#but i needed to make it fresh and remembered this beautiful project i was so looking forward to

[sieglinde-freud]

i was definitely supposed to be playing fates today. not sure how i ended up here

[obsessedwhyyes]

A Sound Hypothesis

Part 1 of The Scientific Method series.

Summary: Inexperienced in the ways of love, you often find yourself labelled an overthinker. But then again, you are a scientist. When your incredibly beautiful travelling companion proposes a night you'll never forget, suddenly you're left wondering, are you really ready for this? Ever the scientist, you propose an experiment, and get more than you bargained for.

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4762 Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader Content: Act 1, smut with plot, inexperienced nerd reader, making out, oral sex (giving and receiving), hand job, cock worship, blowjob and handjob instruction (ie. Astarion teaches you how to pleasure him).

A/N: Can't believe this got to nearly 5k words, good lord. Actual smut comes in half way through, but it's still rather spicy before then. Also, writing handjobs is hard.

The events of the night prior felt like a dream, yet you remembered each moment vividly.

“I’m beginning to like the whole package, honestly,” he had purred, “and you clearly like me too, so I was thinking…”

You looked into his eyes as he gazed confidently, hungrily into yours. There was only him in this moment. Well, him and the quickened pulse of your heart pounding in your ears. You were certain he could hear it.

“We could take an evening to ourselves. Get to know each other a little more intimately.”

But you were struck with a hit of nerves then. You had lived a sheltered life before your abduction. A wizard and a scholar, your pursuits had been in the sciences and that of perfecting your craft, rather than in stolen moments of lust with beautiful strangers. Not to say you hadn’t experienced a few stolen kisses, however. But to give oneself entirely to another - that was a very different, much more intimidating affair. Yet there was no denying the spark that flickered between the two of you as you spent your days and evenings together, and that spark ignited a growing ache within you that lingered each night you retreated to your bedroll.

“I want to, Astarion. Gods, I really want to, but I’m…”

You hesitated and tore your eyes from him; fiddled with your fingers for a moment.

“You’ve never done this before,” he finished, causing you to look up suddenly from your busying hands.

“I had my suspicions. I’d have already bedded you twice over otherwise.”

You could only laugh, not only at the sheer audacity of his remark, but because of course he knew. Gods, he could probably smell the inexperience on you from a mile away.

“It’s your decision, of course. Should you wish to keep things light between us, we’ll end our evenings together as friends. If you decide you want a little more, however–”

He stepped closer to you - close enough to feel his cool breath on your skin and smell the freshness of his cologne.

“I’ll give you a night you’ll never forget.”

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his hand lingering delicately where your neck meets the line of your jaw. He was playing you like a fiddle, and you knew it. But gods, if his tune wasn’t a siren’s song in the night. You wanted nothing more than to dance to it.

And then he kissed you.

Gods, the way he kissed you.

There was need, yes; a hunger not unknown to you even in your limited experience. But it was a hunger wrapped in a velvet blanket of familiarity, as though he had known your lips as long as his own. He was certainly skilled, there was no denying that.

The chill of the night air felt like a splash of cold water to your senses once his lips left yours, and you found yourself mourning the loss of his touch.

“Think about it,” he had said that night, before retreating back to his tent.

–

And here you are, wrapped in your bedroll, thinking about it. Ceaselessly.

About his voice, laced with the sweetest honey, speaking promises of nights wanton and dripping with ecstasy. About his smile, teasing and rakish, and the feel of his lips against yours which you missed like home.

You think about the times you let him feed from you; the gentle way he held you, one hand cradling your head. The soft, pleasured noises that would rumble from his chest as he grazed over the soft flesh of your throat - and sunk his teeth into it. Then, greedy, he would begin to pull you close, your chest flush against his own. Every time he fed, it was as though the gates holding back the flood of every primal vampiric instinct within him were unleashed at the taste of you; the ambrosia that is your life essence which you willingly gift to him. And every time he fed, before you reached the point of no return, you would break him out of his trance - a simple series of taps on his shoulder - and he would release you from his predatorial embrace.

It was in those moments, you would see the look in his eyes: ravenous, pupils blown, boring down into you as you lay there beneath him, vulnerable. Your gazes would linger and gods, how you imagined what it would feel like to be entangled with him; for him to take his pleasure from you.

No, you tell yourself. This has been going so fast. Your time together has been so short in the grand scheme of things yet, with the threat of ceremorphosis looming over you, your time on this mortal plane may be fleeting. One might argue that now is surely the time to experience that which you have not… isn’t it? 

But what if this isn’t what you actually want and this aching need within you is simply a manifestation of the stress your increasingly bizarre situation has brought you? It is not unknown for one to develop bouts of hypersexuality in times of stress, or so you have read in books detailing such occurrences.

Suddenly, an idea presents itself. A scientist such as yourself requires a chance to gather all available evidence before coming to a conclusion. A little experimentation, perhaps. Then, you’ll know for certain if your attraction runs deeper than you give your body credit for. Your honed mind will not be governed by a set of primitive bodily urges - you’re better than that. You won’t allow it.

For now, sleep beckons. Tomorrow, you shall put your idea into practice.

– 

The next day passes as swiftly as you had hoped. You’re eager to welcome the night. You and your companions had seemingly settled into a predictable routine when it came to your evening endeavours: your fellow wizard and friendly rival, Gale, would slave over the cook pot with the limited items you had procured over your journey, while the Blade of Frontiers himself regaled your group with stories of his adventures, punctuated with commentary from your remaining companions, ranging from crude to complimentary. Food would be eaten and domestic duties fulfilled, after which, everyone would begin their journeys to their bedrolls. Well, everyone bar you and Astarion. As the resident elves, you require far less rest than that of your travelling companions. It was in these moments, where the camp lay dormant and the two of you sit against a fallen log by the campfire, that you had developed something resembling a rapport with Astarion. You have become rather fond of your night time talks.

Tonight, however, you have plans beyond repartee.

You feel emboldened by your plan. Where before, you were thrown into territory unknown, unprepared and anxious, now you have the comfort of scientific method on your side. You know exactly what to say - you’ve thought of every possibility after all.

Sitting side-by-side, you turn to him, determined.

“I was thinking about your little proposition last night.”

“Were you now?” Astarion replies with a smirk on his lips and a gleam in his eyes.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself just yet. I always imagined that the first time I, um…”

“Did the horizontal dance with an esteemed companion? Engaged in amorous congress? Fucked?”

“Had sex,” you quickly correct, halting his attempts to fluster you further. “I always imagined the first time I had sex would be under slightly less unusual circumstances. We’ve been under nothing but stress ever since we got off that damned Nautiloid. I can’t tell if this desire I’m feeling is because I truly want to spend the night with you, or because my body just wants a distraction.”

“Is that such a bad thing? We’ve worms in our brains and danger is lurking around every corner. Our time is short, darling. If I can provide our dear leader a little respite in these tumultuous times; offer up my services in her time of need, that sounds like time well spent, does it not?”

He shuffles closer to you, resting his arm behind you on the log which you both lean against.

“Besides,” he continues, his voice low and close to your ear, “you’ve been so good to me, offering up your neck for me to savour. It’s only fitting that I offer you a little distraction in return.”

“I don’t want to just… use you as a distraction, Astarion. Gods, I offered you my blood because I wanted to help you, not because I expected a favour.”

For a fleeting moment, his expression shifts. And just as quickly, his smirk returns, embodying a practised sultriness that has surely wrapped many a soul around his fingers.

“No,” you continue, “if I have sex, it will be because it’s something I truly want to do; that I’m ready for. Not just a fanciful distraction. I hope you feel the same.”

That expression again, barely noticeable. You can’t quite decipher it.

“So, darling,” he purrs, “what do you suggest?”

“I was wondering if I could kiss you.”

“Ha! Can’t get enough, eh?”

“I just think that, with a little more evidence, I might be able to see if this is something I’m truly ready for; to discern whether this desire is real, or simply a physical response to this gods-awful situation we find ourselves in.”

He laughs, seemingly amused by your reasoning, and your heart flutters at the sound. Unexpected.

“Gods, are you always such an overthinker?”

“I just think it would help me come to a decision.”

“Is that what this is then? Your little experiment?”

“I’m nothing if not a scientist,” you tease back.

“Alright, my dear. Your terms are acceptable. A kiss, for scientific reasons, of course.”

Of course, you say to yourself. That… is what this is, isn’t it? Simple evidence gathering?

You have no time to consider this as Astarion places a finger under your chin, lifting your gaze fully to his, and suddenly, you hear your pulse pounding loudly in your ears once more. Gods, his eyes are beautiful.

An easy smile, a tilt of his head, and he presses his lips to yours, delicate and familiar. He’s gentle, at first: his lips linger on yours a moment before kissing you again, a tender sensation. As you close your eyes and immerse yourself in the feeling, the world around you quietens. No longer do you hear the crackling of the fire as it dies, the chirps of insects, or the rustle of leaves in the breeze. 

At this moment, all you know is him.

You succumb to the coolness of his touch, the smoothness of his skin, the freshness of his scent - sensations so overwhelming that your body responds of its own accord, letting free a soft moan into his mouth.

As though in response, Astarion’s hand lowers from your cheek and trails from your neck, your shoulder, to your waist, as though committing each dip of your body to memory, before pulling you closer to him. Your hands, in return, plant themselves against his chest. His body feels hard and angular against the softness of your own.

As his tongue seeks permission to dance with yours, there is a hunger; a fieriness that threatens to engulf you. The kiss deepens, and you realise with a start that your legs have entangled themselves with his.

Pull yourself together, your mind screams. You’re meant to be in control of your body, not the other way around.

Or so you think, when suddenly, Astarion’s hand moves to your arse - the cheeky sod - and he skillfully, seamlessly rolls you onto his lap, taking advantage of your entangled legs, purposefully positioning you so that you’re straddling him.

Shit.

You gasp. You had forgotten to breathe. He notices and, gods, the smug look on his face. He knows he’s taken you off guard, and worse still…

He knows the effect he’s having on you.

The wall you had carefully constructed between your mind and body begins to collapse, brick by brick. As you kiss, the final fragments fall away, and everything that was once separated threatens to come together in a powerful, unified surge of desire if not for the final threads of your self-restraint.

His body desires this as much as yours, it would seem. As you straddle him, his hands caressing you as they drag up and down your back, you notice a distinct hardness digging into you, oh so close to your core. It takes more willpower than you’ve ever known to not grind into that hardness, seeking the release which you ache for. You are a tautly drawn bow, the tension between your mental focus and physical yearning almost unbearable.

Noticing how stiff you become, Astarion retreats from your lips, tilting his head in playful curiosity.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, darling?”

“I… I…” You barely recognise your own voice as it strains to come out of you.

The bowstring snaps.

You yield.

Your mind and body merge into a mess of lust and desire, and you kiss him hard and greedily. He returns the enthusiasm in kind, releasing a groan into your mouth as he does so. You want this. You want him.

Astarion pulls himself from your lips and turns his attentions to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses where, other nights, he had sunk his fangs. As he does so, you hear his voice, husky in lust.

“You know, if you still need a little more “experimentation,” I have a couple more ideas for you…”

His voice gives you goosebumps.

“... I’m particularly skilled with my tongue, after all.”

You nod.

“Your tent or mine?”

–

As you’re pushed against the bedroll within the privacy of your tent, you’re overwhelmed by a desire to feel every inch of Astarion’s cool, hard body on yours. It was such a primal need, to be enveloped by him; an urge beyond anything you’ve experienced, causing you to wrap your arms greedily behind his neck as you kiss each other, pulling him closer, but never close enough. His hips grind against you slowly, deliberately, granting you a brief, delicious friction which sends shivers up your body and fuels the incredible ache between your legs.

Astarion sits back up on his knees, admiring the mess of you, a smile on his pretty lips. You can only imagine the state you must be in: hair wild, eyes wide and hungry, clothes dishevelled. But your appearance is a distant notion in the back of your mind as Astarion lifts the hem of your skirt and removes your undergarments, sopping wet from your arousal.

You feel vulnerable, exposed to him like this, your desire on full display in front of the very man who you spent nights dreaming about. While his lustful gaze lights a flush of red across your cheeks, it doesn’t cause you to recoil; instead, you find yourself emboldened as he lowers himself between your legs, holding your gaze with eyes hungry and hooded.

He drags his lips up your thighs, leaving kisses so teasing that brings forth the neediest of sounds from your chest. When he reaches your core, he slides a tongue up the slit of you, agonisingly slowly, painfully gently.

Head rolling back, you anticipate the feeling of his tongue within you, but then…

He diverts his attention back to your thighs.

Bastard.

“Astarion..!”

“Eager little pup, aren’t you? Don’t you worry, darling - you’ll get what you desire. Once I have my fun with you, of course.”

He shifts, propping your legs over his shoulders as he grants you an audacious glance and grazes his tongue over you once more, sending a wave of tingles radiating across your body.

You begin to pout at his teasing action, and–

His tongue enters you.

He glides it firmly from your entrance to your clit, lapping you up in one motion, releasing the most wondrous groan, as though the nectar of your arousal is sweeter than any honey.

And so, like a man starved, he devours you, gauging quickly the sensations you prefer, alternating skillfully between firm strokes of his tongue, and the most teasing of flickers across your clit.

Your back arches, and you can do nothing but grasp at the edges of your bedroll as he works at you, leaving you in a state so blissful that you don’t notice the wanton sounds being cried from your lips.

“Easy, love,” he purrs, the loss of his tongue against you causing you to whimper. “As much as I enjoy hearing those delectable sounds of yours, let’s not wake the others, hm?”

You can only cover your mouth with your hands in a feeble attempt to hush yourself as he continues his ministrations. As your eyes meet and the pleasant ache in your core begins to swell into an all-encompassing warmth across your body, you wonder if this is what it feels to be revered as a deity would, your every sensation treated with the kind of awe that only a god might know.

It is when he enters you with his fingers - first one, then two, thrusting in rhythm with his tongue - that the warmth, now an inferno, reaches its peak. It surges through you like a divine crescendo, each wave of your climax a new blessing that floods your senses with a celestial rapture, singing his name like the sweetest hymn.

He caresses your thighs as he brings you down slowly from your high, grounding you.

As you return once again to this mortal plane, the lingering euphoria elicits a fit of giggles from you.

“Well,” Astarion smiles in return, removing himself from the home he has made between your legs, “you certainly seemed to enjoy yourself.”

“I did. I really did. Thank you.”

As you both sit yourselves upright once more, he presses another kiss to your lips. You taste yourself on him.

“I hope our little experiment was very informative for you,” he says with a wink. His words are teasing, but spoken with a gentleness that surprises you.

The truth is, you do have one more idea.

“Can I, um… Can I do the same for you?”

“What?” He says a little too quickly. Noticing this, he brushes his hair back with his hand to a more presentable condition, regains his composure, and continues. “I mean, you don’t have to. To see you squirm under my touch, that’s pleasure enough for me.”

“I want to make you feel good too.”

“You want to?”

That same indecipherable expression. A man with as many notches on his bedpost as he claims must have had some less than favourable conquests every now and then… Perhaps he’s had some bad experiences when receiving too? You suddenly find yourself cursing your lack of experience in these matters. You’re not exactly brimming with social expertise either.

“I probably won’t be the best - not as good as you - but I want to try. I always find that the best way to develop one’s skills is to practise under the guidance of a trusted expert. So… could you teach me how to make you feel good?”

Your gazes linger for a moment as he seems to assess your resolve.

Seemingly satisfied, he smirks, a well-practised aura of sultriness fitting back into place once more. All traces of that mysterious expression dissipate before your eyes.

“Well, darling, if you’re so eager to please me, who am I to stop you?”

You slide up to sit next to him as he begins to unlace his trousers, and suddenly you find yourself unsure of where to look. You’ve a scholar’s knowledge of the physical form; men’s anatomy is no stranger to you from an analytical perspective. And yes, you’ve fantasised about Astarion’s… parts before, as much as you have tried to deceive yourself into believing it was nothing more than a passing, intrusive thought. Yet, now that you’re here, about to perform the most intimate of acts to your beautiful travelling companion for the first time, you become bashful. You can’t quite believe the situation you’ve gotten yourself into tonight.

Yet, as he lowers his trousers and underwear to his thighs, revealing himself to you, all thoughts of bashfulness, of anxiety, cease to be for a moment.

“Hells, Astarion.” You look upon his hardened member with disbelief, measuring its girth against your arm. “How is that going to fit inside me, exactly?”

A slip of the tongue.

He grins, very pleased with himself. “Getting ahead of ourselves, are we?”

… And there returns that familiar flush of heat to your cheeks. Shit.

His chuckling lets you know that he has, in fact, noticed your embarrassment.

Seeking to swiftly change the subject to the much more pressing matter at hand, you ask, “can I touch you?”

