#i know it lacks description and is not very well-written

[arttsuka]

with the tagging posts, sometimes people don't know the difference between the & and the / and use both because they're like. oh it's the same right??

I used to do that when I was younger. and then got comments like. ew you ship them?? and I was confused.

sometimes the ship name/ duo name stuff going around confuses me too. some people use it platonically but some people use it romantically?? confusing.

Yes, I've been there too when I was younger. Took me a few years to understand how tagging works.

[januaryembrs]

Hi!! Could I please order a spicy hot chocolate for Spencer Reid? (Like you know, the ones that people put cayenne pepper in?!)

You’re an incredible writer and human!

BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND | Spencer Reid x Reader

description: your brother brings home his dorky college classmate, Spencer

length: 2.5k

warnings: spicy, SMUT (omg Em attempts smut and even then its pretty tame but why are my hands shaking), minors dni! heed my warnings this is not for you minors!! nipple stuff, mens genitalia mentioned, Spencer and reader get horny for one another oop. I really hope this is okay I've literally written smut once and even then I second guessed myself so much. SEASON ONE GLASSES SPENCE. BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND SPENCE. smut under the cut.

You felt eyes on you without even having to turn where you were stuffing laundry into the washing machine, your face sweaty with the midsummer heat. 

“Jesus Christ, you look like Hot Topic threw up on you,” Your brother’s voice resounded as two sets of footsteps entered the kitchen, and someone cleared their throat where you were bent over, denim shorts riding high up your ass cheeks. 

Flicking a look over your shoulder, you pulled the spoon full of peanut butter out of your mouth, yanking a headphone out of your ear to address him. 

“Don’t shit your pants, dickbrains, it’s all I have until my clothes are clean,” You snapped at Ryan, tongue dancing with the creamy, sweet spread, and your eyes dropped to his left where his best friend fussed over his sweater cuffs, a duffel bag on his back, and your eyes softened as you saw Spencer looking flushed in your kitchen, “Hi, Spence,” 

“Hi,” He peeped shyly, and you smiled widely at the obscenely tall boy who had been to your house a number of times. Ryan had met Spencer on the first day of college, or at least his first day. For Spencer, it had been six years already, his third doctorate well underway, and the two had quickly bonded over something dumb and nerdy you’d never bothered to take note of. You clicked the dials on the machine to a low setting, pouring some detergent into the drum and pressing the ‘Start’ button.

“You guys doing homework?” You asked, fixing where your shirt slouched off the side of your shoulder, exposing your lack of bra and baring your collar bones, and you were quick to catch the way Spencer’s hazel hues fell there with something fleeting and guilty in his expression. 

“We’re not twelve years old calculating how many watermelons Sally and Jess have all together,” Your brother scoffed, screwing his lips in annoyance, just as much as any twenty year old pumped full of hormones and energy drinks. “We’re writing a paper on thermodynamics; Spencer’s staying over tonight,”

Rolling your eyes at his know it all snark, you pulled a face back at him, despite the fact you were one year older. You looked to his left where Spencer stuffed his hands in his pockets, his cheeks pink as he caught himself like a fly in honey in one of your usual arguments. 

“Do you want a drink, Spence?” You offer, ignoring Ryan’s shitty attitude, heading over to the fridge and swinging the door open, your fathers bottles of beer clinking together where they lay flat on the top shelf. 

“Soda would be great, please,” Spencer murmured, trying not to stare as you leaned over, those little, black hot pants skirting up so far his face felt feverish and he forced himself to look at the linoleum tiles in a scrambled attempt to control his thoughts. 

He felt like a kid again, with a stupid little crush on the older girl who batted her lashes and called him Spence and smiled at him like you knew exactly how you made that big brain of his turn to mush when you spoke to him. 

Handing him a Coke, he tried to ignore the way your cold fingers brushed and avoided your gaze at all cost.

“Thankyou,” He said, his voice cracking in the very middle of it in a way that made him feel like a total loser, and he heard you giggle, his neck growing a prickling hot. 

Before you could say much else, his friend grabbed his sleeve, tugging him in the direction of his room where you couldn’t bother them anymore. 

Spencer was thinking about your laugh the entire afternoon, until they gave up writing and turned to watching Star Trek, the evening air quickly turning humid and dark, and he begged the tightness in his boxers to leave him be for even just a second.

Only, he found no such luck, tortured by the thought of you being just a single flight of stairs away from him. 

–

You were doing dishes by the time you heard him again. Assuming it was Ryan, you made no effort to greet him since it usually was only responded with a grunt or cuss anyways. 

Except you could tell by the footsteps that were too careful, the presence that was too soft, even by the way he cleared his throat nervously, that it certainly wasn’t your obnoxious brother who had come into the kitchen for a midnight snack. 

Whirling around at the sound, Spencer stood on the other side of the dining table you'd been sitting at just a few hours ago eating pasta and listening to your mom recounting her stressful day in the office. Thin, framed glasses perched on his nose, ones you’d never seen before, glinting in the light from the oven as he blinked at you behind the lenses. 

“Spence,” You said with a tired smile, eyes dropping to his shirt and plaid trousers, “Cute jammies,” 

He paused for a second, looking down to the grey Doctor Who set, a diagram of the TARDIS splayed across his chest, and he blanked when he tried to figure out if you were kidding or being genuine, “Thank you. You too,”

He didn’t know why he’d said it, maybe because that’s just what you do when someone is being kind, except only then did he look at what you were wearing, and impossibly so it was even more scandalous than what you were wearing earlier. 

