#but her body is just... not drawn consistently

[adorawasright]

spop where are the fat male characters. where are the fat men and fat boys. WHERE ARE THEY.

(not that they rlly, y'know. draw fat characters consistently)

[lokisgoodgirl]

Two Gods, One Heart [Loki x Reader]

A link my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Loki comes good on a promise to have two of himself bed you. (w/c 2.4k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Female Reader. MMF. Language. Oral. PV. Anal. Some Loki/Loki stuff.

“Come to bed,” Loki said, his long limbs stretched across the sheets.

One leg was draped over the side of the mattress, the other drawn up. His eyes glittered through shadow as they trailed over the curves of your body.

Two hands rested behind his head while another, familiar hand, worked his cock.

You swallowed, steadying against the doorframe. How ever many times Loki had whispered the details of your filthy fantasy into your ear; seeing promises made flesh hit different.

The loose babydoll covering your skin suddenly felt very tight.

“Keeping us waiting…” a second Loki chided, followed by a series of crisp tuts.

A shiver of arousal skated across your flesh as their voices mingled like cinders swirling up to an open, navy sky.

“Should we be offended?” The second Loki looked at the first, and their eyes narrowed lightly at the same moment. “Our love is adjusting…” the first said. In tandem, they smirked, before the first Loki’s head fell back with a groan. The second had tightened the grip on his cock, fist bobbing fluidly as amusement danced in his eyes and he swiped his thumb around the tip with targeted ease.

It was impossible to tell which one was the god you’d fallen in love with; which one you’d divulged your deepest secrets to, which one you’d comforted in darkness while he struggled with his past.

The two of them were identical except for the style of their hair; their silvery skin shimmering in the glow of a dozen candles. Their muscles flexed in all the ways you knew, distinguishable only by the fact that one’s onyx hair spread against the pillow while the other was tied up in a knot, several thick waves falling to his shoulders.

Loki said it didn’t matter, that the duplicate was a mirror image of his body and mind at that exact moment. ‘A breathing mirage who loves you as I do.’ And himself, it seemed.

The Loki propped on his side, working the other, turned fractionally towards you. You licked your lips, clenching immediately with a warm slip flushing between your legs. “Fuck us,” he growled like a command. His tongue nipped over the curve of his lower lip, dragging it between his teeth. “I fear we’re rather desperate to have you.”

The first Loki’s back arched from the bed, his eyes flying open in momentary terror. “Don’t waste it,” he snapped at himself as the second Loki’s thumb circled the tip of his heavy cock, slick with pre-cum. “Perhaps I just want her for myself…You could watch?” The first Loki’s chest rumbled in a guttural growl, wrenching the hand from his manhood. Of course they’re competitive. At least he was consistent.

The second Loki rolled on to his back, sliding the hand wet with his duplicate’s arousal down his stomach and beginning to tease himself. Your bare feet drew across the floor and mounted the bed, both Lokis’ propping themselves upright as you settled between them. “As we discussed?” the first asked, all sincerity. There was nothing but love in his voice. It's that one. That's the real one. You nodded, eyes sliding between them.

The second trailed a finger from below your ear down the curve of your neck, his lips ghosting the tip of your shoulder. “Then so it shall be,” he said. No, wait...that's the real one.

The world shifted as the second Loki guided you on your back, the first scooting down the bed and settling between your spread thighs. His hands slid down your legs, hooking beneath, his tongue tracing a soft path along your slit.

“Loki,” you groaned, and the one behind you whispered, “Good girl,” as his fingertips played with your nipples through chiffon. You gazed up at him, mind spinning. The points of his jaw threw shadows across the sharp planes of his face, eyes glimmering with black delight. One of your hands crept to the scalp of the god buried between your thighs, the other reaching up to hook in the hair of the one above. If you died at this moment; you’d die happy.

Your breaths grew short under the tender laps of Loki’s tongue: every flick against your clit, every suck between the flat licks that slipped against your sex.

“She’s close,” the one above you murmured, working your nipples, his breath hot on your neck. He moaned your name softly, praise dripping from his lips.

“Oh my god…Loki,” you gasped in a thin, fragile voice, back arching. The man between your legs let out a muffled grunt against your cum slipping against his mouth. You reached forward, burying your hands in his hair and drawing him up into a messy kiss. “My turn,” the one behind you hummed, and the mattress creaked under their weight. You were aware of a carefully coordinated shift as the Loki kissing you shuffled up your body. His lips broke away, and then he was towering above you with his thighs spread on either side of your chest; cock in his hand, stroking leisurely. Your palms slid up his iron-muscled thighs, golden in candlelight. And then, the second Loki’s tongue slipped inside your cunt. Your nails dug into the femurs of the Loki above.

His head fell back with a hiss, a mess of dark hair cascading around his shoulders. The hard cock bobbing between his legs tapped against your cheek and you immediately curled your fingers around it and guided it to your lips. Loki gurgled as you swallowed him, sucking gently in time with the second god’s expert tongue slide across your pussy. The two of them moaned in unison.

You wondered if they felt the same sensations; if one transferred to the other, and if the god hovering above with his cock in your throat could taste your fresh, liquid arousal welling in the other’s mouth.

The Loki towering with his hair falling free cradled the back of your head as mewls of orgasm vibrated against the velvet skin of his length.

“G-good, f-fuck, Darling,” he muttered as your nails scraped down his obliques. The tongue caressing your swollen, slippery sex vanished—but then a pair of large hands slid over your own. The second Loki appeared at the first’s shoulder, resting his chin on the ropes of muscle starting to strain under the effort of holding back blowing his load into your mouth. “Don’t be greedy,” the second murmured: dark, dirty. You released the cock from your mouth with a slurp, and its master frowned, panting heavily. “I’m giving her what she wants.” The second Loki snorted, before pulled the first’s earlobe between his teeth in the way that made your lover tighten with desire. “I think we both know what she wants,” he whispered, and both sets of eyes locked on yours. A thrill swelled between your legs with wicked force. “Yes, you do,” you said, and both Lokis’ eyes glinted with a mischievous spark. They moved like a dance, sprawling elegantly on either side of your body.

You kissed one deeply, and then the other, settling on your left side facing the Loki with hair spilling over his chest like ink. Your hands tangled in his hair, kissing him wildly. His hand slid down your waist, pulling you flush to his abdomen; cock pressed tight to your stomach, the growl in his throat filling your mind with impossible filth. But nothing’s impossible with him, you thought, as the second Loki’s lips fastened to your neck from behind. Another hand skated over your ass, massaging gently. You swung a leg over the hips of the Loki in front of you; his greedy fingertips immediately sinking into the meat of your thigh. The tip of his manhood slid between your folds. “Are you ready, love?” he whispered. The Loki behind you paused, placing a gentle kiss between your shoulder-blades. You nodded, searching between your bodies and gripping his cock. It slid inside you like liquid, and the breath left your lungs.

‘Made for me,’ Loki always said. And it was true. The expression of the god in front of you tremored, lips parted in pleasure before his beautiful eyes fluttered shut. Your cunt stretched around him, swallowing the size, gripping him in a slickened, silken vice. The Loki sheathed inside you stilled, his hips trembling against yours with the determination not to fuck you senseless. That wasn’t the plan—not yet. He bit his lip as your peripheral vision glowed green.

You turned fractionally, seeing the second Loki empty a small, ornate phial of oil into his palm and warm it between his fingers. “Relax, love,” he murmured as a hand slipped between your cheeks, fingers playing against your ass. You clenched around the root of the first Loki’s cock. “Gods…” he groaned, and the one behind you chuckled. “Hold on,” he said, as his fingers played at your ass. One digit slipped inside, and then two. The tender wildness set your nerves alight, and you began to thrust on Loki’s cock, desperate for movement. A moan caught in his throat. “Wait, love,” he choked, steadying your hip and quieting your whine with a kiss. His tongue slipped inside your mouth, thumb playing at the angle of your jaw while the Loki behind you scissored his fingers: in, and out. “She’s ready,” he purred. The lover holding you pulled his mouth away, sucking on your bottom lip. He winked. “I don’t think she’ll ever be ready.” You smiled, turning to the one behind you as his hand slid over your thigh. Feeling down his body, your fingers curled around the second Loki’s cock at the moment you squeezed your cunt around the first’s. Both of them hissed in unison, and you almost came from sound alone.

The second, familiar manhood pressed against your asshole, slipping against the Asgardian oil. You took a deep breath, following the usual routine, as Loki let you shift backwards until he breached. The stomach flush to your spine spasmed, a sharp gasp splitting the air as you slid down his shaft and the Loki in front of you shuffled closer, brushing his nose against yours. “You’re doing so well,” he murmured. “Isn’t she?” “F-fuck…” the one behind you stuttered, “Yes. Yes…” “Hold on,” the Loki deep in your cunt goaded to his duplicate, echoing the previous jibe. “Don’t ruin the fantasy for her before it’s even begun.” In lieu of words, the Loki behind you dragged his cock from your ass, teasing, stretching, before sliding back in. An obscene sound rattled in your throat as the first Loki rolled his hips, his effortlessly liquid thrusts stroking your g-spot. “Made for us,” the Loki behind you murmured, thrusting gently.

With every gentle slap of their skin, another plane of reality melted. Kisses slid one into the next: from the front, from behind. Your hands roamed over their bodies as they cradled you, suspended in syrupy desire, their mouths taking turns over your skin as twisting moans filled the room.

You didn’t think it was possible to feel this aroused, this full, this safe. Orgasm wasn’t a peak; it was a wave—foaming beneath the soles of your feet as you rode it across a sea of their need. You lost count after four.

Sweat slid between the three bodies on the bed, one folding into another as they fucked you, wringing their name from your lips in every conceivable octave. “Come inside me,” you sobbed, feeling the next climax boiling in your blood. Both Lokis’ breaths hitched. The one behind you sank his teeth into your shoulder while the first palmed your breast upward before slipping a hand between your bodies, circling your clit. Loki’s voice at the best of times was enough to send you over the edge, but hearing two of him in the throes of ecstasy was too much to bear.

Their breaths became more urgent, the thrusts sloppier, the sounds of your bodies driven by some unquenchable need shifting into its final gear. Loki, buried in your ass, fastened his hand at your hip; pulling you onto the base of his cock again, and again, and again. The god buried in your pussy trembled, his jaw clenching, spirals of hair sticking to his forehead. His eyes were wild, pumping up into your cunt with targeted, lethal ease. Fuck, you were so wet. Cum coated the insides of your thighs, slipping against each buck of his hips.

And then, they splintered.

You’d been so excited earlier you’d forgotten to check if he’d made sure the silencing enchantment was in place. But it was too late now, and to be honest…you didn’t care. Your only regret was you couldn’t see them both at the same time, so you glanced between them, drinking in the sight of their faces screwed up and pleasure wrenching from them in violent, guttural sounds. Twin sets of fingers sank deep into your curves, their sobs of your name ebbing like snow melting into hard, winter earth. True to form, neither Loki stopped the churn of their hips as they came; reluctant to spin a second less of pleasure from your willing body. Hot cum swelled against your insides: white, sweet, perfect. The one behind you collapsed his face between your shoulder-blades, condensation misting your skin. The second followed, his messy kisses covering your mouth between wild strands of hair.

And then, their ragged breath eased with a singular, staggered sigh. “Happy, Darling?” the Loki in front of you murmured. You nodded, cupping his face. “I love you,” you whispered, searching his eyes. This one. Definitely.

In a shimmer of green, and with a knowing smile, his body dissolved.

The arm around your waist tightened, cock still buried in your ass. Loki kissed the curve of your shoulder, and you grinned into the pillow. “I love you,” he said tenderly against the skin. “And that’s something I’ll never share.”

Thank you for reading❤️ Come say hi! Alternative Version/Part Two of the THIRD Loki ...yes that's right. The Spare (w/c 1.5k)

[harryspet]

lonely little lamb | r. cameron

[warnings] dark!stepbrother!rafe x stepsister!reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader, dd/lg dynamic, mentions of violence/blood, somnophilia, stalker!rafe, DUBCON, emotional/mental manipulation, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: happy OBX4! This was written before the new season :) Dividers by @/ghoulbloggerrr

In which Rafe knows your secret and just how perfect you'd be together.

word count: 7.2k

rafe cameron masterlist

Rafe didn’t catch on immediately.  At first, he just thought you were strange, his expectations already tainted by what he'd assumed about you. He’d been prepared for his stepmother’s daughter to be a brat, and on the surface, you fit that mold perfectly. But there was something off about the way you acted around him. You never played innocent, never tried to charm him or win him over like you did with everyone else. You gave him sharp glances at the dinner table when he talked back to Ward and even angrier stares when he disrespected your mother. You never hung around after dinner, always rushing to go back to your room, and “call your friends from back home”. Of course, Rafe listened at your door often and he never heard you making any calls. Having grown up in the house, he felt entitled to know what was happening within its walls.

Your behavior puzzled Rafe to the point of obsession. He woke up every morning to check if your car was still in the driveway and easily memorized your schedule. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, you attended classes in the morning at the local community college. On the other days of the week you sat through your online classes. You never ate too early, always going for a late breakfast that usually consisted of avocado toast, a bowl of fruit, and you always came down to refill your “sippy cup”. That’s what Rafe had dubbed it. It was clear, decorated with a stencil design of a baby lamb and had a flip-up spout for easy drinking. You didn’t go many places without it. 

It was the small things that fascinated him. The comfort items you clung to, the simple routines that made your life feel organized and secure. You usually took a bubble bath about thirty minutes after dinner, and when you forgot to lock your door, Rafe would slip into your room, drawn by the intimacy of your private world.

He picked up items around your room, like the frame you kept beside your bed. It held a photo of you and your mom: you in your old high school cheerleading uniform, hair pinned back in pigtails, while your mom smiled widely beside you. Despite her cheerful expression, your eyes in the picture looked wistful and lonely. Rafe couldn’t help but imagine you now, with adult curves and eager eyes, wearing that outfit. The thought stirred something in him, making him hard, and he had to tuck himself away, cursing under his breath. At least if you walked in, he wouldn’t be caught in the act.

The more he learned about you, the harder it was to quiet these thoughts. He had always found you pretty, but now his body and mind were becoming obsessed with you. He made a habit of collecting a pair of your panties from the hamper before leaving. He needed them for later, for the release that he craved, driven mad by the scent of you.

The sound of soft, melodic music flowed into your bedroom from behind the bathroom door. Sometimes it was girly pop songs, other times classical, but more often than not, it had the gentle, soothing quality of nursery music. Your bed was always neatly made, draped in a floral quilt, and you kept the same stuffed animals on top, meticulously placed. A small chesnut brown teddy bear, white bunny, and a tiny stuffed lamb. Each one had their own white ribbon wrapped around its neck, tied into a bow. 

One time he caught a glimpse of your nighttime skin care routine. You removed the light makeup you always wore and used about ten different products that Rafe didn’t recognize, nor could he guess their use. The last layer was always a light layer of lip balm and Rafe always leaned a bit closer when your puckered your lips in the mirror. His mind easily wandered to idea of your lips around him. 

You wouldn’t look so lonely, little lamb, if you just let me in. 

He had his suspicions about the secret, kinky things you were into. There had to be a reason you spent so much time by yourself. He didn’t get the answers he was looking for until one night when you’d left your laptop, unlocked on your desk. He took the opportunity to program his fingerprint into it too, just in case he needed to snoop again. 

He combed through your social media, public and private, and started checking your messages daily, keeping track of who you talked to, what you were up to. Your public social media was perfect. A mix of selfies with soft lighting, photos of cute coffee shops, and other things you deemed as your “aesthetic”. 

It was your camera roll that finally gave Rafe the answers he had been searching for. One folder, marked with a delicate pink heart, caught his attention immediately. Inside were photos of you, taken in front of your floor-length mirror. Each picture was eerily similar, the same vacant, wide-eyed expression on your face, as though you were lost in some faraway place.

You wore pajamas he’d never seen before, soft and childlike. Sometimes it was pastel-colored footie pajamas, other times it was nightgowns in soft shades of pink, lavender, or baby blue. In a few, you were bundled up in fuzzy socks or slippers with floppy bunny ears. Your hair was always styled with bows, either pink or white. There was a strange innocence in these details, one that clashed with the tension building inside Rafe as he scrolled through the images.

Sometimes you were biting down on your nails, others your thumb rested in your mouth, but most of the time you were gripping one of your stuffed animals tight to your chest. 

You looked...adorable. But in a way that made Rafe’s pulse quicken with something darker. The softness, the vulnerability you displayed in those photos, fed his obsession.

Another folder marked with a unicorn emoji held more photos that you’d saved. He recognized some of the characters from children’s TV shows he remembered Wheezie watching. Others were pictures from Disney movies, and Rafe quickly realized you had a special preference for the princesses. You seemed drawn to Cinderalla, Belle, and Snow White. It offered a glimpse into your mind, into your fantasies, how you were drawn to things with an air of purity and sweetness. 

Rafe’s heart slowed when a message popped up from someone named Mr. Hayes. Been thinking about you all day, sweetheart. The message said. A moment later, another one came. How was ur bath? 

