't think the rules apply here." The back of your hand swats his arm and a silence settles between them.

The moon illuminates every highlight of your face, catching fly aways in a silver glow. This is the first time he's ever seen you with makeup and he's filled with guilt and shame for only realizing now just how pretty you are.

You're not beautiful in the way Lana is, constantly fawned over and adored. Your beauty is quiet, subtle in the face he didn't recognize at first. It's just who you are, how you will always be, and it gently washes over him like stepping into a cool creek during stifling summers day. Graceful, simple in an all consuming wave of an epiphany. You've always been gorgeous, he's just been to blind — and stupid — to notice.

Clark's vision allows him to see each long black lash flutter with every blink, brushing lightly against your skin. Baby blue and shimmering white eyeshadow coats your eyes. The cold nips your cheeks, giving your light blush a deeper hue. Your lip gloss is slightly worn but he can still see the slight shine. The breeze carries the flavor of strawberries from the gloss, and he wonders how it would taste.

Woah...what?

Clark snaps to attention, eyes nearly straining by how hard he's looking at the stars but internally, he's freaking the fuck out. He's reeling as to why he's so hung up on how enchanting you look in the moonlight. He knows Chloe is cute and Lois is as pretty as she is annoying, but he's never thought of them like this.

He loves Lana, so why can't he stop looking at you in the corner of his eye?

He's not blinking and you can feel his eyes boring into you. Clark isn't as subtle as he thinks. Fingers curl into the grass and dirt, grounding yourself for the impending conversation.

"Are you gonna stare at me more or ask something?" The bite comes out a little meaner than you intended but the reaction is still the same.

Clark's eyes shoot up towards the stars again, his cheeks flushing redder than you've ever seen before, "I wasn't-I mean I was but I-!" Words tumble out without a single thought behind them and it's driving him insane. Beside him, you blink owlishly, heart stuttering to life before jumping into overdrive.

No...this isn't the same reaction. It's bashful yet enduring, and really, really cute. This is how Lana sees him all the time? And she hasn't even considered it?

You don't even think twice about the implication you've made.

Clark bites his tongue, forcibly stopping himself from talking anymore, but the frantic thumps within your chest are distracting him from the simmering embarrassment.

"I mean, I saw you running into the woods like a runaway princess. I wanted to make sure you're okay." His voice losses steam near the end, nearly a whispering breath. Sitting up, you're looking him in the eyes with a dazed shine, and it's hard to think when the stars are reflecting against yours like shimmering diamonds.

Goosebumps raise against your skin and Clark watches it happen in real time. Tucking your knees into your chest, you wrap your arms around them. Instincts take over and he shrugs off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Crickets fill the silence and his cheeks burn the longer you don't speak. A long piece of grass twirls back and forth between your gloved fingers, the pale blue satin ending before your elbows.

"I miss my Mom." The admission is quiet, barely a whisper. "I miss my cat, and my friends." Clark releases a silent breath he didn't realize he was holding, shoulders dropping in an unconscious attempt to make himself smaller.

Your fingers curl into the side of the jacket Clark gave you, pulling it closer around yourself. The fuzzy collar rests against the nape of your neck, tickling the tips of your ears, blocking the chill that wisps through the clearing. Your hair is still pulled up, styled and laced with pearls, held in place by an unholy amount of bobby pins and hair spray. You're honestly too tired to put in the effort to undo it. Nell had put so much time and work into it, it would be a shame to take it out now.

"I would too," Clark finally responds, unsure of what to say or how to comfort. "Uprooting your life like you did is never easy."

The silence that lingers between them isn't uncomfortable, like Clark was afraid of, but settles into a comfortable air. You tuck your knees under your chin, cheek squishing against the bone, gazing at him with a weight he can't recognize.

A deep sigh parts your lips before you can catch it, "I forget people just...know what's my whole life story. I guess I know how Lana feels." Clarks silence encourages you to continue, "Lana's Mom went to college with mine. They were roommates, best friends, considered each other family. Laura and Lewis were my god parents, before everything happened."

Clark's presence is warm, like the jacket across your shoulders, and honest to god, you don't know why you continue talking, "I honestly don't even know why I'm here. Nell isn't my godmother, she never had to take on the responsibility of another kid, but she did. I feel like-like I'm not supposed to be here and every second I am is a contradictory to my being."

Embarrassment immediately layers onto the shame of laying out your inner most feelings to your cute, awkward neighbor. "'m sorry, I shouldn't've dump all of that on you like that." The fabric of your dress rustles as you begin to clamber to your feet, needing to escape, but Clark's hand grabs yours quicker than you can process. "No, no, don't be," He hastily reassures, "I feel the same way."

That catches your attention and Clark seems to realize by how his ears burn scarlet, mouth opening and closing but no words come out. "-I-I mean, I'm adopted, so there're times when I think about what my life could've been life if I wasn't. What it could be if I wasn't here. I ask those same questions all the time."

A strange, new feelings unfurls at the bottom of your stomach. Heavy yet igniting your nerves alight with excitement. It stems from where Clarks fingers gently encase your wrist, skin terrifyingly warm and soft for farmers hands. Thoughts race through your mind and you don't know if you want him to keep holding your hand or pull away, but Clark makes the decision for you. Taking your silence as being uncomfortable, he lets go, yanking his hand away as if you're made of those damned meteor rocks.