In wordless agreement, Astarion guides your hand to his cock, which glistens slightly from the beads of precum elicited from the head. As you hold it, his hand remains over yours, coaxing you to move up and down the shaft.

His cock isn’t warm as you would imagine a regular man’s to be, owing to his vampiric nature, but you note its hardness; the way it pulses beneath your touch; the way his foreskin glides over the head so seamlessly. You squeeze him, fascinated.

“Gently, love. Like this.” He demonstrates by applying a light pressure to your hand and twisting ever so slightly as you both reach the tip, then loosening his grip as he slides you back down his length. You repeat the motion, tentatively. Gods, you hope you're doing this right. He made you feel incredible. You want him to feel incredible too. But oh, what if you hurt him, what if you–

“A-ah…”

The softest sigh of pleasure from your companion interrupts your thoughts. It sends wonderful shivers throughout your body. You find yourself eager to coax more of those little sounds from him.

A newfound confidence flares within you, and you gradually increase your pace, up and down and up and down the shaft, squeezing and twisting lightly as your beautiful instructor taught. In a sudden bout of curiosity, you glide your thumb over the head on your way back down and–

“Ah!”

There it is again. That most delicious sound.

“Exactly like that, darling. Exactly like that.”

He removes his hand from yours as you continue to pump him - you are a fast learner, it would seem - and moves it to reach your cheek, turning you to face him. As he leans his forehead against yours, you notice his breathing has become heavier, just ever so slightly. Instinctively, your breathing begins to match his, and you feel an intensity in the air that gives you goosebumps. Then he kisses you, and it is hungry. Ravenous. Greedy. His hand moves from your cheek to the back of your head, gripping your hair lightly, pressing your lips firmly against his.

As you continue to pleasure him, you find yourself becoming greedy too.

You want to taste him.

Between gasps for air, you ask him, “can I use my mouth on you? The way you did for me?”

“Mmhm,” he says into your kiss. It feels almost a shame to remove yourself from his lips, but you have greater plans yet. 

You both reposition yourselves. He turns to lie himself back on the bedroll, and you crawl down his body to position yourself between his legs. So close to his cock, you find yourself admiring it, taking in every detail: the thick vein on the underside of the shaft, the way the head throbs a colour darker than the rest, eager for release.

You're overwhelmed with a primal desire - a need - to please, to give.

To worship.

“Gods, it's beautiful,” you think aloud.

“I know,” he remarks confidently in return. You roll your eyes at his arrogance, but in this moment, in your eyes, even you can't deny that his cock is perfection. Your mouth waters at what is to come.

You hold his member delicately, like a jewel most precious, planting kisses up his length. A soft sound escapes from Astarion’s lips and suddenly you are emboldened, determined to gift him with bliss as he had gifted you. To do so, however, you would need a little instruction.

“Tell me how to please you,” you plead, and you feel him twitch at your words.

“You are eager,” he purrs, propping himself up with his hands to gaze down at you. You notice a shiver and a sigh, ever so slight, when you trail a line of wetness from base to tip with your tongue.

“In that case,” he continues, brushing a strand of hair from your face, granting him a better view of you, “lick your lips and hold it at the base. Then I want you to get to know it a little, so to speak. Use your mouth around the head and start slowly - there's no point in rushing in, eh?”

You obey, shaking off the lingering feelings of bashfulness at the directness of his words, and wrap your lips around him. Out of curiosity, you swirl a flattened tongue around the head and gods, his skin is so smooth, still slightly salty from precum. His cock twitches and you hear him gasp above you - he’s especially sensitive there, it would seem. 

Where are his other sensitive spots, you wonder.

Time to experiment. You are nothing if not a scientist.

You bob your head and relax your jaw to the best of your abilities, taking in just a little bit more of him each time your mouth glides up and down, keeping your tongue flat against him to flick against the sensitive tip each time you glide back up the length. The sounds he makes - oh, those sounds. His moans are like velvet, a soft, deep timbre that caresses your senses and makes your loins ache once more. Every murmur seeps into your being, igniting your senses and fuelling your need to explore every inch of him. You continue your journey down and down his length, savouring the taste and the texture and–

You gag as his cock touches your throat.

Astarion recomposes himself. “Easy, darling. Use your hand where your mouth can’t reach.”

“Like this?” Your hand pumps the shaft in rhythm with the motions of your mouth and tongue, and Astarion’s head rolls back for a moment.

“Like that,” he exhales heavily, “and suck gently.”

There’s a certain sense of empowerment, unravelling him like this. You relish in every moan that escapes his lips, every twitch and pulse of his cock as you attend to him. The lewd, wet sounds emitted as your hollowed cheeks suck his length. His hand finds its way to your hair, fingers weaving through the strands with a gentle authority, pushing you hard enough to guide you to an ever-quickening rhythm, but gentle enough not to force himself down your throat.

“Use your other hand,” he says between breaths, “hold the balls softly.”

You do as he says, giving them the gentlest of squeezes as you attend to him, and his breaths grow deeper, uneven. You sense the rising tension in him, a tide gathering strength beneath the surface.

He gives one final instruction.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes meet with a stormy intensity and, as you pump up and down with your lips and fingers at a dizzying pace, the intensity seems to surge through him with the force of an ocean swell, powerful and all-encompassing.

With a tremor and a groan so delicious that you find yourself moaning instinctively in response, his cum fills your mouth. Your eyes water, taken by surprise by the force of his release, but you do your best to swallow each wave, releasing him with a wet pop as his climax subsides.

Some moments pass and, in the afterglow, the tent is filled with a comfortable, profound stillness, and only the sounds of heavy breathing - yours and his - as you both return to your senses.

“Did you just..?” He asks, breaking the silence.

“I did,” you reply with a grin, showing him your tongue to reveal that not a drop went to waste.

He laughs warmly, and your heart flutters.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” He kisses you deeply as he sits up, seemingly undeterred by the taste of himself.

“I think I’ve gathered enough evidence to consider your proposition,” you say teasingly.

“Tomorrow night then, darling?”

Bastard.

But yes, you think to yourself. Tomorrow night. You’re ready.

Part 2, An Empirical Study, can be found here!

Masterlist can be found here.

[satoruhour]

i can’t stop thinking about riding satoru while he’s laying down his hands behind his head and watching us with a smug face ahhhhhhh i’m pulling my hair out

a/n: i immediately turn poetic whenever i write for gojo idk why guys 💀 + combining with another request where anon sent this in and said satoru core, so real! / tagging @shotorus @hannzai @arminsumi @jabamin @hyomagiri <3

warnings: dom!satoru, fem!reader, i lay the praise on thick here n i could be projecting but idk, pet names, humping, clit stimulation, overstimulation, riding, unprotected sex, multiple rounds, creampie / breeding kink, brief consensual filming, n*sfw under the cut

you think that you’re not so bad on the stamina spectrum — you could hold your own against a special grade pretty easily even after getting beaten down in unexpected attacks, training with your students have kept you on your toes and alert despite your years, and satoru . .

oh, being with satoru has your stamina improving without even you knowing it. whether it’s pushing him away during tickle fights, smacking him hard on the back when he forgets about his students’ missions yet again, or letting yourself submit completely to him in the bedroom, it’s never just one round with gojo. the man was naturally fit and had his reversed cursed technique that he was basically invincible.

you? not so much, always struggling to catch up if your boyfriend wasn’t doing any of the work.

“s-satoru . . please, i need h-help,” you whine out, so so sensitive from the endless foreplay your lover had put you through for teasing him with raunchy photos. it wasn’t your fault he was gone for so long, sent to the rural parts of japan to exorcise a dormant curse — the signal was so terrible there that gojo couldn’t even text his pretty baby whom he missed so much, finally reaching his wits’ end and teleporting to a cell tower only to be met with your body stretched into suggestive poses with very little left to the imagination.

gojo swears he’s never seen beauty like yours before, like a breath of fresh air from the first time he’s got you in his arms to the photos he’s received on that cell tower. a mission has never been finished that quickly before; a teleport and one swipe of his hand, another teleport.

“you don’t want your lovely boyfriend to enjoy his time?” gojo pouts, hands spanning your ass and squeezing at the fat there. you moan at the sensation coupled with the drag of your clit along his thigh — his cock wasn’t even in you and you were already reduced to moans. “after you draped your body in baby blue and you already want to get to fucking?”

gojo has a little lilt in his voice that pisses you off because you know he wants to fuck you bad. you remember how riled up he was when he returned home three hours before, chest heaving and sweaty. you can feel the throb of his cock under you and the little noticeable shaky breaths, but making you beg, making you needy for him is his favourite pastime.

“f-fuck you, ’toru!” you stutter out, thighs burning from grinding so long into his leg that you don’t even know whether you’re cumming or not; all you know is the addicting feeling each time he tenses his thigh for you. satoru laughs, wandering hands leaving trails of fire along your skin as you gasp and grasp at his shoulders. he lets you, squeezing encouragingly at your waist and helping you just a little. a small smile spreads across his face when he feels your cunt twitch at his beautiful laugh, entrance clenching around nothing.

“soon. you’ll need to be patient,” gojo chastises, eyes flitting between watching your connected parts of smeared arousal and your expression of closed eyes and a pretty ‘o’  that catches the moonlight, “look at ’er,  just so wettt . .” the sorcerer whistles at the mess you’re leaving on his leg, juices flowing so sinfully that it leaves a clear sheen of reflectiveness to it. 

“c’mon baby, c’mon baby, you can cum for me, can’t you?” gojo taunts and you feel the need to answer him even when your own body is asking you to rest.

“mhmh, ’toru—” you hump his thigh harder, tugging his body closer as you settle for the most friction you can get against your puffy clit. because you’re leaking so much, the glide of your pussy is so smooth and sticky along his skin, chasing your high more and more until your words are choked out in a high-pitched moan — “satoru, satoru, s-shit . .!”

gojo coos at your unravelling, bumping his leg into your cunt repeatedly as you ride out your orgasm and by now he is hard that it hurts almost, but he’s focused on your pleasure. he licks his lips like a pervert when you tremble at the orgasm, carrying your leg over his just to see strings of your cum stick to your core and his skin, laying a light slap to your pussy just to hear the slickness.

“oi!” you call out, out of breath as you swat his hand away as he giggles and have to take a breather against your boyfriend’s chest, burying your face into his neck. but for as long as satoru have been teasing you, he hasn’t been getting any action and is desperate to just be in you, fishing his cock out from his underwear. it’s pretty as always, curved with an angry red tip that is aching to stretch you out and a vein that runs along the side of it; it slaps into your inner thigh as he pumps it with a low groan.

“can ya ride me, sweetness?” you let out a small sound of disagreement, littering kisses along his skin in hopes that he’d indulge you, but with his free hand, he’s tapping his tip against your welcoming cunt, emphasising the sheer amount of cum you were dripping with. below you, his toned chest vibrates with the moans at the warmth of your cunt, of your 

“’m tired . .” you trail off, before a quiet gasp leaves  you when satoru first pushes past your entrance. and though you’ve taken him so many times, his girth still surprises you to some extent, digging your forehead further into his collarbone as he pushes into your gummy walls. bit by bit, your boyfriend bottoms out in you but does anything but move and of course, it’s a ploy by the one and only. “you’re not going to fucking move, aren’t you?”

gojo makes a terrible ding! sound and snaps his fingers, prompting a glare out of you until the needy words come tumbling out of his mouth, “i want to see you ride me, baby, please.”

“weren’t you the one coming home like a sex-crazed mani— ah!” he knows he still holds control over you when he snaps his hips into you and you freeze up with a whine of his name, nails digging into the sheets and skin. “that’s cheating.” gojo simply hums, placing a kiss on your lips that you don’t reciprocate before the room falls into silence: he leans back, putting both hands behind his head before nodding at you — and because he knows it’s him, he carries the gesture with confidence with no break in his character of just how you were so goddamn tight and warm.

he grits his teeth before trying to relax, “d’you think my pretty girl can give me a show?”

obedient and defiant, you moan softly with a glower, “s-sure i can— lazyass.”

gojo knows you mean it with affection, letting out a small laugh before the moment is interrupted by the first lift of your hips. from where he is, he can see how your folds stretch for his thick cock and the lewdness of your expression, until you start a pace and the little pants that leave your lips hypnotise gojo into a trance. he watches your dazed features with a smug smile as you bounce on him, ass meeting his pelvis in loud slapping noises.

“satoru— s’full, s’big—!” mewling out, your hands switch from abs to chest to headboard, finding anything to anchor yourself to as you ride his cock that nudges all the right spots. each descent is bound to send you reeling, drool dripping from the side of your mouth with how you seem to get more and more intoxicated on his length — even when your muscles start to ache in similar places like earlier and gojo seems to break from the little humps from his hips. 

“s’too much, h-hurts, ’toru . .” you whine with a pout to your voice, eyes lining with tears at the overwhelming pleasure, groping around desperately at the hand that indulges you briefly. it travels up your body, around your nape and back around, playing with your lips—

“you can do it, baby, ridin’ me so well . . s-shiiit,” gojo praises with a trembling rasp, toying with your bottom lip before grabbing your face and forcing you to look down, “you’re making me feel so, so good, sweetheart—” squeezing his eyes shut for a brief moment and then back again to compose himself, “—look at how well you take my cock.” the obscene words drags even more moans from you coupled with the sight of your pussy stuffed full of your boyfriend’s pretty dick, so filled to the brim with so much cum seeping from your cunt.

your wonderment is what prompts satoru to tug you forward into a sloppy kiss, leaning back even more as you yelp into his mouth and your beauty is just what sends gojo into a frenzy. the smugness is gone, the teasing nature is gone, just grasping at pockets of air to moan out together as gojo takes the reins and slams his hips into yours. the sheer force of it sends you jerking more into his embrace, sharing a loud, pornographic moan before a multitude of profanities fall from gojo’s mouth.

“you’re just too— fuuck! too perfect, princess,” satoru whimpers, arms wrapped tightly around your middle with pelvis thrusting up into you that if it wasn’t for gojo’s strong arms, your body would be flailing everywhere -— he nibbles at the skin near your shoulder, trying his best to see where the base of his cock meets your ass in noisy, wet pap! pap! pap!’s, “pussy moulded just ta fit my fat cock, yea?”

satoru’s skin heats up when he feels you nod, babbles of “yes”’s and his name jumbled up together in drunken incoherence as he continues to impale you on his shaft. your thighs start to squeeze around his, your own hips grinding down to meet his halfway as you feel your high approaching.

“a-ain’t ya a good girl, hm?” the praise just keeps coming, whispered into your ear with hot breath fanning it and sending you in a delirious state, but gojo’s rhythmic thrust slows down as he grinds his cock into you and you tense up at the feeling of his tip against your g-spot. you jaw falls open in a silent moan, body limping into his once he abuses tha spot repeatedly in deep, deep thrusts, punctuating it in between every word—

“good. fucking. girl,” your boyfriend sounds out into your ear, a grunt between hisses at the way you clench around him, the way your pussy seems to flutter, “you. thrust. like. thrust. that. thrust. huh? thrust.”

“y—yeah, like it, love it, satoru—” you’re too far gone with these deeper thrusts before he switches back and knows you’re about to cum the hardest with the way your toes curl and uncurl. just one sneaky hand to your clit is enough to send you into mantras of his name and confessions — “love it, love you, loveyou, loveyou, ’toru” — body jerking at the overstimulation.

“that’s it . .” gojo says shakily even after he continues to ram into you, “attagirl, thaat’s my good girl.” by now, you’re reduced to nothing but a fucktoy for your boyfriend who chases his own high, proven easy by the sensation of your tight walls and the slickness of your pussy, rutting like a dog before he shoots his semen deep into you. even gojo is speechless, hips jolting into your cum-filled pussy with the need to breed: seed nestled deep into you while his weeping tip spurts out the last bits of his cum.

but gojo doesn’t pull out just yet, flipping the two of you easily and grabbing his long forgotten phone by the nightstand. gently with a smile, he pats your cheek, wakening you from your orgasm-induced slip into unconsciousness.

“baby, gonna take a vid, you okay?” you mutter out a small yes, cute little whimpers escaping your mouth when gojo slowly pulls out. “wanna spread your pretty pussy for me?” your hands obey before you even know it once you hear the start of the camera, fingers soaked with your combined juices as you spread your folds and he watches, entranced at the way your cunt pushes out his cum — and the way it seeps out of you, good lord — alongside the cockdrunk smile on your face.

satoru points the phone at your cunt, and marvels with a grin, “looks like she’s begging for more of my cum, yeah?”

[dogw1tch]

Enclosed Within🌿

18+ Dryads x Gender Neutral Reader

(Tentacles, sex pollen, reader has afab anatomy)

DogWitch’s notes: I figured I would post some short stories while I work in a much larger project. I don’t think dryads get enough love so instead here’s a little story of them giving reader pLEANTY of it.