Rafe opened the text thread and began to scroll. Each word that he read made his blood boil. There were too many messages for him to read. You’d sent him photos of yourself, let him call you pet names, and you’d even gone so far as calling him… Daddy. He’d never sent you a photo but that didn’t seem to matter. You were willing to share the details of your life with him. 

Rafe’s vision blurred with rage. Daddy. This virtual fantasy, a stranger who you didn’t even know, did not deserve your affection. He decided then you were his, whether you knew it or not. 

Rafe decided then to also make it a habit to check your messages. 

Several weeks later, you’d finally convinced Mr. Hayes to meet you in person. Rafe couldn’t let that happen. As your stepbrother and your protector, it would be wrong of him to let some stranger hurt you. Besides, he’d become obsessed to the point where now he was dying to know exactly who this man was. 

You didnd’t know any better, but he did. 

“Hey,” Rafe spoke to you the afternoon before your secret rendevouz, interrupting your fruit cutting, “My Dad just texted. Him and your Mom aren’t going to make it back tonight. There flight keeps getting delayed so they’re going to stay the rest of the weekend.”

“Oh, okay,” You replied simply, returning back to your task again. 

“Wheezie’s sleeping at a friends and I’m probably going to a party at Kelce’s,” You gave him a look, as if it was strange to be conversating with him alone without the presence of the rest of their blended family, “...Do you want to come? It’ll be fun.”

You shook your head, “No, thank you. I’ll just stay in.”

Rafe leaned on the marble countertop, staring across the kitchen island at you, “I don’t think I’ve seen you go out one time since you moved in.” 

Rafe’s sudden interest in your habits had become more noticeable lately, but you figured it was nothing, just him being Rafe, always lurking in the background, watching everyone, everything. Your mother had warned you that she thought something was off about him and living with him over the past nine months had sealed the fact that you didn’t trust him. 

You didn’t trust many people at all, actually, never having had a stable home life. Your mother had always had money, or at least latched on to men who had money, but those men came and went. Even your mother wasn’t someone you could count on. She’d uprooted your life more than once, moving you across states just to be with a man who could give her the lifestyle she believed she deserved.

Mr. Hayes had offered you comfort in this transitional time. You had no one to confide your secret in accept for the communities you found online. It made you anxious to even think about finding a partner one day and having to explain this side of you. Friends on the internet wouldn’t judge you.

But online, the stakes felt lower. The people you spoke with, people like Mr. Hayes, didn’t judge. The risk of being truly seen, and rejected, was something you couldn’t handle. Not yet.

You paused what you were doing, knife hovering over a piece of strawberry, “You really want to spend the night alone. On a Friday night?” 

Rafe sauntered around the kitchen island, his eyes fixed on you in a way that made a shiver run down your spine. He knew he was handsome. With his short blonde hair and blue eyes that always had a raging storm behind them. His gold ring and his gold watch. Most important of all, he knew he intimidated you, his size being enough to make you feel smaller than you actually were. 

“I have to study,” You spoke curtly, trying to cut off the line of questioning you sensed was coming. You moved to keep cutting up your fruit but you paused again when Rafe reached out to grab a piece from the cutting board. You looked up at him as he popped the piece of strawberry into his mouth. 

Your lips parted in shock and Rafe’s lips pulled into a smirk, as if he was thriving on that power, the uncpoken tension in the air. The way he could make your heart race in that mix of fear and something else he knew you’d never admit. 

“Oh yeah?” Rafe placed a hand on the counter, “You have all weekend to study. C’mon, have some fun, princess.”

You took in a breath at the sound of the pet name. He hadn’t ever called you that before and for a moment it looked like he was seeing right through you. 

“I-” Quickly, you turned your head away, refocusing on the task, as your cheeks heated with embarrassment, “I’m okay, thanks.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to come out,” Rafe continued, his voice smooth, almost coaxing, “You got secret plans or something?”

“No,” You said quickly, “I told you, I’m studying.”

Rafe let out a dry chuckle, no real amusement behind it, “You sure you’re not just hiding?”

“It’s not your business,” You snapped finally, your tone icy, “And I… I don’t have to explain myself to you, Rafe. You don’t even know me.”

“I know you, princess,” You dropped the knife, your heart beating too fast, and you quickly picked up your pieces of fruit and placed them in your bowl. Rafe leaned closer, watching your every move, and the intensity of his gaze was starting to unravel you, “You’re so jumpy. It’s just me. No need to be scared.”

“I’m not scared,” You muttered but your fingers trembled as you grabbed ahold of your bowl of fresh fruit and your lamb cup. 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Rafe took another step closer and you backed away from the counter.

“Stop it,” Your frustration flared, unsure of why exactly Rafe was trying to stir you up. Your lips pressed together and you tried to stop your reaction, but with him towevering over you, invading your space, you felt effectively suffocated. It wasn’t until your back was pressed into the stainless steal fridge, your bowl the only thing protecting you from being pushed against Rafe, that you actually flinched. 

“Hey,” Rafe lifted on arm, casually bracing his hand on top of the fridge as he looked down at you, “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

You swallowed hard. His voice was deceptively gentle, “Rafe–”

“I’m not trying to scare you, I promise,” Something flickered in his eyes, something you didn’t recognize, and for a moment, you questioned if you’d read this entire situation correctly, “I know how fragile you are. How scary the world can seem. I’m offering …you know …because I’d be there to protect you. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

You blinked up at him. Surprisingly, there wasn’t even a hint of him trying to talk down to you. Rafe Cameon almost sounded caring. “You don’t need to be so on guard all the time,” Rafe continued. 

“I just …” You couldn’t stop the way your voice softened, “I like keeping to myself. It’s not that I don’t want to be around people. I just don’t …fit in here.”

Rafe nodded, his expression understanding, and it was the first time you looked at one another as real people, “I get it. You’re not like the other girls around here. You’re smarter, quieter … softer. You can trust me though, yeah? You don’t gotta hide from me.”

For a moment, everything felt like it would be okay. Maybe Rafe had managed to see you and was willing to understand you, unlike anyone else you had met on this island. It all felt real until you focused more on his eyes. Your expression had softened, melted from frustration to wide-eyed curiosity, and that had caused a shift in his eyes. You saw that flicker of darkness that you’d seen before. 

“I can look after you, ya’ know?” He said, voice dripping to a lower tone, “Help you. You don’t need to worry too much.”

Before you could respond, his other arm lifted, and you felt his fingers graze your cheek, the touch startlingly intimate. 

“What are you doing?”

“C’mon,” Rafe’s jaw tightened, the mask he was wearing beginning to slip, “Don’t be like that, princess.” 

“Stop,” You managed to say, “Stay away from me.”

In just a few hours, you’d finally get to meet Mr. Hayes. None of Rafe’s games would matter then. When you went silent, you watched as Rafe’s hand balled into a fist and he turned his body away. 

“Suit yourself,” He’d said coldly, his void devoid of any of the warmth that was there before.  

You stared down at your bowl of fruit dumbfounded for a moment too long. Princess. How did Rafe know how desperately you wanted someone to call you that?

Rafe stayed at Kelce’s party until eleven He finished his last pabst blue ribbon, said goodbye to only a handful of his friends, before he made his way to his truck. Knowing they would find it strange for him to leave so early, he mad the excuse that he was going to meet up with a girl at the Island Club. 

In reality, Rafe was headed twenty minutes away, towards Winward Beach. Mr. Hayes wanted to meet you at midnight. One of the many red flags Rafe assumed you had ignored. You probably thought it was romantic, meeting at a secluded beach in the middle of the night. Like the two of you were fucking Romeo and Juliet. 

Stupid, Rafe thought bitterly, gripping the steering wheel tightly. 

Rafe parked his car in the small parking lot that sat near the boardwalk, turning off all of his lights, and waited for the creep to show up first. Rafe thought for a moment that neither of you might show when midnight started to approach. Maybe you’d wisened up, listened to your gut instinct that told you something wasn’t right. He didn’t believe it for long, you were too trusting. Too soft. 

When a tan sedan that Rafe didn’t recognize pulled up in a parking spot close to the walkway, Rafe knew who it was. In the dark and without any streetlights, he only saw a dark figure carrying a backpack make his way towards the beachwalk. He waited until the figure made it halfway before he climbed out of his truck. 

The moon was high, casting a white glow over the empty landscape. 

Anger simmered beneath Rafe’s skin as he watched the man from a safe distance. He moved with a nervous energy, often glancing over his shoulder as if he was expecting to see someone. Wooden planks creaked softly under his weight but Mr. Hayes didn’t notice, not until he’d made it to the beach, and Rafe appeared behind him. 

The man turned his head, eyes wide with confusion. For a moment, this was all a coincidence. Rafe was a nobody, just a stranger taking a walk on the beach, until Rafe’s lips pulled into a smile, “Not what you were expecting?”

“Who the hell are you?”

Mr. Hayes was certainly not what Rafe was expecting. A completely unremarkable middle-aged man with streaks of gray in his thinning brown hair, pale skin, lightly freckled and a slight paunch that rested over the waistband of his dreams. A complete creep. Someone completely undeserving of even being looked at by you. 

Anger wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what Rafe was feeling, “You’re Mr. Hayes?”

“What?” Up close, Rafe could see the way the man's eyes started to dart around. He took another step further and the man stumbled back in the thick sand, “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just–”

“You’re just a coward?” Rafe finished, his tone mocking, “I mean, I understand now why you hid your face.”

“I don’t know what you’re–”

Rafe interrupted again, snarling, his hand lashing out to grab the front of the man’s shirt. He yanked him forward and the man’s eyes went wild with panic, “Meeting up with an innocent girl in the middle of the night? Sneaking around like a creep? What’s in that fucking bag?”

“Nothing!” Mr. Hayes struggled. Rafe couldn’t believe how weak the man was. Strong enough to overpower you, maybe, but weak. As soon as the though of this man pinning you down in the sand crossed his mind, Rafe’s eyes went wild, “Nothing, I’m sorry!”

Rafe shoved him hard and the man stumbled backwards into the sand. He towered over the man, his shadow casting long across the beach. Waves crashed loudly in the background but Rafe’s voice boomed over the sound, “I don’t think you are! You probably thought you could just take what you wanted, huh? Fucking answer me!”

The man scrambled backwards, hands digging into the sand, backward hanging awkwardly from his shoulder. Why didn’t he just drop it …if he wasn’t hiding anything, he would let it go, “I wasn’t — I didn’t mean, I didn’t know!”

“You didn’t know what? That she was half your age? That she was too good for you?” Rafe’s lip curled in disgust. He knelt down, his face inches from Mr. Hayes’s as his voice dropped to a whisper, “She’s not yours. She never will be.”

“Okay,” He nodded, holding out a hand as if to put distance between them, “I just wanted to meet her. I know I lied. I’m sorry. I won’t …it won’t happen again. Believe me, it won’t happen again.”

Rafe’s head cocked to the side as he looked down at the trembling man. Without another word, he grabbed for the backpack. The man resisted, of course, a series of “Wait, wait, wait,” leaves his lips. Rafe doesn’t leave space to argue because he pushed his palm into the man’s chest, pinning him down, before he lets his fist connect with the side of the man’s face. 

The man gasps, whimpers, as he curls into a ball on the sand, “F-Fuck!” The creep moans. Rafe pulls away the bag, ripping open the zipper, and dumping the contents onto the sand.

A cheap blanket, a cheap bottle of wine, and then Rafe’s eye catches on the condoms and then then the thick, coiled string of rope. Without another thought, Rafe was tackling the man, grabbing a hold of his collar, pulling him up and slamming his head into the ground over and over again. Rafe didn’t stop. He slammed his fist into the man’s face harder and harder. Each blow left a sickening crack echoing in the air. 

Crack. Groan of pain. Crack. Whimper, “You though you could hurt her? Touch what’s not yours? Brutalize her?” Rafe snarled, voice low and vicious. When the man finally went unconscious, his body limp, face bloody and unrecognizable, “Fuck you!”

Rafe’s chest heaved as he stared down at his work. Nothing about the blood and broken flesh bothered him. He looked down at his hand which were covered in the man’s blood and only felt satisfied. 

He’d protected you. His pulse spiked even more as he heard footsteps on the boardwalk. You’d shown up. Rafe watched you kick off flip flops and run towards them. No matter how dark it was, you were easily visible in the baby pink dress you’d chosen. The contrast between you and the violent seen before you sente a surge of protectiveness through him. He stood from where he knelt in the sand and quickly crossed the distance towards you. 

You slowed as you took in the scene before you, “Rafe?” you whispered, “Rafe, what’s … that’s not …oh my god.”

Rafe grabbed you by your arms, turning your shaking body away. It was a gruesome mess, nothing you should have to see, “He’s dead,” You spoke with wide, terrified eyes, “Wh-Why? You killed him.”

“He’s not dead,” Rafe said quickly, “He’s still breathing … I had to stop him.”

You didn’t listen, you turned your head and saw the unnatural position the man laid in, “Rafe, he’s dead!”

Rafe shook you slightly, “He’s not. I promise.”

“What did you do?” You cried, tears beginning to stream down your cheek. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” He tried to assure you, “I had not. He was going to hurt you, Y/N. Look, he brought …he brought all that shit with him. There was rope in his bag, condoms … I did this for you!”

You shook your head, trying to pull away from Rafe’s bloody hands, “You beat him?” Your voice broke under the weight of your fear, “He’s not moving. You can’t …why would you–”

Rafe’s heart twisted in his chest. He wasn’t the one you were supposed to be afraid of, “He deserved it,” Rafe said, voice quiet and serious, “C’mon, we need to get out of here.”

Rafe tried to pull you but you resisted. Easily, he lifted you into his arms, bloody hands staining your skin and now your dress, “We have to call someone!” You shouted at him, hiccuping through your tears, “Rafe, put me down!”

Rafe ignored you, strides long and steady, carrying you back towards the beachwalk. It was better for Mr. Hayes if the police weren’t involved. Undoubtely, a man like that had a record. Rafe was doing him a favor by only leaving him bloody on the beach. 

In his arms, you were powerless. Your mind was reeling. Even in his bloody state, you knew the man there was not who Mr. Hayes had described himself as. Rafe could be right about all of this but it still felt wrong. 

In Rafe’s truck, you sat curled up against the door, your knees pulled to your chest. A dark and empty road stretched before you, yacht rock played at a low volume in the background, and Rafe’s heavy breathing was louder than any of your thoughts. 

Every few minutes, you stole a glance at him. The tension had yet to leave his body, though he was coming down from the adrenaline. His breathing was heavy but deliberate, as if he was attempting to calm himself, “I didn’t want you to see that, you know that, right?” Rafe said suddenly, breaking through the heavy silence, “Like …I know that was fucked up. You believe me, right? About what I said?”

Your throat tightened so much that your words came out strangled, “I don’t know … what to believe.”

“He was going to hurt you. If I hadn’t stepped in — If I-I hadn’t acted proactively, he would’ve hurt you. He would be hurting you right now. You know that, right?” The brutality of Mr. Hayes’s alleged actions began to cloud Rafe’s actions. He said it over and over. You couldn’t help that now you were imagining it. Maybe this was the only way to rationalize the situation. Maybe you had to believe him.

You saw the items in the sand. You saw that he’d lied about his age, about his appearance, and his intentions. He was the monster. That was the better version. Everything was a lot less wrong that way. 

“Y/N,” Rafe spoke again, his deep voice rattling your ear drums, “You know that.”

You finally nodded, “Okay,” You agreed. 

“Good,” Rafe seemed to let out a breath of relief. Hands still tight on the steering wheel, he tilted his head back, “He wasn’t some innocent guy. I swear that to you. Like I wouldn’t lie about that shit.”

You nodded until your head started to hurt. 

“I did this for you,” Rafe said, “I’m so fucking glad you’re safe now. That’s what matters.”

“Thank you,” You whispered as you wiped the wetness from your cheeks. Your eyes caught on the dried blood that wrapped around in a band on your arm, “...Rafe?”

“Yeah, baby?” Rafe voice turned gentler as he glanced over at you.

“Did you …look at my messages?”

Rafe’s demeanor grew casual, like the worst of his anxieties had passed, “I did what I had to do,” He said, like it was a simple explanation. He didn’t seem concerned at his obvious breach of privacy. Didn’t seem to understand that the pit in your stomach was deepening. 

“Then you…”

“Then I know,” He finished and you watched a sinister smile pull at his lips, “Aren’t you relieved? I know and I’m not judging you. I’ve been wanting to figure you out since I met you. And now there’s no secrets between us.”

“Rafe…” You began, your voice trembling as you tried to find the right words, “How could you?”

“I had to,” He insisted, “If I hadn’t, where would you be now? What if he had taken you? Killed you? What would that do to your mom?”

Your brows furrowed, trying to process his words, and the vile images that left in your mind, “The stuff on my phone is …private. It’s private for a reason. I don’t understand.”

“I understand more than you think,” He countered, offering you a patronizing tone, “I know what you want, what you need. I’m happy to give you that. And I’d do a hell of better job than that waste of life on the beach.”

You connected the dots the moment those words left his lips. He wanted to be what Mr. Hayes had been to you. A caretaker. Someone to nurture your most innocent idea. 

“Rafe … Ward is married to my mom,” The most logical reason that was a crazy idea came to your mind quickly. 

“So?” He replied dismissevly. 

“You’re my stepbrother,” Not even that registered with him, “I don’t think …it’s not what I want.”