He doesn't know what he's doing. He's never this flustered or uncoordinated except for when he's near Lana, and that's because he's in love with her. Why is he acting like this...with you?

Something changes that night. Neither of you know what, but it's there. Lingering between the two of you like salt water taffy, clinging in the back of your minds.

Something is wrong with Clark Kent and it seems everyone has noticed except you. After that night in the clearing, Clark's world axis began to shift. Slow, barely a fraction, maybe an inch, before fiercely nosediving.

First, it's Clark's parents, Martha then Jonathan. At dinner, the mention of Lana is slowly weeded out of sentences, flowered with the new girls name, Chloe's "new friend," who also just happens to live next store. Suddenly, the outdoor chores are being done before they can even get the time to do it. Clark tends to the animals where — oh, would you look at that — the same girl is feeding the horse, learning how to take care of them from Lana and Nell.

Second is Chloe and Pete. Clark is less subtle then he thinks, which is not at all. He won't. stop. talking. Chloe didn't know Clark could even say another girls name as much as Lanas but here we are, a whole month since Clark deemed you two friends, and he doesn't know how to hold a conversation without mentioning you. And Pete. Poor, poor, Pete. He's never spoken to you, but he knows too much that it feels almost invasive because Clark can't stop yapping. It doesn't take long for the duo to realize whatever you're doing, Clark's doing, and soon enough it's seeping into their group activities and The Torch.

"She's from the city, but won't say which one." Clark sighs, watching you down the hall. "Really?" Chloe smarts, raises her eyebrows, and shares a look with Pete, who's already shaking his head. "Yeah," his eyes never leave you from where you stand at your locker. "From her accent and dialect, I think it's Gotham." "Dude." "What?" Clark shuffles from foot to foot, readjusting the strap of his backpack. "You're studying her dialect?"

Third is Lex. Clark outright tells him, eyes flashing as he says your name, "She's taken over my mind. I can't sleep without dreaming about her. I can't eat without thinking about how it would taste if I was sharing it with her. Every morning I wake up and the first thing I think is how I can see her that day. I don't know what's wrong with me." Well, Lex does, and he's plotting on how to get Clark to see it too. Who exactly is this girl that has taken over his friends life? He'll find out.

Then, it's Lana. She doesn't see Clark as often anymore, and when they do talk he's looking at her clearer. He's relaxed, grown into himself, and it looks good on him. Their conversations flow smoother and Whitney isn't a topic he's afraid of consoling her on anymore. He's there when she needs him, and it's perfect. She finds herself enjoying seeing this side of him.

Finally, it's Clark. There is no second or third or fourth time he notices how beautiful you are because it's continuous, endless in its infinite times. He's haunted by the small glances he peaks of you soaking in the sun while he does chores. Glancing constantly at your locker, especially while you're there. The conversation he snooped overheard between You and Lana about athletes causes two footballs to be popped during practice. No place is safe, and it's getting out of hand.

There's nothing he can do but standing back and watch and it's consuming him whole. Hyperaware of your heartbeat, the smell of your perfume lingering in the air, the way he feels like he can run from continent to continent by a simple smile and wave.

He likes you. A lot. It's not love, but infatuation and a less then innocent crush are a close second. It's disrupted his life, his way of thinking and how he perceives himself. All his life, all he's ever wanted was Lana, and somehow you've changed everything within a month that he's believed in since he was a child.

He doesn't find himself resistant like he first was. You've settled into his life, his heart and mind, and Clark slowly embraces it. Now, he's just got to find a way to tell you, which is easier said than done.

a/n just to clarify if anyone who was confused by what the insinuation was; it's that Clark has to like or be in love with reader for him to be stuttering and blushing like that.

I really like how this came out. I'm thinking of doing a part two but please let me know if you'd like it!

as always, thank you for reading!

divider by @/aquazero

[erinwantstowrite]

might seem a bit out of nowhere

but i wanted to ask how you get started in writing. and i mean like how do you get into the ✨️flow✨️ of it after sitting down. 'cause i just tend to stare at my laptop

i struggle with getting into the flow a lot. which sounds crazy with how much i write, but it's true. usually when this happens, it's because i have a lot of inspiration, but no energy to complete anything. i have to make sure i start writing when i'm feeling good, after taking a break from my writing space. sometimes it's because im so exhausted from outside sources, which is more annoying than if i just needed a break from writing

but sometimes that writer's block hits HARD. sometimes i'm also staring at my document and not writing for hours on end. and when i do write, im in a constant state of "i don't like this" where i rewrite a chapter or just a singular scene over and over and over again. THIS is where i'd say i struggle the most with getting myself into the flow, and i can share what i do to guide myself out of it (here's a post i made a while back with other tips)

IMPORTANT: notice how i said GUIDE. you can not FORCE yourself into a flow. I repeat, you can not. it's impossible to force a flow, and if you try, you'll only make yourself hate writing. however. you can help yourself to get into a flow

-i take the time to go outside and/or get some exercise. i also mentioned that in the linked post but it's important so i talk about it a lot. i've recently decided to take up photography and birdwatching, and I got myself a hammock. as someone who's struggled with finding ways to enjoy being outside (I live in Louisiana and it's like i'm being slow cooked to death during the spring and summer), that's what gets me out there. i also make sure i hydrate and eat well because our bodies need fuel in order to create