A tank top, if he could even call it that with how far it rode up, and a lacy pair of blush underwear, a pretty white bow resting just below your belly button. 

Following his gaze as it devoured your exposed appendage, you grinned at him devilishly, “Sorry, it gets pretty hot in my room at night,” 

“Y-yeah I can imagine you-you’re hot,” He stammered, realising what he said when you raised a brow at him, “B-because you’re a floor up, I mean, and heat rises because hot air has a lower particle density than cool air although some physicians believe-”

“I know what you meant, Spence,” You said with a smirk, moving around the table to stand in front of him, your feet padding softly against the cold floor. Looking up at him with a tilted head, you inspected the frames you realised were a mahogany brown now you were close enough to see them properly, you peered past the lenses and right into where his doe eyes stared back at you, skittish and flustered, “Are these new?” 

Spencer licked his lips nervously, “I used to wear glasses when I was a kid but now I wear contacts,” He said, rubbing clammy palms over his trousers. He could smell your detergent from here, the same one he’d seen you pour over your laundry just a few hours earlier, ‘Blossom breeze’ or something girly and sweet and floral like that. He didn’t know the brand, but it was entirely intoxicating, except he suspected it had nothing to do with the liquid and more to do with the fact he could see your nipples pressing against your shirt when you stood so close to him, “Girls don’t really think scrawny guys in glasses are.. hot,” 

You sniggered, though your brows furrowed the slightest bit, “Who told you that?” 

“Lot’s of girls, more than once actually, it’s just kind of common knowledge,” He fumbled, his chest pricking with nerves when your fingers moved up to grip his waist gently, thumbs danced down his hip bones, the gentle touch alone stirring his cock into a painfully hard stance. He gulped, the sound loud in the sombre twilight of the kitchen, and for a guy who had aced every single test he’d ever taken, who played chess against himself for fun to guess his next five moves, Spencer had no clue where he existed outside of your body so close to his, looking at him like he was a puppy begging for treats if he gave paw. 

“I think those girls are absolute boneheads if they can’t see how pretty you are, Spence,” You said his name as if it was the only one that had ever mattered, and he couldn’t help how his chest swelled at the sentiment, even if he wasn’t so off guard as to actually believe that. You’d always had this way of making people feel special, he saw it at your family barbecue last Summer, when your cousins flocked around you like you were their Queen Bee, how you seemed to make waiters and waitresses alike flush under your preening smiles and 'please's and 'thankyou's whenever you took Spencer and your brother out for dinner. 

“T-thankyou,” He replied after a thick breath, his chest rattling as you pulled him towards your calm figure, and he let himself be guided like he were leashed, “Y-you’re pretty too,”

He wanted to tell you so much more than that, that you were beautiful like all the popular girls at school were, only humble and kind like the golden part of you glittered inside too, except before he could even attempt at expanding on his three pathetic little words he’d stammered through laboured breaths, he effectively got fully disconnected from his brain when you leaned in towards his face and brushed your nose against his, testing the waters. 

Your gaze trailed up to his innocently, so close he could feel your minty breaths fanning over his bottom lip, and he guessed you’d already brushed your teeth ready for bed. 

“You really think I’m pretty, Spence?” You asked naively, even if he knew it was just because he forgot how to speak when you were too forward, as if you were trying not to spook a deer. He nodded quickly, his eyes zeroing on where your mouth was mere centimetres away from him, one single shiver in his spine and he would be kissing you, and like you’d heard his train of thought, you pushed your lips against his softly, his body jolting with an electric shock. 

There could be sirens surrounding the entire house and he would be none the wiser, because in mere seconds his blood was rushing through his eardrums, sounding like radio static, and it was only when he felt the vibration of it against his mouth did he realise you’d whined, and his hands sprung to life, cupping both your cheeks and tugging you closer to his face as if he was clinging onto every second of the feeling. 

Spencer groaned, a sound he didn’t even realise he was going to make until he felt your fingers squeeze him lightly, and he snapped back into his body like a hair tie slinging him back into a world where the girl he’d had a teeny, tiny, maddening crush on for months was making out with him in her kitchen. 

“‘Gotta be quiet, baby, my parents are asleep,” You said, breathless as you ripped yourself away from him, despite the fact he was insistently pulling you back towards his mouth, and you smiled up at his urgency, “You ever kissed a girl before, Spence?”  

He sighed, and you’d never counted him as sassy until you heard it, almost spoiled and bratty now you’d given him a taste of heaven and held it back from him for the sake of small talk.

“Once, at recess in fifth grade, but it wasn’t like this,” He said, yanking you back towards him ravenously, and you let him devour your lips again, grinning into his desperate mouth, “Never been like this,” 

You weren’t sure whether he meant himself or what was likely a peck on the lips between kids as a dare, but you didn’t think too hard about it, as you slotted yourself back into his rough hands, calluses on the insides of his right fingertips from the years holding a pen so hard he might just break it. He felt your mouth open, and he followed your lead, your tongue feathering out with a shyness you showed nowhere else. And it was like every single statistic and number and fact about sharing saliva flew out of his head with wanton need as he dove right for the source, the tip of his tongue meeting yours with a warm nudge and he heard you mewl in pleasure. 