“You don’t know what you want,” Rafe reached across the console, gently but firmly grabbing ahold of your hand. You stared back at him with wide eyes, your fear obvious especially when he took his eyes off the road, “You’re confused. You were willing to trust a man on the internet when the perfect person to take care of you is right here with you. No one else. Me.”

Feeling trapped, your next thought became calming him down. For fear of him crashing the car or never loosening his grip, you forced your expression to soften, “I know you can protect me,” You nodded your head, “And thank you for that …I shouldn’t have done what I did. It was stupid. I’m …I’m glad you care about me like that.”

Rafe squeezed your hand gently, “Yeah?”

“It’s just a lot to take in. I had no idea …I just thought you were usually annoyed with me,” You said and rafe seemed to exhale, his shoulders loosening, “I trust you, it’s just a lot to process right now.”

“I get it,” Rafe let go of your hand, but gave you no time to feel relieved, because next he placed his strong, large hand on your thigh, “I think we’re good for each other. I just have to show you, Y/N.”

Tannyhill was empty except the two of you. Your heart raced as Rafe led you upstairs to your room, hand firmly on the small of your back. When the door to the bedroom softly clicked behind you, closing the two of you in, you felt like throwing up. 

You started to imagine Rafe wandering around, looking through all your things, all without your permission. He felt out of place there in your sanctuary but it was clear he’d made himself comfortable a long time a go. He led you over to the edge of your bed, and shakily, you sat down. He kneeled down in front of you, a position quite to vulnerable and intimate for you. 

“Are you hurt anywhere?” He asked, voice deep in concerning. Lifting one of your heels from the ground, he looked closely at your legs, as if checking for an injury. 

You shook your head, know the most your body had been through tonight had been at his hands, “I’m okay,” You spoke, your voice small. 

Rafe looked up at you, “It’s okay if you’re not, yeah?” Rafe said, voice softening as his hand slid further up your leg. When you pulled your leg back, his grip remained firm, possessive, “Everyone’s gone. I’m asking you to lean on me, princess.”

With no hint of asking for permission, you stared back at your stepbrother. You couldn’t help but feel as if the timing of tonight had worked out eerily in his favor. Everyone in your family was gone for the night and there was no Mr. Hayes to text about your feelings. 

“I’m going to run the bath for you,” Rafe decided, lips parted as if he was deep in thought, “Yeah, stay right here.”

“I’m fine, I can do it–” You began as Rafe made his way towards your bathroom.

He held out a finger and you stopped your movements quickly, frozen by the intensity in his gaze, “Stay.” 

He didn’t have to raise his voice for you to feel the threat in his tone. Somehow, this version of him was scarier than the one that relentlessly struck a man until he was unrecognizable. 

The sound of running water filled the room. Closing your eyes, controlling your breathing, the sound brought you to your routine. That sound of running water was always soothing to you. It was usually how your mind was able to slip into that comforting place on the other side of your mind. Things were lighter there, a place where you had no cares at all, and you enjoyed the things that you’d normally be embarrassed by. You pressed your feet into your fuzzy white carpet, your favorite place to listen to music and do one of your coloring books. You were almost there, the water having tricked you into falling deeper, until you caught a glimpse of Rafe standing behind the door, washing blood away in the sink. 

You tightened your eyes even more, shaking your head. This was certainly not the time to let down your guard. 

He appeared moments later, drying his hands with one of your pink washcloths, “Come on, let’s get you ready,” He said, his head tilted towards the bathroom, his voice deceptively warm. 

Your feet betrayed you and you hesitantly crossed the room. Another door between you and your life before you knew Rafe felt this way. When it closed shut, you realized you’d sealed your fate. How could it be a mistake when this was the place in life where you felt safest? To accept something was wrong meant accepting that you had nowhere left to feel warm, innocent, or child-like. 

Fingers caressed your skin, lifting the hem of your dress, gently raising your arms, until you were standing in your underwear. You hadn’t realized you’d started crying again and it didn’t register how badly your lips were trembling until Rafe’s thumb caressed your bottom lip, “You’re okay,” He assured you, “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

You’d wanted this desperately, for someone to see you and not want to run away. You wanted someone to take care of you, someone devoted to nurturing you. Your eyes locked on Rafe’s and you felt his palm against your bottom, fingers traveling beneath the fabric of your panties. You kept your head tilted up as he leaned down, pressing lips that were softer than could’ve ever imagined, against your neck. 

You melted against him. 

Vanilla and strawberry swirled in the air, strong but gentle hands caressed you, and your tears started to feel more like a release than a burden. He kissed the spot on your throat that had gone sore from all tears. 

“I’m gonna take care of you,” He whispered and you felt it everywhere. 

After removing your bra and panties, he helped you into the bath. Quickly, the blood and tears seemed to leave your skin, as if you’d imagined them. He touched you in a way that more natural, human, than expected. With deliberate care, he moved his hands over you, an act that felt practiced. 

Everything dissolved there in the warm bath, the heaviness of the entire night. Bubbles clung to your skin, and your fingers moved lazily over the surface of the water. Rafe washing you, moving a soapy washcloth over your skin, should’ve felt strange but were left in that hazy place where things were simple. 

“This is how things are going to be,” You heard him say, “We’ll make it work, okay? You get to be yourself and I’m the one who takes care of you now. I’m your Daddy.”

You’d never said that word out loud. Daddy. It was a faraway concept, a dream …just like the cloud you were floating in right now. You hugged yourself, mind wandering to that soft bed with all of your plushies. 

“Say it, princess,” you turned your head to him, mouth parted, eyes curious. 

“Say what?” You asked in a whisper, an innocent haze in your eyes. 

He smiled. You had done something right. You gave him a soft smile too. He leaned closer, “Say ‘Daddy’,” He commanded softly, “Please, princess.”

Part of you hesitated, knowing you were giving away something precious. The other part wanted to please him, after all, he’d brought you this sense of peace. And maybe the sooner you made him happy, the sooner he’d tuck you into your warm bed, and let this long day finally end. 

“Daddy,” You tested out the word on your tongue and though it sounded fragile, his eyes seemed to light up, “...since you said please.”

Nothing could smoulder that spark of satisfaction in his eyes. The look made your heart flutter, a sharp contrast from before when it felt like exploding. 

“You’re perfect, you know that?” Your cheeks warmed and you turned your face to hide from him. You couldn’t take it when he looked at you like that. That look made it feel like everything was okay.

“I made a mistake,” Your voice came out in a whine. Rafe ran the warm cloth across your back, a reminder of that peaceful bubble he’d created around you. 

He shushed you, “You didn’t,” He assured you, “You’re a good person, a good girl. I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you.”

His words made you sink deeper. The soft strokes of the warm washcloth, the vanilla-scent against your skin, and the pressure against your most sensitive areas. You felt the tension in your body melt away further. 

Slowly, gripping your knees to your chest, you turned your face back towards him, “You can’t tell anybody, Rafe,” You whispered. 

“Never,” He said, leaning closer, “Pinky swear?”

Rafe reached his other hand toward you, his pinky finger extended in front of you, moving like he was carefully dismantling some fragile, like a bomb. You stared for a brief movement, surprised and warmed by the gesture. You had no idea Rafe was capable of being so gentle. You unwrapped yourself a little bit, bring your closest pinky towards his hand. Your smaller finger wrapped around his and you were tethered together. 

“There, I promise I won’t tell anyone, princess,” He looked at you deeply, “Okay?”

Hesitantly, you nodded, your hand falling gently back into the water,  “Let’s get you out of here before you wrinkle up,” He decided and you watched him cross the room to grab your towel hanging from the back of the bathroom door. He walked back with a quiet confidence and his grip was completely sure, deliberate, as he helped you from the tub, “I’ve got ya’.”

He’d wrapped one arm underneath your shoulders and the other beneath your knees, lifting you gently. You imagined pressing yourself into him but a towel soon separated you. You shivered, and instinctually, you wanted to dry yourself but Rafe took responsibility of that as well. He was so close, so protective. It was awkward at first, being able to take care of that mundane task but not having to. You leaned into it, letting your body be soothed by the ritual. 

You kept sinking. 

“Arms up,” He’d said after bringing you back to your bedroom. He chose an oversized purple t-shirt, designed with small pictures of cartoon pandas. For your underwear, he chose a light blue pair decorated with rainbows. Your eyelids grew heavy and after your first yawn, Rafe lifted you onto the side of your bed, “There you go. All set.”

You crawled into your cocoon further, settling underneat your quilt. You watched Rafe as you settled there, as he moved across the room. Your sleepy eyes widened for a moment, realizing his shirt was gone and that he was fiddling with the zipper of his pants. 

It was a threshold you’d never expected to reach, with Rafe or anyone else. The lights flicked off and the bed dipped beside you, your nerves sparked. You grabbed ahold of your lamb stuffed animal, letting that bring you a familiar comfort. Rafe nestled closer to you, his body at ease, relaxed as he wrapped an arm around you. 

You did your best to do the same, trying to lean into that same vulnerability you felt when he was bathing you. Warm skin against yours, strong hands on your waist, warm breath against your ear, it was overwhelming, “I-Is this okay?” You asked, breaking the silence. 

Looking for reassurance, you turned your head until your noses were almost pressed together. 

“Yeah,” Rafe spoke low and smooth, “You okay?”

You nodded quickly, nervously, “I’m okay.”

Rafe pressed a kiss to your forehead and you took a deep breath, letting the feeling sooth your anxiety, “I’ve got you,”  Rafe’s fingers ran down your arm then to your waist. He held you there, feeling your flesh there, squeezing, “Daddy’s got you, baby.”

He touched you in new ways, gripped you hard in some places and softer in others. The kiss on your forehead turned into a kiss on your nose and then he placed soft lips against your cheek, “Relax,” He whispered in your ear, “I know you’re sleepy. I’ll do all the work.”

In your state of mind, his words felt like a riddle. What did he mean? You knew you liked his touch and that you wanted to sleep. Rafe knew more than you, clearly, maybe that’s what makes him a good Daddy. You should trust him. 

You closed your eyes as you let him press his face into your neck. He kissed you there, finding the most sensitive spot on your skin, and it made your lips part in a soft moan, “Call me Daddy,” He spoke against your skin, “Please, baby? Just say it and I’ll make you feel good.”

“Daddy,” You whispered back hesitantly and Rafe groaned, “D-Daddy.”

“Fuck,” Rafe cursed, grabbing a handful of your bottom, “That’s exactly what I want from you.”

You felt hardness pressing against your upper thigh and you gripped your lamb tighter. You leaned into sleep, letting Rafe move your body as he pleased, only moving your lips to whisper, “Daddy” in Rafe’s ear. He seemed please and you felt a warmness in your center that you wanted more of. 

Soon he was on top of you, your legs spread as he sat in between them. He rubbed you there. His rhythm was perfect, his accuracy impeccable, so much that you didn’t have to even move your hips to get the friction you needed. You panted and when you reached your peak, Rafe swallowed your moans, putting his mouth on your lips. 

It didn’t fully register to you when Rafe pushed your underwear aside and started to push inside of you. He was so gentle and you were so tired. He pulled your arms to the side, pressing his front against you, but you kept one hand wrapped around the arm of your stuffed animal, “Daddy,” You mumbled, “Daddy”

You winced when you felt all of him, and instinctively, you pushed at his heavy arms, “You’re okay,” He said, and his voice was louder to you than his heavy breathing or the sound of his skin hitting against yours, “You’re doing so good. Daddy’s almost done. You’re gonna make me cum so fast, Y/N. Shit.”

The satisfaction and pride in his words brought almost enough warmth to mask the pain of being stretched by him. You slowly grew used to the feeling but the feeling was so intense and you had so little energy to withstand it, to take all of him. 

“Daddy,” You mumbled, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy…”

His thrust slowed but his weight kept you pinned there. He grabbed ahold of your chin and you blinked up at him with sleepy eyes. His mouth was parted, his eyes holding a darkness that you thought had gone away, “Jesus, baby.”

As he shifted to his side, all you could muster was to turn away, pulling your lamb close to your chest and allowing your eyes to flutter shut. Rafe nestled against you once more, his hands gripping your hips until your bottom was pressed firmly against him. You felt the warmth of his lips against your hair, and then his sleepy voice whispered, “Sweet dreams, princess.”

Reblog and comment if you enjoyed, would love to know your thoughts!!

[kissandtellus]

The Simple Things

Synopsis: MC returns to Skyhaven after some time apart. Don’t worry, they are making up for lost time.

Warnings: Slightly submissive Caleb, then Soft!Dom Caleb, orgasm denial, choking, oral (m & f), just domesticated fluff for the announcement of his birthday card!

Caleb's eyes light up with genuine warmth as he sees his beautiful girl stepping off the transport pod at Skyhaven's docking bay. He strides forward, closing the distance between them quickly. Without hesitation, he pulls her into a tight embrace, burying his face in her neck. "Welcome home.”

She laughs softly, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You act like I haven't seen you in years," she teasingly says, pulling back to look at his face. His purple eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles down at her, his expression boyish and unguarded.

"Well, when your girlfriend is out hunting monsters across half the galaxy, every day feels like a year," he admits, his hands moving to her waist. She feels….thinner, like she hasn’t had a proper meal. His eyes scan her face worryingly, "How are you holding up? You look tired.”

"I'm fine.” she assures him, but he can see the dark circles under her eyes and knows she's been pushing herself too hard. Without another word, he scoops her up into his arms, making her yelp in surprise. "Caleb!" she protests as he carries her towards his quarters in the Farspace Fleet base.

The walk consists of her fist balled up in playful jabs to his back and shoulders, maybe a slap on his butt.

"Shh, you need rest," he commands, his voice firm but gentle as he kicks his door open. He deposits her carefully on his bed, climbing in after her to pull the blankets over both of them. He spoons her, wrapping his arms and legs around her in a protective burrito.

She lets out a sigh of relief from the soft bed. It’s not everyday you get to sleep on the Farspace Fleet’s finest mattress.

"Mhm, best mattress in the fleet.” He murmurs smugly against her ear, knowing exactly why she's so relaxed. He begins to gently massage her shoulders, making her melt further into his chest. "Missed you, Beautiful.” He whispers, pressing a feather-light kiss to her neck.

“I missed you t-Caleb! No markssss! Jenna will get pissed if you leave a bruise again!” Her superior already gave her gentle reprimands the last time she showed up for assignment with Caleb’s confession love bites on her bruised throat last time.

He chuckles softly, his lips curving into a smirk against her skin. "Alright, alright," he concedes, pulling back slightly to ensure his kisses remain gentle and non-marking. "Wouldn't want Jenna hunting me down for leaving hickeys on her stronger Hunter."

He watches her laugh softly, his eyes tracking the action. He loves that she's so comfortable around him. No pretend acts, no filters. He knows she's tired. Her laugh slowly dies down, her body relaxing back against his. His massaging fingers slow down, almost petting her shoulders now.

She sighs under his touch, strong and calloused fingers from weapons digging into her muscles. “You don’t need to pamper me Honey…”

“And miss the excuse to touch you? Not a chance," he murmurs, his voice dropping lower in that way that always makes her heart skip. "Besides, someone's gotta take care of my girl when she's too stubborn to admit she needs rest."

His hand drifts down from her shoulder, trailing along her arm before linking their fingers together. He brings their hands up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. "You've been pushing yourself too hard lately, Pips. Jenna's noticed too."

His touch feels so good. It feels like forever since he’s touched her. He’s purposefully drawn the curtains closed to give her the ability to sleep in broad daylight.

He sits there holding her hand, his thumb gently rubbing soothing circles on her skin. The room is quiet except for the soft sound of his breathing and the occasional kiss he presses to her knuckles. The curtains are drawn, blocking out the sunlight and creating a cozy, dimly lit space perfect for sleeping.

He watches her eyes flutter closed, her breathing becoming slower and deeper. She's falling asleep in his arms like she always does when they're together like this. He smiles softly, pressing one last kiss to her hand before setting it down on his chest.

He wraps his arms around her, holding her close as she sleeps. He runs a hand through her hair gently, pulling it away from her face. He loves seeing her like this - peaceful and vulnerable, completely at ease in his presence. He leans his head back against the pillow, closing his own eyes.

Caleb isn’t the heaviest sleeper, but being with his lover makes him feel safe again. The time goes by slowly, both of their worries pushed to the far reaches of their minds.

But when he awakes, it’s with a soft, heated constriction around his cock.

He stirs awake slowly, his eyes fluttering open to find her curled against him. He feels her warm breath against his chest before noticing the heated pressure around his cock. A soft groan escapes him as he realizes she's taken him into her mouth while he slept.

Her pretty eyes lock into his face, drool leaking over the swell of his balls. She’s obviously had him in her mouth for awhile, judging by the pure amount of saliva

His eyes darken with desire as he watches her, his breath hitching slightly. He can feel the wet heat of her mouth, the gentle suction that has already brought him to full hardness. He doesn't move, not wanting to disrupt the moment but also unable to resist running a hand through her hair gently.

How and WHY did he deserve such a goddess in human flesh?

She continues to suck him slowly and deeply, taking him all the way to the base before pulling back with a popping sound. More saliva drips down his shaft as she looks up at him with those pretty eyes, waiting for his reaction or instruction. His hand remains in her hair, gently gripping the strands.