Summary: Lost and alone you stumble across a beautiful grove. There’s something in the air that seems to have you desperate and burning up from the inside. Perhaps grinding against the dew soaked moss might soothe you? I’m sure the vines starting to enclose your body are just regular plants.

It had been a long time now since you had found yourself cut off from the rest of your hunting party, and the dapple of gold on the moss covered ground told you that dusk was not far away. You paused again, listening, observing, searching for any sign that might help you get your bearings. Nobody ventured into the forest unless they were sure they could defend themselves against the creatures within and this was not the first time you had needed to navigate home from an unfamiliar place. It was, however, the first time you had done so alone. You grip your bow a little tighter. It was a warm evening and the cloying air had you sweating beneath your linen shirt that now clung to your chest. The cooing and flittering of birds was beginning to quiet now in the fading sun and beneath it you could hear exactly what you’d be waiting for. The gentle murmuring of running water.

Moving swiftly, bow at the ready, you follow the little stream down through the forest. Your village had been built in the valley and all the forest streams connected to the water mill there- therefore, so long as you followed the running water, you could never stray far from home. You had been walking for a few minutes, keeping a keen eye out for any familiar landmarks, when the brook you followed abruptly came to an end. Looking up you take in the strange scene. The brook had opened up into a large pool, spring green with duck weed and lilies, surrounded by moss-covered rocks. Nestled in every crevice of every boulder were fungi of every variety. Tiny white fairy caps to sprawling shelves of orange and brown gills. Some you recognise but most you do not. And above all of this there stretched the branches of a glorious willow tree. Its bows were thick and draped over the grove like a protective embrace.

A strange smell began to pull at your senses as you stood there; something sweet and heady that mingled with the petrichor. You noticed that a light, yellow dust seemed to be falling from the branches of the willow. Tiny particles that caught the light and danced through the air. You find the scent intoxicating, almost addictive, as you breathe deeply into it. It seems to coat your throat with sticky sweetness, like nectar from the most vibrant honeysuckle. As you take in this glorious new experience, you find yourself becoming increasingly uncomfortable in your dampening clothes. The material clung to you, restricting, making you feel hot and over sensitive. Perhaps it was your mind becoming dazed in the sweet air, but it seemed the only solution was to peel off your now drenched, clothing and sit, completely exposed, in the cool, damp moss. The water on your skin instantly soothed the heat that was building up in and around you, and you sighed contentedly, digging your fingers deeper into the mosses and leaves. Your mind had now become so clouded and vague, you struggled to remember how you got here. All you could think about was the cool moss soothing the sticky heat that now seemed to be coming from inside your body.

You began to buck your hips against the rock, hoping the cold surface that rubbed against your entrance might cool your insides. Little waves of pleasure began to radiate through your body as you moved your hips faster, grinding down on the rock beneath you. Your lips opened to gasp for fresh air but all that entered your lungs was that same sickly sweet that dulled your mind and set your nerves ablaze. You let out a whine of frustration and continue to rut against the moss, your own juices mixing with the dew. It was then, as you felt the heat would surly overtake you, that you felt a voice speak within the back of your mind.

‘So easy. So quick to submit. Poor thing.’

With that, the bows of the willow were suddenly upon you, twisting around your limbs and lifting you from the ground to hang, suspended above the lake. You couldn’t even find it within yourself to be alarmed as the loss of friction had you bucking desperately against the air.

‘So needy’

The voice came again, though now it seemed to be joined by a thousand others that echoed its words.

‘Worry not little one. We shall fill you up.’

The whole grove started to shift to life around you, mushrooms and ferns and flowers all shifting into new forms that stared up at you. The branches that bound you, held your arms behind your back and spread your legs wide, revealing your dripping entrance for all these creatures to see. For the first time, your mind began to attempt to shake off its fog and you struggled against your restraints. But they only tightened as the willow lowered you down into the crowd of waiting creatures bellow.

For a moment, they simply observed you. Each one looked different; with features humanoid enough to be recognisable as a face, but with knowing, pupal- less eyes and bodies that flowed into tangles of glistening, vine like tendrils. There was a moment of silence where you could hear nothing but your own racing heart before…

‘Come my children; drink your fill.’

The dryads swarmed around you, wanting to touch and fill every inch of your aching body. Thick tendrils flicked between your folds, coating you with thick nectar before pushing inside. The thin vines of smaller creatures forced their way in beside them and you could feel each of them curling inside you, pumping in and out, sending waves of pleasure through your desperate body. Finding your slick entrance to be full, a dryad that was clearly once a bright fairy cap mushroom, made its way behind you and began to push into your tight ass. You yelped in pain as the engorged head of one of its appendages suddenly filled you, stretching you out. If they heard, the creatures payed no mind as they begin to toy with this new hole, filling it just as achingly full. The pain dulled into overwhelming pleasure as the feeling of countless, slick tendrils fucking deep inside you overtook your fogged out mind. Your hips twitched uselessly and your mouth hung open in drooling, wanton moans.

As soon as your lips parted, you realised your mistake. Vines came curling up your body, encasing you completely and filling your open mouth. You gagged and spluttered but they t kept coming, writhing down your throat. They felt cool on your tongue and their slick was sweet as honey and you found yourself relaxing into the sensation as the lack of air just added to the heady state of your mind. You moaned around the tentacles, limp and pathetic as you could do nothing but feel pleasure.

‘That’s it.’ The voice came again. ‘Let go little one. Let us have you. Let us have every inch of you.’

You had no way of knowing how long you spent, bound up and being filled by countless creatures. Every time one seemed to finish, thrusting deep and releasing its thick, sweet nectar, another just curled its way around and inside you. Honey came leaking from every hole, coving your skin, your face, your hair. The dryads closed in around you and pressed you flush to their cool, damp skin. Perhaps you began to fade in and out of consciousness, waking up only to feel such overwhelming pleasure that you passed out again. But at some point, you realised as you took your first full gasp of air, they all retreated. You felt so empty, bound and dripping with nothing to fill you. The dryads still gathered around, their empty eyes seemed now to be softer, perhaps affectionate, as a few reached out their strange limbs to brush your hair from your eyes and gently caress your body. In your fucked out daze you leant into the touch, craving more, but you felt the willow begin to lift you up again. The tree twisted you around to face its trunk and revealed it to have become a creature of incredible size. Like the dryads below, it had an angular, almost insect like, face and huge, all knowing eyes. But this one had hands too, that reached out and cupped your tiny body within them. It bore a crown of sticks and leaves and it seemed to smile at you, though its face was hard to read.

‘You have done well, little one.’ It didn’t have a mouth to move but you knew now who had been addressing you. ‘So well, in fact, that I should like a taste of you myself.’ It’s gigantic hand wrapped around your waist and held you with ease. You looked down to see that, emerging from what was once the trunk of the great willow, there sat a single, thick, tentacle-like branch. It was thicker than any other that had filled you and seemed to be longer than you were tall. It glistened with nectar and twitched slightly as the dryad drew you close.

‘Fit… it won’t… too big..’ you tried to stutter out, struggling to form a coherent thought. A low laugh rumbled around you, shaking the earth.

‘Worry not little one. I shall not hurt you. You shall feel only pleasure.’

Before you could protest, that overwhelming fullness took you over once more and you cried out in ecstasy. The creature used your body like you weighed nothing, fucking all the nectar that had collected inside, deep into your stomach. You watched as your abdomen bulged against its ungodly size and pressed against every nerve, sending waves of delirious pleasure through you.

‘Such a pretty body, made to be filled. That’s it little one, give yourself to me.’

It moved you faster, your limbs limp and useless as your mind went blank. You were simply a toy to be used for this creature’s pleasure, it’s strange cock filling you completely, stretching you around it until it felt like the most natural thing in the world. You wanted it. You wanted to stay full and delirious forever.

‘I’m yours…’ you choked out a whisper as ropes of thick honey began to bubble inside you. The creature didn’t stop, pushing itself deeper as it emptied into you. You were so full you could taste it.

‘All mine’

The world went dark.

***

It was around three days later when your hunting party finally found you. They had located your clothes, stuck in a brook and feared you had been accosted by some brutish thieves or roaming orcs. Following the stream though, they came to the pool and saw you, leant up against a great willow. You were naked, hair sticking to your forehead but clearly breathing and without injury. They called out to you, relieved that you seemed unharmed. The only strange thing was that you seemed to be almost completely covered in plants. Moss was growing over your legs and vines enclosed around every inch of your body. It looked as though you had been here for years.

One hunter approached, calling your name to no response but a few feeble moans. They must be starved, she thought, as she knelt beside you. But looking closer, she realised your moan was not one of pain, but one of gentle pleasure. Between your legs there sat several mushrooms, seemingly taking turns to push their way inside your swollen entrance. A thin vine flicked, absent- mindedly, at your clit and more still seemed to be caressing your dew covered body. Your friend reached out a hand, trying to shake you awake when suddenly, the moss itself seemed to open its eyes and let out a viscous hiss. She stumbled back to find all of the plant life was seemingly staring at her with a hateful glare.

Perhaps they would just have to leave you here after all.

[dewdropdinosaur]

Kinktober Day 20: Threesome

Summary: You're good with kids, there is no doubt. Heck, you're a kindergarten teacher, you love little ones. Your boyfriends on the other hand, just love how great you are with kids. Maybe it's time to give you one of your own. Warnings: P in V sex, threesome, breeding kink, cum, reader had a vagina, etc. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. Kinktober Mention of the Day: @cassandrascottt

You stood at the front of the classroom, laughter mingling with the excited chatter of the students. The vibrant walls were filled with painted art projects, and the scent of crayons and fresh paper lingered in the air. Today’s lesson was all about storytelling, and you had encouraged the kids to use their imaginations, their faces lighting up with every new idea. From being a superhero, a princess, or a dragon, your student’s ideas never failed to excite you. 

As the bell rang, the students began to gather their things, and you smiled, waving them off. “Remember, tomorrow is our storytelling contest! Bring your best tales but make sure they are written in your scrapbook!” The children cheered and scrambled out, their giggles echoing in the hall. The day had ended and while a satisfying one, you couldn’t wait to get back home and snuggle up to some warm food with your boyfriends. Yes, Wade Wilson and Logan were an odd pair by themselves but adding you into the mix seemed to make it all the sweeter (or hornier if you asked Wade). 

Outside, you spotted Wade and Logan leaning against the school’s brick wall. Wade, in a red graphic tee and a pair of black jeans, was animatedly gesturing as he spoke, while Logan, in his classic flannel and jblue eans, looked not as amused, arms crossed over his chest. Your heart swelled, it was moments like this—seeing the two of them together—that reminded you of how unique their relationship was.

“Hey, beautiful!” Wade called out, his voice playful. “How many lives did you ruin today with your educational superpowers?”

Laughing with an eye roll, you replied while approaching the duo. “Just a few. No one will need intensive therapy after my storytelling lesson!”

Logan pushed off the wall, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re doing just fine. Kids need someone who gets them.” He stepped closer, his presence grounding and warm.

As you walked to the car, Wade pretended to swoon dramatically. “Oh, I’m hot for teacher! So captivating! Did you see how the kids hung on your every word? I was this close to signing up for kindergarten myself!” He pinched his fingers dramatically, as if to show just how close he was to sitting in on your class. It would certaintly be interesting.

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “You’d probably scare them off with your face, bub”

A slow blush creeped up your cheeks as Logan opened the car door for you. “You both are ridiculous,” you tried to sound agitated, putting on your best teacher voice, but a shy smile betrayed your amuesment. “But it’s sweet. I’m glad you think I’m good with the kids.”

That caught their attention. They had certaintly talked about it before but now hearing the idea aloud, how good you were with kids thta weren’t even your own, now that sparked an idea. With a quick glance to each other, no words were needed to form the plan that was about to commence. Allowing the thoughts to stew on the ride home, you had no idea of their plan when you entered your shared apartment. Of course, it was messy but the boys had allowed you to decorate it; making it seem less like a college frat dorm room and more like a home. And if their plan came to fruition, it certainy would be a home indeed. 

Suddenly, Logan grabbed yours wrists and pinned you down against the nearest wall. His smoldering gaze glowered down at you as his face leaned down to whisper in huskily in your ear. 

“What do you think about having some kits of your own?” 

“What?” 

Coming to your side, Wade joined his partner in looking down at you. Using his hand to reach around and cup your chin, he brought your shocked gaze to look up at him.

“Dollface, I think peanut here is asking to breed you. And I am certainly not opposed to the idea. I mean I am sure a hundred Tumblr fics have been written about it already—” 

A dark chuckle erupted from Logans throat at Wade’s words, for once he wasn’t annoyed at the merc’s mouth.  As he stood up and let his grip go, both men now stared down at you. After some stumbling and a few apologies to about tripping over variois objects, all three parties ended up in the master bedroom with clothes on the floor. You, laid on the bed and the boy’s eyes darkened with hunger at the sight of your bare form, a silent understanding among them of what was about to happen. 

Wade leaned down and took one of your hardened nipples in his mouth, the warmth of his tongue teasing the aroused bud. Dragging his hands across your torso, he slowly marked your skin with his hands. Logan, instead dipped down and spread your thighs, enjoying the way they felt in his calloused hands. With a whimper, you couldn’t help but arch your back into his touch as he dragged his nose across your slit. The heat from his breath left you soaked with desire, cunt clenching around nothing as you imagined all the things that were about to happen. 

Hoisting your legs up on his shoulders, Logan massaged the tip of his cock against you hole. Not allowed a moment of reprieve, sheathing his heady member into your cunt with one stroke, Wade then bit the corner of your collarbone to distract you from Logan’s actions. He stretched your needy hole,  both of your moaning both at the sight and feeling, the delicious yet somewhat burning friction that both of you so desperately craved.  You gasped at the stretch, gripping the sheets with each strong stroke. The velvet of your walls squeezing Logan so tight that with every exit and entry of his member into your cunt, the ribs of his cock rubbed against you in a painfully delicious way. Wade took initative and slowly started to leave hot wet kisses and nips across the valley of your neck, only pausing to whisper filthy things in your ear as Logan carried out a relentless pace. 

“He’s gonna fuck you so good baby. Think about how good you’ll look, so big and glowing with our baby inside you. You’re gonna be such a good momma. Want us to make you a momma dollface?"

Gosh, he was so hot like this. You hung onto everyword, every image you presented you with. It was addicting, the feeling of Logan inside you, the softness of Wade’s lips worshiping your body as he debauched words continued to send wave after wave of arousal shooting straight down to your already weeping pussy. And you knew it may never happen, you were still on the pill and by all means Wade was infertile with Logan’s ability to breed in question since he was older. 

But by any means, you could certaintly get used to this. 

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @jijidraws

Jiji Knight is a latina pinup illustrator. Her work is overall geared toward thick ladies and dedicated to fat positivity out of a purely selfish need to create art she wished she had seen growing up. She often features sexy and soft macabre themes on vibrant or sweet colours and takes great joy in making folx feel good about themselves with her work. She holds a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Illustration and operates out of her very sunny hometown of Las Vegas.

Check out our interview with Jiji below!

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

Oh my gosh… I have art blocks all the time. My favorite way of overcoming it is by making fanart. Funnily enough, that’s something I don’t do in my own work anymore. But there are still IPs I return to that still bring joy to my heart. I love returning to drawing Sailor Moon like when I was in first grade. Or I’ll even look up the last fashion week and start drawing the fashion week outfits from the Paris or New York show. Stuff like that is what gets my creative juices flowing.

What medium have you always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

Resin. Resin art is so stunning. People make the most amazing and beautiful sculptures using resin, and I don’t think I could ever bring myself to play with something so complicated. There are a lot of ways to cure it, and sometimes, it doesn’t cure properly…I already work with enough chaos as it is! I respect resin artists, but I don’t think I would ever touch it. I’ve admired it from a distance. There is an artist I follow who does these resin layer paintings. So they’ll paint a layer of resin, then cure it, and paint on top of the cured layer. They build up these amazing paintings using resin…I could never. Maybe one day!

What is one interaction you had with a fan of yours that has stuck with you over the years?

I still remember…It was my first and only Flame Con in New York. I had a fan come up to my booth. They didn’t say hello or that it was nice to meet me. They started to cry! They cried, and the first words out of their mouth were, “I’ve never seen myself in artwork before.” So, of course, I started to cry! So we were just crying across the table at each other. It was just one of the sweetest interactions, and it really sticks with me still to this day.

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

My latest collaboration with the artist Missupacey. We’ve been collaborating for two years now, and our last collaboration was for Midsummer Scream. It was two very cute clown girls, and I designed our T-shirt. It was one of the most fun projects we’ve done in a long time. We love doing collaborative work because it keeps working in the art industry fresh—being able to bounce ideas back and forth. So we do it where someone picks the color palette, and someone picks a theme. We’ll get references together, put them on a big board, and send each other sketches. It’s really nice to work with somebody else.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work?