Spencer didn’t know what had come over him. Only moments ago he’d been too nervous to even look at you in fear of stumbled around a few syllables and calling them words. Yet here he was, his glasses slipping down his nose and pressing against the bridge of your own, your chest pressed so close to him he could feel your nipples pebbling against his TARDIS shirt, and it was like it was then he remembered you had no bottoms on except your panties. 

He hooked a hand underneath one of your legs, hiking it up to his waist and pushing even further up against you, the sudden movement making you gasp, your lower back hitting the dining table as his pubic bone ground against the ball of nerves that had been aching since you caught him shuffling around your kitchen in his damn Doctor Who pyjamas. 

Sliding his broad fingers up, your skin spread into gooseflesh and it was your turn to become putty under his touch as he bravely grabbed a handful of your arse, though his touch was still light and uncertain if he was crossing any boundaries. The change in position meant you felt yourself leaning back, your spine spreading out like a cat in warm sunlight, and he was quick to accommodate you, ever eager to please as Spencer was, moving away from the warmth of your mouth and kissing his way down to your pulse, the feeling of it making both of you hum on quietened tones in pleasure. 

“Why have we never done this before?” You asked breathlessly, your chest rising frantically as you gasped for air, a hushed moan bleeding into your airways. 

Spencer held you upright with one of his long arms, thought his mouth devoured a path over your collar bones, heading right for where your breasts lay in wait, and he didn’t even bother trying to remove your top as he kissed over your nipple with hungry, warm lips. 

“I dunno, probably because Ryan wouldn’t be too happy with me trying to fuck his sister while he’s eating dinner,” Spencer said without thinking, his tone sharp and witty as ever, like the noises you were making and the desperation in your touch seemed to rewire his thoughts into something overindulged. 

But you laughed, loud enough you slapped a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from waking up the whole house, because you had no idea how you’d explain to them why you and Spencer had ended up half sprawled on the dining table as he practically fixed himself onto every inch of you. And without warning he chuckled too, the vibration blowing over your skin that was already humming with excitement. 

“Do you think we could do this more often?” You asked, raising yourself up onto your elbows as his hands spread over your stomach, riding your top up just the smallest bit so he could kiss over your stomach, his pupils blown out into planets behind his glasses, his cheeks tinged raspberry red, his gaze drunken like he was in some sort of sugar rush only ready to stop when he’d gotten his fill, though at the rate he was going Spencer thought that day might not actually come. 

You were a drug, a nectar he’d never come close to, and he felt like every kiss to your skin only made that well in his stomach dig deeper and deeper, possibly never running dry as his every thought overflowed with drops of you, and your smell, and your taste, and your tongue. 

Missing your lips, he moved back up to your face, crashing his mouth back onto yours as your fingers raked through his hair, the sensation jolting his rod like appendage into you own pelvis, the two of you shivering with the feeling of it. 

“I think we can arrange that,” He murmured, and you grinned up at him devilishly as he fiddled with the cotton hem of your underwear nervously, his boldness wearing off as he saw that glint in your eyes that spelled trouble. But he understood that nervous and excitement felt so similar it was easy to mistake one for the other, perhaps even mesh both together at the same time, and the logical explanation for his clammy hands and racing heart seemed to soothe him the slightest bit. 

He loved sleepovers at your house.

[cloversnstrawberries]

could you do platonic leon kennedy with his child that tried to escape him but failed, like how would he punish them?

"code 10-110" platonic!dad!yandere!leon s. kennedy & teen!runaway!gn!reader [oneshot] ! !

masterlist !

description; You know your dad meant well, but after he takes it way too far-- you decide to break free from his hold. Really, you should've known that you couldn't outrun him for long. After all, you were his kid, and he'd go to the end of the Earth to keep you safe (and by his side).

additional notes; hello!! i'm not sure if you aiming for headcanons or not, but i decided to do a oneshot!! i hope i did the concept justice,,, you're all very big brained when it comes to ideas. i love requests so much, because i don't think i ever would've come up with this idea; but i had so much fun writing it.

also, fun fact, i was in the gotham fandom for a long while!! i know a lot of police stuff because of that, so i vaguely remembered the "10 codes" from the get. 10-110 is a code for juvenile disturbance :D

warnings; Leon is Not Well, overprotectiveness, possessiveness, entrapment, running away, manipulation (more so of reader's environment more than reader themselves), cops/law enforcement, vague talk of violence/murder, and there ight be more I missed :[ if I missed one, please let me know! ^ ^

w/c; 4.5k

You didn't think you'd get this far.

Not for a lack of care in your plan-- no, you couldn't have been more careful as you planned everything and anything involved in your escape. Months passed before you enacted it. You bided your time, until you heard the birds outside start singing in the morning-- and when your dad came in to take away the space heater.

It was spring, and while you didn't know the exact date while locked away in a deceptively cozy, comfortable cell-- made to look like a bedroom, like your bedroom--, but he'd locked you away in September, so... around 5-6 months, you'd been holed up in there.

Your dad wasn't always like how is now, you think. Maybe there were traces of it-- but that was easily written off as him being a run-of-the-mill overprotective dad. He worked in law enforcement, he'd seen the worse humanity could offer and more.

And for that, you'd given him some slack. You tried not to snap at him when he made sure you weren't out of the house past 8, and that he had to have met a friend before you so much as hung out-- and god forbid sleepovers, those were reserved for only the most trustworthy friends with the must trustworthy of family.