-i read something new or i go back to something i haven't read in a while, and that (usually) helps TONS. i recently read some Sherlock adventures and I had a blast. right now I'm picking apart a "psychology" book (this author should be glad we will never meet, my annotations have not been kind), and i'm reading a book about fashion history. and my friends and I are going to start reading Dracula in our book club soon, which is exciting!! i have a lot of books on my to-read shelf and i annotate all of them. the annotations aren't necessary for this if you want to try but it's fun for me

(^ that being said, i'm gonna add on: sometimes i go reread fanfics that i like, and that's all well and good. there are very talented writers who only write fanfic!! but it's important to also read published works as well. if anyone wants a random recommendation for a book to try, hit me up. i'll give you a book that i have on my shelf or that i've been wanting to read for a while)

-i make a playlist or listen to a playlist to get in the mood before i try writing. specifically, i need something that i can imagine some scenarios to. i can't listen to music while i'm writing cause i'll get distracted, but doing so before helps me figure out the vibe im going for

-drawing. oftentimes i need a visual of what i'm trying to write. whether it's something like a character interaction or something like "i have no idea where everything/everyone is in this scene," it helps to have some paper nearby

-journaling!! i've talked about this a lot on here but i journal more than Ford in Gravity Falls. I'm not joking. I have a bookshelf dedicated to literal decades of writing and learning about writing. i have two notebooks for LoF, one for my DnD campaign, one for my personal records, etc. I have a new notebook ready for writing essays about the books i recently bought and am reading. my LoF notebooks are dedicated to messily writing up brainstorms or writing through scene ideas, i've written partial chapters in them by hand, etc etc. this helps me when im not in a writing mood to at least be doing SOMETHING. i rewrite my outline a LOT. also it helps me keep track of my timeline (i still fuck it up sometimes)

-actually forcing myself to sit down in front of the computer.

this sounds like the most obvious thing, but i'm talking i close out all my other tabs that i don't need for writing, i put my phone away across the room or in a different one entirely, i put on headphones and listen to only brown noise OR i get on a call with my friends to make myself not want to open Youtube or anything else. i'd rather sit there and stare at my computer than sit there and scroll on my phone or get distracted with something else and then be upset that i didn't write. even just staring at the document and working it out without writing a single word is better than that, because it means i was still working

in all honesty, you don't know you're in a flow until it Clicks. you could go do all of these and gain experience and knowledge for months on end and not write anything that whole time, and then one day you sit down and you knock out an entire chapter like nobody's business. it's just important to take care of yourself in the meantime and keeping your mind fresh

[ruinix]

dark Quinn tormenting you with the gifts he's leaving behind, making you go all paranoid

Hello, lovely. Another dark quinn request to distract me, I see. My drabbles are taking a hit coz my braincells are literally vibrating with need. Let me try. Read the warning. I am not playing around. 😔 this is deranged. I am sorry.

Whore thoughts. Stalking. Deranged behavior. Truly deranged. Non-con. Dark. Dark. Dark, I say!!! 🤺 (i gave you a cat here...) ⬇️⬇️⬇️

The moment Quinn learned where you lived and figured out how to access your temporary home--temporary since it wouldn't be long until he has you in his--he already got every gift he wanted to give you all planned out.

He would start out small. Things you wouldn't notice or realize it was there, like carefully adding one flower to your vase. The very first one he added was a beautiful red rose in full bloom, while the very recent one was a peony for his sweet girl.

Like putting a couple more fruits in your fruit bowl. Whether it would be red apples which he obviously learned your favorite variety or oranges. He would be so happy whenever he saw you picking up the exact fruit he put there through the cameras. He would be so hard in his pants, making him take a breather in the restrooms which always ended up with him stroking his cock while watching you eat or make smoothies out of them. He couldn't help it. To be able to provide you with little things was turning him on so much.

Then he would start fixing things that he noticed when he installed the cameras and that he saw you tiredly sighing at from to time. The flickering overhead lights in your doorway were changed. The askewed picture frames that kept bothering you were now realigned with the previous hole covered and painted like it didn't exist. Your leaking showerhead were tightened and fixed. The squeaky fucking doors were no longer an issue which were also bothering him whenever he sneaked in during the night. Your torn handkerchiefs and dresses were now wonderfully mended because he did learn how to sew just for you.

It was so amusing to find you all confused when the little inconviniences were not existent now. He caught you trying to open and close your bedroom in the live feed he watched before a game. He couldn't contain his chuckle, earning looks from some of his teammates. How could he when you coincidently noticed the picture frames too? You were so shaken up, calling and blaming your parents because you assumed they broke into your space. He would've continued watching and listening to you all ruffled up, but he needed to play.

After that he would escalate his actions, leaving a whole bouquet by your front door, in the fire exit that's by your bedroom, in your living room. You would be up in arms, calling the cops.

How could you prove it was left inside your apartment and that you didn't take it inside when for some odd reason, your neighbors kept affirming that you've been taking the flowers from a delivery guy? But that couldn't be possible, could it? You were out the whole day. How could you accept a delivery? How was it every time the cameras of your apartment building malfunctions?

Such difficult questions to ask when he got all your neighbors in his payroll now--some were bribed and threatened, some had followed him like a god as their favorite hockey player--and maybe, just maybe, he knew someone in the police. You would feel wronged when the cops wouldn't even take your statement. You would feel fucking crazy that you would sob so hard during the night.