Honestly, it changed everything. I mean, I used to draw for myself a lot. And while I still do that, I now predominantly draw for my Patrons. For a while, I was drawing for the internet. So I was drawing stuff people wanted to see in terms of plus-sized versions of characters—a plus-sized Poison Ivy or a plus-sized Sailor Moon. My Patrons have allowed me to start drawing for myself again. But technology, for a while, essentially dominated what direction I was taking with my art, so I’m grateful to take some of that power back.

If there is one thing that you want art enthusiasts to remember you by, what would it be?

Body positivity. I would love for them to remember that there is an artist making work that is making people feel good about themselves and about the way they look at themselves.

Top tips on setting up an Artist Alley booth?

Have a method of taking money, have a method of displaying your work, and have a way to take a break. I have a plastic picnic cover that costs like a dollar at any store. All I have to do is clip it to my display grates, and it covers up my entire display. I feel secure enough to take time for myself in a 10-hour workday to eat something, go to the restroom, or even take a moment to breathe and reorganize my inventory. So it’s so funny that this one-dollar piece of plastic is like the most life-saving item in my display of items.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@mayakern comes to mind. She is another body-positive artist who expanded into making body-positive clothing. She’s amazing, and just to see someone else out there promoting body positivity. Maya’s been doing it longer than I have, I believe. It feels good to know that I’m not alone. Her work is always stunning, and I love her body-positive DnD characters and the fact that she’s still plowing through the clothing industry. For example, she’s expanded from skirts to button-downs and even custom-wrap shirts. I love to see what she’s doing, and it inspires me to pursue different avenues with my own work.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Jiji! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @jijidraws.

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (07)

chapter seven: built to break

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; the gorlies are fighting...?, not much for warnings in this chapter ig word count: 4.3k note: i finally got off my ass and wt is finally back lol. i had a last minute change of plans and thought "oh! you know what would be pretty neat? if we prolong the angst so everyone can be sad for longer!" <3 and this is how i announce that the next chapter is not wt8 but wt7.5 and it's written from his pov <3 merry christmas

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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I’ll hold my breath as I wait for your answer I’ll leave it up to you Tell me whether it’s yes or no Baby, love me or leave me tonight

Love Me or Leave Me - Day6

The warning signs, they're there. You can see them before they materialize. You know your own tells.

Your metaphorical bags are packed, your shoes are already on. You're about to run again, leave a half empty house before it has the chance to become a home. No one has to tell you that you're a flight risk; you're well aware of it yourself.

Wednesday Min: got plans tonight? You: booked and busy with ze old canvas Min: tomorrow? You: same thing probably. sorry Min: u're working hard lately You: yeah this one is just driving me crazy and i need it to turn out decent Min: it'll be perfect. it's u

Thursday Min: running errands at the store Min: want me to bring u anything? that caramel popcorn u like?

Friday Min: don't work too hard. remember to eat

That was three days ago, the last time you'd heard from him after you left him on read. It wasn't a complete lie; this project is driving you kinda crazy and you do need it to end up a decent piece, but you weren't exactly holed up in your apartment to slave over your painting. And you suppose Minho didn't find it all that suspicious because you tend to do this sometimes - disappear for a couple of days and force yourself to focus whenever you had a project to finish, before you come back to everybody again. You've come back to him before; it stands to reason that you'll do it again.

It's been about two weeks since you'd seen him, though the memories of that evening are still fresh in your mind - the evening of the group dinner, when he'd kissed you goodnight and left for his parents' house the following day. True to his words, he did send you pictures of the cats - ones of Soonie wearing a matching hoodie with him, a few of Doongie and Dori napping at the foot of his bed. There was an accompanying text - The kids miss you - along with a frowning emoji, and it made you wonder if what he really meant was I miss you.

You wanted him to miss you, because you missed him too.

The photos brought a smile to your face despite the predicament you found yourself in. A smile that was short lived, a smile that was soon wiped off when you realized your heart shouldn't be swelling with that much affection for him. It shouldn't, but the truth was that it did and you don't know how to live with it.

Love isn't something you've ever learned to hold.

It's beautiful yet full of thorns, and your hands are too clumsy to ever keep it from slipping from your fingers.

You remember when you first met Minho. Freshman year, at some popular senior's house party.

It feels like forever ago when you were just an awkward freshman at orientation who didn't have a single clue on how to make friends. Jess was your first friend in college, and you'll always be grateful that you got along well enough that she adopted you into the group with the rest of the guys.

You didn't cross paths with Minho until you were already acquainted with everyone else. On the night of the party, you remember being enamored with him for those couple of hours, and it wasn't the side effect of too many solo cups of cheap beer. Who in their right mind wouldn't be infatuated with him? He was beautiful, absolutely alluring, and you would always tell him as much.

Back then, he had brown hair, slighter shorter than now but it was tinted with the most gorgeous shade of red. You didn't know much about Minho, only been told that he was pretty quiet and might be off-putting to new people. It was sort of true; that night, you were intimidated by the aura he exuded. Mysterious, couldn't be bothered, didn't seem to give a shit. He looked like a scary little thing, while you were the new kid who was only trying to observe everyone's dynamics, not wanting to overstep any unspoken boundary.

To this day, you're still not sure what really happened, how you two immediately clicked and he's been one of the most important parts of your life ever since.

Maybe it was just him. Maybe it's always been him.

Minho, the one who makes you smile when all you want to do is curl up and cry. The one who makes you laugh when you look for joy but the search comes up empty. The one who grounds you every time you lose your way. Your anchor, the safe harbor you can always return to. The light at the end of a long, long tunnel.

You don't know where you stand, don't know where it goes from here now that everything is changing. He told you so himself, that nothing changed for him, but how could he possibly know that everything is changing for you? And it infuriates you to no end because you don't even have anyone to talk about this with. You're the only person whose world is being turned upside down after all.

You can't tell your friends because they can't know about you and Minho. You can't tell Minho because what would you even say? That you think you're in love with him? That the implications of what it means are devastating to you?

For the first time, you regret everything. Kissing him that night, sleeping with him, becoming whatever this is with him. Letting down your guard and falling for him somewhere along the way and you didn't even stop to notice it. You regret all of the decisions you've made up until now, because they've only led you to the point of no return, the point of losing him. You made bad decision after bad decision after bad decision, until you couldn't anymore. All along, there's been no one else to blame but you.

Maybe it hasn't happened yet, but it's inevitable. You will lose him. You are going to lose him.

There's no other ending, no other alternative that you can imagine. You're going to leave because you're a coward and it's what you do best. You ruin things before they get a chance to hurt you. You leave because if you don't leave then you'll be left behind, and you'd rather not bear the brunt of it.

Now, when you think of Minho, the thought is always accompanied by a painful reminder - Nothing changed for him.

When you get to the cafe, Hyunjin and Seungmin are already seated in a corner booth, three drinks in front of them, one of which they'd ordered for you before you arrived.

You slide into the seat next to Hyunjin, smiling at him appreciatively for the drink. There's still over half an hour before you have to walk to your shared class, over half an hour before Seungmin parts ways with you two to do whatever or whoever it is that Seungmin does on his off days.

"I still think it's Nara," Hyunjin says, casually sipping his iced coffee.

"Nara from your Lit class last semester?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"I saw them talking at a party once."

"Okay. And?"

"And what? That's it."

"That's... all the evidence you have to back up your claim?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

You wave your hands in front of them. "What are you bozos talking about?"

"He’s still trying to figure out who Minho is hooking up with," Seungmin is the one who answers you without missing a beat, then he turns back to Hyunjin. "Anyway, it can't be Nara. She's dating Jaehyun on the basketball team."

The friend next to you flails his arms like a petulant child, like he couldn't have possibly seen this coming, like he was so sure that he had finally solved the mystery. "Great. I'm back to square one again."

You straighten your back and reach for your drink, tentatively gulping down the beverage as if it'll hide the fact that you've gone stiff the second this topic is brought up. You feel bad about it, sure. These are your friends that you're lying to after all. They don't have to look anywhere far; the answer to the secret is right in front of them.

"We're still on about that?" you ask in the calmest, most nonchalant voice you can muster. You usually consider yourself a believable liar (which, to be honest, isn't really a flex at all), but whenever someone mentions this little arrangement between you and Minho that shouldn't be common knowledge for anyone else, you feel like you're been put under a spotlight for the whole world to scrutinize.

"Duh," Hyunjin says. "You know, I'm kinda surprised that you don't know. You two are like, attached at the hip sometimes."

You give him a thoughtless shrug, your hands fiddling with the sticker on the plastic cup as you avoid looking at either of your friends. "Maybe he just wants to keep private things private, y'know? You wouldn't like either if all of us is suddenly all up in your business. And besides, what if it's just casual?"

Hyunjin scoffs. "Please, I'm an open book. I tell you guys everything. I tell you every time I hook up with someone."

"Yeah, but you see, literally no one needs to know that," Seungmin says.

The taller one only scoffs, waving his hands around dismissively in Seungmin's direction before he turns to you. "If it was just casual, would he save her name as - oh my God, I forgot what her contact name is. Freaking bird person or something."

You make a face. "What?"

"Dude, seriously?" Seungmin rolls his eyes. "You forgot one word? Dove? What is the matter with you?"

Perhaps it's the half-hearted teasing judgment in Seungmin's voice that makes Hyunjin take offense and drop the topic. The conversation veers off course when they start bickering like children in the busy cafe. You suppose it works in your favor, but you can't focus. You drown it all out.

Your hand is still on the cup but the sticker has been left alone and forgotten, half peeled off, half still clinging to the plastic underneath the condensation.

The single word repeats itself in your mind, over and over and over again.

The entire time you're in class, you don't really focus on anything. You can't bring yourself to listen to whatever your professor is saying, not after what Hyunjin and Seungmin told you earlier. At some point, your friend has to nudge your shoulder to bring you back down to earth when usually, you're the one who has to remind Hyunjin to pay attention. Class ends soon enough though; time tends to fly by when your mind is lost elsewhere.

"What's wrong with you today?" he asks with his bag slung over his shoulder, slowing down his steps to match your speed as you walk out of the lecture hall together.

You scratch the back of your neck sheepishly. "Nothing's wrong. I was just tired."

"You wanna grab dinner with me and Felix?"

Any other day, you would've agreed in a heartbeat. But today, you want to be alone. Sometimes, you'd rather wallow in your own misery than settle for a temporary distraction.

You're still stuck on the conversation from earlier, on the small detail that Hyunjin and Seungmin had let slip in the cafe.

Dove.

His dove.

Maybe it doesn't mean anything. Perhaps it's only a nickname that he's assigned to you out of mere platonic fondness, but it makes you conscious about the dove on your own wrist nonetheless, the one that you feel compelled to hide from your friends underneath your long sleeve.

"No, it's okay," you tell Hyunjin. "I'll just go home and sleep it off."

"Okay. I can walk you for a bit," he says. "Just wait with me here. Minho's coming to give me back something he borrowed."

"Minho's coming?" you ask too quickly for it to sound casual. There's a panicked edge that you can hear in your own voice, though you don't think Hyunjin picks it up as he unlocks his phone and types something on the screen.

"Yeah, he was at the library. He's coming over right now, should only be a couple minutes. Then I'll walk back with you."

You shift on your feet uneasily, but you cover it up by rubbing your hands on your arms to pretend like you're just cold. There's no excuse that you could think of that would justify why you can't stand here with Hyunjin for just two more minutes, without giving it away the fact that you're avoiding Minho.

You take in a quiet breath, put on your best brave face. Casual, nonchalant. It's just Minho. Just Minho...

He comes up from behind, where you can't see him. A warm hand gently lands on your shoulder, and it takes everything not to shy away from his touch. It takes even more not to lean into his side.

You've missed it. You've missed him.

"Hey." He smiles at you while Hyunjin only gets a nod in acknowledgment.

"Hey." You return the smile, though you're sure you look a little rigid. You can tell there's an inkling of confusion in his eyes when he senses that your energy is off, but you're thankful he doesn't comment on it, at least not in front of Hyunjin anyway.

You don't notice the paper bag in his other hand until he hands it to your other friend with a simple Thanks, to which Hyunjin just nods along in a silent You're welcome.

"I was going to walk with Y/N for a bit and then meet Felix for food," he tells Minho. "You wanna get burgers with me and Lix?"

"No, thanks. I'm not hungry, I had a late lunch. I'll take the walk though."

You didn't plan on being alone with Minho today, even though you knew you had to talk to him eventually. You just thought you had a little more time, at least until you got your shit together and face him with a brave façade.

Minho's hand brushes yours the entire time you walk, and it's nothing if not confusing. It's unbearable, the way your fingers twitch with the urge to intertwine them with his.

It persists even after Hyunjin has waved you goodbye to you two and turned to head wherever he and Felix agreed to meet. You think Minho would hold your hand now that it's just you and him, but he doesn't. He lets your skin continue to brush, lets you suffer alone and wanting in your sunken disappointment.

It has very little to do with him and everything to do with you, the conflicting thoughts inside your head piling up one by one the more time you spend in his presence.

Dove, the brief display of jealousy at Yeonjun's party, the way he looks at you sometimes that you can't really decipher the meaning behind, how he kisses you so tenderly that it can't possibly be strictly platonic. You want these things to all mean something, and yet...

You want him to hold your hand, but you know you'd wave it off if he tries to reach for your fingers. You want him to stop you right then and there to kiss you breathless, just as he had that night two weeks ago, even though you're sure you'd only dodge his lips and push him away. You want to stay, you want to leave. You're terrified of things changing, but you wish that something, anything, would be different for him; that you aren't the only one who's spinning out of control. You love him, but you wish you didn't.

Eventually, Minho asks, "You okay?"

It's not until now that you realize this is the first time you've ever been this quiet around him. You purse your lips, glancing down briefly at your feet as you keep on treading the rest of the way home. "Yeah, all good. I'm just tired," you tell him, visibly unenthusiastic despite the smile you try to fake. "I just need to sleep it off."

"The project stressing you out?"

"I guess, yeah."

"And here I thought maybe you were avoiding me," he says, half a joke, half inquisitive. "Were you?"

"Was I what?"

"Were you avoiding me?"

You give him a weird look, one that's meant to be dismissive and call his question ridiculous even though you know you've been caught. And maybe it's the over-the-top glance that you throw his way and the way your pitch goes higher when you reply, "Why would I be avoiding you?" that makes him stop walking.

On the other side of the street, there's a couple of kids in high school uniforms, exchanging shy glances and sharing fond giggles.

Minho calls your name softly, and it's like you're just waiting for the ball to drop. You don't want to turn back and look at him, but what other option do you have? What else is there to do?

You can't decipher the expression on his face. He's still calm, but the air has turned serious, the silence of the mostly empty streets surrounding you only serves as the soundtrack of your impending heartbreak. The tender and innocent laughter fades away when young love moves further and further from where you stand. "What?" you ask with faux nonchalance as you look at him, another attempt at stalling. Biding your time even though a few more minutes aren't going to do any good for your case.

Anyone with half a braincell could tell that clearly it's not the truth, let alone someone who has learned to read you better than the back of his hand. He doesn't look like he believes you, though he doesn't push it, much to your surprise.

"Okay," he says after a moment of studying you, and this should be the part where you heave a sigh of relief because he's letting you off the hook for now, but your chest doesn't feel lighter at all. Your head is clouded with dread, with the anticipation that you're only delaying the inevitable.

You walk the rest of the way in awful silence, because you know that he knows something is wrong. You try your best to appear composed, but he sees right through you. You know he does.

You must look like a frightened animal, one that's about to take off running any second now.

When you reach your building, Minho is quick to keep you with him before you can make up a lame excuse and bolt.

"Hey," he starts, his voice so impossibly gentle that it hurts. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Heavier and heavier, it weighs you down until you feel like your chest is going to collapse. The nerves gnaw on you, clawing into you until you feel your heartbeat quicken, the overwhelming dread simmering low in your belly.

"I know," you say, but deep down, what you're really thinking is, Not this. This is the one thing I can't tell you.

"Is everything okay?"

It's the way that Minho's got his gaze set on you with those deep brown irises, the concern so apparent in them that it hurts you. It's the way he looks like he wants to reach out and touch you - a comforting hand on your shoulder or your back like you're so familiar with - but he has to hold himself back or you might slip away.

It's him, how he always puts you first, how he cares about you in ways that you've never been cared about before. He understands you, he sees you. It feels like it could be love if you let the lines blur just enough.

Is love supposed to hurt? Like this?

Maybe it's not that you don't know how to hold love. Maybe it's because you're not meant to hold it at all. Insignificant, unlovable.

And... it's the reminder that cuts through the dread like the sharpest knife.