There were a lot of rules when it came to interacting with you. Really, you tried not to let it get to you; but it was so... isolating. No one wanted to be your friend, and they especially didn't want to try and ask you out. It was like a death sentence, in their minds.

They took one look at your dad, and decided that'd he'd be the type to see you off to prom with a bullet in the head of your date. He's not like that. He doesn't kill people for it, for being near you or anything.

He'd never outwardly rude or violent about it either. But still, it was overbearing. It had gotten worse as you got older-- as he went on more missions, and after every one, he'd come back a little bit different.

A little bit more intense with his previously manageable protective nature-- you were starting to feel like a bird kept in a gilded cage. The list of rules he held you and your friends by was so long that even you couldn't keep track of it anymore,

Eventually, everyone left you. Ruled you off as the kid with a crazy dad that owns more guns and weapons then the average kid could've ever imagined.

You don't blame him for it-- not really. You understood it. He'd sat you down and explained to you time and time again, apologized for the way he was-- he just wanted you safe.

It all came to a head when he went a step too far.

15 minutes. That's all you'd been late by-- 15 goddamn minutes. He'd lowered the curfew from 8 to 7:30, then 7--

And eventually, it was down to fucking 5:00. You couldn't be out of the house without him being present after 5! Not even for a job! Nothing! He made no exceptions, and it irritated you to no end.

In an act of textbook teenage rebellion (not really, if you tried telling that to anyone around your age then they'd laugh in your face, call it a pathetic attempt at defiance) , you stayed out a little later than necessary. You popped into a gas station on the way back home from hanging out at the local library, got a bag of candy, and took your sweet old time walking home.

You knew there'd be consequences; but the ones you'd expected, like being unable to walk anywhere anymore, or losing privleges like your computer or TV, or even being grounded...

Well, safe to say that what he ended up choosing blew those other options far, far out of the water.

Anxiety curled in your gut as you thought about it more and more, the idea that you thought for sure you wouldn't make it this far. By no means did this make you feel any safer than you had before-- if anything, it puts you more on edge.

Honestly, you don't know what you thought you'd get out of this. You can't go to the cops-- you're just another runaway. Your dad hadn't skimped out on the story he wove about you,

When you first got out-- first pried your way out of that basement, bathed in mockingly warm light-- all the amenities your average teenager could ask for, save for the ability to leave--, you'd made the mistake of trying to head to the police station.

It was stupid, you realize. And nearly got yourself caught in less than 30 minutes-- they'd ushered you in, listened to your tale of how your dad trapped you down in a basement. The town had to have been buzzing, and you'd wrongfully assumed that your dad had been playing up the 'grieving father going through hell and back to try and find their kid'.

Luck. That's all you had on your side, pure, dumb luck that you got out of there in time. That the walls of the precinct were thin enough for you to hear the cops talking about you in the other room. They weren't much for hushed tones, which was stupid when they talking about someone in the room right next to them.

The chief had been called over, you think. Sounded like him. But regardless of who he was, what he said hit you like a ton of bricks, no matter the person behind it.

"You got Kennedy's kid? Ain't they sicker than a dog, though? Bedbound, didn't he say?" Then another one, the younger one that seemed the most trustworthy when she'd pulled you into the building, and gave you some water and a blanket, corrected the man, "He never said what kind of sick, sir. It might be... in their head, and I don't think he ever said bedbound. Just stuck in the house."

Blood rushed in your ears, grip tightening on the little paper cup in your hand. You fought against the primal urge to flee, to bolt straight up and scramble to the door you'd entered from; no regard for what or who you might of disturbed or knocked into/over.

Instead, you'd stood-- shaking, but trying to keep calm, and walked to the back. You headed out the employee entrance, where they'd clock in and out, you think.

You didn't run until you were a good ways away, until you got to a more residential part of the town. Frantically, like a startled animal, you darted past houses and through backyards; running in the general direction of a train track nearby.

God-- you don't know how you got it in your head that train hopping was the easiest way to hightail it out of there, but now, you're very much of the opinion that you will never do that again.

Maybe it was because it was your first time-- or maybe these things never get easier as you keep doing them-- but you were a hairs length away from losing a leg.

No.

You stayed on foot, or on greyhound buses and the occasional passenger train with the small bits of cash you could scrounge up before your escape from the house.

With no particular destination in mind, you found yourself in some non-descript, decrepit convenience store. The tiled floors were cracked and dirty, looking like they'd give you the black plague if you touched them head on; the fluorescent lights above bathed the store in a sickly sort of yellow hue, the buzzing seeming louder than it was supposed to be.

But hey, you weren't a code inspector. You'd gained nothing from ragging on the decrepit state of the place-- it was good enough, to grab some supplies. There were no bugs, and the displays were kept neat and clean; that's all you can really ask for, in a place like this.

When you got up to the checkout lane, the woman manning the register gave you a wary sort of look, on you've become rather accustomed to.

"Where you headin' to, sweetheart? I never seen you 'round these parts before." These sorts of conversations were a dime a dozen, you'd realized. It was only fair, for people to be worried about a random kid wandering about, seemingly unaccomponied by any guardian-- or even a friend.

But, you'd also become accustomed to answering these kinds of questions. To quickly shut them down with a soft hum and a "My aunt. I'm visiting her for a little bit."