Quinn would hate--hated--your tears. He might have caused it, but he fucking hated it, but then the way you cowered under your bedsheets got his blood boiling and searing down his cock. There was something about how vulnerable you looked, how you would flinch at every sound, how you would look back even in your apartment that he couldn't resist. He needed to see more.

From roses to stuff toys to chocolate bars to dresses. He was leaving everything for you, spoiling you fucking rotten if you would use them. You kept throwing them in a closet, trying to hide them, so sometimes Quinn would carefully lay a curated outfit on your bed with a note: "This would look good on you."

He wouldn't sign it. Fuck, he would like to, but he tried to be sensible when he was absolutely losing it about the possibility of you actually putting on the outfits. He liked leaving necklaces of gold and diamonds, and bags from brands you usually buy from. Did you know you could go to the shop and ask who purchased them? Quinn didn't you do. Or if you do, you wouldn't think about it past the paranoia.

He tried and tried to get you to wear them, leaving more and more notes. His handwriting turned askewed--more shaky, more scribbly--perfectly reflecting the torrent of emotions inside him. A mixture of desperation and wrath that would increase day-by-fucking-day. He needed you to wear what he bought you. Yet you didn't. Not once you did.

The very next day you got a pet with you. A cat. What ferocious looking thing. A little family pet you've taken for protection. It was a sorry attempt, as if a cat could deter him, but the sight of it hissing at your friends, scratching at you, made him concerned. It was beyond feral. How could one's family pet be so...demonic?

He took a great amount of research to tame it. How would he leave you your gifts when you got a guard cat? Research, he did. He would be so worried. He wouldn't want to hurt an animal. A person, he would with no hesitation. But a cat? No. Never. He was not a monster. Still, he would be so troubled.

That was until he met it. It was only staring at Quinn as he laid out your clothes. Then it came sauntering around his leg, rubbing itself on his pants, purring when he leaned down to scratch its belly.

"A protector, huh?" He barked a laugh, taking the feline on his arm. "You wouldn't hurt me, would you?"

It would purr, basically vibrating. With it in his arms, he wrote his note: "Cute cat. It would be a shame to hurt it. Wear the clothes. Q."

Again, Quinn wouldn't hurt such a lovely feline that liked him very much, but he could use it to threaten you. He even signed the card to get closer to you. And it worked. After seeing you scream and break, hugging your poor cat so tightly that it hisses as it ran away from you, you wore the clothes.

You looked so, so, so pretty. Even with the tears. Especially with the tears. He fucked his fist so hard that he came all over the screen. He wouldn't even be satisfied with that. He knew he should be doing the next step to your relationship.

When the night came, after he watched you cry yourself to sleep from the fire escape, he would loom over you. Softly, he would touch your legs and arms, testing your sleep, then he would lift your arms, tying you up securely to your headboard, covering your eyes with a blindfold.

Crawling down to your thighs, spreading them, marvelling how your lace panties look on you. He would glide his thumb over your slit, glancing at you if you would wake up, but you didn't. Well, not yet anyway.

He would lick over your clothe pussy, from entrance to clit, sucking the bundle of nerves that had you rousing. He could feel your confusion and your panic, but he would continue his assault until he could hear your screams, could feel your legs kicking at him but he gripped your thighs down. He would chuckle into your heat as you get wetter and wetter. Your screams turned into moans and whimpers when he tore your panties off you.

"I got you, my Love. Trust me," he taunted.

"Fuck," you replied, your hips jutting up trying to find relief. "No."

"Liar," he laughed, not touching you again. You did say no. "You looked so beautiful in the dress. You liked it, didn't you? I can give you everything. Anything you would want."

You bit your lower lip, shaking your head so adamantly, whimpering when he blew on your quivering pussy. "Please, please, please."

Quinn didn't know you could break him with mere words, but you did. You were pleading for him. Your pitiful attempts to reach him has pushed him further into his depravity. So he licked your pussy, eating you out, pushing and grinding his nose against your clit, listening to your wanton moans. He could only groan as he slid his tongue into your pussy, tasting you, savoring every clench of your pussy walls.

He wouldn't stop until you were at the verge of your orgasm. He would pull away, smirking at your sobs. He tugged his pants down, slapping his cock against your pussy that has you shaking your head again while you plead and plead for more. Such a dilemma.

"I know you're on birth control." He slid his cock. Inch by inch. He gripped down your thighs, his heart pounding at the sight of your pussy greedily takjng him in. The fucking suction you're creating like you didn't want him to escape. "You should stop taking them."

"I won't," you grit.

"Shame," he groaned into your neck. He fucked you hard. No fucking mercy. Giving you the feel of the pleasure you kept chasing months ago before he started tormenting you. Chasing his own orgasm. "I could've given you everything tonight."

He licked and bit your neck, leaving bruising marks. Not cute hickeys. Full on marking you. Harshly. Possesively. He was making you feel everything he could give you with every thrust and every bite.

When he could feel your pussy clenching so hard, he pulled out, jerking himself off. He tried to swallow down the manic laughter bubbling up his throat, but he couldn't because you were just so desperate to come. He wouldn't let you after you rejected his order.

"Does it hurt not being able to come, my Love?" He asked, groaning as he pushed up your nightgown, spilling his seed on your stomach, on your tits. For every spurt, he listened to your sobs. "Next time, baby. I promise."