You leave his question unanswered, because nothing is okay and you can't tell him any of it. You can't lie to him either, because it's the last thing that you want to do to him.

Instead, you ask, "We're good... right? We're okay?"

"What do you mean?"

You gesture between the two of you, though you're not sure what that's supposed to signify. "Just...," you trail off for a second, hesitant. "Nothing's changed, right?"

Minho doesn't answer right away. He looks at you for a moment, searching for something in your eyes that you can't tell if he's able to find.

He nods, seemingly wistful as he says, "Nothing's changed."

He seems unsure about it, at least more than he was just a few weeks ago when he told you the same thing in your apartment with his fingers wrapped around your wrist. The tug between his brows - though barely noticeable - tells you as much.

Is it because something is different now? Or does he only sound uncertain out of concern, because of you and how you're acting?

Then he continues, "For me, at least."

And there it is.

It's the confirmation this time around that turns you inside out so his simple words could cut into you.

You swallow thickly, put on a smile like you're pleased with his answer even though you're trying your hardest to stop yourself from shaking. Whatever energy you had left is instantly drained from you just because of a few words.

Your sentences get smashed together, tangled up like barbed wire and they only make you bleed when you try to pull them apart. All your nervous tics coming out to play despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. A frustrated hand running through your hair, gripping at the roots a little harshly. Your bottom lip pulled between your teeth and your eyes turning glassy for a split second before you blink the moisture away, because you can't let Minho see you like this. See you trying to keep your pathetic heart intact while he's none the wiser.

He's fine. And unlike you, he's going to be okay when this is over.

Unavoidable and inevitable, the end will come whether you like it or not. You're the only one who won't make it out unscathed, and it will only shatter you into more pieces the longer you drag this out.

Just rip the bandaid off. Salvage whatever you can. Stop digging the grave even deeper for yourself.

One second, then two, then three. You don't speak until you have enough faith that your voice is even enough to carry out a few sentences.

"Okay, uhm... I think I need some time for myself. We should..." But it isn't, and you crack halfway through. The sound is deafening to your own ears. "We should take a break. We should stop this."

Minho doesn't question if you mean the secret between the two of you, or your friendship entirely. Instead, he asks, "Why?"

"I told you." You clear your throat. "I need time for myself."

You can't tell what he's thinking, but the knife twists inside of you nonetheless.

He takes a step closer, you take a step back.

You watch as his face falls, and the same feeling mirrors itself within the confines of your ribcage. Your heart drops at the sight of his eyes, deep brown irises stained with a little confusion, then a little hurt though it lasts for only a few seconds. The slight slump of his shoulders, the absence of the familiar playfulness he always sports when he's with you.

He blinks.

"Time for yourself, or time away from me?"

You say nothing.

You don't address his question directly, and your reluctance to do so is a loud enough answer in and of itself. "Why does that matter? What's the difference?"

"It matters if I did something to upset you."

"You didn't."

"Okay. So?"

This is confusing, because he's not letting you rip the bandaid clean off and you don't know why. "Nothing's changed, right? If it didn't mean anything to you, why can't you just drop this?"

Minho is quiet for a beat. His eyes are searching again, but this time, you think he finds something.

Everything is still and you hate it - the silence of the streets, the scrutinizing orange glow of the streetlights as if they're watching the scene unfold, even the innocent cat that's sitting by itself on the balcony on one of the floors higher up. You hate all of it.

"I never said it didn't mean anything," he tells you.

It makes you a little angry for some reason, and there's enough red to cloud your vision because his words are contradicting and you're tired, you're so exhausted that you can't focus on what it is that he's really saying.

"So you lied to me?"

"I've never lied to you."

"I asked you before and you said nothing's changed. Now you're saying whatever this is didn't not mean anything. Make up your mind."

It gets redder when he keeps his eyes fixed on you, still so calm despite the frown that has returned to its place between his brows. Still so collected, while you're being pulled apart at the seams.

The ball doesn't drop the way you expect it to. It keeps falling so insufferably slowly, hanging over you like it's mocking you for being stupid, like it's milking every second of suspense to make you implode.

Until Minho speaks next and suddenly, it feels like the air has been sucked out of your lungs. His voice, still so soft and tender. His eyes, reading something in yours that you can't bear to admit out loud.

"You really don't see it, do you?"

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 24.06.2024]

[natalyarose]

𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒩𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝓇 - 𝓅𝒶𝒸 ♡

as always, use discernment and remember you're in charge of your life, readings can be useful tools of guidance ♡ take a deep breath, pick one of the flowers in the image, asking yourself which you feel most drawn to (if any, don't force it!) & proceed to your reading below💕

♡ Yellow Flowers (ace of swords, justice, the three of swords)

Take action! You have clarity and a strong intention in regards to something in your life. Perhaps you have come to an understanding or received a piece of information that is allowing you be equipped in taking the 'next step', whatever that is for you at this time. For some of you this is a message that if there is currently an unfair situation in your life, you will come out on top with your dignity in tact. Even when it's tough, stay honest, true and precise in what you know & believe. You are someone who has strong convictions & intuitive insights, remember to keep your words and perceptions pure & unbiased to remain sharp.

Remember that having true knowledge and understanding requires having a fair mind- be mindful of getting 'tunnel vision' on topics that are close to your heart. For some, this pertains to you being hard on yourself and is a message that you need to be balanced in your self perception to truly make progress.

Another message is that if there's anything you know you need to speak up about, you are being encouraged to do so & to be brave! ♡ I'm once again, as I'm writing this being brought back to the message that you are coming out on top in something. There could be somebody who wronged/hurt you and that's being made right, or you've developed a newfound perspective that's giving you an internal sense of balance & healing. You may be getting justice of some kind for some immense pain or trauma you've endured- and again that justice could be an internal feeling/realisation.

♡ Pink Flower (eight of pentacles, the chariot, the empress)

You are working hard on something- it could be an artistic or academic project, career-related, anything. I see this as a message of encouragement to keep working on it and be proud of your work-in-progress. Whatever it is you're working on is soon going to open doors you've always dreamed of opening. I really see you almost 'levelling up' in life in due time as a result of your efforts. It may seem small right now, but your dedicated, humble work and consistency is going to lead to bigger things and an abundance of recognition, praise and status of some kind. Even if it feels like nobody is paying attention right now or everything seems so unrefined, the work you are putting in now will eventually grant you respect, admiration and potentially lead to a life with abundant financial prosperity & material beauty surrounding you.

I think there is also a message here surrounding allowing yourself and your skills to grow and evolve- remembering that you don't have to be everything you dream of being all at once, it's okay to be a work in progress and know that with time and dedication, you will grow. Time is on your side. Successful people weren't always the people you know them as now- they were once just starting out, with less resources and expertise. Trust that in time you will flourish in the same way!

If anyone who picked this group is working towards something beauty related- perhaps just manifesting feeling more beautiful and embodied- this is a sign that your actions towards refinement + attention to detail will be fruitful and lead to you feeling & presenting as beautiful as you deserve to feel!

♡ Red Flower (eight of wands, 5 of wands, 2 of cups)

There is a sense of good news or positive change in the air for you :) I get the sense that life is going to be getting a little more busy & chaotic for you, but in a good, fresh way. Divine protection can also be a theme for this group. Like your aura is just (or is intended to be) bathing in positive energy. I am seeing that there is some sort of conflict you are overcoming, it could be with a specific person. If you've been fighting a lot/at odds with someone or some people close to you, I see that being resolved and that lifting a huge weight off of your shoulders. For others of you I'm getting a message that there is somebody who seems to always be challenging your positivity. Perhaps for some it's not a person, so much as external influences, media, etc. in general that kinda *tries* to rain on your parade. For some of you I see you confronting that person/thing, but for others I see this as a message to not allow these energies to overtake you. Just let them fly past, don't get involved with the 'dramas' & leave it up to the universe.

People may be making you feel as though your optimism is blind or naive, or this could've been the case in the past. Remember that the only reason they considered your optimism to be blind, was because they themselves couldn't see it. Right now, what belongs to you is joy, excitement, optimism and new opportunities. Have no shame in embracing that regardless of others pessimism/jealousy. I'm sensing that some of you are needing new friends or at least, a circle more on your wavelength that doesn't put you down for your spiritual or positive nature. The right people for you will be the ones who share this positive energy and sense of joy with you and are delighted to have a friend in life who possesses such a quality!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

[erinwantstowrite]

hi! hope your having a good day/night/timezone/etc.! u got any writing tips (like how to not lose motivation/use up as much of it as u can while u have it, any ways to get the words flowing/“get in the writing mood” that have worked for u) for any of ur fellow fic writers? (idk if this’s been asked b4 (it seems like a common question lmao), but if it has, ‘pologies, lolol ^^)

i have a few that i've been thinking up to try and post!!

remember that you aren't on a deadline to write, and to take the time you need. no one wants to read something you rushed, let alone do YOU want to read it. and it REALLY matters if you love what you're writing. you'll kill your motivation trying to keep up with something like that!! if you only had time to write 300 or you had a great day and wrote like 3000, you're doing great either way!!!

there's a lot to keep up with when you're writing, and you have to remember and understand all of it. if you're trying to write while you're tired/upset/etc, you'll likely end up with something you're not that proud of. (granted, art is art, and sometimes these emotions can create something beautiful or meaningful). take metal breaks so you can come back to your work with a fresh mind, and don't overexert yourself. you'll remember and understand more if you treat your writing time like you would when you're studying. sometimes i make flashcards to remember characters, places, events, etc.

sometimes i can get too analytical with my writing, or it starts to become flat? if that makes sense? meaning, like... i'm putting words on paper rather than delving into the story. too many "they felt this way" and not enough "Character A turns to face the man that had changed their entire life with the single shot of a bullet, careless to what damage he could have caused. It's haunting to see that the man is simply that: a man. Not a monster as they had imagined, laying awake at night and wondering what their father had seen in his final moments. He's just a man." what helps with this is putting myself into the shoes of a narrator, remembering that i am telling the story as if i already know what's happening (even if I don't know where I'm going with a scene yet). i imagine that my reader is right there next to me and i'm telling them the story in real time like we're sitting around a campfire telling ghost stories, or that i'm the quirky narrator of a book they just picked up.

During times where i'm losing inspiration or feel like i'm in a loop, i like to go back to my favorite medias and spend some time with them. i recently rewatched Gravity Falls, the Sea Beast, and the Adam Project, and it was a fun mental break that got me into the writing mood. i try to find similar media to what i'm writing at that time. if i want a scene focused on funny banter or a comedic effect, i read or watch comedy. if i want to write a scary scene, i'll watch a horror movie. etc etc. "studying" your favorite media and putting yourself into your fav writer's writing shoes is a great way to improve your own writing. think about why that joke was funny, what the set up was that made it that way, and if it would have been a different joke if another character said it (Gravity Falls is one of the best media you can use for this, but really, reading mysteries in general can help)

physical exercise, if you can. getting your blood flowing and treating your body well!! when i was in band, we used to do "body warm ups" set to music, and i still do them to this day. it gets me awake and alert while also letting me listen to fun music before i write

[anotherfcknschlattsimp]

Kinktober Day 8

power imbalance

charlie doesnt really do anything? i asked three people what i should do for him and the only conclusion was something parasocial or editor related

let's go

schlatt

his dad owns (a share of) the company, remember?

so you better get on your knees like a good bitch

if you tell anyone, youre fired

runs his thumb over your lips, smearing your lipstick as he talks down to you

“gonna be a good li’l whore for me, doll? gonna let me take advantage of that mouth so you can keep your job, toots?”

calls you into his office every morning and every night before one of you leaves

Fluff-

takes you on one-on-one work lunches (dates but he doesnt want to weird you out and have you quit so he just keeps fucking you as his assistant instead of his lover)

gets you flowers and chocolates randomly as a “thank you”

drives you home every night and picks you up every morning

sneaks out of his office to make you a cup of coffee when he had to give you more work than usual as an apology

will never let you know that he’s in love with you, he totally just wants to fuck you all the time. Nothing more. We’ll go with that.

ted

director and photographer, ted nivison

there was no better choice for your brand new merch line

you dropped a set of cute and comfy undies, meant to be worn under a boyfriend hoodie

but you didnt have a boyfriend to steal the hoodie of for the photo sets

that’s his in

he offers you *his* hoodie, fresh off his back

it’s warm and smells really good and it takes you a moment to move cause youre just so enveloped in the comfiness of the cloth

has you repay him after the shoot when you come by to return the hoodie

somehow rizzes you up even though he stumbles through everything but kept talking so confidently about himself

calls you his “perfect lil model”

takes very high quality pictures (uses his personal ancient polaroid camera) of his cum leaking out of you

Fluff-

writes “first date” and your phone number on the back

finds a reason to talk to you everytime he spots you

brings breakfast to your room every morning to wake you up

he’d usually have an assistant doing it for him but, and he wont tell you this so i will, he wants to be the one to see your smile as you process the beautiful breakfast he made (read: bought and plated) for you everyday

charlie

you were so excited for your new job as an editor for the slimecicle channel

that excitement didnt exactly wear off as the time passed

you had been editing for him for about 2-3 months when you get a text

“hey, we need to talk” the five words you’ve been dreading might come

you did your best on all the projects he gave you, you really did, but you guess he didnt feel the same way

you ask what’s wrong, and he tells you not to worry, he just had a new proposition for you

In exchange for keeping your job and earning a raise, you just had to do whatever he told you whenever he told you

that sounded innocent enough to you, you thought that was what you were doing

until he offered to fly you out for a “special assignment”

said special assignment was to be his personal sex toy for the next week but of course he left that part out

slowly works up to it

ssks to hold your hand, then a kiss, then he holds your job over your head as he politely but firmly requests a blowjob

and so on and so forth

Fluff-

takes you to breakfast and dinner everyday while you’re there

really just wants to have you be his partner for the week but what if that was too far? what if you decided that was the line and you were gonna quit and tell the world about what he did to you? those worries only lasted as long as his poor cock could handle jerking off to secretly recorded voice chats and your instagram posts while he sniffed one of your shirts that you just assumed you didnt pack

so not very long

offers/asks for cuddles everyday, whenever youre both free, but not the same way he “asks” for sexual favors

you can say no to the casual physical affection (even though it would break his little heart)

[tipofthemountain]

actress

tags: biker!Simon “Ghost” Riley x actresses!Afab Reader, Fluff, Established relationship, reader is a famous actress. Mentions of sex and sexual acts but no action is taken. Minors should still take extreme caution reading!

word count: 1.5k

summary: Reader is on set of her newest movie and Simon comes to visit!

a/n: First story I’m posting! I’m a little nervous for what everyone will think but I hope you enjoy it!

ps. biker!Simon is my current hyper fixation so bare with me if there’s like a million more biker au stories :}.

edit: adding this in but my requests are open!

༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻ ༺𖤓༻

It was a warm Tuesday inside studio lot B. A beautiful facade of a two story house stands in a field of white daisies. You almost couldn’t believe your eyes when you walked onto the set. It looked so real! An exact replica of the real house you’ll be shooting on in a week.

The role you are playing is that of a farm wife with her three children, except your husband is having an affair with the barns keeper and your sleeping with the maid. Neither of you know you’re both cheating of course but the children do. The entire plot of the movie is the children trying to get the parents to find out about the double affairs. It’s a LGBTQ+ romance set in the early 1950s. It’s filled with steamy sex scenes and overly dramatic fights.

It’s the exact kind of movie you love doing. Sappy period pieces. In fact the movie that put you in the spotlight was almost exactly like this except it was the 1860s and you where a young unmarried queen with a “live in maid”.

Your boyfriend of 5 years Simon, or as his biker group likes to call him “Ghost” for the skull bandanna he likes to wear around his face, dropped you off on set on his newly refurbished 1980s Harley Davidson. You swore sometimes you thought he was more in love with that bike than he was with you.

“Make some money baby.” Simon told you after a steamy kiss early this morning.

Simons always been supportive of your career. The two of you met on the set of a Tv show when he was hired as a last minute extra for for some bike scene you can barely remember. For Simon it was love at first sight, but for you it was ‘I’ll wait and see where this goes’. Spoiler: You fell in love and are engaged, set to be married later this year.

“Where is my Anna Marie?” You hear your director yell out as you sit in your makeup chair getting touches done to your character’s signature red lip.

“Over here Clark! I needed my lips retouched. I think Amy got a little excited!” Clark Russel. You’ve worked with him a few times now and he’s always been a joy and a pleasure to work with, not something you find comes easy in this industry.

“Your needed on set in five. We’ve got to have this last shot of you and Blanche in the kitchen. We’ve got one week of shooting left here in the studio before we all go out on location.” Clark quickly spills out with you barely catching any of it.

Blanche is played by your costar Amy Heart. A talented actress 3 young years older than you. You’ve done several movies with her by now. You consider her one to your best friends and even plan to ask her to be a bridesmaid.