You must've gone further south than you'd thought-- it was warm, and muggy, especially for spring. Her accent was heavier than you'd ever heard before, something you don't come across in the midwest. The kind of accent you only get if you've spent your whole life in the south, and never intend to leave it.

It might've been your lack of accent that set off alarm bells in her head, her hand stopping mid-scan. "What's her name, darl'? I bet I know her. Towns like these, you end up knowin' everyone by name."

Ah.

Yeah... that was a bit of a problem. Small towns and all-- but you can't really step into a big city either, yeah? It'd be crawling with cops, and you'd stick out like a sore thumb. Even more so than you do now.

"She's in the town over." You quickly pulled from your ass, but she didn't start scanning again "The next town is a 30 minute drive."

You bite your tongue, trying not to let irritation rise. She meant well, you're sure, but the longer you're here, the more of a chance you get discovered.

"I'm travelling by greyhound. The next bus comes in 10 minutes, and my bus stop is halfway across the city." There, that should put a fire under her feet, right? Make her start scanning again-- a solid enough answer to ease her worries, you hope.

For a moment, you were afraid she wouldn't. That'd she try to lead you to a backroom and call the cops, report a possible runaway. That was something that happened a lot, too. People who meant well, surely, but in the end-- all they could do was harm.

You don't want to think about how your dad would react. How he would punish you for this.

Then, as if angels were shining down from Heaven itself-- she started moving again, and the rest of the transaction went smoothly.

Though, the concern never eased from her eyes. You could still feel her gaze, piercing against your back as you made haste out of the convenience store.

Truth is, you... actually don't know when the next bus was. Or where it was going to. In all honesty, you'd been planning on taking a train out, but that wouldn't be here for a couple hours. You never did much research with it-- beyond making sure it wasn't going to some big city.

But, with a fire started under your own feet, you were forced back to the bus stop, and made to board the very next bus; no matter the desitination.

It seemed like your luck was running out now, as one-way country roads turned into four-lane highways, and when skyscrapers started coming into view; and the sign, declaring "ATLANTA - 5 MILES AHEAD"

You let yourself mumble a little curse, under your breath as you anxiously watched the traffic around you. This wasn't how this was meant to go. Yeah, you're in Georgia-- a far cry from the state of corn, wheat, and soy that you hail from, but still.

Not good.

It's almost certain your face was floating around on various TV programs, missing posters covering light posts and bulletin boards alike-- but you hoped and prayed to anything that'd listen that the efforts to make people aware of your disappearance hadn't stretched outside of your county, or at least your homestate.

But other than being caught, being in a city posed other risks. A lone-travelling teenager wasn't a good thing to be in places like these. You could easily get lost amongst the crowds, yes; but sometimes that worked in your favor, and sometimes it didn't.

This was not one of those times.

You hadn't showered in a while-- a week and a half. Gross? Sure, you'll admit that much; but showering wasn't on your top priority. Escaping your dad was your biggest concern right now, and personal hygiene wasn't something that could trump that need at any rate.

But that singled you out. You were dirty, looked homeless. As you cut through a park, you noticed that various hostile architecture covering nearly every bench around. Ads for Salvation Army and local homeless shelters right by them.

It was obvious this place wouldn't take too kindly to you, if they were trying as hard as you think they are at cracking down on homelessness.

Right before you could exit the park-- you noticed a cop. You eyed them, keeping watch, making sure they don't spot you. What was the chance, that they would? Or if they did, that they'd even care? It looked like they were on break, anyhow.

Just when you deemed yourself in the clear, enough to take your eyes off the officer and focus your gaze ahead of yourself, did you hear someone shout "Hey!"

Maybe it wasn't for you.

It probably wasn't,

but you couldn't take the chance. Regardless of the intent, of who it'd really been aimed it-- if it was even the cop that said it, you took off running. No doubt looking suspicious as hell, in the meanwhile.

Behind you, your paranoia was proven correct when you heard the same voice calling "We got a code 10-110 in Freedom park! Looks to be in early to mid teens, on foot!" You sped up at that-- you didn't recognize the code, obviously. You didn't spend too much time familiarizing yourself with police codes, y'know,

But it didn't bode well at all, how they started describing you to a goddamned T, right down to your brown, fur-lined bomber jacket you'd snagged from the coat closet back home.

You pushed your body harder, lungs burning and throat closing up with fear-- this can't be how it ends. It just can't. You won't let it, you'd rather jump in the Chattahoochee river and swim your way down to Florida then get caught like this.

In your panic, you lost your footing. A loose pebble worked its way under your shoe, and sent you tumbling forward and sprawled out on the hard, unforgiving concrete of a city sidewalk. People avoided you-- especially when, before you could even get up on your knees, the cop grabbed you and kept you down, shouting what sounded like gobble-dee-gook through the radio they'd unclipped from their hip.

In the end, it was a goddamn pebble that took you out! A pebble! You can't even be that mad, it was so ridiculous-- sure, if you thought harder, then that pebble never would've tripped you up if you weren't noticed and subsequently chased by that cop, and you never would've been in Atlanta if you hadn't lied through your teeth to that random, well-meaning southern lady--

You could do this all day, track all your little slights and mistakes to that one harrowing, terrible moment that it all came crashing down.

Two months and 17 days.

That's how long you'd made it.

That's it.

Really, you should be proud of yourself. Again, you never expected yourself to make it that long-- but still, it did nothing to quell that world-ending despair you felt that it'd come to an end.