He kissed your lips, letting you bite down on his lip until you broke his skin. He just kissed you through it, making you taste what you've done.

He parted from you even he didn't want to. He fixed himself as he watched you rub your thighs together. He replaced the camera in your nightstand. He listened to the words lashing out from your beautiful kiss-plumped lips. Empty threats, full of fucking desperation. Oh, you were so full of shit.

He stepped out the fire escape, watching you thrash. "It's a square knot. You can undo it, clever girl."

With that he could easily see working yourself out of the rope, clumsily and shakily.

"Next time, when you're off birth control, I could consider making you come."

He was gone before you could get yourself untied.

Good night, lovelies. I hope you enjoyed that. 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ (cat detail is kinda inspired by Lights Out, but i didn't finish that book from months ago...i dont remember if the cat was feral...)

-> more thoughts? List.

[caraetdeul]

Your Heart Was Glass

Choi Seungcheol x gn!reader

You fucked up the very best thing that happened in your life so far with your choices. But maybe a second chance in love could finally be the way for you to forgive yourself and move on.

TW: angst. Full on angst but with hurt/comfort. Slight swearing but not too graphic.

A/n: its been months since the last one and writer's block has been a biatch. Apparently, I only needed the pressure of procrastinating my academic works in order to have enough energy to overcome my damn writer's block. So good news, I finally have a new fic. Bad news, I only have a few hours before the deadline of my esquisse. Either way, thank you once again for waiting for me and I hope you enjoy reading, caratdeuls!

Btw, this fic is another pov for the Mastermind fic for Wonwoo but you don't have to read that in order to truly enjoy this one. This is also inspired by Taylor Swift's Champagne Problems so reading this while listening to it would be the full experience. Love u guys (⁠~⁠￣⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠~

~Main Masterlist~ ~Wonwoo Mastermind fic~

The invitation was possibly the most shocking thing you’ve ever received. Which is big considering that you just got promoted earlier that same day.

You were still buzzing from the impromptu party your company friends had with you the moment your eyes caught on to the pristine white envelope at your front porch, your name elegantly written on it. Curiosity getting the best of you, you didn’t even get to open your front door before you cautiously opened the envelope. You remembered the way you immediately sobered up as you scanned the contents of the obnoxiously navy blue colored card.

You have been invited to the wedding of Jeon Wonwoo and… well, fuck.

That was a month ago.

Now, dressed in the most depressing color choice of blue that you have in the back of your closet, you quietly nursed the champagne glass as you sat at the farthest table in the hall from the front. It wasn’t a choice. It was just a plain coincidence that you were assigned to that specific table. Either that, or the plain ignorance of what that table means is something that you decided will be your motto from now on.

You honestly don’t know what got into you. Sure, being invited to an important event for someone that you were once acquainted with should’ve been an easy decision. But how does one do that when the “acquaintance” was someone you promised to marry someday and is now marrying someone else?

Your answer was to attend the goddamn wedding.

The whole ceremony was beautiful. You never thought that a random day would be so perfect for the couple to get married, but today’s event made you believe otherwise. At one point, you thought that maybe becoming their wedding organizer wouldn’t be so bad, given how everything was executed without any fuss. Getting paid and having a great wedding in your portfolio is definitely a plus in your books.

On the other hand, you absolutely hate how everything is so perfect. The chairs were so comfortable, you were tempted to break a leg or two. The aisle was so beautifully ornamented with flowers on each side, you were desperate to have allergies just to avoid looking at them ever again. Even the playlist was so flawlessly picked that the thought of ripping your ears out would be the lesser evil of the two. Everything was too exquisite, quintessential at worst. And you were just a bitter person who was invited to their ex’s wedding because he’s too nice for his own good.

You were too distracted by the sensory overdrive you experienced just from entering the venue that you didn’t even notice the ceremony starting. The moment the doors opened and the bride started walking down the aisle, suddenly it was quiet. Too quiet. From then on, not even the hushed reprimands of the mother beside you as she tried her best to quiet down her kid’s tantrum were enough to distract you from the fact that he was officially the one that got away.

The different hues of the bright lights on the dancefloor were not enough to wash out the glow of the small table where the married couple sat. You don’t know if it's the amount of refills for your champagne that you’ve requested so far from the waiter, desperate to be drunk enough to get through the whole reception, but there’s a definite glow that surrounds the two. Looking around, you realized that it wasn’t from the spotlight that was shining down towards the table. It wasn’t even from the warm candlelights that surrounded them. It was the couple itself. It was Wonwoo’s bright smile. It was the bride’s shining eyes. It was his hand over her hand. It was the beautiful rings that sealed their lives.

It was them. Not you. Not yours. Them.

Taking a huge gulp from your glass in a desperate attempt to replace the bitter taste in your tongue, you didn’t notice the concerned glance from the person sitting at the table beside you, nor the way Wonwoo sat straight up to get a better look at you.

“You should probably be drinking water right about now.”

Whipping your head in the direction of the voice, you watched as a guy sat on the empty seat beside you with a glass of water in his outstretched hand.

You huffed, “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that you should mind your own business?”

He chuckled, placing the glass down on the table, “And didn’t anyone ever tell you that champagne is something to be enjoyed leisurely and not drunk like a shot?”

“Still doesn’t give you the right to demand something from me.”