"Fuck, Pips..." he whispers roughly, his hips lifting slightly in encouragement. "Look at you, being such a good girl with your mouth.” He maintains eye contact, his breathing increasingly un steady. His grip on her hair tightens just a bit more, guiding her rhythm but letting her maintain control.

He watches as she takes him deeper, her cheeks hollowing out as she sucks hard. The wet sounds combined with her drooling and those innocent eyes watching him are almost too much. His hand moves from her hair to gently tap her cheek. "You gonna swallow all this for me?"

His sweet girl hums around his cock. The dark circles have faded after her nap, but tears gather in the corner from the delicious burn of his cock in her throat

His eyes roll back slightly at the vibrations of her hum against his cock. Seeing those tears gather makes his heart pound harder, knowing she's pushing herself for him. "That's it baby.” He encourages softly, his voice strained. He guides her head down further until she takes him all the way into her throat.

His eyes roll back slightly at the vibrations of her hum against his cock. Seeing those tears gather makes his heart pound harder, knowing she's pushing herself for him.

“That's it baby.” He encourages softly, his voice strained. He guides her head down further until she takes him all the way into her throat.

He holds her there for a moment, his hands gently holding her head in place as he sits deep in her throat. He can feel her gagging slightly, tears streaming down her face, and it's the most erotic thing he's ever seen. "Fuck..." he whispers hoarsely. "Swallow.”

The simple command makes her throat constrict.

His control snaps at the sight of her swallowing around him like that. With a grunt, he starts thrusting shallowly into her throat, fucking her mouth hard and fast now that he can't hold back anymore. His cock throbs violently as he nears his release. "Gonna cum!”

She pulls off his weeping cock, pressing her cheek to his soaked cock as her hand fists his length sloppily. “Cum for me Honey. Wanna taste you.”

A deep groan escapes him at her words and the feel of her cheek against his sensitive cock. He grabs a handful of her hair tightly as he comes hard, painting her face with his release. "Fuck... fuck..." He pants heavily, completely undone by her obedience and dirty talk. "Open your mouth.”

She obediently opens her mouth wide, sticking out her tongue. He watches as she sticks out her pink little tongue, waiting for him to feed her his hot, thick cum. The sight of her like this, innocent yet so fucking dirty, has him coming even harder. "Holy fuck, take it, take it Pretty Girl.”

He pumps his hips, forcing his still hard cock to spray thick ropes of cum directly onto her outstretched tongue. He groans deeply as she starts swallowing, her throat bobbing with each gulp. When he finally finishes, he's left panting heavily, his legs shaking slightly from the intensity of his release.

She licks her lips, cum smearing across her chin as she giggles. Caleb chuckles, snatching her up to pin her beneath him.

It’s his turn.

He grins down at her, his eyes dark with lust and satisfaction. "You little slut.” he whispers playfully, nipping at her bottom lip. He can feel her giggle against him as he settles between her legs, rubbing his still-hard cock against her thigh.

"Look at those pretty lipstick stains..." he murmurs, wiping a smear of his cum from her chin with his thumb. She mentally cursed herself for not taking off her makeup when she arrived at Skyhaven. It always ended up ruined anyways.

Before she can respond, he slides down her body, pushing her thighs apart forcefully. "Now it's my turn to fucking worship you.”

“You already do.” She whispers. Their moments together seem even more far and inbetween now. But she cherishes every moment

His heart clenches at her whisper, a rare moment of vulnerability passing between them amidst the heated intimacy. He presses a gentle kiss to her inner thigh before burying his face between her legs without another word. His tongue finds her clit immediately, sucking and licking with intentional slowness.

He eats her out like a starving man, his hands gripping her thighs possessively. He remembers every little detail - how she tastes, how she sounds, how she feels. It's almost like he's trying to imprint her on his tongue and lips, knowing their time is limited.

His fingers leave imprints on her thighs. Her fingers are threaded through his hair, hips bucking. “Your tongue f-feels so good, my Good Boy….”

The praise makes his heart pound harder, his tongue pressing harder against her clit as he laps at her wet pussy. Fuck, he loves when she calls him her good boy. It makes him feel like he's actually doing something right for once in his miserable life.

But since he returned to her, his life has been far from miserable.

He doubles down on his efforts, his tongue flicking faster and harder against her sensitive nub. He slides two fingers into her wetness, curling them upwards to hit that spot he knows drives her wild. His free hand grips her thigh tightly, holding her open for him as he devours her.

She’s staring up at his ceiling for a moment before dropping her chin to her chest. And good God above, his pretty purple eyes are gazing at her like she put the stars in the sky.

His eyes never leave hers as he watches her fall apart beneath him. Seeing those beautiful eyes stare back at him fills him with something he can't quite describe - Love? Obsession? He doesn't know anymore. All he knows is that she's his everything right now.

He keeps his gaze locked with hers as he fucks her with his fingers, curling them deeper inside her. His tongue circles her clit in tight, urgent circles. He can feel her getting closer, can see the pleasure etched on her face, and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

She’s desperately rutting her cunt across his face and sharp nose, singing praises for her partner. “Yeah? Yeah you like me fucking your face?”

A low, muffled groan vibrates against her clit as he nods vigorously, his fingers moving faster inside her. "Mmmph, yes," he manages to mumble, his words distorted by her wetness. He loves every second of it—her dirty talk, her grinding against his face, everything.

"Fucking drown me with this pretty pussy.” he growls against her, his tongue pressing flat against her clit as he flicks it rapidly. He hooks his fingers inside her, finding that perfect spot and pressing hard as he watches her eyes roll back in her head.

Her orgasm hits her like a bullet. Her toes curl over his shoulders and Caleb laps at her juices like a thirsty dog.

He groans deeply, drinking her down like she's the sweetest nectar he's ever tasted. His fingers slow their pace inside her but don't stop moving entirely, drawing out every last shudder and tremor from her orgasm until she finally collapses back onto the bed.

He kisses his way up her stomach, her chest, until he reaches her mouth. She can taste herself on him, and it only turns her on more. He kisses her deeply, passionately, his hands gripping her face gently as his tongue explores her mouth thoroughly.

She taste herself on his mouth and giggles. “Sorry I soaked your face.”

Caleb chuckles against her lips, shaking his head softly. “Don’t be sorry,” he murmurs between kisses. “I fucking loved it.” He presses another kiss to her lips before pulling back slightly to look into her eyes. “I’d let that pretty cunt drown me anytime.”

He sits up suddenly, making her laugh as he grabs his shirt and uses it to wipe his face clean of her juices. He balls up the shirt and throws it across the room playfully. Then he captures her mouth again in a hungry kiss before breaking away abruptly.

She feels his aching cock pressed against her weeping cunt. Caleb pulls from the kiss for a second. He wants to ensure she’s not too tired to continue.

"Are you okay?" He asks softly, his hands framing her face gently. His thumb rubs soothing circles on her cheek while his hard length pulses against her sensitive folds teasingly. "Do you need a break or..." He leaves the question hanging, giving her an out if she's too sensitive or tired.

She looked like an Angel returned to earth. Skin glistening with sweat, her hair all over the place, her thighs soaked in juices.

She moans softly at his touch, her hips rolling instinctively against his hard cock. "No break needed," she whispers, her voice husky with desire. She reaches down and wraps her hand around his thick shaft, stroking him gently before guiding the head to her entrance. "Fuck me, Caleb."

His breath catches in his throat as she guides him to her entrance. "Fuck," he hisses, holding her hips firmly. "You sure?" He wants to make sure one last time, though every fiber of his being screams at him to just push inside her wet heat. "You're still sensitive—"

She cuts him off with a buck of her hips, pushing his cock deeper inside. “Shut up.”

"Fuck!" he groans loudly, grabbing her hips more firmly as he thrusts forward completely, seating himself fully inside her. "Brat," he breathes out between gritted teeth, already fighting the urge to come undone. "You wanted this dick, now you're gonna take it."

He starts to move, pulling out slowly before snapping his hips forward roughly. The wet sounds of their fucking fill the room as he sets a brutal pace, his thick cock stretching her tight pussy. "This what you needed, huh?" He growls, bottoming out inside her with each thrust.

She nods eagerly through whines. The Wanderers had been so tough, work was draining. She needed a good dicking down.

His hands squeeze her hips almost painfully as he pounds into her mercilessly. The bed shakes with the force of his thrusts. "That's it, take my cock like a good girl," he grunts out, one hand moving to grip her throat gently but firmly.

The hand he squeezes her throat with is his good arm. He never, ever wanted to choke her with his mechanical arm. He couldn’t feel shit out of it, never knew how tight he was squeezing.

He watches as her eyes roll back, her mouth opening in silent moans. His thumb presses down on her pulse point as he chokes her gently with each snap of his hips. He's fucking her thoroughly just like she asked, giving her those earth shattering thrust she needed after those Wanderers.

Caleb gazes down at her with love. Her gaze was locked on him, legs hooks over his hips. “Deep, deeper!” She pleads.

His eyes flash with intense love and desire as he leans forward, pressing her legs back further against her chest. "Fucking deepest then," he grunts, his cock hitting something so incredibly deep inside her that her eyes water. "Is this what you fucking needed?"

"Mhm!" He starts fucking her at an impossibly deep angle, his pelvis slamming against her ass with each thrust. The head of his cock hits that spot so perfectly deep inside her that she sees stars. "You like my big dick hitting that spot so fucking deep?"

She clung to him like a lifeline. He’s always been here for her, since childhood. Even amid his strokes, she pleaded for his every touch.

He kisses her deeply, swallowing her moans as he continues to fuck her at that deep, brutal pace. "I got you, baby. I always fucking got you," he murmurs against her lips, his hand moving to play with her clit roughly in time with his thrusts.

"Please," she begs, tears of pleasure streaming down her face. "I need to cum. Please let me cum!" She's so close, her body trembling with the need for release. Caleb's touch, his love, his dick, it's everything she's ever needed.

But Caleb was a mean lover from time to time. He belittled her with a sickening sweet tone.

“Mmmm," he hums mockingly sweetly, slowing down his thrusts just enough to tease her. "You think you deserve to come already? After all that whining about needing my cock in your dirty cunt?" He smirks down at her, knowing full well how close she is.

She lets out a frustrated whine, her nails digging into his back as she tries to pull him deeper. "Caleb please," she sobs out his name like a prayer. His mean words only make her more desperate to come on his cock. He loves breaking her like this. It's his favorite game.

He suddenly tightens his hand around her throat, cutting off her air slightly as he starts pounding into her harshly again. "Shut up and take my cock like a good girl," he growls into her ear, his other hand still roughly playing with her clit. "Cum only when I say you can."

Her eyes roll back from the sudden intense pleasure and lack of oxygen. She's completely at his mercy, her body shaking and convulsing around his thick length. She tries to nod obediently even though she can barely breathe, desperate to please him and come when allowed. Tears leak from the corners of her eyes.

"God, you look so fucking pretty when you're begging to come on my dick," he groans, his own release building. He's intentionally prolonging her torment, enjoying the sight of her so desperate and needy for him. "Not until I say, okay?" He kisses her roughly.

She doesn’t want to dissapoint him. Not ever. “Y-Yes Sir…”

He smiles darkly at her submission, his pace becoming even more brutal and punishing. "That's my good girl.” he praises, his thumb pressing down harder on her throat. He can feel his own orgasm approaching rapidly now, but he refuses to let himself go until she's begging him for it.

"You know what a good little slut does when she wants her orgasm?" He asks, his voice dripping with dominance. He slows down his thrusts again, just enough to keep her on the edge of insanity. Her body is trembling violently around him.

She gasps out between sobs, "W-What does a good little slut do, Sir?" Her voice is hoarse from crying and moaning. Her mind is a mess, consumed only by her need to come and please him. He knows exactly what he's doing to her, and he loves it.

"A good little slut thanks her Colonel for every thrust, every touch," he explains, his hips rolling slowly into hers. His other hand comes up to pinch and twist her nipples harshly. "She begs for his permission to cum like the needy whore she is."

"Thank you, Sir... Thank you for every thrust..." She whispers between broken sobs, her body shaking with desperate need. "Please... May I cum? May your good little slut come on your cock?" She's completely surrendered to him now, her pride and dignity forgotten in the overwhelming pleasure and humiliation.

"Shit," He mutters darkly, his self-control nearly shattering. He loves seeing her like this - completely shameless and desperate for his permission. "You forgot something," He smirks wickedly, slowing down his thrusts again.

Her body is taunt like a bow string ready to snap.

"What do good sluts say before they cum?" He prompts, his voice a low, commanding growl. He's practically vibrating with the effort to hold back his own release. His hand moves from her throat to her mouth, pressing his fingers against her lips as if to silence her answer. "Mmm?"

"Please, Colonel! Please let your little slut cum on your cock..." She cries out, her voice muffled by his hand but still desperate and pleading. Her body is on fire, every nerve ending screaming for release. She's completely lost in the moment, consumed by her need for him.

"Good girl.” He praises darkly, finally allowing himself to let go. His hips snap forward violently, his rhythm becoming erratic as he fucks her through his own orgasm. His fingers tighten around her throat again, cutting off her air as he comes deep inside her.

"No, no, no, no-" She whimpers softly, her body milking his length without his permission. She's so sensitive that even his shallow thrusts now make her see stars.

"Look at you," He mutters softly, watching her body twitch and convulse beneath him. His seed leaks out of her, making his thrusts wetter and sloppier.

His cute little Pipsqueak had gushed on his cock without permission.

Her cunt pulsates with need from her orgasm. She tries to wipe her eyes free of pleasured tears, sniffling. “Caleb…”

"Did I say you could cum?" His tone becomes harsh, despite just giving her the best orgasm of her life. He pulls out of her slowly, deliberately making her feel his absence. “Bad girl.” His voice carries the perfect mix of dominance and teasing.

She sniffles and tries to hide her face in her hands. “Nngh! Mm’ sorry! Sorry!”

His fingers grip her wrists, pulling them away from her face. “Don't hide from me, Pipsqueak. Look at what you've done. Made a mess of yourself without permission..." He grabs the back of her neck, forcing her to look down at where they are still connected, juices and cum soaking his sheets.

He trails his fingers through the mess they've made together, showing her his sticky fingers. “Did you just need to cum so bad huh? Couldn’t control yourself, Pips?” He cooed.

She sniffles, wiping at her tear stained cheeks. “I just m-missed you so bad…” she whispers. Work kept them separated and moments like this were rare and stolen.

His expression softens slightly at her words, but his tone remains stern. “I know you missed me, baby. But that doesn't give you permission to be a dirty girl without my say-so." He leans down, his lips brushing against her ear. “You know better than that."

"But I'll let it slide this time." He kisses her neck softly, kissing where his fingers left marks, his voice becoming gentler. "Because I missed you too." He pulls her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest. “And because I love you."

He strokes her hair gently, his other hand resting on her hip. "But next time..." His voice becomes darker again “…you ask before you cum." He kisses her forehead softly before pulling away slightly to look into her eyes. “Understand?"

“Yes sir…” she whispers. “Can you be Caleb again…?” That simple request chips away at his dominance. She’s his sweet Pipsqueak again, even covered in cum and his scent.

His stern expression breaks into a warm smile at her request. The Colonel persona melts away, replaced by the caring and playful Caleb she knows and loves. He leans in to capture her lips in a soft, gentle kiss. "There's my girl…”He murmurs against her mouth before deepening the kiss briefly.

When he pulls back, he cups her face gently, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. "No more Mr. strict for a little while..." He kisses the tip of her nose playfully. “Just me and my favorite girl." He smiles warmly at her before pulling her back into a hug.

Here, they weren’t Hunter and Colonel.

Just Caleb and his Pipsqueak.

[moonlight-alexia]

no words, just you | a.p.

alexia putellas x matildas!reader | 1.4k | you come home to alexia after a tough international break

ˏˋ°•*⁀ i hope y'all like it, it just came into my head no long ago and felt the need to write it. idk if it's any good but hope you all like to read it <3

any and all feedback, comments, reblogs etc are very appreciated and welcome <3

As you settled into your seat on the plane, an uneasy weight settled over your body. A long flight that was going to be made even longer with the way you couldn’t settle yourself or seem to relax. There was a heaviness that wasn’t going away and all you could do was hope that it would leave once you focused back on club football.

You normally loved international break. You love representing your country, you love spending time with your national teammates, you were all so close and had this bond. Especially everyone being spread across the globe, camp was made more special getting to see your friends that you had grown up playing football with. 

You always wore the green and gold with so much pride, you just wished the people in charge cared about you and the team the way you cared about playing for your country. It was easier said than done to just focus on the football and let that do the talking. The constant media abuse was starting to weigh on most of the girls in camp, having no clear direction and not properly building towards a home tournament in twelve months was becoming exhausting. Seven months without a permanent coach.

Part of you wished you had pulled out of this camp and stayed in Barcelona with Alexia during this break. But the idea of a little tournament and a kit debut had drawn you in and now, mentally, you were paying the price of going.

Leaning your head back against your seat, you let out a deep sigh, a breath you didn’t know you had been holding in. You grabbed your phone, hovering over the texts from Alexia, seeing the most recent ones she’d sent as you were getting on the plane.