If anything, it hurt more, that'd you'd lasted longer. You really thought you had a chance, only for a pebble to slip you up, and have shipped right back to your dads arms.

Right back to the basement, that's significantly more bare than before. There were still the basics, but all your magazines, books, journals, your TV, CD player, 3DS, PS3-- everything. Just... Everything was gone, except for the furniture, some clothes, and your blankets and pillows.

Though, he didn't take your stuffed animals. Maybe you should've felt insulted at that, find a way to twist it and make it seem like he was treating you as a child (which, for the record, he absolutely was; but for other reasons).

It'd just be a waste of energy, though. He was like a brick wall now-- those little flinches, the sad looks that'd sometimes find its way on his face, how his apologies sounded so genuine at times...

They were all gone, replaced with a cold sort of determination you'd only seen your dad have when he was working on a particularly high-stakes mission.

You curled up tighter, clutching the Invader Zim GIR plush you'd gotten for your 8th birthday closer to your chest; seeking whatever comfort you could, now that were back here.

Not even home. You refuse to think of this place as home anymore, especially not your dressed-up cell. Even if it had carpet floors instead of cold tiles, and the walls painted a sky blue instead of a dingy grey; you still saw it for what it was.

A prison. And while your dad might've tried to change your opinion on it before, after your little 'stunt', as he'd dubbed it, he all but leaned into your perception of the space.

You heard the door click. And once upon a time, you would've rushed to it; hoped that you could shoulder your way past your dad-- only for him to laugh and think you were just happy to see him. You let him believe that at the time.

And now, you just flip over. You defiantly face the wall, not giving your dad the time of day. It was the only way you could fight back now, and even then you knew it was useless. That he'd force you to engage regardless of what you did,

That, realistically, your silent treatment couldn't last long at all. Eventually, you'll need to talk to him. To ask him for more toothpaste, or make a specific request for dinner; or even ask him the date.

He never told you the last one, always giving you wildly differing answers that'd thrown you off at first, before you caught on. Caught onto how he was trying to keep out of the know on the weather, so you wouldn't try and book it when the weather was more hospitable.

Even as you felt the mattress deep near the end of your metal-framed, twin-sized daybed; you didn't stir. You didn't dare move, didn't dare breathe; like a rabbit caught in the teeth of a tricky fox.

"Kid, you can't keep doing this." You don't answer him. This was by far the longest you'd been able to keep up with this small, but meaningful, act of rebellion. A few days, at least. You don't a way of tracking it indefinitely, but you've figured out a less concrete way of telling the passage of time.

That being how often he visited. It differed, sometimes he'd go longer without visiting, and other times he'd pop up every what-felt-like 30 minutes or so. There was no telling what mood he'd be in for the day, but you managed.

It's been a while, you know that much. And he was getting rather impatient, even if he tried to mask it. You haven't so much as looked his direction this whole time, only getting up and moving around when the coast was clear. When there was neither hide nor hair of your dad's presence,

Save for the camera, stuck up in the corner near the door. You know it's there-- it's a new addition, and you make a point of not looking at it, refusing to acknowledge it. You knew there was a good chance it was just a scare tactic, that it wasn't actually hooked up...

But still, you had to stick with this. You had to be going somewhere with this, after all.

A heavy sigh came next, then your dad shifted from where he sat at the end of the bed. Scooting up, closer to you. It took all you had not to curl up tighter. You had to stay still. You had to act like you weren't there, like you were just a ghost.

When his hand landed on your shoulder, you couldn't help but flinch a little at it. Even though the contact was soft, kind; just like the man who'd raised you all by his lonesome, though his current behavior was a far cry of who he used to be.

Or maybe, just what your perception of him had been. Maybe he was always like this, he just... snapped. Couldn't take it anymore and decided to put his worries to rest for the foreseeable future.

"Listen," You wish you didn't. You wish you could shut off your brain and just lay there, truly motionless; unseeing, unhearing, and unmoving, until he gave up and left you alone.

He knew you had to, though. Otherwise he wouldn't hve kept talking. You have nothing else to do, no other viable option but to listen to what he has to say-- whatever ultimatum he's come up with now.

You won't fold. You won't give in, you tell yourself. Not now, not ever; not until he gives up for good, and lets you back into society.

(deep down, you know that was never an option. especially now. you knew that he had his claws deep in you, that he wasn't going to let go. that he wouldn't dare to, lest his precious, sweet child get hurt along the way)

(it was all for your own good, he'd tell you. you never believed him. maybe he did believe that himself, but you knew better; you knew that, at the core of it, this was for his own benefit. keeping you locked up, away from the world-- it minimized the worries he had about you getting hurt.)

(about you being taken away from him, like so many people before you had. so many loved ones, friends, families, significant others-- he can't have the cycle repeating with you. he just can't. anyone else, anyone else but you.)

His hold on your shoulder tightened. Just a little, but it still made your haunches raise; made the hair on the back of your neck stand up straight. You hope he didn't notice.

"The sooner you accept this, the sooner your punishment will end, okay? This is for your own good."

Don't do it, you told yourself-- don't you dare, you don't need to respond--

"You keep saying that." Your voice was rough and croaky from disuse, and you cleared your throat to try and take a little bit of the edge off. You could almost feel the brightness and warmth of your dads smile, bearing into your back-- now that you finally deemed him worthy enough of a response. "And I'll keep saying it, as long as I mean it."