“Sue me, then.” He shrugged, leaning back on the seat with his hands clasped on his lap. You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to determine whether or not he was joking. But all you saw was the determined yet casual look on his face, daring you to actually do something about it.

Shooting a glance at the glass of water he had tried to give you earlier, you pursed your lips in confusion. Looking back at him, you rolled your eyes at the smug look on his face as if he could hear the actual debate you were having inside your head.

You crossed your arms, still trying your best to look resistant against his concern, “How do I know you didn’t spike that drink?”

“And why would I do that?” he replied, his eyebrows raising in disbelief and slight amusement.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you mused. “Maybe because you’re a handsome stranger who randomly sat down on a chair beside me and is forcing me to drink a seemingly suspicious glass of water?”

He paused for a bit, letting your words sink in, when that godawful smirk of his returned. “So, I’m handsome?”

You looked at him incredulously, “That’s the only thing you got from all of that?”

He only chuckled in response, standing up straight and reaching out for the glass of water. He then faced you properly before taking a sip in the most dramatic way possible. You scoffed at his actions, but you can’t help the feeling of relief that washed over you from the reassurance that it gave you. You just never know with anyone, truly.

Placing the half-empty glass back on the table, he raised an eyebrow at you before asking, “Is that good enough for you?”

You fiddled with the rim of the glass before giving a smirk of your own, “No, not really.”

He frowned, “What—no? What do you mean ‘no’? What else do you want from me?”

You shrugged, “A name would be nice.”

“Oh.”

You snorted, “Yeah, oh.”

He chuckled as well, scratching his neck and silently praying that you wouldn’t notice the embarrassed flush on his face, “Well, that was quite rude of me.” He immediately straightened up and stretched his hand in your direction, “I’m Choi Seungcheol, but you can call me Cheol. It was nice meeting you…?”

You smiled at him, taking his hand for a shake and replying with your name. You amusedly watched him mutter your name under his breath as if testing the way it felt from his lips. Should any accusations get out about how your heart skipped just from that, you will always deny them from here on out.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” he began, the look on his face still trying to be as casual as possible, but the hint of concern shone through once again, “Can I ask you now why you’re drinking yourself to death in a joyous event like this?”

Your smile faltered, looking back down at the table where the glass of water was still half empty. You sighed as you realized that the little bubble of calm you’d created was now punctured by reality crashing down on you. You took a glimpse at the front of the venue. Listening to what’s happening around you, it now only registered to you that the bride was giving her speech on the stage as Wonwoo watched her from their table. She said something about meeting him in front of a movie theater or something, but that wasn’t what caught your attention. It was the fact that Wonwoo wasn’t actually watching her. Instead, he was gazing at her. Staring at her as if she were the only person in the room right now. And with a heavy heart, you realized that you were once the recipient of that look. Now, you’re sitting at the very back of a lively event, sulking because of your own decisions.

Your face probably wasn’t hard to read at the time because Seungcheol didn’t even try to interrupt your silence after his question. For him, your reaction was all he needed to know that maybe you weren’t just another guest of the event.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Seungcheol insisted, still observing the way you somehow looked even smaller than before.

“No, I—It’s okay,” you sighed, finally deciding to drink the water before replying again, “I’m more concerned over whether or not telling someone who is a part of this wedding about my situation will just make me look like a damn pity party.”

He pursed his lips, trying his best to gauge the conversation. “If it’ll make you feel any better, I’m not an actual guest. I only handle the catering part of the wedding.”

“It does, actually,” you chuckled. You looked back at him, only to watch him look around the venue as if he were trying to find something. The determination on his face made you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion. Your eyes cautiously roamed the place as you tried to identify whatever he was trying to look for, when he suddenly stood up, a hand stretched out to you once again.

“Come on. I want to show you something.”

You studied his face for any sign of where this would lead to but the persistent look in his eyes betrayed nothing. Glancing back at the married couple, you decided that whatever Seungcheol has planned is definitely a better alternative than your decision to silently brood in a corner for the whole evening. Taking his hand, you stood up and followed him out to a door on the other side of the venue that was hidden from plain sight, but not without making a detour to the catering table to take a bottle of wine and two glasses. Perks of being with the head of the catering company, you guessed.

Settling down on a bench just outside the hall, you silently appreciated the view of the garden it gave you. You then ignored the slight pang in your heart at the thought that this would’ve been a nice venue for your wedding. If only you answered yes.

A glass of wine suddenly invaded your vision. You glanced back at him, taking the wine with a whispered thank you. He only nodded back with a small smile before turning to pour his own. Somehow, a silent agreement to try your best not to disturb the serenity of the place was exchanged between the two of you within seconds of being here. Because here, away from the bustle of the reception, with its music turning into a muffled background noise, it was the most peaceful you've ever felt since you received the invitation.

“He was probably the best thing that ever happened to me and I ruined it without even saying a damn word.”

You felt his gaze beside you, but you were determined to keep your head straight on. The fear of being judged by a stranger was both a humiliating and grounding thought. But with Seungcheol, somehow that wasn’t the case. It then dawned on you that it didn’t matter if he judged you for your decisions and left you by yourself once again. It mattered more to you that you gain enough strength to tell him the whole truth, ugliest parts and all. Whether that’s because of his annoying tendencies to be the most stubborn person you’ve ever met, or the fact that you’re slowly feeling the amount of alcohol you’ve drunk so far. Either way, not an ounce of hesitation to bare your heart was present tonight.