‘Bon dia mi amor, have a safe flight. I’ll be there when you land. Te quiero y te extraño mucho xx’

A little smile graced your lips, you couldn’t wait to be home with Alexia, to be in her arms where nothing else seems to matter but the safety of her presence. Alexia had been a bit worried about you over the last week and a bit. She’d managed to find a way to watch your matches and by the end of the last one she could see how defeated you looked. Each loss on top of everything else going on had really weighed you down and it was visible, probably more so to someone like Alexia who knew you as well as she did.

Since the kit debut photos came out where Alexia couldn’t hold back from calling you and you having agreed to model the away kit for her when you were back home, conversations between the two of you mainly consisted of Alexia sending you little messages throughout the day with no expectation of you answering. 

Even if you barely had the mental energy to reply to the messages, getting to read little bits of Alexia’s day made you smile. Also made you miss her even more than you thought you could. 

‘Te quiero Ale, can’t wait to see you again x’

Soon enough you’ll be in Alexia’s arms, the one thought that would get you through the flight back to Barcelona. You were wrapped up in one of Alexia’s hoodies that you’d taken on camp with you, arms wrapped around yourself tightly as if you could hold yourself together so you didn’t feel so flat and like you were breaking. The hoodie still smelled like Alexia and your eyes suddenly grew heavy. It’d been a long week and a half, so you were more than happy to let yourself succumb to and let sleep wash over you.

‘Amor!’ Alexia’s eyes lit up when she saw you walking through the airport, quickly making her way over to you, wrapping her arms around you and lifting you up slightly. You let out a breath of a laugh, dropping the handle of your suitcase and wrapping your arms tightly around her neck. Nuzzling your face in the crook of her neck, the hoodie may have smelled like Alexia but nothing was better than actually having her against you.

‘Hola Ale,’ You whispered against the skin of her neck, your breath sending a shiver down her spine. She’s missed this, missed you.

Time seemed to stop while you both stood wrapped up in each other's arms in the middle of the airport. Reluctantly you slightly pulled away from each other, your hands resting on the tops of her arms while Alexia’s were still loosely wrapped around your waist. Alexia leaned down, pressing a little kiss to your cheek.

Alexia grabbed the handle of your suitcase with one hand and with the other she held out for you to hold, lacing your fingers together the moment your hand met hers, ‘Home now, sí?’ Alexia gave your hand a little squeeze, smiling softly at you. 

‘I’m already home amor,’ Alexia rolled her eyes playfully, nudging her shoulder against yours. 

‘Oh stop it you,’ Alexia tried to hide her smile from you, but it was always impossible.

A comfortable silence fell over you both while Alexia drove you back to your shared house. You were still so tired, leaning your head back, your eyes fixated on your girlfriend. Every so often you saw her eyes flutter in your direction, lips turning up every time she caught your gaze. A slight blush creeped across her cheeks when she noticed you were staring at her.

‘Mi amor,’ Alexia whined, ‘Why you staring?’ She reached over gently, pushing your head to look the other way.

‘What? I can’t look at mi novia who is muy bonita,’ You emphasised the little bits of Spanish you sprinkled in whenever you could, making Alexia laugh a little. 

‘Remember when all you could say was bon dia for months,’ It had taken you a bit to get used to and remember bits of the language from your lessons. Somehow you and Alexia got to know each other despite her broken English and your broken Spanish, ‘Now look at you, adding more words,’ You pushed her hand away when she tapped your thigh faux condescendingly.

‘Not my fault it took me so long. My teacher was quite distracting,’ You joked around, cracking a half smile. Alexia smirked, a wink sent your way and at a red light she leaned over to press a kiss to your temple, resting her hand on your thigh.

The moment you walked through the front door to the house you shared with Alexia, there was a comfort that instantly washed over you. The past week, while still in the back of your mind, it wasn’t so loud anymore. Photos of you and Alexia, your friends and family filled the space and you were reminded of everything good in your life.

‘Hate seeing you like this cari,’ Alexia’s arms wrapped around your waist from behind, ‘I know what it’s like, if you need to talk,’ You melted into Alexia’s embrace. You may not have been the one to tell her what had been going on, but she always knew what to do and say even if no one had told her.

‘Just want to be here with you, leave it all out there,’ You pointed lazily towards the door, for now wanting to keep your house the safe space you needed.

Alexia laid against the headboard, you laid between her legs with your head on her chest. She wrapped a blanket around the two of you, rubbing your back gently, for the first time since you left Barcelona for camp you felt like you could finally relax.

Alexia kissed the top of your head, letting her lips linger, ‘Saw the goal mi vida, siempre muy bien, going do that with us next week?’ She spoke softly against your head. 

You cuddled into Alexia, pressing yourself against her even more, trying to get as close as possible,  ‘Do I get a reward if I do?’ You smiled sheepishly.

‘Hmm you always do,’ Alexia tilted your head up and kissed you slowly, 

The weight of everything would come back another day but for tonight you were home, safe, loved and in the arms of the one person who could always make everything feel like it would be okay again. You were back with Alexia and, tonight, that’s all that matters.

[mariasont]

TEDIUM - S.R

a/n: found this dress on pinterest and just needed to write something about it

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

summary: spencer is not having the best time at the FBI Gala, well, until you show up

warnings: just cuties being cute, spencer swooning, maybe suggestive if you squint, spencer asks out bimbo reader!!

wc: 1.1k

Spencer was bored, more than bored, he was tedium. The word, meaning a dullness in routine, had come to him during a lecture about the history of timekeeping, illustrating the repetitive tick of a clock which can lead to such a state.

That is what he felt like, like the monotone ticking of a clock was more consistent with a sonic boom bouncing off the walls of his brain. His hand was wrapped around a beer, not his typical drink of choice, but the stale surroundings seemed to demand a departure from his usual routine.

To anyone else, the surroundings would have been anything but stale. The air vibrated with music, elegant attire sparkled under the light, important people exchanged pleasantries, and drinks flowed like rivers. However, Spencer found himself disengaged, the usual allure of the FBI Gala eluding him, leaving him feeling oddly detached.

At his elbow, Penelope was sipping on something pink, the glass seemingly more decorative than practical. She was talking about something, something about how she wished Morgan was here and how he'd love the dress she was wearing. But Spencer's mind was elsewhere, locked on the door, his body immobilized by a sudden alertness.

The frothy concoction of pastels and ruffles you often wore were nowhere to be seen tonight. He felt as if his whole body was reprogramming itself as you descended the stairs, the green fabric of your dress seemed to flow like water, the peaks and swells of your body calling to him in a language that his rational mind struggled to ignore.

Your smile reached him before you did, the apple of your cheeks straining with a grin so effortlessly bright. You waved at him, your gold-heeled feet gliding across the floor towards him. Time seemed to slow. His fingers tightened around the beer, the chill of the condensation battling the warmth spreading across his brow. He wanted to memorize you, taking a mental screenshot that might come in handy later.

"Oh my gosh, look at the two of you!" Juggling your matching purse, you managed to slide it under your arm, freeing your hands to wrap Penelope in a hug.

Your hands then moved to Spencer, arms looping around his neck. He took a beat, his beer finding its place on the counter, before his hands settled on your waist, pulling you close. The sweet scent of coconut wafted from your hair, intoxicating him in a way that made him reluctant to let go. But he restrained himself, allowing you to be the one to draw back first.

"Makes a girl feel a little outshone." You were joking, he knew that, but he still couldn't help to reassure you.

"You look beautiful."

He caught the hint of a smile you were holding back, feeling it in the way your hand clasped his. You mumbled a thanks, so faint it was almost lost, uncharacteristic for you.

"Are you kidding? You look like a goddess. I feel like I should be asking for your autograph," Penelope gushed, her hands dramatically gesturing to you.

It was impossible for Spencer not to notice the way your hand didn't leave his, fingers laced together naturally, your thumb moving in soft strokes. His heart was failing, he was sure.

Penelope's attention was drawn to where Spencer's focus lay, eyebrows shooting up. A knowing grin pulled at her lips as she looked between you. "Oh my, I totally spaced that I was supposed to meet up with Luke! You guys will be okay without me, right? Hugs and kisses, I'll be back!"

Spencer laughed, his free hand reaching for his discarded beer, lifting it to his lips in an attempt to counter the heat coursing through him.

It didn't. Not with you so close, touching him. He was putty in your hands.

"Is it, like, super weird seeing me outside of work hours?" you asked, dropping his hand as you reached to dig inside your purse, signaling for the bartender. "It's like bumping into your dentist at a party—doesn't really happen."

As you ordered your drink, Spencer was already in motion, intercepting with his own card.

"I've got it," he insisted. "And yeah, it's a bit unusual, but a good kind of unusual."

"Thanks, Spence. Next one's on me." He definitely wasn't going to let that happen. You swivel the face him with a cherry-topped drink in hand. "I totally agree, it's the best kind of unusual. We should do it more often."

"Yeah, we should," he replied, the word floating on a shaky breath.

The opportunity was there, ripe as the cherry you were now teasing with your tongue. The question, however, refused to materialize, trapped as he watched your tongue slide over the fruit as it were second nature.

You didn't even realize what you were doing, looking up at him with a pure innocence, but somehow as if you knew he was toying with the idea of asking you out. 

The intimate bubble that had formed around you two burst suddenly when Emily called out. You turned sharply, inadvertently pressing flush against Spencer as you tried to pinpoint her voice.

Spencer's muscles tensed, his arm instinctively finding the curve of your waist in an effort to steady both himself and you. Your hand lifted in a wave, presumably to Emily, while your other hand found a place on his bicep.

"I'm pretty sure Emily wants us over there," you mentioned casually, making no move to distance yourself or approach Emily.

Spencer's response was a nod, his eyes drinking in your face—the lushness of your lashes, the specks of color in your eyes, the gentle slope of your nose, the swell of your lips—each feature distinctly yours.

"Let me take you on a date." It was as if the phrase had a life of its own, announced from a version of Spencer that even he didn't recognize.

Your mouth, glossed in pink, paused mid-motion, opening slightly. "Like an actual date-date? I'd love to go on a date with you. I've been not-so-patiently waiting for you to ask."

The thumping of his heart was loud in his ear, his cheeks tinged with pink as you looped your arm through his. "You have?"

You let out a laugh, the kind that bubbled up effortlessly and seemed to warm the pit of his stomach. He was sure the team's eyes were on the two of you, but he wasn't sure if he cared.

"Oh, totally! Probably since my first day when you had the meeting with Chief Cruz. I was like, wow he's smart and cute."

The ticking of the clock seemed irrelevant now. Spencer realized that the tedium he felt might not have been a symptom of the event but the absence of you. Now, with your arm linked in his, everything felt like it took on a new hue, brighter and thrilling, as if the clock had been reset. 

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @freyy253 @broadwaytraaaaash

join my taglist here!

[edawgz]

ᝰ.ᐟ BENCHED

𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆ each and every jjk man has a sport that fits him best and makes him ten times hotter. this is a modern/non-sorcerer au where i project my love for athletes onto jjk men bc they're fine as hell!!!

CONSISTS OF ↬ gojo satoru, nanami kento, geto suguru, toji fushiguro, ryomen sukuna, choso kamo, takuma ino, and naoya zenin

❚ ❙ ❘ NSFW. this series will consist of drinking, mature concepts and topics, vulgar language, and any other warning needed for young adult life. i have an AFFINITY FOR SPORTS so i might NERD OUT but i'll try not to. originally i was just gonna do the silly college stuff w my RUSH WEEK series but i cannot help myself. YOU DONT NEED TO KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT SPORTS TO READ DONT FRET.

| masterlist. | jjk masterlist. |

·˚ ༘ GOJO SATORU | football (quarterback)

𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆ You’re the head coach’s daughter, and Gojo has been told in no uncertain terms to stay away from you. Which only makes him chase harder, flirt louder, and show off every chance he gets. You think he’s ridiculous… meanwhile your roommate, friends, and everyone on campus is thirsting after him.

↬ part one. part two. part three. part four. part five.

·˚ ༘ NANAMI KENTO | soccer (captain)

𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆ You’re assigned to help tape ankles, assist with recovery workouts, and keep players from overtraining, and Nanami is the most stubbornly professional person you’ve ever met. Unfortunately for him, your constant optimism and cheeriness doesn't falter at his blunt observations and comments. You didn't take an internship to coax a grown man out of his shell, but that ends up being the job you take on.

↬ part one. part two. part three. part four. part five.

·˚ ༘ TOJI FUSHIGURO | ice hockey (enforcer/bully)

𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆ You play for the women’s hockey team, and ever since that one bench-clearing brawl during preseason training, there’s been serious beef between your team and the men’s squad — specifically, Toji, their most infuriating forward. The chirping. The locker room sabotage. The time he "accidentally" body-checked you during co-ed scrimmage and smirked when you got up swinging. Everyone thinks you two hate each other.

↬ part one. part two. part three. part four. part five.

·˚ ༘ GETO SUGURU | lacrosse (captain)

𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆ You’ve been forced to document the team’s season for a campus sports feature. Geto hates being filmed, but you’re not exactly a fan of jocks either. Too bad he’s actually funny, thoughtful, and keeps looking into your lens like he knows what you’re not saying.

↬ part one. part two. part three. part four. part five.

·˚ ༘ RYOMEN SUKUNA | mma/boxing

𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆ As the campus newspaper's top journalism student, you were expecting to cover real stories. Instead, you’re stuck writing puff pieces for the athletics column, starting with an impossible Q&A with Ryomen Sukuna — undefeated wrestling star, ego the size of the stadium, and annoyingly photogenic in every single shot you take. What should’ve been one short interview turns into weeks of forced proximity, press passes, flirty insults, tension-filled post-match encounters, and an endless stream of unsolicited gym selfies captioned “front page material.”

↬ part one. part two. part three. part four. part five.

·˚ ༘ CHOSO KAMO | basketball (powerforward)

𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆ You join the team staff to fulfill a credit. You don’t expect to be drawn to the quietest, most intense guy on the roster, especially not one who only talks to you. Choso starts watching your every move during games. And when another player disrespects you at practice, he makes it very clear who you're with.

↬ part one. part two. part three. part four. part five.

·˚ ༘ TAKUMA INO | baseball (3rd baseman)

𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆ You’ve known Ino forever — you're his roommate's sister. Even though he's a charmingly chaotic flirt, you’ve always rolled your eyes at his antics and figured that's all her was… until he gets serious at a night game and you see a different side of him. And now? You can’t stop thinking about him.

↬ part one. part two. part three. part four. part five.

·˚ ༘ NAOYA ZENIN | tennis

𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆ Naoya’s at risk of being benched because of failing grades, and you're the only tutor who hasn’t quit on him. He’s infuriatingly smart, cocky, and keeps smirking when you’re mad at him. But he’s also incredibly focused when he cares — and unfortunately, he’s starting to care about you.

↬ part one. part two. part three. part four. part five.

[norwayromanoff]

Nat using strap on with a very sensitive pillow princess?🥺

i’m glad you guys are enjoying the pillowprincess!reader thing because i am the biggest pillow princess in the entire world ever. props to my girlfriend honestly

18+

“breathe, printessa,” natasha murmurs, one of her hands soothingly rubbing up and down the planes of your abdomen, giving you something else to focus on as she begins pushing in, her strap slowly splitting open your walls, slowly stretching you out, filling you up. you whine, the sound long and drawn out, the feeling of her entering you almost too much for you to handle. “breathe,” she emphasizes again, beginning to drag her hand across your body. it moves to your chest, cupping one of your breasts in her palm, thumbing over your nipple, watching the way it easily pebbles under her touch, “you need to breathe”

you whine again, slightly more petulant this time, and she chuckles. “just let me take care of you,” she says affectionately, and you let out a lengthy and shaky exhale, head flopping down against the pillow in silent acquiescence. she begins pulling out, the action still unhurried, still gentle, and you whimper at her leaving you empty even momentarily, your pussy subconsciously clenching around her strap in an attempt to keep her inside, and she only chuckles again as she feels your body’s instinctual resistance. “don’t worry, i’ve got you”

and then suddenly, she’s thrusting back inside, firmer now, intentional, the action causing a gasp to be ripped from your throat, your eyes rolling back as her strap brushes against your walls in a way that always makes you lightheaded, always takes your breath away. she picks up a steady pace, her hips meeting yours repeatedly as her own grunts and groans leave her at the exertion and gorgeous sight of you beneath her

her eyes drift across your face, watching your mouth drop open in pleasure, watching you cry out with every movement in, high-pitched and raw. “fuck, i love you like this,” she tells you, and you can only moan in response, too blissed out to formulate anything articulate. “please,” you find yourself saying, and the only thing she can do at your desperate plea is fuck into you harder

her hand moves down, two fingers suddenly pressing against your clit, and your body jolts at the sensation, pussy tightening again as a consequence, your own hand extending to blindly grasp at her wrist. you’re uncertain if you want her to continue or stop, the feelings overwhelming you in the best way possible. her other hand quickly shifts to grab at yours, tangling your fingers, pulling you away, tugging your hand above your head and pinning it there. “nuh uh, none of that. i know it’s a lot, but you can take it. let me make you feel good,” she says, her thrusts never faltering, and you relent, falling limp on the bed, giving in to the sensations that are overtaking you

you’re panting, hips beginning to roll in time with hers as your body familiarizes itself to the feelings. natasha is ever consistent and tireless, her ministrations on your clit switching from small, firm circles to languid brushes that only tease you, not providing you with the consistent stimulation that you so desperately need

her hand drops your wrist. “keep that there,” she demands, and you don’t dare disobey, arm remaining above your head as if actually restrained. while her other hand still teases at your sensitive bundle of nerves, her now free hand moves to dig into the soft flesh of one of your thighs, dragging your leg and hooking it around her waist, giving her better access to ram into your wanting pussy

“look at me, detka,” she says firmly, and you do, glancing up at her through your lashes, gaze almost dazed, half-lidded with pleasure as you feel your impending release begin to consume you. arousal drips down your thighs, soaking her strap, making her constant thrusts into you easy, fluid, and she somehow picks up her pace even more, determined to send you over the edge. “are you going to cum for me?” she asks, a rhetorical question, knowing you can’t answer, and just as she expected, you mumble something nonsensical in response, too overcome with that coiling tension, that feeling that's about to snap, to do anything but focus on it

“go on then, cum for me”

[bueckersbitch]

i stayed there, dust collected on my pinned up hair.

right where you left me. — chapter one.

characters: paige bueckers x anika malik

warnings : injury, alcohol

word count : 4k

authors note : chapter one!!! i hope u enjoy ;)

Paige's POV

My phone screen was bright, the picture of my lock screen - Coach Geno and I hugging after I checked out for the last time as a UConn player - glaring back at me. And at the bottom? A text from Dad, “Be you, Be great.” 