You huffed-- his definition of punishment had always been... loose. He never took it out on you, rather on others. He wasn't violent or rude per se, but if one of your friends were present when you two got into a tight spot...

Well. Let's just say your dad can yell like a drill sergeant if he's pushed to it. And that those friends never showed their faces around you again, in fear of inciting his wrath again. And you don't blame them.

But he's never done that to you, no-- you were his precious little angel, of course. He'd much sooner blame himself for being too 'lax' on you, that he left any doubt in your head that he didn't mean the best for you.

It was all very backhanded, how he assumed that you running away was not because of how insanely overprotective he was being-- but because he wasn't being overprotective enough.

Really, someone needs to study his brain. Maybe he got something in his system when he was on a mission, that crossed wires in his brain and made him think that this was perfectly fine. Lying about your kid being ill and locking you away for no fault of your own.

You two lapse into an uncomfortable silence, but not for long. No. Never for long, not with your dad around.

"I'm sorry you feel this way." There it is. He always says that-- not 'I'm sorry I'm basically holding you captive in the basement' or 'I'm sorry for not taking your thoughts, feelings, and dreams into consideration'. No, it's always 'i'm sorry you feel this way' or 'i'm sorry that you don't like it here',

Always followed up by an excuse, which speaking of, should be coming right about... "But there was no way around it. I just want the best for you, kid."

There we go-- he says that one a lot, 'there was no way around it'. You go to argue, but decide against it. It never gets you anywhere, and you consider going back to the silent treatment.

Until his hold on your shifted-- he flipped you over and pulled you up to sit. It never failed to spook you, how easily he could still move you around like you were a toddler. He worked as a government agent-- duh, he's going to be strong, but that didn't make it any less terrifying.

He could snap you like a goddamned toothpick if he so wished-- but you knew that wasn't a concern, not in the slightest. You much more afraid of him snapping anyone who was unfortunate to get close to you like a toothpick.

And then, his arm wrapped around your shoulder and pulled you close. The sort of side-hug was uncomfortable for you, physically speaking. Your neck straining at the angle it landed in, and you not caring enough to make nay move to alleviate it.

Surely, your dad noticed it-- but didn't comment on it. He did shift a little, though. Tried to have you more comfortable.

It worked a bit, but not by much. You couldn't be bothered to try any further.

"I love you, kid. You know that, don't you?" All he got in response was a little grunt, short and curt. What followed was the saddest little laugh you'd ever heard from your dad. "I know, I know. It doesn't feel like that, but I really am trying."

He pulled you closer, the hug feeling more like a boa constrictor's embrace than the comforting hold of a parent. "I can't lose you. I can lose anything else, but not you. Not my kid."

That part, you believed. Just for the clear, rock-solid resolve in his tone. You know he loves you-- you know that he doesn't want to lose you,

and that was part of the problem, a major one, no less.

"...I love you too." You manage to cough out, and only then did he release you from the ever-tightening, awkward side hug. As soon as you were free, you flopped right back on your side.

You didn't flip around to the face the wall just yet, thought. And your dad took that as an invitation for conversation-- you weren't too active in it, but you did give some input here and there.

[glasvera]

Bittersweet

Adam Warlock x Fem!Reader

Description: Recent attacks on your home town have slowed down business at the cafe you work at, but your day gets a lot more interesting when three of the Guardians of the Galaxy walk through the door.

Warnings: Rocket waving around a firearm, Star-Lord being an insufferable flirt... uh... other than that it's just cutesy shit.

A/N: Listen, I had to get around to the dreaded coffee shop trope at some point. Also, I mainly specify fem!reader because this may become a multi-part fic...? depending on how I'm feeling...? and a lot of the cutesy behaviors were written with a more feminine reader in mind.

EDIT: PART TWO IS OUT NOW!

Word Count: 2.8k

There were many things in your life that you could be thankful for: you had a job, you could afford rent (barely), and it hadn’t rained on your walk to work this morning. Though, that did mean you had to deal with the thunderous and grating sounds of construction during your commute.

Work had slowed down recently, but that wasn’t at all surprising. You were a barista at a fairly popular cafe downtown, and normally there would be a constant stream of customers in and out of the door. Unfortunately, when some idiot supervillain comes around town and decides to cause havoc and destruction up and down Main Street, fewer people feel safe enough to venture out for a cup of coffee. Really, the cafe shouldn’t be open at all. But the owner was a hardass, and rent and groceries don’t pay for themselves.

Still though, at least it was slow right now. Death and destruction sort of kills the mood to make lattes.

With your cheek smushed against your hand, you lean on the counter and drum your nails against the hard surface to the beat of the smooth jazz your boss always played, waiting impatiently for your shift to be over. Thanks to the lack of business, it was just you and one other employee right now, and you really weren’t in the mood to talk about the most recent episode of the current K-drama she’s been watching. Way too high energy for you right now.

Unfortunately, fate has decided to give you the big middle finger this afternoon when a boisterous trio walks through the door. You couldn’t even hear the chime of the door’s bell over the way two of them bickered back and forth. Snapped out of your mind’s pointless wandering, you stand up straight and take a good luck at your new clientele.