You hummed, taking a sip before beginning your story, “Our relationship was one for the books. It was everything a person could’ve hoped for and more. Our group of friends was always sharing how jealous they were of us. Both of our families were also in love with the idea of having a happily ever after ending for us. Even I was thanking the heavens and the earth for letting me have someone like him as a big part of my life. As for Wonwoo, there was no doubt in my mind that he was thinking the same things as well. The only thing that surprised me was how far those thoughts brought him.”

You can’t help but smile a bit at the memories, swallowing down the bitterness that the reminiscing gives you. “It was good. Everything was good. But that wasn’t the case when it was just the two of us. It was never a secret that I had troubles when it comes to my brain. I’d list it down for you, but it would take the whole night, and honestly, it’s not your burden to carry.”

“I have time.”

You laughed, “No, you don’t.”

“Okay, no, I don’t,” he admitted with a small, breathless laugh, “but I’ll make time for you.”

You turned to him in silent shock, your eyes softening at the thought. You smiled genuinely this time, “That’s unnecessary, but thank you.”

Seungcheol smiled back, only replying with a reassuring nod.

“I remembered the day it all went down as if it were yesterday,” you began, “We were on a date at the time. He insisted on having it on a random Tuesday night, and I remembered being so confused when he suggested it. But because he was so determined to do it, I decided to just accept it and move on. It was only when we were finishing up our date that I realized why.”

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for the next part of the story. “We were driving home, or at least I thought we were driving home, when he suddenly took a right turn at the intersection, which is opposite of the way back to our apartment. Wonwoo was so secretive about it that he wouldn’t budge at all from anything I’ve thrown his way. It was about a few more minutes of driving that was filled with my persistent whining over why he wasn’t saying anything else besides the amused smirk on his face when we finally reached our destination.”

Memories of the park that was decorated with a candlelit walkway and lanterns hanging on the branches of the biggest willow tree you’ve ever seen immediately flooded your brain. “It was beautiful,” you confessed breathlessly, “He took me under that willow tree and I was too distracted by the beauty of it all that I didn’t immediately notice how he was already on his knees with a ring on his hand.”

You heard a sharp intake of breath from Seungcheol. You chose to ignore it in favor of continuing the story while you still have the will to do it.

“I wasn’t ready,” you exhaled deeply, a tear you didn’t know was forming finally escaping down your cheek. “I was never ready.”

You wiped your cheek and gulped down whatever was left of your wine in a desperate attempt to keep your tears at bay. “I didn’t know what to say. And foolish little me, I left him all alone that day. Waking up the next day to multiple calls and messages from everyone was not what I expected. I mean, sure, at some point they would’ve called, but I didn’t expect the news to immediately reach them. What I didn’t know at the time was that all of our families and friends were with us in the park. That’s when I learned that that random Tuesday wasn’t so random after all, as it was the only day he could get everyone available to witness the proposal. And even after all of that, only one message struck me and it was from his cousin. He called me a burden full of champagne problems.”

You took a shaky breath when you felt a hand over your own. It was only then that you realized how firm your grip was on your dress. You tried to relax your fingers, taking his hand in an effort to calm yourself down.

“Since then, I haven’t heard from him. That was up until last month when the invitation for his wedding arrived on my doorstep,” you smiled bitterly. “Even now, he’s still the nicest and most forgiving person I’ve ever met.”

“Are you planning on talking to him at all tonight?”

You shook your head, “When tonight came, I honestly had no idea why I decided to go through with attending the wedding. But now that I think about it, I think it’s my way of finally telling myself that he’s in good hands and it’s time for me to officially move on from our past.”

Seungcheol slowly nodded in response, fully understanding your stance on it. It was silent for a while, the music from the hall still filling the air despite being muffled by the door. You glanced over at Seungcheol, observing the way his eyebrow raised every so often and the way the corner of his lips would twitch as if he were deep in thought. And maybe he was, but that doesn’t stop you from unconsciously admiring his side profile.

He was handsome. That was one thing you could never deny, even if you tried. A handsome being that you just laid bare yourself to. At this point, you didn’t know if it was such a wise thing to do. But before you could fully immerse yourself in your overthinking thoughts, Seungcheol cleared his throat before facing you again.

“My favorite color is red.”

You blinked once. Twice.

A loud laugh suddenly came out of you and suddenly, the night wasn’t as heavy as it was before. Suddenly, the moon was shining over the garden with a multitude of stars brightly decorating the night sky. Suddenly, the ache in your heart wasn’t as painful anymore.

Not one of you noticed the silhouette that was quietly observing you from the other side of the door, a smile on his face as he realized that you’re now in good hands. He then immediately went back to his bride, his heart light with love and acceptance.