I’ve been playing in the WNBA for a bit, I was in my fourth year now, and while some would think I was grounded in the league, with myself, I wasn’t. 

I still remember the day like it was yesterday, the day I flew in from Connecticut for the first rookie presser. The nerves about what the future held for me, I told myself that I’d have it all figured out soon enough, that by year four I would have my footing, because that’s how it was at UConn, right? 

But then again, that’s what I repeated in my head when I toured UConn, an eighteen-year-old girl, the only thing on her mind was the four national championship titles she would bring. 

I wasn’t even thinking that there could be a possibility that I would get injured, again, and again, and again. 

So, I grip my phone a little tighter, and remember the one thing that has stayed consistent even through all the chaos surrounding me, my Dad’s words, “Be you, Be great.” 

.

It was the end of the third quarter now, I spotted Coach out of the corner of my eye, telling me to hold the play until the last moment. When the time was right, I crossed left, I saw an opening, so I took it. I plant my right foot and push off, staring straight at the basket.

I hear it before I feel it. Not the popping of my knee when it buckled inwards, or the sound of my groans of pain. 

But the crowd, the gasps, the silence. The blow of the whistle brings me back to reality. It’s automatic. My hands move to clutch my knee like magnets being drawn together like my body knew what happened before I comprehended it. 

The same thing I went through in college, the very thing I told myself I wouldn’t let happen again, the reason I took the extra time in the gym to strength train.

I snap my eyes shut, maybe the feeling of my nose being scrunched or my cheeks rising would be enough to shift my focus from the real issue. It wasn’t.

And God, the silence from the crowd only made it worse, only amplifying the ringing in my ears. The lights from the ceiling were blocked now, by my teammates trying to shield me, no doubt.

I knocked my head back against the floor, my five hair ties which held my ponytail digging into my scalp now. 

I should feel hurt, feel the pain to my core, feel saddened that the one thing I’ve known my whole life would be ripped away from me again. 

But I wasn’t any of those things, I was frustrated. 

I was frustrated because the only thing I could make out between Arike and Dijonai’s legs when I opened my eyes was Coach, taking his sweet ass time making his way over. 

I get flashbacks to my rookie year, when my body, my consciousness hoped for someone to realize that I wasn’t okay, after that hard hit to my head, for someone to force me to sit out. I waited and waited for someone to mention the idea to me, and before I knew it, the game was over.

“God, take longer would you.” Were the first words I muttered when Coach knelt down, he chuckled. 

Fucking laughed in my face like it was a joke. 

I look at my teammates' faces, the shock that took over their features at his response. 

Coach’s hand comes up to my shoulder, and I push it away harshly. 

I don’t wait for medical to carry me off the court, I just put my arms out in front of me, like what just happened was a normal contact basketball play, urging someone to bring me to my feet.

“Paige, just sit for a second.” Coach says. I lose it, it all comes crashing down like I can’t control my words. 

“I really don’t need advice from you right now.” 

Maybe I say it a little too loud, but I can’t bring myself to care.

“Paige we really shouldn’t.” Arike tells me, I scoff, “Help me up.” I spat.

And they do, not because they want to, but because they just want me to be comfortable right now, and I surely wasn’t sprawled out on the floor.

I’m brought to my feet, and take a deep breath, looking around at the crowd, an inkling feeling telling me I won’t play in front of one for some time.

Anika's POV

“Ani! Come take shots!” Courtney says to me, I grimace at the mispronunciation.

I recall the first time we met, not too long ago, “Uh-knee-kah” I had told everyone, everyone got the hang of it, except her.

Courtney made an extensive effort to try and get to know me better, by the end of our conversation, she told me she would call me Ani as a nickname.

I didn’t tell her that that’s what my family calls me, or that she was pronouncing the nickname wrong too, uh-knee, not aw-knee.

But I didn’t care enough to correct her.

I stood up from the barstool, pulled my skirt down, and walked over to where Courtney and the rest of my teammates were. We weren’t even celebrating anything, just a fun night out for the whole team.

“To an undefeated season?!” Courtney cheers, finding something to celebrate. Hoots and hollers come from the entire group.

We all raised our shot glasses, clinking them together, then on the table, before the warm shot went down my throat. This was my fifth in the last twenty minutes, but hey, if someone bought me a shot, I was going to take it.

There was a gnawing at my brain, I was well aware of the fact I was trying to let loose, let the real world fade away for a second.

The reality that the curse of cancer in my family had caught up to my Grandpa too, I got the call from my Mom just before I left.

The idea that another thing from my childhood could be ripped away made me numb, humming in acknowledgment to my Uber driver instead of my usual outgoing conversation starters.

“Shit.” For a second, I thought I had said it, something I was saying to myself about my life recently. 

But it was Phee, everyone looked at her, and she pointed up at the TV screen.

Paige. Hopping off the court, disappearing into the tunnel, Coach Chris hot on her tail, the arena was silent, which made it easy for the cameras to pick up her yelling at him, outbursts of how she shouldn’t have been playing while they were up by so much, things that would seem like something someone would say in the heat of the moment, but if you played basketball, you would understand from the longing, and the cracks in her voice that it was something more than that, that it was a confrontation she was thinking about for a while now.

“Damn. Didn’t you play her in high school, Ani?” Courtney said I was annoyed at her for even saying it, for bringing it back to me when it so obviously wasn’t about me.

But I replied. “Yeah.”

We drifted apart after high school, but every time I saw her get hurt, I didn’t see the trash-talking, sharp-minded person everyone else saw.

I saw her.

The Paige I knew in high school, the girl I shared dreams with, the promise we had made to each other to make it to the WNBA, sealed with our pinkies locking, and a kiss on the ends of our hands, and then sometimes, a kiss on the lips.

“Woah, you okay?” Someone says, noticing how my eyes are a little too glazed over to pass it off as the drinks.

I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol heightening my emotions or if that’s the real way I feel, regardless, I nod my head, eyes stuck on the screen above me.

Paige's POV

Tears finally rim my eyes, and I pick my phone up again. Now, the oldest notification is the text from my Dad, with numerous ones flooded in after that. Different texts of remorse, mostly expressing how I’m in their prayers, or how I’m strong. 

I shut my phone off, looking up at the nurse in front of me. “Okay Hon, we’re just going to take a look at it first before your MRI.” I nod, even though I know it’s my ACL.

.

I walked out to my Uber, well, walking was pushing it.

My hands gripped tighter on my crutches as I made my way to the Uber, the pain of them digging into my armpits reminding me why I put those funny looking unicorn stuffed animals on top of them all those years ago.

I try to hold both crutches under one arm while opening the car door, but it drops.

Clattering on the sidewalk, I feel embarrassed, helpless, like I’m some puppy needing to be tended to constantly.

“Let me help you.” A voice, kind, said to me.

The Uber driver had gotten out of the car, which meant he had seen the whole thing.

“I’m so so sorry.” I expressed, my head clearly not on my shoulders. He scoffed, like I was being silly.

“Don’t be sorry, here.” He said, opening the door and holding both crutches while I got in.

I buckled my seatbelt, letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding in. “Mind if I ask what happened?” He said, turning up the old school rock music, reminding me of my Dad.

“Basketball game lost my footing I guess.” I wasn’t really sure what happened, I was trying not to dwell on the exact moment too much.

“Aw, I’m sorry kid, your friends didn’t want to come get you?” He questioned, curious.

I wiped my hands on my sweatpants, the clammy feeling on them subsiding. “Didn’t ask, just wanted to take a second before talking about all of it,” I responded, head hung low.

“Ah, I get it, but don’t forget about the people who care about you.” He looked at me through the rearview mirror, I looked out the window, avoiding his gaze like how I had been avoiding everyone the last couple of hours. 

I knew he was right, I tended to pull away, and start thinking that I was the only person who would ever understand what it was like, even though I knew it wasn’t true,

I liked seeing things in black and white, you either understood, or you didn't. But the thing about injuries is that there’s this fuzzy grey area, where people understand how you feel, mentally, and physically, to an extent, but they didn’t live the exact situation, therefore they wouldn’t understand.

And the worst part was, I knew. I know, that that’s how people tend to self-destruct, isolate themselves so they don’t have to confront reality, do all of that just to end up alone, having to confront reality anyway because it’s all you can think about because you don’t have anyone, anything to distract you.

But still, I know all of this and I know myself. I would and was going to do it anyway.

“You need help getting out?” He asked, but him asking me instead of just doing it was like a breath of fresh air, like I didn't look like my life and career fell apart in a fleeting moment.

I snapped my head back to him, suddenly realizing from the zinnia flowers decorating the outside of the entryway that we were already at my apartment complex.

I guess time tends to bend when I think too much.

Maybe it would bend enough to make me believe I’ll be back on the court soon.

“Nah, I’m good, thanks, man.” I smiled, opened the door, grabbed my crutches, “No problem, I hope you’ll reach out to your friends, it’s important to have good people around you.” He says, shifting the gear into drive, “Will do.” I say, closing the door, knowing I would let time slip before I did.

-

The first month always felt the longest, I mean shit, it was only the first hours after it happened, and I was staring at my clock from Costco, a basic white one I had gotten after I stepped foot into my apartment for the first time, ticking away, minutes turning into hours, and suddenly, it was 1 am.

I hadn’t moved since I got back from the hospital, and there was definitely an imprint on my couch from where I was sitting.

I told myself that I would replace it, the clock, get one more polished. I never did, never got around to it I guess.

But there was familiarity. A weird sense of it. It reminded me of when I was on concussion protocol, my doctor told me to stay off screens, stay inside, the usual things they tell you after your brain hits your skull.

But even then, that was only a couple of weeks. 

I laid my head back against the couch, the Love Island season I was watching faded into background noise, and I let out a loud groan of annoyance.

And then I let the tears I had been fighting to keep in, the ones that had turned my eyes glazed, made my throat close and my nose red, fall. Because if no one was there to witness it, it never happened, right?

Anika's POV

My night went by in a blur, like how it always goes when I have too much to drink, someone got me an Uber home, Courtney, I think? 

Koda greeted me upon entry, with her big blue eyes and a wagging tail you couldn’t help but gush over.

Anyway, I was now face down on my pillow, thinking about it. Because unfortunately for me, I sober up pretty quickly when I’m alone. I guess I can only avoid my problems for so long.

Problems. I felt selfish thinking like that because these things weren’t even happening to me, they were happening to people around me, and I felt like suddenly my life had gone to shit. 

It’s why I deal with things on my own. I don’t let people have the power of knowing that over me. What if they see selfishness too?

It’s why I try to be there for everyone, I didn’t let the call from my Mom about how my Grandpa might lose his life to cancer affect the way I acted tonight.

Because my team needed me there, not a shell of the person I am, or 50% of me. I wasn’t going to ruin something everyone had been talking about for weeks because my emotions got the best of me.

I let the drinks loosen me up, turn me into the girl who told everyone she loved them even if it might not be true, hugs and slow words of, “You look amazing tonight!”

But now I am here. Alone, thinking of how Paige -A girl I hadn’t talked to since senior year summer- felt. How it felt for her to have something that was her whole life ripped away from her again. 

Because sure, basketball was a big part of my life. But words can’t describe what it meant, means. To Paige.

We were similar, in more ways than just basketball, and yeah, to people on the outside it might’ve seemed like her life was amazing, but I saw all of it because there would always be someone with something to say.

I saw the way her face would drop when she overheard people talking about how she’s dressing is “Too masculine.” or the way she would look down when people she loved told her to “Act more proper.”

I saw all of it. 

But I also saw the way it fueled her, how she felt like someone would always have something to say, but at the end of the day, she could still go back to the gym. Work harder. Become better.

I would hope that the people around her became a little kinder to her, but I couldn’t be sure. I promised myself that night with her that I would be that kind person to her,

rivals or not.

I felt like a thread unraveling. If someone asked me why a girl I haven't spoken to in years is the cause of it, I wouldn’t be able to tell them, I think it’s because I cherish my childhood so much.

I lift my face up from my pillow just enough to see my phone and grab it, roll my eyes when I see a text from Courtney, telling me “Goodnight” God, I wish she’d realize, take a hint. But I can’t blame anyone but myself, maybe I seem too friendly.

I shove my face into my pillow even harder.

Koda jumps up beside me, and I can tell by her movement that she’s circling around for a moment before lying down and getting comfortable, eventually, she does. And I envy the way she can fall asleep so easily, soft snores coming out of her button nose.

I try to let the sound of her snores and the warmth of her pressed against my side lull me to sleep.

-

It doesn’t work. My eyes are closed but I’m restless, tossing and turning, trying to find comfort for just a moment. 

I haven’t had comfort in a long time, when you have basketball to focus on, you don’t have time to second guess feelings, or the “what ifs”

You just do.

So when things happen in my life that make me confront those feelings, I shut down.

Paige's POV

My eyes feel glued shut, and my hand feels detached from my body when I reach up to rub the sleep out of my eyes, I must’ve fallen asleep, bored of watching time waste away.

I glance up at the clock, 9 am.

My MRI results came back at 8.

Sure enough, I look at my phone, a missed call, and a voicemail from the hospital, but I don't listen to it. Just hit the green “Phone” app, tap the voicemail section, and look at the transcript.

“Hi Paige, It’s Dr. Hall with Dallas Medical Center, I was calling to let you know that the results of your MRI came back this morning, a tear is shown in your right anterior cruciate ligament. Now, I know this may be a lot to process, but I do want to discuss it with you further…”

I don’t bother tapping to see the rest of it.

Something about seeing it, even though I knew before anyone else did, the confirmation ripped at my gut, maybe part of me was hoping it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was, the fact that I could hop off the court by myself and still have time to take a jab at Coach a way to convince myself it wasn’t bad.

I take a deep breath, like the one I take before nailing a free throw, but it’s to get ready, not because I’m going to the hospital to “Discuss my results” But to talk to my coaches, break the news, because something told me they were being optimistic too.

-

“It’s torn,” I say, you would think I would have more emotion while saying it. Like it was something that was going to eat me alive, like my whole world just came crashing down and I was losing it just thinking about what I was going to do the next day.

And I did feel that way, but this was basketball.

There’s always a risk of injury, I went through it before and saw damn near my whole team get injured at UConn.

I saw the way it broke them, how I couldn’t do anything but be there for them, I didn’t want people to feel for me, because I didn’t want to cause a disruption, so I said it with a straight face, eyes avoiding Curt and Coach like they would turn me to stone if I looked at them.

“Okay.” Curt sighs, I can see Coach rubbing his hand over his face, almost like he was annoyed with me rather than sorry for me.

“We were looking at all possibilities, what to do if these were the results you told us. The truth is, we think it’s best if you rehabbed in Minnesota-” I cut him off, whipped my head up to look at him, the eyes I avoided not long ago staring back at me through glasses, but I wasn’t frozen, I was furious.

“I am not leaving Dallas.” I state, like there was no negotiation, because, in my eyes, there wasn’t. I was injured, but I wasn’t going to leave my teammates. Fuck, I wasn’t going to leave the life I’ve built here, even if I felt like I didn’t belong.

“Paige, it’s not an option, we don't have the facilities or the proper people to deal with what you’re going through-” He said it. Said it like I wasn’t fixable, I couldn’t help myself, and I cut him off again.

“What am I going through? An ACL tear? We have the people here to help me!” My elbows are on the table now, hitting my funny bones and numbing my arms.

“Paige, it’s not right for you to be here, all the cameras and media will only make you feel worse, we care about you, and we’re afraid of jeopardizing your mental health.” He says, bringing his hand up, gesturing to me to calm down.

“Jeopardizing my mental health?” I raise my voice, I don’t mean to, and maybe I should comply, pack up, and go to Minnesota, I wanted my distance anyway, right? But I hated that I wasn’t in control of it, it scared me.