“James, Finn and Blanche are all on set. We just need you.” Clark makes direct eye contact with you as your makeup artist finishes the last touches on your makeup. He always insisted on calling people by their character names and you never questioned it.

James is played by Arther Godwin. The man that’s supposed to be your characters husband. You’ve never met him before this project but a quick IMDB search led you down a rabbit hole of bad low budget horror movies that you and Simon later binged watched. Finn is played by Roderick Grant, a fresh face. This would be his breakout role after a stream of hit indie movies.

“All done.” Your makeup artist releases you and you stand up from your seat grabbing the jacket that goes with your costume. You throw the jacket on around your shoulders and loop your arm in Clarks.

“Let’s get this show on the road!” You say in an over dramatic southern accent to which your director roles his eyes at.

༺𖤓༻

After 3 more hours of grueling take after take of Clark just having to get the tear sliding down your cheek just right, to which you where ready to rip his head off. Your just about to pass out on your trailer couch in nothing but a robe and very thin 1950s appropriate lingerie, when you hear 3 gentle knocks on your door. You get up with a puff of air leaving your lips putting your hands in your hair.

“Who is it!” You yell not really wanting to get up to answer the door.

“Open the door and find out!” You hear that oh so familiar thick Manchester voice behind the thinness of your trailers door.

In no time you’re rushing to the door and pulling your bulky fiancé in to your trailer and lacing your red lips with his. Simon closes the door through your sloppily sweet kisses. He smells of expensive leather and gas but you still drink all of him in.

“You miss me tha’ much?” Simons thick accent lets out through a smirk.

“Always.” You smile up at the tall man resting your chin on his chest.

“How was today? Make anyone else cry today?” Simon jokes but you take serious offense.

“That was one time and I didn’t even mean to yell at the poor guy.” You slap his shoulder as you both take a seat next in the oh so comfy couch in your trailer.

“I was only joking love.” Simon laughs and places a gentle kiss to your temple. He has one hand around your shoulder and the other rubbing up and down your thigh softly. You with one of your hands on his much bigger thigh and the other holding the hand that’s around your shoulder.

“Long day. Completely closed set. Only Clark and the main cast where set to shoot today.” Closed sets are usually indicators that you where filming your sex scenes today. You had one with your on screen husband and one with Amy. You almost never liked doing sex scene with men. It was never because Simon didn’t want you to or that you ever hated your male costar. You had this respect for Simon and you felt like the sex scenes could get too real sometimes. Personally, you never wanted for Simon to watch a scene of you sharing a bed(or even sometimes a kitchen counter) with another man. But every time you would ask Simon he would always just say some form of ‘This is all make believe. It isn’t real. I know you love me and some fake sex scene isn’t going to change that.” You still sometimes denied it though.

“When are you off?” Simon ask softly moving his hand further up your thigh.

You knew the game he was playing, he always did this when visiting. He always got you worked up and sweating before you had to go back and shoot a scene.

“30 minutes my love. We have to finalize a few things for today, but nice try honey.” You push Simons hand down slightly and look up towards him. Of course he has the cheekiest smirk on his face.

“I miss you at home.” Simon says kissing down your neck this time and creeping his hand back up your thigh.

“Simon.” You whisper scold him as he makes his way onto your shoulder planting sweet kisses.

“I miss the way you smell…” He grabs your hips and lays your back flat against the couch hovering over you as he plants kisses down over your collar bone. You inhale sharply when he moves his hand under the thin bra provided by the costume department.

“I miss the way you feel…” He moved his other hand to finish untying to robe from around your waist. He slowing starts kissing his way down your stomach stopping at the hem of the very 1950s lingerie.

“And I certainly miss the way you taste.” Simon has a giant smile planted on his face when he plants open mouth kisses down your thigh.

And just when he’s about to touch your center 3 harsh knocks are placed on your door.

“Miss, Mr. Russel said he needs you.” The voice calls out not even waiting for you to respond.

Simon lets out a laugh and you sit up and push him lightly.

“That’s not funny!” You whisper yell at him only to make him laugh even more. You stand up and tie your robe back around your waist and walk to the trailer door.

“It’s a little funny.” Simon says watching you with a panicked look on your face.

“I’ll be back in 20 minutes. I love you.” You place a gentle kiss on Simons lips and him returning the kiss.

“I love you too.” He says back placing one final kiss to your forehead.

Before you leave however you whisper into his ear “I think you owe the costume designer.” and bite the end of his ear playfully.

Simon watches you with his his cheek drawn inside his mouth as you grab the door handle of your trailer and leave him alone with his nothing but his thoughts for the next 20 minutes.

༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻ ༺𖤓༻

final thoughts: i definitely got carried away while writing. I tend to do that. I get caught up on details that most likely don’t even matter all that much. I feel like somethings definitely could have been left out and more things added in but in the end it’s just a story and if you don’t like the first few sentences, just skip the story and move on.

@gauloiseblue for you friend <3

[bagdaddyb]

Could you do a fic about Alpha!Nat mating and breeding Omega!reader, but Nat doesn’t think she’s good enough so when reader goes to nat to tell her she’s pregnant Nat cuts her off and tells reader that she was just In rut and that it meant nothing to her, so reader runs away. But then she runs into Nat 3yrs later at a café, and then you can choose how everything goes from there just a happy ending please

We Should Of Been

Pairing: Omega fem!reader x Alpha!Natasha

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI NSFW. Angst, Fluff. Implied black reader but no characteristics ever described.

AN: I hope you like this it took me a bit longer because I immediately thought of the perfect angst ending, so it was hard for me to make this a happy one. I only changed where they meet three years later cause a single mom isn't very likely to be caught in a cafe.

Alt Ending

You were so beautiful. That's all Natasha could think everytime she saw you. Previous to your pressence she'd never even given an omega a second glance the desire to mate assumed to be trained out of her by the red room. But when Sam brought you to the compound one day everything changed. The visit was harmless you were an upcoming nuclear scientist with the dream of one day meeting and working with Bruce Banner and Sam was a cocky man out to claim the title of best cousin ever. You hadn't wasted time being star struck by the compound or the Avengers within walking through the building as if it was any other office. You didn't stop to greet the team only pausing a moment to hypothesize about Jarvis. Natasha's sure if she hadn't needed to deliver a paper to the lab she'd never even laid eyes on you, and what a crime that'd of been. Crossing the threshold she froze momentarily, your pressence not only a surprise but a distraction. Her eyes stuck on you taking in your features, your voice, your smile. Natasha couldn't remember the last time she felt heat in her cheeks or a nervous turn in her stomach. After she approached interrupting your conversation as politely as she could you merely smiled and said hello before turning back to the matter at hand. The warmth in her cheeks turned into a burn and her usually steady hands became clamy. Not long after you left that day Natasha couldn't hide her curiosity finding her way back down to the lab to ask Bruce just who you were exactly. It was a week before Natasha saw you again. You'd returned for Banner's opinions on your project having changed things according to his previous suggestions. You walked out of the elevator like you owned the building passing by the Alpha without even a second glance. Her eyes were glued to you warmth coming on in her cheeks as she watched you pass.

"Nat... Natasha!"

Clint yelled as Natasha's water began to overflowed onto the table in front of her. Snapping out of her trance she cursed under her breath moving to quickly clean up the area. She wants to meet you, needs too. Pacing the common room she the next day she contemplated how to approach you. Wondered what she should and would say in your presence. Would you even want to talk to her? Even give her the time?

"Excuse me."

Your familiar voice made Natasha freeze in her tracks. Her eyes glanced around the empty room before turning towards the noise. You stood there with a soft smile on your lips papers in hand and purse still on your shoulder. Warmth covered her face as she took you in and suddenly she was a nervous wreck.

"Y-yes *ehm* Yes ma'am, how can I help you?"

You smiled a little wider at her.

"No need for the ma'am, my name's (Y/N) I was wondering if I could get your help with something. I need not only a fresh perspective but also a guinea pig of sorts and Dr. Banner referred me to you."

She could kiss Bruce.

"Yes of course, what's the project?"

You laughed lightly visibly surprised by her answer.

"Wow I've never seen someone so eager to help another they don't even know. I honestly expected resistance considering the stories I've heard from my cousin but I'll chock that up to him being the head strong handful he is."

Natasha's blush deepened at how deep her crush is being thrown blatantly in her face.

"I am developing an anti-radiation suit that will absorb natural radiation in the air or body filter out the good and infuse the bad into a sort of blaster for the wearer. Dr. Banner mentioned that the design was something close to your widow bites so I was wondering if you'd take a look?"

While the question was more or less out of her grasp with Bruce and Tony having taken on the majority of her suit and weapon production Natasha still agreed unable to give up this opportunity to get to know you.

"Sure."

Over the next few months Natasha's first time crush grew to pure adoration. You were everything to the Alpha and the only person who didn't seem to know it was you. It was a simple Wednesday morning after lab runs on the suit. Natasha tried out the blaster and pretended to help with the calibration. Gripping her coat tightly due to nerves she turned back to you on her way out.

"Hey (Y/N) I know a great coffee place down the street, would you like to grab a cup with me?"

You looked up from your computer meeting soft eyes.

"I'd hate to take up more of your day than I already have. You go have a great time I promise the suit is almost done then you'll be free of my pestering."

Natasha fought back a grimace at your rejection. Again. Was she doing it wrong? She was sure she'd paid close attention to all of Clints advice.

"Have a great rest of your day then."

With that the red head turned and left retreating to the compound. Once there she immediately sought out Clint not knowing what else to do.

"I just don't get it. Am I asking wrong?"

The older alpha couldn't help the smile and soft chuckle as he watched the younger one pace. Thinking back to his younger days.

"No, a girl like (Y/N) is so caught up in her work she can miss the simple things right in front of her."

"Its true."

Sam tuned in from the kitchen, even he was feeling bad for the alpha.

"I bet (Y/N) doesn't even realize you're into her."

The red head let out a frustrated huff hands gripping her hair. Forget all this advice and subtly. Next week she was going to be blunt with you. While the red head was determined to make your next interaction work your cousin was not inclined to wait as long. The next day Sam strolled into your office unannounced not even knocking on the large door before entering despite the risk.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure?"

You said clearly displeazed with his abrupt entrance.

"I'm here to point out the obvious to the smartest girl I know."

That made you giggle turning to give him your full attention you cross your arms.

"And what might that be?"

"That a certain alpha who works with you once a week as your lab assistant is crushing on you something aweful."

You laughed audibly this time.

"Natasha? You're kidding. She only sees me as a colleague."

"She has asked you out; and I mean this literally, eight times. She asked you out yesterday for crying out loud. How can someone so smart be so oblivious?"

"No she...."

You pause truly thinking back on the moments Natasha'd invited you places. Remembering her nervous posture. Her let down face at your same response. Remembering how everytime your fingers brushed she blushed or how everytime you smiled at her she stared. She'd always been eager to help you with your project even from the beginning. Thinking on it even then she'd been a blushing mess right in front of you. Your eyes widen in sudden realization.

"Finally."

Sam announces as you raise your hand to cover your dropped jaw.

"Oh my gosh."

"Exactly."

Sam said and suddenly you felt a wave of anxiety wash over you.

"I never thought..... How could I of been...... And she always asked......"

You let go of a sigh rubbing your temples before standing abruptly.

"I have to go see her. She's such a sweetheart and I've been unknowingly rejecting her time and time again. I'm such a dope."

"You said it cousin."

You frown punching him in the arm causing him to flinch.

"Hey what the-"

"Just because I said it doesn't mean you agree dumbass."

The two of you continue to bicker like the siblings you basically were the entire ride to the compound. Your walk to the common room is quick asking Jarvis to summon Natasha to the area politely you think of what you should say. You feel heat in your cheeks due to pure embarrassment shaking your head at yourself.

"Hey (Y/N)."

Natasha's surprised voice rings in your ear and you turn and smile at her.

"Hey Natasha. Listen I want to start off by apologizing. For all my knowledge in science I can't seem to match it in social skills. Believe it or not I've been completely oblivious to your advances until just now I truly thought you only saw me as a co-worker but.... if that offer for coffee is still up in the air, I'd love to go out with you."

Natasha's whole face was on fire after your little speech. Unable to form words she quickly nodded before clearing her throat.

"Of course let me grab my coat."

It's only your sixth date when you go into heat. Natasha was the best. Caring, attentive, patient maybe that's what made you go into your heat a week early or maybe it was the ways her muscles flexed as she pulled herself out of the pool infront of you bending over your body to grab a towel from your shared stack causing your eyes to roam while you locked your bottom lip between your teeth but either way telltale signs of your heat began

to flood your body. By the following day you'd fully succumbed keeping it to yourself in an attempt not to rush your new alpha you locked youself in your apartment letting your boss know before tossing and turning in your own bed. Natasha was happy no she was extatic, elated, floating. Words couldn't descibe how happy she's been this past month with you. She'd always imagined what it'd be like to have you as her partner but the reality of it was so much better. Pulling up to your lab with a budle of red roses riding the euphoria she's been feeling for days she couldn't believe how excited she was to see you. Smiling softly to herself as she made her way into the building she wasn't allowed to get far stopped quickly by the kind beta at the front desk.

"Ms. Romonoff! I'm sorry Dr. (Y/L/N) isn't in today."

An eyebrow rose on the Alpha but she nodded thanking the beta all the same. You hadn't mentioned you wouldn't be in, you were always in your lab. Beginning to worry she quickly dialed Bruce who luckily answered after only two rings.

"Hello?"

"Do you have a meeting today with (Y/N)?"

"No our meetings are usually Thursday but she actually just called this morning and cancelled this week."

"Thanks."

Now Natasha was panicking. If she'd been using her logical brain she probably would of been able to piece together why you suddenly weren't at work and cancelled on Bruce only this week. But she wasn't, the first person she's cared for on a deeper level since the red room suddenly disappearing only caused huge red flags to pop up in Natasha's mind. Rushing to your apartment that she shouldn't even know the location of she couldn't help the way her leg jumped nervously and how her hands uncomfortablly gripped the steering wheel.

Please be ok. Please be ok.

Natasha wasn't going to let anything happen to you, she couldn't. When she arrived at your apartment she didn't even bother with the flowers ignoring the elevator to take the steps two at a time. She made it to the fourth floor in record time heart bumping and short breaths coming out of her quickly. Drawing her weapon she knocked on the door three times before beginning a count down in her mind.

5....4....3....2....

You cracked open your door slowly, not expecting visitors and honestly not in a state for small talk. Your eyes doubled in size when you saw the red head on the other side while Natasha let go the loudest sigh of relief you've ever heard. Pushing past your door with ease she invites herself in wrapping you in a tight hug that clouded your thoughts entirely.

"I'm so glad your okay. I wanted to surprise you at work but you weren't there and Bruce told me you cancelled this week I thought the worst."

You weren't exactly sure what she meant by that but you didn't care your alpha was here. You took a deep breath in of her scent eyes dialating at the smell. Arms coming up to hold her close hand slipping into her hair. You wanted her, needed her.

"For someone so smart it's hard to believe you couldn't come up with a logical solution as to why me. An omega. Cancelled her plans for a week."

Suddenly Natasha noticed your strong scent in the apartment, your near naked appreance, the whimpers you kept letting go in her ear.

"I didn't say anything because I didn't want to rush this but you came to me anyway alpha."

Red flushed Natasha's cheeks as she began to strain against her pants. For a moment she felt stupid so easily pushed into a state of panic but that moment faded as your nails lightly scratched at her scalp pulling her attention back to you.

"My alpha."

Its was a whisper one you let go into her neck but a trigger for Natasha all the same. She needed you, wanted you, had to have you. You were hers and hers alone.

"My omega."

Natasha whispered back placing her nose against your scent gland as she kickes the door shut behind her. Something primal inside Natasha ached for you, she needed you closer. Her roaming hands gripped at you as yours did the same.

"Alpha. Alpha. Alpha."

You whisper taking in her pressence her feel. You've never had an alpha this close during your heat. Honestly you hadn't even considered this a moment that would happen to you. Never thought you'd find a mate like all your friends and family had.

"Mine."

Was all Natasha could respond. She backed you into your couch not romantic but in your collective states neither of you cared. You aren't sure how either of you stripped but you were aware of the drug like euphoria Natasha's skin on yours was giving you. Your hands couldn't stop moving rubbing, touching, and squeezing at every piece of Natasha you could reach. Natasha returned your touches in kind her soft lips pressing against every part of your body before pressing into your own. The kiss was feverish, needy. The contact was enough to make you moan into her mouth causing her length to harden painfully. Your body began to lift against Natasha's in search of friction.

"More."

You weren't sure what you wanted, what you needed more of. You just knew there was something missing.

"My beautiful little omega."

Natasha whispered against your lips moaning out as she began to run her member through your slick.