Taglist: @moonwonuu @belladaises @porridgesblog @sasaapportela @allys-reads @clownprincehoeshi @yoonzzziino @gyuguys

[abyss-seer]

Random Messages Pick a pile

PILE 1

The cards

Pile 1, lots of thoughts, lots of thoughts right here. You guys could be overthinking, in most cases Iam getting people who are over analysing their intuition and skills, some you could be fellow readers . You guys could be feeling isolated by a community or group of people or could feel as if you do not belong. Very low self esteem and self worth as I can see in this. Someone feels really seperated or alienated from the people in their society/family or friends. Not doing very well cause they aren't listening to their intuition. Iam getting a couple, two people who are officially together, one is too pessimistic or conservative to embrace change, other is too drawn away from her own wisdom and inner being, (almost getting suffocated....) and listens to everything told to her without questioning. There's a sense of codepency in this couple and they aren't ready to confront the truth, hence you could feel isolated by them. Kpop group Shinee could be significant, Iam also getting the Underworld card from wild unknown archetype deck. Someone here is going through their shadow phase, learning to embrace their dark side, (someone specifically has this passive aggressive dark side). Its nothing evil, even though you might feel this way due to someone's words or feelings, especially if this is coming from a specific group of people trying to have a hypothetical grip on you. Its just a phase where you need to understand and accept yourself for the way express yourself and your anger when you are suppressed to stop it all. Iam getting burnout from too much work. There's a need to balance this imbalance. Your shadow side is just expressing her needs out loud. There's no need to shame her and supress her more than this. Enough is enough.

I literally got messages of Underworld and Undergrowth going to couple's therapy. Like Hades and Persephone are finally going to therapy. Idk why it reminds me of Alec Benjamin's I sent my therapist to therapy vibes. Idk if there's a song or animation about Hades and Persephone going to modern therapy, but if there is, you people could be talking about how your relationships started off so mafia-esque only to blossom into a beautiful one. I don't endorse or support abuse of anyone in here but seems like that could be the case for many of you. Idk why you all give me this Massimo and Laura vibes from 365 days. I am just saying sort whatever shit it is out and clear your misunderstandings, if shit is not good. Say damn it and leave!!! A Goodbye note if you want to cut off on a sweet note. It doesn't matter, I literally heard the dominant party go "whatever", so no bs behaviour, so whatever it is, I think you are being advised to be upfront about it

Iam also channeling heavy Shinee Taemin because he has the most Hades type vibes with his dark psychology typa songs

Iam getting intuition is sensory green here, there's deep heart chakra healing going on here, like star is trying to heal your dark side. And I am also getting that the messages that usually would come for you guys get lost cause you don't listen to your higher self, your higher mind and hence are so surprised by your superb intuition sometimes, you judge yourself to be less than what your intuition knows and this kinda makes your intuitive messages blurry for you girl. Literally listen to your messages and the signals your body gives you. Only you know

PILE 2

the cards

So the last card came in sideways which I will take as the magician that could have been upright, but is sideways because its manifestations are not coming to fruition due to somebody stealing off their money or resources. Mother of Pentacles reversed and seven of swords came out first with judgement in the back. There's some distraction or deflection or a very well laid trap or a deflection system laid down by some imposter. This energy also gives imposter syndrome right here. You might be in an energy where you are fated to see or realize how complete dependency in co-dependent relationships is serving you the harm, and maybe you are realising how much confidence or light is being dimmed so that you don't shine, so that your light doesn't shines someone's demons specifically. (I just heard flesh remains the same, so there's something around the fact that somebody is deliberately trying to keep you in this underconfident energy, and basing their reasoning for doing so with the fact that your past actions had been the same. I feel like you guys are getting on an journey to self reclaimation and transformation of your older self, as something about these old people whoever these judgy Karens are isn't nice. They want to keep you from behaving like a normal person just because they want you to always look down in life. Spirit is urging you to look up and face life with bravery and confidence. Also I am getting very disgusting reptilian energy of not letting someone life their life happily on their own terms because they (rep) want to wear their skin and be them.)

Iam also getting an INFP or INFJ energy from some of you. Maybe you are like this or someone wants you to be like this. Idk whoever this is. But be aware of copy cats and iam literally channeling "sluts" I am literally channeling a destiny stealer who wants to steal your partners and be you and your identity. Dang! Stay away from these covert narcissists. Yuck!

Also the reason why you could be wondering why your manifestations aren't coming in might be because you have dimmed your light way too much for your own liking and are literally requiring as honest assessment at this time. The back of the 5 of Pentacles card in Vice Versa tarot deck, you literally need to safeguard these resources of yours, the love and the light you give is not for everyone to take, asses and give out your assets properly or you will left broken, broke and in lack as it seems like you are very pretty and you keep giving love in platter as if no one will love you if you decided to be your authentic complex self. Stop being easy. You will to take care of them, your resources, your money, everything that wastes your time, just budget your money. Hold your pockets tightly, stop spending so much for so less in return.

You are literally setting your fate in motion to live in survival mode. You could feel like Titan from Attack on Titan manga always going on and destroying your own property and your people in the bloody name of coping from not getting love, being blamed on, and gaslighted off, feeling as if you can't reach your goals so you cannot even reach your goals. So you madly eat up every good thing you made in life, cause you are sad at your creations not being upto the mark.

Stop criticizing yourself and your creations for the lacks and flaws, embrace it as your trials and improve on it next time, why give up already? Why do so much and then do nothing at all due to lack of confidence. This charred confidence and projections of yours on yourself while other people are taking away from you by chipping away at your emotions. Damn! This is too much you winner. Leave these rustys alone. OMG pleaasse! Who is this Karen of a friend? Class is something looks better on you beautiful people like you babe, of course jealous, mannerless and shameless copy cats don't want you to know. So please you are the clique, that too on your own. So be HER and stop taking this Bitchna's advice. OMG this pile is serving, yet gets lost in so many voices. Bring yourself back babe, your light is here for a reason