“Paige, I am going to be very honest with you, we have an image to uphold. Your outburst at Chris in the tunnel was picked up on camera, we’re uncomfortable with keeping you here right now, it looks bad for the organization when players lash out at their coaches, especially when it’s already being speculated that trust hasn’t been there.”

I scoff, because there wouldn’t be speculation if it wasn’t true. The truth? The players were the ones who kept this team together, not Coach, not Curt. Us. We knew from my first year here that it wasn’t going to change, that we had to do it ourselves, and we did that.

“We wish you the best Paige, really. We’ll always be in your corner. Your flight is Tuesday next week.”

I shove myself out of the seat, ignoring the pain that shoots up my leg while doing it, ignoring the way my arms were still numb from slamming my elbows down on the table. I grab my crutches, walk to the door, press the handicap button, and leave. 

Because it was easier for me, to just leave.

taglist : @pboogerswbb @sierrale8ne @lupinqs @vamptizm @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @ohmybueckers @flipthepaige

[invisiblemelonmoose]

Ngl, I'm not really interested in having a conversation over whether people agree or disagree with the reasoning and was simply offering an explanation to the previous commenter.

Going against my better judgement, I'll explain further for anyone who also may be genuinely curious, but please excuse me if I don't reply past that. (Also, for simplification, I'm going to refer to people who can and do bare children as women for simplification of writing and because I don't need to get into a different discourse of gender identity with people who don't "believe" in trans people existing or whatever)

Surrogacy if generally perceived as something that women in poverty or incredible need of money would do as an act of desperation rather than as any other "job". (Similarly can be said about sex work, but I'm DEFINITELY, not going to go into that at all, because I absolutely know better than to into that.) Surrogacy is exploitative, similar in a way that one might sell their organs to get money. No one really does it because they "want" to. You don't see wealthy or middle class women choosing to have someone else's child just because it seems like a good way to earn some cash. (Not going to go into women who act as surrogates for friends as we're specifically talking about the sale of women's bodies)

In addressing the point of selling "a service vs. goods", they are selling the use of their body to produce a child. That's like saying someone who makes a custom blanket is only selling their service, but not the goods itself. Like, no, even if you "provide the material" you're not getting a pregnancy as an act by itself like you would a massage. You are paying for a human child. The entire point of the "process" is to receive a small human at the end of the service. She isn't pregnant just to be pregnant. This doesn't even go into the messy ethics of eugenics, when the "buyers" no longer want the child and demand a "termination" aka an abortion, or what happens when the woman who is carrying the small human forms an emotional bond (which is a physically natural response to being pregnant) with them.

All of this to say, surrogacy is rife with ethical murkiness and, whether you (not you in specific, but in the general meaning) agree or not, is it's perfectly reasonable for someone to think it should be illegal depending on their own moral code.

I hope this helps!

let's make surrogacy illegal in 2024 pretty please

[meanbossart]

Any tips for new or returning artists?

I’m hoping to discover my own art style this year (from scratch, no references) by just throwing myself into learning anatomy, drawing random characters, and praying I can figure out how to add depth to pieces.

I have very minimal artistic experience and my work has improved significantly from where I started years ago, but not even close to where I’m hoping to be.

I can freehand faces and tweak the anatomy accordingly but I feel limited. Maybe it’s (in part) because I’m using an iPad, apple pen and Procreate? I recently added the paper-feel screen cover and that’s helped significantly with control.

Do you draw on paper to help your muscle memory? Honestly, ANYTHING helps. I watch videos on anatomy and art all of the time — I just don’t know if my brain is absorbing it correctly 😭

Hello! I don't know if I can say anything in particular to the returning aspect of your situation since I've drawn pretty consistently all of my life, but if someone else has had that experience of picking the skill back up after a long break, feel free to share your thoughts in the replies!

I'm not fully sure what you mean by "hoping to discover my own art (...) from scratch, no references", but if it means trying to whip up a style from thin-air and blocking out all outside influence or take any inspiration from existing art that you like... Uh... Don't do that! I don't see the benefit. All art is a derivation of a derivation, I can assure you that by compiling a folder or collage of your favorite works, borrowing and reworking aspects that you like, you WILL land on an original style and have learned so much more about it in the process than if you hadn't done that at all.

Also I can assure you that drawing on procreate/ipad is not a hindrance whatsoever, plenty of professional artists prefer it over display tablets. @wolfskulljack-art comes to mind as someone who has created several incredible tour posters for Metallica, all in her ipad.

I must have drawn on paper a total of 10 times in the last 5 years, I have no idea if that's bad or not... It Probably is, but I'm at peace with it, LOL. Generally when it comes to improving ( and I know that this is a frustrating answer) the secret is to just draw a lot. There is no class that is going to take you from amateur to Caravaggio, it takes time and takes making "bad" art. A lot of bad art. When it comes to learning anatomy, I think the best thing you can do is draw a lot of real-life human bodies from reference while consulting an anatomical diagram or model of some kind. Otherwise you will just making a bunch of lines without ever understanding their purpose.

I don't think you need to be an expert at the human body AT ALL before jumping into stylization and making confident, art, but if you do something like this whenever you draw I think you will end up learning a whole lot. Muscle memory (no pun intended) will come to you naturally!

I also have a lot more tips in my #tutorial and #advice tags that you can look through if you want to, otherwise, I would tell you to just do more drawing and less looking for the perfect tutorial or golden advice. A lot of artists get very boggled down in learning in the most correct and effective way, and while there are pointers that can be given, they tend to be very straightforward🤷 and the rest falls on you to follow through with!

[choerypetal]

Nap Time. / Mike Schmidt

Summary : You knew Mike ever since moving next door to his. While you were suggesting to look for a job and him in deed for a babysitter, to keep Abby during his night shifts. You accepted even at times to offer overtime, due to the nights at his work being somewhat more difficult than he had thought. Meaning having to also prepare tonight's dinner when Mike went to take a Nap. Warning : None, Just fluff!

Enjoy!

Mike had diligently prepared your paychecks for the past few months. Despite facing personal challenges, he consistently maintained his commitment to honesty. However, as he handed you your paycheck this time, there was a noticeable change in his demeanor. His gaze appeared strangely vacant, and he seemed to avoid eye contact, in line with his prior preference for avoiding meaningless, drawn-out conversations. You couldn't help but observe his bloodshot eyes and the dark circles underneath them, signaling that he hadn't enjoyed a peaceful night's sleep in quite a while.

Although you offered to stay a little longer, realizing that dinner wasn't ready and Abby was getting ready for bed, he firmly declined, shaking his head nervously, his stuttering making his anxiety apparent. "No–Noo– It’s– Abby can–" It was at this moment that you understood he had lost everything. The memories from that second night at the Pizzeria and the children were haunting him. He began to disconnect from reality, feeling his body temperature rise and sweat bead on his forehead. If Mike wasn't already in a state of torment, he had surely been gone for a long time.

"I insist." You firmly stated, believing in your words this time. Abby, who had been hesitant to peek from outside her room, came over to hug you. Seeing that you were still there, she tugged at the end of your shirt, signaling that you could stay even if her brother had chosen not to. She preferred spending more time with you, especially after all the recent events. While she deeply cared about her brother, she understood that sometimes adults needed their space, particularly when it involved taking Abby away from Mike and into the care of her aunt, who she herself had strongly objected to it. 

Mike observed the two of you, momentarily captivated by how he managed to keep his composure after all he had been through. He let out a sigh, soothingly rubbed his neck, and finally agreed before Abby could voice another protest directly. "Alright, alright. It wouldn't hurt if you stayed a little longer... Maybe  to also getting dinner ready too?"

A smile graced your features as you graciously accepted his request, fully aware of his fatigue. "I'll go take a nap if you... don't mind?" Without waiting for your response, he promptly headed to his room, leaving Abby and you alone in the room. "He's been rather grumpy lately." Abby remarked, her expression conveying her amusement as you playfully ruffled her hair. "Can I help?" She then offered to assist you with dinner, a proposition you welcomed with enthusiasm. "Of course. How about I handle the vegetables, and you mix everything?" Abby's face lit up with delight, and she eagerly took your arm, guiding you both to the kitchen.

The cooking process unfolded smoothly, with you patiently waiting for the spaghetti sauce to simmer according to your mother's cherished recipe, allowing it to develop its flavors over a few hours. As Abby settled in to watch her favorite nighttime comedy shows, you made the decision to rouse Mike from his nap before dinner was ready. You couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt knowing he was in a somewhat disheveled state.

Carefully entering his room, your eyes wandered around, taking in the old drawings, family photographs, and a few posters that appeared to be recent additions, their sheen reflecting the moonlight streaming in through the window. Moving closer to his slumbering form, you gently brushed your fingers across his cheek, prompting him to emit a few soft whimpers in response to your tender touch. You couldn't help but smile, and as you continued to caress his cheek, you noticed his fingers entwining with yours. Initially, you thought it might be a sign to stop, but he murmured, "Please continue..." So softly that it nearly startled you, caught off guard by his vulnerability.

Mike unmistakably recognized your presence, discerning your perfume's scent and the tender affection you consistently bestowed upon him whenever the opportunity arose. However, tonight felt notably distinct, one of those nights when he needed your support the most. It pained him to see you openly caring for a guy burdened with numerous life problems, yet it was one of the aspects about you that he strangely admired, particularly your strong bond with Abby. As you prepared to rise and apologize for waking him so abruptly, he urged you to do the opposite. "Stay for a little while." he murmured, his words soft and slightly hoarse due to his dehydration, as he struggled to express himself.

In response, you emitted a soft hum and nodded, though you were uncertain if he truly meant it. He gently took hold of your wrist, assisting you in settling on his bed in front of him, his body shifting closer to yours. He rested his head on the crook of your neck, exhaling the familiar scent he had always been infatuated with. Though initially feeling a bit uneasy, you nervously cleared your throat and mentioned that dinner was nearly ready. However, he declined, saying, "Abby will know when to... Just stay here for a while."

You realized that declining wasn't even an option as Mike's arms were wrapped around your waist so tightly that he showed no intention of letting go any time soon. Although the sudden display of affection caught you off guard, you couldn't help but thoroughly enjoy this tranquil moment. Your soft smile graced your lips, and at just the right moment, Mike's eyes opened from his deep slumber, fixing on yours with a quizzical brow raised at the sight of your unexpected smile.

"What's the smile for?" He inquired, though he understood the meaning behind it and pretended not to, instead focusing on admiring every feature of your face. You shrugged, perhaps waiting for Mike to provide an answer, but he insisted that you share your thoughts. "I suppose it's just about sharing this moment with you." You confessed with a gentle smile.

"Is it?" He inquired, adopting a teasing tone, causing your cheeks to flush with warmth in response to the unexpected situation. Despite working as a babysitter for Mike, you had never anticipated or considered the possibility of a deeper relationship, let alone sharing his bed at this moment. As you found yourself also admiring his face, a subtle tingling sensation fluttered in your stomach—a mix of desire and affection for the man who had initially been nothing more than a neighbor.

"It is." You firmly concurred, your smile now more at ease. You couldn't help but giggle at how silly you must have sounded, only to then realize that the man who loved you, perhaps even adored you, had been right there in front of you all along. "I'm glad then..." He whispered softly, gently caressing your cheek. He showed no intention of releasing you for a while, even when he sensed your desire to do so, as the aroma of tomato sauce filled the entire house, signaling that dinner was ready.

"Nuh-Uh." He protested with a playful pout, fully aware of where your attention had swiftly shifted. "Pasta can wait just a little longer, please." He pleaded, emphasizing the word 'please.' His protest was more of a source of amusement than a genuine plea for pity. This time it was more of an theatrical performance, and you understood his intention. Even though you didn't make a strong effort to comply, you decided to stay a little longer, especially when you felt his lips against your skin. “I bet you even taste better than your mom’s spaghetti..” His journey from your neck to your collarbone brought a smile to your lips, intensifying the blush that had adorned your cheeks earlier.

In an attempt to deflect from your deepening blush, you attempted to cover it, but Mike had the time to gently lifted your chin as he turned your body to face him. "Did I ever told you that you look like an angel sent from above?" He boldly stated, making you initially think he might have lost his mind with such a bold compliment. However, you chuckled casually and replied. "I suppose so?" You decided to play along, mimicking the playful banter he had engaged in earlier, feigning innocence with a hint of sarcasm. To your surprise, this seemed to arouse him even more, making him desire you exclusively.

"You know."A familiar and youthful voice suddenly chimed in between the two of you, and Abby's figure peeked into Mike's room. You heard a sigh of annoyance, coupled with a sense of embarrassment, as you both realized where you had been all this time. Mike chuckled, "Yes, yes, Abby. We'll be right there for dinner."

"You heard her," you declared, joining Abby to help her get ready to serve dinner. Just as you were about to rise, Mike couldn't hide a pout, one that compelled you to lean in and press a soft kiss on his lips without hesitation. "Come on, grumpy old man. I'm hungry," you playfully protested, rubbing your stomach and indicating that he wouldn't receive any more kisses if he didn't comply. He sighed but abandoned the idea of keeping you both in bed, realizing his own hunger as his stomach grumbled in agreement.

As you got up and left the room, you glanced back at him with affectionate eyes before finally leaving to join Abby. It was in that moment that Mike fully comprehended the depth of what was happening—sharing his life with someone else, someone he loved and cared for deeply. It was something he hadn't expected, but here you were.

For once, Mike felt a sense of rest and inner peace.

[xoxoangelllcake]

Like honey.

warning: consists of lesbian sex, pussy eating, dom Maddie Nolan, sub f, Maddie is very Scottish in this so..

The ginger leaned against the doorframe of the small apartment she shared with Y/N, a soft glow coming from the streetlamp outside casting a warm light around the room. It was late, and the city of Piltover was alive with the sounds of the night, a culmination of bustling streets and distant laughter. But inside, it was just the two of them, a sanctuary far removed from the chaos of their lives. Maddie, the fierce enforcer of Piltover, had a softness reserved just for Y/N—a softness that made her heart melt.

Her bright red hair fell over her shoulders as she took a leisurely sip of her drink, her emerald green eyes locking onto Y/N with a smirk dancing on her lips. "Ye ken, lass, ye look absolutely ravishing tonight," she teased, her thick Scottish accent rolling off her tongue like honey. The way she said it made Y/N's cheeks flush, a warm rush of affection hitting her.

Y/N chuckled softly, a playful glint in her eyes. "Is that so? I was just going to say the same about you, Maddie." She stepped closer, feeling the electric tension between them pulse in the air. Their bodies were magnetic, drawn together by an unspoken understanding that was both exhilarating and comforting.

Before Y/N could think, Maddie closed the distance between them, capturing Y/N's chin between her fingers and lifting her face to meet her gaze. “Aye, but I’m not just here to flatter yer beauty. I’ve got plans for tonight.” The fire in Maddie’s eyes danced mischievously as she leaned in, their lips brushing against each other softly, teasingly, before Maddie pulled away just enough to see Y/N's eager reaction.

As the night deepened, the playful banter shifted into something much more intense. Maddie's hands roamed Y/N's waist, pulling her closer until their bodies pressed together. The sensations ignited a fire beneath their skin, and Maddie's breath hitched slightly as she began to whisper sweet, sultry nothings in Y/N's ear, using the Scottish lilt that always made Y/N's heart race.

“Ye think ye can handle me, lass? I’ll make ye feel things ye’ve never felt before,” Maddie promised, her voice a low rumble. With that, she captured Y/N's lips in a passionate kiss, the kind that stole the breath from their lungs and made the world outside fade away into oblivion.

Maddie’s hands slid down Y/N's back, teasingly tracing the curve of her hips before she gently pushed Y/N back onto the plush sofa. Y/N’s breath quickened; she was more than ready for what was to come. Maddie knelt between her legs, a predatory gleam in her eyes as she raked her gaze over Y/N's form.

“Let’s see how well ye do with a bit of pleasure, aye?” she murmured, the words so laced with promise that they sent shivers down Y/N’s spine. Maddie’s fingers danced over Y/N’s thighs, spreading her legs apart with a gentle but firm touch.

Her mouth found its way to where Y/N ached for her most, teasingly brushing her lips against the sensitive skin, driving Y/N wild with anticipation. “Ye taste as sweet as I imagined, love,” Maddie growled, the heat in her voice igniting a fire in Y/N’s core. Every lick, every flick of Maddie’s tongue sent waves of pleasure coursing through Y/N’s body, and all she could do was hold onto the edges of the sofa for dear life.

“God, Maddie… Please don’t stop,” Y/N gasped, her voice trembling with desire, and Maddie responded by diving deeper, her determination only intensifying. The rhythm of their breaths mingled, urgency building as the room filled with the sounds of one another—soft gasps, low moans, and the intoxicating melody of passion.

As the storm of ecstasy washed over Y/N, Maddie's fingers skillfully played with her most sensitive spots, driving her higher and higher into the blissful release she craved. When Y/N finally teetered on the edge, Maddie’s mouth found hers once more, swallowing her moans as pleasure overtook her entirely.