"Gonna make you my gorgeous mate, gonna fill you with my pup."

You nodded in eager response, nothing had ever seemed more right than this moment.

"Please."

Natasha begins to enter you slowly. Stretching you out in a way none of your dildos ever have. You moan loudly tightly grabbing the back of the red heads neck and pulling her into a seering kiss one she returns eagerly. The moment is all heat and skin. Natasha's hips pound into you on their own accord. Your eyes roll back signalling your first release but it isn't enough for Natasha. She continues her pace like a woman possessed and before you can comprehend your cumming again almost violently.

"Yes omega just like that."

Natasha takes you in, your gorgeous face, stomach full of her. She's going to make you a mother fill you with her pup. Her mate all hers. You feel the heat before you see her face. Natasha's release pushes you into a third of your own.

"My alpha."

You whisper again.

.......

The days that follow as Natasha falls out of her ruts haze she begins to doubt. Sitting on the quinjet on the way to Siberia she can't help but wonder if she's actually ready for this, even deserves it. She has red in her ledger, alot of it and a few months ago she wouldn't of even considered mating. With anyone. How could she be a mother? How could she be a mate? How could she be what you deserved? The week in the cold did nothing but push her further away from you taking her back to her days in the red room which then took her back to her dark past. She couldn't do this. Not with you, you would never live a full life, constantly on the move never safe never happy. You deserve more, more than Natasha can give you. Three weeks later upon her return you await with others on the landing pad. So excited you can't help but bounce the positive pregnancy test burning a whole in your pocket. You were nervous this was the first time you'd see your alpha since your heat and with big news as well but you shouldn't be she was your alpha. Yours. As the quinjet landed your heartbeat quickened to an alarming pace. You bounced on your toes eyes eagerly searching for the soft ones you'd come to dream of. Instead you were greeted by a different alpha though physically the same her body language was different she looked cut off, not meeting your eye. Her exterior seemed hardened. You approached her cautiously, you'd never been here after a mission not even for Sam but you were sure the emotional tole had to be high.

"Welcome back."

Your soft voice sent pain through Natasha. You being here meant what she was about to do was truly about to happen.

"I..."

"(Y/N) listen....."

In an instant you shut down. You should of know better.

"What happened the other night was a mistake. I was distracted by my rut and..."

You grip the pregnancy test in your pocket so tight you're surprised it doesn't break.

"No need to finish. I get it, I should of known better."

You say before walking off. You kept your head held high refusing to let Natasha see the tears you so badly wanted to let go. Your words only cut Natasha depper than her own already were. What had she just done?

.........

Three Years Later

Natasha tied her long red hair back in a loose ponytail as she walked out of her trailer saying a passing goodbye to her cat. The drive into town was long her dark thoughts able to creep up as the time passed on. Exiting her car she entered the small local grocery store. The trip being a necessity otherwise she wouldn't of bothered leaving her safe house. She went up and down the isles grabbing canned foods for both her and her cat. Items that were long lasting so that another trip like this wouldn't have to happen for months. As she turned down the isle full of cereal a young girl catches her attention. Something about her was familiar as she stood studying the cereal alot more complex than someone her age should. Natasha couldn't help the small smile on her face as she appraoched the girl.

"Need some help?"

Green eyes turned to look up at her the little girls face holding a perplexed look.

"Mommy says I can only get one cereal but I don't know which one."

"Hmmmm"

Natasha hums pretending to be just as perplexed as the little girl.

"Well which cereal is your favorite?"

"I like fruify pebbles but mommy like captain cruch."

"Hmmmm that does seem hard. Well who do you love more yourself or your mommy."

"I love mommy bunches."

"Well I guess you should get Captain Crunch."

The girl smiles in response and in that moment a voice Natahsa never thought she'd hear again rings through the small grocery store.

"Avery. Come on love, Did you pick a cereal? I have to get home to start dinner."

Natasha can't help but be mesmerized by your form as you turn the corner eyes not looking up from your phone and basket as you appear to double check all your shopping items.

"I picked your favorite mommy. A nice lady helped me."

Avery says as she carries the box over to you. You smile putting your phone away as you take the box from your little bundle of joy.

"That's great baby, did you tell the nice lady thank......"

Your voice fades as you look up to see the one face you hopped to never see again.

"(Y/N) it's really you."

The red head in front of you whispers and you clamp your mouth shut face hardening.

"Come on Avery its time to go."

You turn your cart around quickly lifting your two year old in your arms.

"(Y/N) wait!"

Natasha moves around her own cart frantic to get to you.

"Please wait."

She moves to grab your arm and you violently jerk from her grip stoppinv your cart to hold your daughter closer.

"What Natasha?"

Natahsa stares. Taking in every detail of the face she was sure she'd never see again. You were just as beautiful as you'd been three years ago.

"(Y/N)...... words can't even begin to express how sorry I am. I wanted you as my mate, I still want you as my mate but I had red on my ledger I was being tracked by the red room. The day I showed up at your apartment I thought that the one person I ever cared about on a deeper level the red room had gotten to. I didn't want to leave you, to separate from you but I couldn't risk putting you in danger. I couldn't risk loosing you. There hasn't been a day that I haven't thought about you. I'd always hoped you would move on and find happiness and I'm glad you did..."

Natasha wiped tears from her own eyes. Tears she had no right to be letting loose.

"You said the red room was after you.... implying that they're not anymore."

"No I... I took them down with my long lost sister believe it or not...."

Natasha said through a wet laugh.

"But that's a story all in its own and I believe you said you had to get home to make dinner."

As the red head goes to turn you let go a sigh of your own and kiss your daughters head.

"I never found happiness..... the only happiness in my life was delivered to me by you."

Your grip on Avery tightens as Natasha turns back around clearly confused.

"Natasha, meet your daughter, Avery Wilson Romanoff."

Natasha's jaw drops as fresh tears spring to her eyes. What more than fate could of led you here together, after everything she'd been through what would of brought you to this little town in the middle of no where with her daughter none the less other than fate. She wasn't going to ignore it twice. It was her turn to be happy. Y'alls turn.

[nor-4]

True Love?

They lack of wayne mccullough fic

Pairings - Wayne Mccullough x Reader.

Warnings - Out of character, grammatical errors

You guys met after your professor pick him as your partner for project since he knows that wayne needs a help with his grades.

Although he don't listen to no one he is surprisingly interested to you talk about the topic you guys are about to do.

After the project he has this feeling that he is longing for something, he didn't really know it at first until he asked orlando about it since he knows that orlando knows everything about feelings.

Once he knew that he is inlove with you he didn't hesitate to improve himself, he knew that he needs changes before taking the risk of asking you out.

At first you are hesitant to take the gifts he gives you especially when it's in a box, you think that it's the hammer he always bring to school.

After the few months of gifting, doing act of service, writing letters, improving his word of affirmation, doing well in his life, you finally answered his question on asking you out for a date.

It took a very long time getting ready for your first date, he take you out for a nice dinner after that he take you out for carnival and riding a ferris-wheel while admiring your beauty shining because of the lights.

Making the first date memorable is doing the first kiss when the ferris wheel finally got to the top. Trust me everytime he walks past the carnival he always remember that moment.

While walking back home you are wearing his jacket since it got so cold, he even carried you until you guys arrived home because you told him that your feet hurts from walking in heels while biting the fresh flower he bought for you earlier. (this scene is based on that one tiktok video i found probably last year)

After all that he just focused on his school works even avoiding the people he used to fought with.

With his parents he stopped caring about them since they give him that energy since he was a kid, he had the comfort of having a parent when he met you parent for the first time. They already knew about his past but they want to give him the chance and welcomed him.

He loves pets but he thinks he can't keep them for too long and they'll just die when he try taking care of one, although he is afraid to take care of one he still get the kitten he see at the street. Bro got gifted by the cat distribution system.

Once he got comfortable complimenting you, he can never stop, seeing you in new outfit? Gorgeous do a pose!😛

Speaking of pose he loves to take polaroid pictures with you and put it in his phone case, it's like a reminder for him that he is a changed man when someone is testing him.

[eybefioro]

Weekly fic rec, by yours truly...

The wind stills ruffles our hair, still shakes the leaves of the trees. The world keeps on spinning. People still walk on the streets, still keep on their routines. We share old stories, old photographs, old memories. We offer each other a hug, even if it can only do as much as wave the cold away. Sometimes, that warmth is what we need to sooth the aching lump in our throats. Sometimes, it just makes it hurt more, but we need it all the same.

I was living my life like normal, until I saw this post. I wasn't prepared to have the ground shattering beneath my feet.

The Ordinary World, by Anti_kate

Rated E, ~24,8k words

My tags: intense, cathartic, beautiful

Summary:

He couldn’t quite remember what Aziraphale smelled like anymore, the particular combination of fresh bread and sea salt and cedarwood, the caramelized sugar of crème brûlée. But even though he couldn’t remember the scent precisely, he knew the bookshop didn’t smell right. It didn’t smell like Aziraphale. It was as if he’d never been there at all. Aziraphale disappears the night of the bookshop fire, and Crowley is left alone and grieving. But death is not always the end.

Hm. This fic spoke to me in such a level. Cut me deep and dissected my feelings in such a way that I didn't expect -- so I'm sorry in advance. This will get a bit personal, and I don't know to which extent everyone can relate to this story, and to which extent is me projecting my own experiences.

So, this can be a particular experience of mine, but I don't see many stories dealing with grief. In the movies, TV shows, books, etc. that I've watched and read, it's an uncommon theme. I find that interesting because even if it is different for everybody (and if every time it hits differently), everyone experiences grief. In the same way that everyone dies, everyone also feels the pain of grief.

We see characters dying and characters suffering for it, but the grief per se is uncommon. And I think that's because it happens a lot in one's head, it's not a linear process, it's complex and painful, and it's never the same. It doesn't even end. We never really stop mourning. We go through our days, and the grief is with us. We work, and it sits by our side. We laugh, and it warps its arms around our shoulders. We cry, and it constrict our voices. We eat, and half of it goes to its belly. We walk, and its weight slows us down. We learn to live with it, we grow around it, but that hollowness is always there, never fulfilled again.

And this story taps into that so well (for me, at least). It describes so well the sense of loss, the sense of emptiness, the absence that lingers. How everything hurts, how it feels for the world to end, and nothing changing. For it to end and people still being the same, doing the same things. For it to end, and for you to confront the fact that it means nothing, really; you still, somehow, have to keep going, you, somehow, are still alive. The world ended, nothing changed, and you still have to breathe.

All that is left is your memories, and they aren't even the same anymore. You can't exactly remember them, but your body does. You get assaulted by them. You get haunted by the ghosts of the people you lost -- you can hear their voices on the back of your mind, you can feel them on their words, on the things they owned, on the things they did. You listen to a song and BAM! there is their ghost singing those lyrics, hoping to that rhythm, a memory that you didn't know you still had. Their ghosts haunt you. But they're gone. They don't exist anymore, only being alive in the past; only still in the memories, in memories that, more often than not, will die with you and cease to exist when all that's left of you is the memories on other people's heads.

We see Crowley go through that. We see him hurting like we (maybe *I*, lol) hurt. We see his suffering upon losing Aziraphale, and how he hurts himself trying to stop hurting, and unfortunately, the hurt is inescapable. He sacrifices a lot to get answers, to try to get close to Aziraphale again -- and what wouldn't I sacrifice only to be able to hug the people I lost ome more time...

But the good news is that he can get Aziraphale back. And he does. The plot is amazing. The descriptions of how he does that and the twists are amazing. This fic is so poetic, and the ending is so beautiful. Reading Crowley getting Aziraphale back was incredible, especially after seeing (experiencing, really) the hurt.

I love how the author wrote this story, their prose is beautiful. Haunting. I loved every bit, and I felt so seen, hugged by Crowley's hurt; he getting back something that I will never be able to was great. It comforted me a lot, even if it hurt (and it did hurt a lot lol I still have a lump on my throat and did cry yesterday because of it, but it was a good type of cry. One that makes you feel good after).

This fic made me feel a lot, and I'm so grateful for it (@antikate I'm sorry for tagging you I just want you to know that I loved your fic so much, and I for sure wasn't able to get that across by my comments there. Rhank you so much for this story) It's so beautiful and... aaa alright time to end this rec. I babbled a lot and said almost nothing, I feel like. Just go read it (not for everyone, I know, but yet...).

This fic is like drinking a too-sweet beverage to try to swallow a too-bitter med. Like making popcorn when you feel sad, because that's what they did when they felt sad.Like keep on living and laughing, because they would like you to.

[lanitalay]

Before I Say Goodnight

Chapter 5

a/n: this one was fun for me. enjoy!!!

Other chapters

wordcount: 2.5k

“Good morning” you sit across the table from him “what’s for breakfast?” He picks up a piece of toast from his plate and flashes you a sleepy smile and says “anything you like”. Magic house, right. “In that case, I’d like a cinnamon roll, an omelet, hot chocolate and orange juice” placing your hands on the table as the list of food begins to appear in front of you. You half waited for Azriel to make a comment about your choice of breakfast but he only said “a cinnamon roll sounds really good right now” and then his own plate appeared. A giggle, an actual giggle, escaped your lips. Get a grip. “Cheers” you motion with your bun and he returns the gesture. “If Cassian sees me having simple carbs for breakfast he’ll make me run an extra ten miles at training tomorrow” his eyes have gone wide and it reminds you of the kid you used to babysit when you would take him to the ice cream shop on the way home from school. “The super fit general doesn’t like a sweet treat?” you ask between bites. “It’s not that he doesn’t like sweets but when he gets in his trainer mindset he becomes a pain in the ass” you snort “and I’m guessing you have a sweet tooth?” he nods once “it’s my only weakness” you roll your eyes and smile as you keep eating. Everything was delicious, you basically inhaled the cinnamon roll and hot chocolate. As you push those dishes away they vanish. This house freaking rules. You go to eat the omelet as Azriel asks “How did you find your room?” “Oh it’s beautiful and the bed is very comfy” he continues “did you sleep well?” You shake your head “well, once I fell asleep it was fine but I was up until late tossing and turning”. “I’m sure this has been difficult to process” you sip the orange juice, throat suddenly feeling dry “uhm, yeah it feels fake, all of this and last night was the first night I got the chance to think without being distracted or interrupted and… I was just overwhelmed” Azriel nodded and you jumped a little as you felt a cooling sensation against your cheek “sorry, they usually don’t bother people” he said and pulled his shadows away from you. You bring your hand up and notice the tear tracks. I must be dehydrated from all this crying. Lightly laughing you say “I don't even notice when I cry anymore, before I got here I don’t remember the last time I cried and I can’t seem to stop” another laugh slips as another shadow swipes the last falling tear. “I can’t even begin to understand how you feel, but if you want my opinion, I think you’ve been incredibly resilient”  he gets up from the table “I’ll see you later” and walks away. You can’t help but feel a little embarrassed crying in front of him before the day has even begun. 

“You must be y/n! Nesta told me you’d be joining us today” after breakfast and a little bit of walking about the house trying to remember where everything was. Feyre had found you and informed you that the priestesses were ready to begin. “I”m Gwyn” she held out her hand and offered you a million dollar smile. You shook her hand and offered her a five dollar smile in return. “Well, follow me,” she walked you through shelves and shelves of ancient looking volumes and tomes and from what you gathered these books could very well be thousands of years old. The thought made you feel very small. “I have taken it upon myself to take charge of this project and put together a small group to find out how to get you home” she said the last few words in a whisper. So the portal business is not for everyone to know, makes sense. You spend the next few hours meeting the other priestesses and beginning the search for books that might have what you’re looking for. By lunchtime you are starving and in need of fresh air. 

You opt for lunch on your balcony. But regret it almost immediately, the peace and quiet opening the floodgates of your mind and soon enough you’ve lost your appetite. Sighing, you get up from the little table and walk into the room. You grab your bag and empty it out on the bed. You had some snacks, your water bottle, an extra pair of socks you had forgotten about, your wallet, passport, sunglasses, phone and sunscreen. That was it. This is it. You place everything that you have to your name in the drawer of your bedside table and resist the urge to cry again. There’s still a full day ahead. The despair quiets down as you return to the library and are consumed by the work. 

After a full day of research you feel like your mind is going to explode. This will take months, if we’re lucky. You return to the dining room and see Cassian, Azriel and who you could only assume is Nesta already eating. “Y/n! Meet my mate, Nesta” Cassian excitedly points to the female beside him. “Hello, it’s nice to meet you” you try to muster up some energy but the defeat in your voice and your face is obvious. “It’s nice to meet you as well, I apologize I wasn’t here yesterday but I assume everything has gone well with the house?” At that you can’t help the enthusiastic nod “the house is fantastic”. You start to make yourself a plate and they return to their conversation but you don’t really listen to what they say. You keep going over and over it. Before you got here, before you stepped on that circle- there was something there. But you hadn’t seen anything, not a shadow, not a footprint, nothing. But the quiet… whatever it was, it was a predator that had scared off all but one prey. Maybe it was a trap. You feel sick. Oh god. “Y/n? You’re pale” Azriel’s voice snaps you from your spiral and you see the three of them sharing the same concerned look. I hate that look. “I’m just tired, it’s been… a long day” you try to finish your dinner but between their worried glances and your lack of appetite you can’t do it. “I’m gonna call it a night, guys” you say and walk to your room. 