It was intoxicating, to lay there intertwined, the world outside forgotten. Maddie, always in control, basked in Y/N’s afterglow, their bodies fitting together perfectly. With a warm smile, she pulled Y/N into her arms, teasingly brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Ye did well, lass,” she murmured, planting soft kisses along Y/N’s shoulder. Y/N could only grin, feeling contentment wash over her. As they settled into the warmth of each other’s embrace, Y/N knew that no matter what battles awaited them outside those walls, here with Maddie was where she truly felt at home.

[deadhands69]

Harder, Softer, Harder

MDNI

Dabi x gn/afab Reader

Dabi helps after you're hit with a sex quirk Contains: consensual sex/non consensual situation I wanted to keep these as consistent to the same story as possible, hence Dabi leaving with two girls even if this one is written as more canon/slightly broken introverted Dabi. (I’m still amused by the idea of him being an absolute slut in the Shigaraki fic though.) Typically, I don’t assign jobs/quirks to the reader unless it’s relevant to the story. This isn’t a crucial part of the plot but a record store reader seemed like so much fun. After seeing High Fidelity too young to understand it, all I got out of that movie was that I wanted to work in a record store when I was older. For obvious reasons, my mom laughed at me and I never ended up with that job. But it seems sooo cooollll. So, record store reader. Maybe you’re there full time or just work there part time for fun or something. [wc: 2.2k]

This is part of an ongoing series: shigaraki version - bakugo version

It was supposed to be a quiet night. The wind lightly blew warm summer air over your skin as you walked through the shopping district with one of your best friends. You were leaving a small cafe and planned to visit a few shops next. Everything would have been fine, if not for - 

A sudden commotion draws your attention to the sidewalk as you’re walking out the door. Out of nowhere, you can’t see. Everything is dark and you would almost assume it’s in your head if not for the screaming and shoving surrounding you. Instinctively, you and your friend grab each other, ducking to the ground in an effort to find clear air. Ten seconds feels like an eternity but just as quickly as it came on, the darkness dissipates. 

A man rolls off the sidewalk in front of you and you immediately know it was him. Having never seen his face before, you connect the dots: he’s the sex quirk villain that's been all over the news lately. He has to be. He has the face of someone you’d imagine looking through the window of a locker room. He winks at you before running across the street towards some dumpsters in front of an alleyway. That brief interaction makes you sick to your stomach.

Sick isn’t all you feel.

Your insides twist in a familiar way, aching. Empty.

Fuck.

Before you can dwell on it, a familiar figure in the crowd catches your eye.

His hoodie blocks most of his face, but you’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

“Dab-” you begin to shout before he cuts you off.

“Hey, quiet,” he looks around, “I gave you that name in confidence. Not to yell in public.” His eyes continue shifting, but he sees that no one notices him in the chaos. 

“You doing alright?” he asks.

“We’re… fine,” you reply, “both of us got hit with that quirk though.” 

You stare up at him expectantly. He does know what that villain's quirk does, right?

“Your friend here have anywhere to go?”

“Yeah, she needs to get to her boyfriend’s apartment.” 

“Alright,” he says in a gravelly voice, putting an arm around each of you, “let’s get out of here before heroes anyone else shows up. Lead the way.”

The walk drags on forever, for how short it seemed earlier in the night. You can’t help but notice how much warmer Dabi feels against your body. It’s like every part of you is drawn to him. He only has an arm around you but you can’t help but want more. 

He follows the directions you give to get your friend to her destination. Her boyfriend is already waiting outside the building to take her in. Once you see that she’s safely taken care of, your mind begins to wonder. Dabi never said he’d help you, he’s just escorting you…somewhere?

“Where to next?” you ask.

“Don’t you need to…” he trails off, his intense eyes looking you up and down.

“Yeah,” you answer, trying to hide how flustered you are by quickly turning the direction of your own living space. 

He follows.

Honestly, you don’t know him all that well. You know his name is Dabi (or Touya, as he sometimes changes it up when putting in special orders) and he’s the cute regular at your work. You could list all of his favorite songs, but you have no clue where he lives. What he does throughout the day. 

Fortunately, you don’t live far. 

Unfortunately, it’s proving to be the longest four blocks you’ve ever walked in your life. With every step, you notice the way your pants brush against you. Turning you on even more than you thought possible for such a mundane situation. It doesn’t help having a hot guy close. And god, you can’t stop staring at him.

 Of course you always found him attractive, but today he’s irresistible. There’s something sweet in the way he smiles. How he looks at you like you’re the only person alive. The way he casually moves through the world as if he's unaware of how insanely attractive he is. It's effortless.

Dabi takes your arm, wrapping it around his to make sure you don’t lose your balance in the street. You look woozy, he’s decided.

The first time you ever talked to him, he was looking for a specific album, which happened to be your favorite band/musician. The two of you talked for half an hour about music before you offered to order the record for him to pick up later. Since then, he’s come in once a week like clockwork to look at the new arrivals and talk about music. Lately, he’d been bringing you coffees after you yawned once at work. When you brought it up, he brushed it off like it was no big deal and never spoke of it again.

All green flags so far though. He seems sweet so you don’t have many apprehensions about bringing him home with you. Besides, he’s your best option and you’ve secretly wanted this for a while anyways.

Before you know it, you’re walking through the door to your own home. Work crush in tow.

Good thing you cleaned up a bit earlier today.

“I like the space,” he says, as you hang your keys by the door.

“Thanks,” you reply awkwardly. It’s nice enough, you think to yourself. Not really noteworthy. He must just be making conversation. 

For how much you couldn’t keep your eyes off him and how painfully turned on you are, seeing him in your living room is still, well, nerve wracking. He seems too beautiful to actually be here, yet there he is. Staring at you with his hands in his pockets. Wearing a slight smirk while he waits for you to invite him into your bedroom. Or your couch.

Deep breath, he knows why he’s here.

“So,” he starts while walking closer to you, stopping less than a foot away. “Still feeling fine?”

Nope. Your face is flushed and you’re overwhelmed.

He knows that too, he can tell by the way you squeeze your legs together. How your breathing is different than usual. But he’s not just going to come out and say it. You never really asked for his help, as much as he’s willing to give it. He can be confident, to a point. But he’s waiting for you to approach him.

The coffee. Showing up every week, specifically during your shift. His arm around you while you walked here. Standing closer than friends typically do, but not fully closing the distance.

He’ll bring himself to you, knowing exactly what you need, but you’ll have to be the one to reach out for him if that’s what you want.

And you do.

You want him.

So, you reach for him.

He’s so close already, his face just above yours as he looks down at you. Gently, you run your fingers up his neck. 

He freezes at the touch.

It's what he wants, really. He’s been waiting for this moment since he walked into the record store and met you. But comfort is a feeling he can’t quite place. Your hand softly caressing over his jaw.  He can’t feel much on the scarred area, but it’s the meaning behind it that counts. He doesn't hate it, it's just a lot at once.

“Are you okay with this?” you ask, his face still blank as he stares at you. “It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“Yeah, I’m fine” he smiles, shaking himself out of it, “can’t feel anything there anymore.”

“Oh,” your fingers trail over the soft skin of his cheek down to his upper lip, “how about here?”

“Yeah, that I can feel.”

You can’t help yourself, you have to ask…

“What about…” your eyes shift down.

“You trying to find out?” he laughs.

“I mean, you did come home with me after I got hit by a sex quirk.”

“Yeah, yeah," he rolls his eyes. "Come on. Which room is you?”

Since you met Dabi, you've dreamed of this. You could never have imagined it happening in real life, but it's finally happening. You haven't even had time to celebrate touching him, now he's in your room. Hands on your hips, guiding you to the bed. Pushing you playfully onto the mattress before climbing on top of you. He leans in closer, nose brushing against yours. You take it upon yourself to close the space between the two of you. Bringing your lips to his, focusing mostly on the parts you know he can feel.

He tenses, but kisses you back. It's interesting watching his typical nonchalance crack away. 

He continues kissing you, slightly awkwardly. Pausing slightly whenever your touch becomes too affectionate. He’s loosening up though.

His warm hands slide up your shirt, resting against your ribs. Occasionally squeezing as he becomes more comfortable with the closeness. Eventually, he takes your shirt off entirely. 

You do the same, pulling his hoodie off to grip his t-shirt underneath.

At this point, you’re so horny it’s painful and kissing him is only making it worse. In desperation, you grab his hips and slam them into you hard for any relief. 

His eyes light up. 

This, he can understand. He's comfortable with roughness. It's not like he spends every night fucking his hand thinking about it, but when he does he imagines it more like this. 

“Like that, [y/n]?” he huffs teasingly, pounding down into you, harder than you'd managed to earlier. 

You only manage to gasp in response. 

It’s like you opened Pandora’s box, giving him permission to live out his fantasy. This sparks his confidence again.

He pulls your bra strap down, flicking his tongue over your nipple. Eye contact never wavering while you melt into a puddle beneath him.

“Dabi, fuck,” you moan at his touch. 

The pressure in your gut builds as he continues to rub against you. Both of your pants begin feeling increasingly in the way. You yank his belt undone, shoving his tight jeans down with it. His dick springs forward, tenting his underwear. 

Looks like you’re not the only horny one. 

“Like what you see?” his husky voice asks. He sounds self-assured, but based on everything else you’ve seen this evening you know there’s a bit of a question in there.

“Mhmmm,” you reach out to grasp him through the fabric. 

Continuing to follow your lead, he pulls your pants off as well. Tossing them to the floor of your bedroom. His hand is softer than you expected when he slides into your underwear. Rubbing intensely against your clit while he kisses you deeply. You’re about to pull the last of his clothes off when his other hand grabs your wrists to pin them above your head. 

Everything in you wants as much of him as possible. 

“Need you to fuck me,” you whine into his ear.

He smirks, pulling his dick out himself. It’s thick. Making you wonder how you’d never noticed it before in the tight pants he wears. How does he hide that?

Without letting go of your wrists, he lines himself up with one hand. Rubbing his tip between your lips before pressing into you. He’s certainly not being gentle, but you can tell he’s holding back.

He pauses.

Wide eyed, for a moment he looks more surprised than you that this is happening. Regaining composure, he begins to move his hips. 

It’s everything you’ve needed all evening and then some.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so good,” he groans down at you. 

Some combination of the heat building in you all night, the stretch of him, and his praising voice sends you over the edge. You’ve never cum so fast in your life but there’s a first for everything. Dabi looks pleased with himself.

He fucks you hard through your orgasm. Pressing your hands into the bed. Your head is spinning as the quirk wears off; you feel detached from everything but him. His eyes are nearly glowing as they stare down into yours.

His hands loosen around your wrists, sliding away from your arms onto the bed. You find yourself chasing them, slipping your fingers between his. His movements stiffen and he glances away. 

It’s interesting. He had no apprehensions around burying his dick in you but holding hands makes him nervous.  

You’ll save that one for another day.

Instead, you run your fingers over his arms. Feeling the smooth scars as you make your way to his shoulders. His movements become less constrained. He fucks into you hard and smooth, building the heat in your body once more.

Your pleasure crashes over you like a wave again, leaving you gasping while you grip his white t-shirt. Pulling him into you. Your hips angling to bring him as close as possible while you feel yourself squeeze around him.

“You feel amazing,” you whisper in his ear, “you’re so fucking perfect.”

At that, he can’t hold back any longer. 

His breathing becomes more erratic. Hips slamming harder into you until he gives one final thrust, filling you with cum. Head drooping as he groans into your neck.

You run your hands through his hair, letting him relax while you both catch your breath. 

The neck of his shirt hangs loosely over his shoulder, oops. You can’t help but kiss the area above his collar bone sweetly. Even if you know he can barely feel it. He tenses and you realize it was too much, pulling away.

“Don’t stop,” he whispers.

m.list

[ditzyblues]

Do you have like a guideline/tips for how you draw Casey? I always try to draw her but it comes out wrong 💔

thank you for the question!!! i'm hesitant to answer this one, since casey has gone thru a super long process of like. Redesign. a lot of my casey is self indulgence (but not thoughtless.)

i'm far from her canon design at this point. in fact i don't think i've ever drawn it. but i haven't seen anyone horrifically misinterpret my design for her, so maybe I'm closer than I think.

FACIAL FEATURES:

my touchstones:

upturned, sharp eyes (going for monolid.) i always forget the eyeliner tho dont do that

HOOKED NOSE!!! even the canon forgets abt this.. a damn shame

sharp rectangular jaw

eyebrows that thicken at the end rather the inside

these are the four most important things i think abt while drafting her out... it's tougher to interpret casey's features since she's racially ambiguous, but i think it's safe to say she's east or southeast asian. i operate on the headcanon she's mixed filipina and white (like her voice actress.)

again, even with all these features in mind, her proportions can vary. I'm not even the most consistent with her, just because there's so much room in interpretation.

her cheekbones are pretty high, and i tend to highlight them. her nose is small for a hooked nose, and her lips are usually full enough (not as full as april's tho)

BODY TYPE:

touchstones:

broad shoulders bc of her back and arm mass (pronounced traps too)

buff arms. she lifts you see.

cinched but solid waist

wider hips, but nothing that takes from her shoulder width.

no one HAS to draw her beefy, given she's a stick in canon, but i think it kinda serves an arc. do u think she ate well in the foot clan...? NO! but now that she's free, she can bulk up and develop a good relationship with nutrition. Protein.

also she becomes more synonymous with the Casey Jones name. also stacked, muscular women are awesome and I think we need more. Also her being top heavy contrasts with April's more bottom heavy design. everything i do comes back to capril

MISC NOTES OF VARYING IMPORTANCE:

her haircut genuinely does not matter. as long as its close to her scalp in length and straight, she looks like casey.

red eyeliner certainly helps, but isn't needed. (saying this to cope with the fact i always forget it)

her black lipstick helps a lot. along with her ear cuffs on her left ear.

sticking to her black and red palette is great, but browns, deep blues, whites, pinks, and denims are fun too. have fun.

thinking of her as butch instantly gives her sauce in the drawing process

at this point in drawing her, i'm not thinking of her recognizability as foot recruit. she's evolved into this post canon, beefcake lesbian version of herself that has little pieces of my heart with her. i love her very much if u couldn't tell.

[zoomzooml]

Redesign concepts of Webmaster and Feathers

After a year

WEBMASTER

My biggest problem with the Webmaster design is how cluttered it seems; there's just a lot going on here. So I tried to calm it down a bit; I took away one pair of legs to make him less cluttered but keep (more or less) original body lenght. And I know that in his episode Jun says “if something has eight legs, she doesn't like it,” refering to spiders, but I think eight limbs works too.

I also played around a bit with his colors and markings. As well as body structure and proportions, noting this dragon's show-off skill - spinning webs.

When he puffs up his “cheeks” just before he spits, you can hear a sticky, mushy sound - you know that something is going on inside. The muscles are moving and pushing something with a sticky, gluey consistency. I would like it to be somewhat repulsive.

When he spits silk in attack it does not come out as big ball of burning web. It's more like net in "V" shape, in form of many separate threads of silk shooted at the same time. Similar to actual spiders, but on the bigger scale. His webs also don't burn; I feel like it's an overkill.

I changed the arrangement of his forelegs slightly. I know it's not quite in line with the style of HTTYD (see Speed Spingers' front limbs) but in his case I think arranging his hands in a similar way to therizinosaurus gives him a more menacing look.

Deadly Spinners are dragons that give a very unpleasant first impression. They are not the most beautiful dragons around (at least not by the standard) and their behavior can be repulsive to some. The type of dragon that people are willing to pin an unfriendly, sometimes unfair patch on more easily than on other dragons - as many people do with spiders or snakes and other similiar animals.

Deadly Spinners don't live in large groups - either small groups or solo. But when they are in a group they have very close bonds and spend a lot of time socializing among themselves.

FEATHERS

She is a challenge to me, not gonna lie. She definitely is the most changed among my redesigns so far. She just seems very basic to me.

The most bothering thing to me about her are those "feathers". Because, Alex in s1ep3 calls these "feathers", as well as Olivia in s5ep2, wiki calls these "feathers-like scales", but they can move and are thick what implies they are more like Furies'/Night Light's head numbs? I absolutely can pass the crowns as feathers, but Queen's horns and holes in her meaty tail were here the last straw to not to

And yes, I made a shitty video because I'm really confused and wanted that confusion express lmao. I hope Tumblr won't take it down.

So idk, I wanted to clarify what the frick those things are and go from there. I had two main ideas - either give her actual feathers or quills similiar to those of Bewilderbeast. When drawning I wasn't sure about either idea but finally decided for the latter one. Feels more HTTYD-like I think? And very flammable feathers don't seem like the best survival choice when almost every other animal around can spit fire.

I reimagine Featherhides as way more nervous and skittish dragons. Changewings were mysterious but usually seemed calm and strategical. Featherhides' nature is more in type of "flee" than "fight" (tho they can get so smoke when needed, they are not defensless or smth). They are very easy to spook and sometimes will flee in panic from something very trival just to return seconds later when they realise there was no danger at all, or are curious of whatever scared them. They often make rapid little movements, much like birds - especially if something catches their eye and they are not sure what it is.

Featherhides also live in large flocks without a complex hierarchy. If they can - they run, if any of them can't - at least some of them also stay behind.

Once Feathers bonds with Alex she would be very protective of her little human.

When Featherhides mimic sounds they do not do weird things with their faces like in the show. It looks much more like like some birds do that. But that's just a sidenote.