The next few days are a blur of the same routine: breakfast with Azriel and sometimes Nesta, research, lunch, research, dinner, sleep. On the third day Azriel is the only one at breakfast “do you only have two changes of clothes?” You furrow your brows at him, “yes” last night had been the second sleepless one and you were in no mood to be tested. “I can take you into town if you’d like, get you something else to add to the rotation” you appreciated his offer, truly, the dress and the leggings were getting old “thanks, but I have no currency or goods or services that I can exchange for new clothes. These will have to do” you start drinking your tea, the only thing you could stomach since yesterday. “Y/n, you are an official guest of the Night Court. You can charge whatever you need or want to the High Lord” Oh “I did not know that. I’ve never been an official guest of anything. But still, you’ve already given me too much”. He stays serious as he says “We leave after you finish breakfast” he pushes a cinnamon roll in front of you. “I guess we can leave now” he doesn’t move “you’re not going to eat?” You shake your head “I’d love to but I am not hungry at all” he looks at you square in the face and you know he can see through the paper thin mask you’ve put on. “Very well, let’s go then”. 

“Do you prefer pants or skirts?” Azriel asked as you walked through a very busy part of Velaris. “Well it depends, I like skirts for leisurely activities and pants for everything else” Azriel looked around, he seemed just as lost as you were “fair enough”. “Azriel, do you know where we’re going?” He placed his hand on your back to guide you through the crowd “of course I do”. You say nothing. Both of us seem to be in a mood today. “Here we are,” he points to a quiet looking storefront “Feyre and Nesta talk about this shop a lot”. You walk in and see a mixture of textiles, prints and cuts that revive a part of you that has been dormant for a while. “Oh my god, this is great” Azriel lets out a breath and says “go crazy” and you do. Two hours and three full bags later you walk out of the shop. “I feel like I went overboard, we should return half of these things” you go turn around but Azriel’s wing stops you from walking any further. “Nonsense,  you need the clothes, now we need to get you some new shoes” you look at your boots “what’s wrong with these?” He walks into a shoe shop “nothing is wrong with them, but don’t you want something more comfortable?” You would like some slippers and maybe something cute to wear with the dresses “alright, if you insist”. As you walk towards the displays you miss the smile that ghosts over Azriel’s face. 

“I’ve got to hand it to you, Azriel. Getting out of the house and the library was just what the doctor ordered” you say as you bite down on a cinnamon roll that you had ordered at a little bakery. “A change of scenery is always nice I suppose” you nod and keep eating. “Y/n, feel free to not answer if you don’t want to but what is your world like?” Dammit, just as I was having a nice time. You sip some tea, your throat having gone dry yet again. Breathe, come one. In. Out. “It’s ok. Well for starters there’s no magic. There is war, famine, illness. But we also have so much beauty. Where I’m from the trees are always green and the sky is constantly blue. We have beaches and rivers. I was traveling before I got here, and I saw a bit of the world away from my home and it was beautiful. Similar to this, but the stars felt like a painting and these feel like living beings. We have art and I guess the most recent advancement has been the internet, but that’s a whole other conversation. There are so many animals, we keep some as pets. I had or have a dog. But there are monkeys and dolphins and butterflies and oh- we move around by cars or planes or trains mainly. We have horses but ever since the industrial revolution they aren’t the main form of transportation” you talked for what felt like hours, by the end your throat was sore from overuse. Azriel had listened to it all and had committed every detail to memory. Even if he didn't understand the internet or how planes flew without magic. 

 After the snack break Azriel let you know that you were going to have lunch at the River House with Feyre and Elain, the third sister you had yet to meet. The sister Mor thinks Azriel is enamored with. The walk back was pretty long but enjoyable, conversation with the Shadowsinger seemed to flow naturally and he seemed interested in everything you had to say so when he announced you had arrived you couldn’t help the disappointment that bubbled in your chest. The River House was a spectacular mansion overlooking the Sidra. “Azriel, y/n! Come over here, Elain is just finishing up lunch” Feyre said in place of greeting. You follow Azriel towards glass doors that lead to a beautiful garden terrace, where you are greeted by a delicious looking spread of finger foods. “I tried to make everything baby friendly” a delicate musical voice says to Azriel. You look from the spread towards the voice “you must be Elain, I’m y/n”. She smiles and says “lovely to meet you, please start without me, I’m in the middle of decorating a cake” you note the apron she dons and the frosting that stains her pretty face. I’d be into her if I was Azriel.

Feyre, Nyx, Azriel and yourself enjoy lunch and simple conversation “there’s only a few more weeks of summer so we try to make the most of this weather before the Sidra freezes” you nod, having noticed that the breezes gliding through the air seem to be getting cooler and cooler everyday. The High Lady lets the little boy out of his chair, he doesn’t look older than two. Once he’s free of the confines of his high chair he races to the lawn and begins to play with some toys he probably left there earlier.  “Here we are” Elain returns to the table with an intricately decorated cake, it has all sorts of flowers and leaves made of pastel color frosting and Elain herself looks perfectly put together, she looks for her nephew “Nyxie, do you want a slice?” The table laughs as he ignores her and goes back to playing. “Sorry Elain, you know how he gets after being still for too long” Feyre says. The domestic scene fills your heart with longing for your own family. That could’ve been you. Your blood runs cold as you hear the distinct lilt of your mother’s voice. Not this again. You had had some reprieve of those words ever since getting here. “So Elain, I’ve been told you garden?” You ask to fill the comfortable silence the group had fallen into. Luckily Elain had a lot to say about the upcoming autumn harvest and her plans for the following year. 

After lunch concluded, you and Azriel went back to the House of Wind where you resumed the routine you had grown to appreciate. In the morning you would wake up and actually choose an outfit, which was a nice addition, have breakfast and go to the library. After lunch you’d go back to the library until dinner. After dinner you’d either walk around the house, find a book to read, maybe journal a bit. Other nights were a bit more fun though, someone would take you into town and you’d go dancing or walk along the river or visit art galleries. It was a nice routine. Predictable. Dependable. Enjoyable. 

So Azriel was very surprised when you walked into the dinning room with a huff and a scowl. “What’s the matter?” You look at him like with wild eyes “Azriel I can’t do it anymore” he stiffens and you continue “The priestesses are all very nice and Gwyn is a sweetheart but the only thing I do is look for books for them to read because they are all written in ancient languages I don’t understand. I’m so bored, Azriel, I’m numb with boredom. I’m not a researcher and I can’t even contribute, not really. I don’t wanna go back down there. It’s dark and cold and I need sunshine. Sunshine!” you finish by dropping into your chair and putting your head between your hands. “I see-” you interrupt him “and I’m sorry I sound ungrateful ok? You’ve all been very nice”. He continues “if you need a change of pace you could come with me to the human lands, I’ll be there for a few days on an assignment. I’d appreciate the company” you could kiss him.

 “When do we leave?” 

[sukunasun]

TANGLED WEB | SPIDERMAN 2099 GETO SUGURU X READER

"i'm worried about you," you said to him then. it's not that there's anything wrong with him. flaky, yes. forgetful, sometimes. but it's starting to become increasingly clear that he's not all he seems to be.

suguru moves around his lab with soft, padded steps as the room is slowly lit by a hundred holographic screens. he's programmed it that way so it doesn't spook him. he hasn't had a good night's sleep in the last ten years. well, maybe forever actually, but he's stopped counting the all-nighters.

jumping from universe to universe does that to you, where time becomes a jumbled mess of past, present, and future. doesn't help that more of them explode into being each day. he's seen himself as a child in one and an old man in another, happily easing himself into his lazy chair while his beautiful wife grumbles on about how he needs to exercise more or his limbs will start creaking.

that one hurts a little too much he'll admit. would rather not think about a life where he'd been happy and perfectly content. instead, he taps on a few buttons by a console, sifting through screens, and moving windows out of the way with a swipe of his hand. news footage, maps, weapon inventory, plans and projects he's left on hold, some of them dating back years before he ever resorted to this life—bringing about order to chaos. there was no swinging from death-defying heights, no bank robbery chases and saving cats from trees, no...putting the multiverse back together, piece by fragmented piece.

his fingers grasp at the spandex of his mask, tugging it loose til his skin feels that familiar brush of fresh air. letting his hair fall down his shoulders and back, breathing a sigh of relief when he feels the tension leaving his scalp.

a video plays before him, lighting up his face from the dim. he remembers recording it at your wedding dress fitting. it wasn't necessary he told you, the dress, the rings, the reception, thinking he'd been above all these ritualistic traditions. now it's all he holds onto really, standing by the same spot, with the same video playing on a loop.

"sorry, it's been a while," he speaks, his roughened voice echoing around the walls. he makes a motion with his fingers and the video blows up in size. pixels painting a picture of your smiling face, a soft, love-filled gaze focused on him. or it seems that way. back when you still loved him anyway.

"hey," you say, a little self-conscious, "do we have to do this?" palming the material of your dress nervously, your engagement ring twinkling. he feels the phantom weight of the one he used to wear on his finger all the time. so much so that he rubs a thumb over the empty space, feeling only his suit there. 

he's removed his voice from the clip, only because it allows him to talk to you—at least some semblance of it—like he does now, "not if you don't want to...i just miss you is all," he replies.

"what kind of an answer is that?" his heart clenches at your laugh ringing through. a younger him would have said something funny when he should have been better with his words. should have told you how beautiful you were, how much you meant to him. but they always get caught in his throat. 

he's ignoring the fact that there are hundreds of other spidermans surrounding him behind these walls and any of them could waltz right in. watching the tough leader of spider society talk to an old tape of his ex-wife. they'd see just how...lonely he is.

two of them sit in a corner somewhere doing whatever task he's given them for the day. and they know there's nothing they could do about it. because he's got an oh-so-impossible plan of rewriting the canon. changing the outcome. for this is not up to technology or anything that isn't you and your wish to love him again.

and if he knows anything about multiverse travel, is that it's heartbreaking. how often he's lived in different shoes, loving a different you every time. multiple lifetimes, occurrences, origins, and resolutions. reliving the first time he held your hand, the first kiss, the first time he took you in his college dorm, how it was awkward and messy, but he'd cradled you in his arms when your body was a sweaty, blissed-out mess after, the expression on your face so rewarding he couldn't feel the sting of the scratch marks you've left all over his back.

you were hot to the touch one moment, a rousing sight, perfect in every way. and then you were cold, losing all colour, and grasping at him with your final breath seconds later. suguru realizes he was no longer in the comfort of an old junky room but on a street corner. buildings crumbling and him barely withstanding the weight of rubble on his back. his naked skin now in his suit drenched with blood. he swore it was just a glitch, but he saw with his very eyes, each of his timelines colliding and ripping apart, each tangent leading back to his inevitable loss. losing everything. losing you.

so they keep working on it. and he keeps watching you on a screen. shrugging and slumping his body and averting his eyes away because he can't bear to face you. always guilty and for what, he doesn't exactly know. can't pinpoint the moment he felt you slip through his fingers. only that he couldn't be the person you needed him to be.

"pathetic right?" he says, timing it right for the moment you reply with a—

"i forgive you," you say, hand reaching out to his. and he pauses the video there, placing his own hand against the screen and watching it glitch when his fingers make a hole through the display, plunging through and feeling only emptiness in return. at the very least, it buzzes around his form and it feels warm, but it's nothing compared to the way you'd hold him.

"promise?" he whispers, knowing you won't reply, and that the answer is already there. but he pulls his hand away, rewinds it, and starts all over again.

——————————————————

he still dreams about you. on the rare occasions he does manage to fall asleep.

but they're not scenes and sounds he's conjuring up, a random bunch of no-names his consciousness collected throughout the day, hazy blobs of red and blue. it's only ever one thing. a moment from his past he can't let go off.

vividly he sees you standing in the rain. in nothing but a pair of jeans and a tshirt. huff . huff.  his breaths are labored. here in the cold of night, they puff out in short gasps of white.

it all feels so real. in the flesh. in his suit. hanging upside down on what appears to be tangled strands of webbing in his grasp. body covered in black spandex, red covering the pads of his hands and feet, thick lines spanning across broad shoulders and chest, an angular pattern of a spider sitting right in the middle.

"so tell me spiderman...you've got a million eyes and ghastly fangs?" cupping his head gently, you're fingers move on their own accord. thumbs caressing over the material, feeling the flat planes and deep grooves of his features. a strong nose, soft cheeks...shaping and sculpting him in your mind's eye.

"go ahead," he whispers, his voice hoarse and ...desperate, "take it off and find out..." screw it, he thinks, he can have this, just this once. he's allowed to. it's just a dream anyway. spiderman is everything he's not. he's done more with the suit on than when it was left crumpled and untouched in his closet.

tugging at his mask, the hem starts to peel away from his neck. sliding and stretching over his throat. tucking folds moving upwards with every pull. pale skin revealed, now blooming red the moment you ease it over his adam's apple, over the cut of his jaw, and finally the edge grazes past his lips.

he gasps. mouth parting with every exhale, his fangs retracting and peeking from beneath, his chest rising and falling in time with his rapid breaths, his thumping heart. "thank you, for saving me," you whisper, before pressing your lips to his, feeling them part as his tongue slips inside the warmth of your mouth. fuck, this is exhilarating. even though it could just be from the last time he kissed you, the taste of you is unlike any other, forever etched in his memory.

——————————————————

"i'm worried about you," you said to him then. it's not that there's anything wrong with him. flaky, yes. forgetful, sometimes. but it's starting to become increasingly clear that he's not all he seems to be.

in that restaurant you like—the one serving the huge rice bowls and unlimited tea refills—you eyed the new injury he's gotten that week. he should have tried to hide it at least. but scarily enough, it was probably the best his efforts could afford. it'd been a bruise on his cheek, no bigger than a few centimeters, and knuckles so raw, so red, the skin splits down the middle of those nubby slopes.

"it's really fine," he brushes you off and you noticed the slight wince in his expression, giving it away. if he were better at acting you wouldn't catch how his arms rested on the table, placing most of his weight on it and shielding his torso from you. just underneath his shirt, two broken ribs sealed themselves back beneath skin and muscle at a snail's pace, a bullet wound in his shoulder closed up inch by inch. felt the dermis stitching itself back segment by segment in circular motions.

you sighed heavily. he didn't miss the disappointment laced in your features. "i think we should break up, you're...hiding things from me." a part of him knew it was coming, but where does he even begin. he's left these things out for a reason. spiderman doesn't have a place in all this. that...version of himself is his own burden to bear.

geto suguru was your boyfriend, unmasked and uncovered. the one who has a strict hair care routine and likes spending his time cooped up in a lab. less mad scientist and more aloof inventor who's dedicated his life to a cause. he's charming, intelligent, and sexier than he should be—"are you sure you're not lying to me about your job? i don't think researchers do pull-ups at work," you squeeze at the swell of his arms in wonder, palms pressed into his pecs, admiring the bulk, the brawn, down the curve of his slim little waist.

geto however, can only blush. chuckling to himself nervously whilst grateful the cut of muscles is enough to distract you.

you've mentioned it once or twice. that it's just a bonus he's so hot, the real appeal is where on most days he's dorky....disheveled. and so captivating. drooping eyebags kissing the steam wafting from his mug, coffee today, because he needs the extra boost. how he's scratching at his toothpaste-stained shirt while a blanket hangs over his head in the mornings. when warm light hits just right, you notice the alluring streak of silver hairs, shining against dark locks. swooping and silky. oh how does stress look this lustrous...this indulgent. trotting about his messy kitchen with a lazy, drowsy gait.

"where the fuck is it," he mumbles, noisily wading through last night's clutter for..."my thingy!" he exclaims. because everything's a 'thingy' at this hour. when his brain is still fuzzy and he's got no energy. he's brandishing what happens to be a teaspoon like he's found the holy grail. and yes, it is that important because "this teaspoon isn't like any other teaspoon, it's actually perfectly accurate in measuring the amount of sugar i like," he's so particular.

sometimes he goes back there, he'd swing past heavy traffic and crowded streets from below. a route he knows by heart. by instinct. awed and frightened faces alike, feasting their eyes upon a masked man and his reflected grief in skyscraping windows. regrets when he'd been fighting crime and it slipped his mind. he promises he'll be early from now on, hoping to see you waiting for him by that same table and maybe this time, you wouldn't want to end things.