One of the ones arguing looked normal enough. Average height, messy dirty blonde hair… though he was definitely not wearing anything from this planet. It looked like some sort of strange space jumpsuit with a blue coat thrown over top of it. He’s looking down and practically shouting at a… bipedal raccoon? You blink your eyes before rubbing them, making sure you were seeing things clearly, but no. That was definitely a bipedal, talking raccoon wearing clothes and carrying a very large gun. Said gun seemed to be the root of their argument as the blonde guy gestures wildly at it.

“You can’t just bring that in here, Rocket! These are normal, human people! You’re gonna scare them!”

“Why should I give a flark? I ain’t leaving myself unarmed if any bad guys show up. You saw how torn up the streets were out there!” the raccoon replies, flinging his paws about even as he holds the gun. Your coworker has long ducked out and disappeared to the back.

You don’t know how to react. You don’t even know where to begin. Quite frankly, you were willing to ignore open carry laws if it meant you didn’t have to be on the receiving end of that. But all of the tension in your body, hell, everything else fades into the background when you see him.

A man, seemingly made of pure gold and with matching gorgeous golden locks, stands behind the other two with his hand on the back of his neck. A mantled red cloak rests on his shoulders, but otherwise it seems he’s completely shirtless, and you can see lines etched into his skin that contour his defined muscles perfectly. Well, perhaps you can ignore multiple rules today. Pupilless, milky white eyes meet yours, and he gives you an apologetic smile.

Perfection doesn’t exist, shouldn’t exist… So how is it standing before you as he approaches the counter?

“Please, forgive them,” he starts, and even his voice is perfectly soothing. “I asked my friend Pe--Star-Lord, if I could try this coffee I had heard so much about, and this was the only place open nearby.”

“O-Oh, it’s… it’s um, well… if I said it was okay, I’d be lying, but--”

His brows knit together with worry. “If we must take our leave, I understand. It seems as though your town has been through enough already. If only we had been able to minimize more of the damage.”

“No, no, it’s fine!” you respond almost frantically. The last thing you want is for this man to leave, even if the same can't be said for his companions. Once you process the rest of what he said though, you tilt your head to the side curiously and point to some of the wreckage being cleaned up outside the cafe window. “Wait… that was you guys?” you ask incredulously.

The other man halts his argument and shoves Rocket’s face down and out of the way, and the raccoon looks about ready to bite that hand off. “The Guardians of the Galaxy, at your service!” he proclaims triumphantly as Rocket exclaims muffled obscenities. “Or, at least, some of us. At least the best looking one is here!” he clarifies with his thumb pointed into his chest. Ah, the egotistical type. Wonderful.

“I’m so lucky,” you reply dryly as you roll your eyes and massage your temples. It does draw a snort from the golden man in front of you though, and that makes you smile slightly as your attention is brought back to him. His very presence is warm like sunshine and almost as blinding. So much so that you don't realize the other guy is walking up to join him at the counter until he's practically shoving his hand toward you to shake.

“Name's Star-Lord, though you can call me whatever you like, sweetheart,” he adds with a wink. You stare down blankly at his hand, unmoving, and you can practically feel the way he tenses up from the awkward silence that ensues. Being flirted with at work was nothing new for you, and you always hoped there was a special place in hell for those who decided to take their chances with the employees forced to receive their advances. “...Or, uh… yeah. Star-Lord is fine,” he backtracks as he withdraws his hand and brushes it on his pants.

“Right. Cool,” you respond nonchalantly, turning your attention down to the register's monitor. “So what can I get you?”

The golden man snickers behind his hand and Rocket grabs Star-Lord by the hem of his coat. “Sorry. We haven't gotten him fixed yet, so he has a hard time keeping it in his pants,” he jokes as he glares pointedly at the man who had handled him so roughly just moments ago. Okay, that gets a chuckle out of you.

“Hey, what-!?”

“Can it, flark-face. We're gonna wait outside while Goldie gets his fix,” the raccoon interrupts as he starts dragging him outside. “Don't take too long, ya hear?”

“The two of you can return to the ship if you do not wish to wait. I intend to take my time,” the man responds calmly, giving you a soft smile. Rocket grumbles something about not blaming them if he gets lost later, but he doesn't seem to protest as they exit the cafe with a chime of the door’s bell.

“I cannot apologize enough for my companions,” he starts, and he is a little confused when you titter at that. “You… seem to have handled them well, though. I admit I am impressed.”

He's impressed? It's such a simple little thing, just a comment in passing, but you feel a rush of warmth in your cheeks.

“It's nothing, really. Once you get past the shock of a talking raccoon, at least,” you joke.

“I wouldn't recommend calling him that to his face,” he warns with a wry smile.

“Noted,” you reply with a toothy grin of your own that he quickly mirrors. Gorgeous, and good at both conversation and easing the tension? You were done for. But, you still have a job to do, and he was here for a reason.

“So… never tried coffee, then?” you ask as you turn to idly check the different bean blends you had on hand.

“No,” he responds almost sheepishly. You giggle softly.

“It's nothing to be embarrassed about. It's not everyone's cup of tea.”

“But… but I thought it would be a cup of coffee,” he says, his voice sounding rather confused and a little worried. Oh. He's adorable.

“Oh! It's just… it's a phrase. Saying it's not everyone's cup of tea just means it's not to everyone's taste,” you explain as you turn to look at him over your shoulder.

He looks positively befuddled, bringing a hand to his forehead and brushing back his hair. “It is so much simpler to say it that way…” he muses quietly to himself. You still pick up on it and chuckle.

“Well, regardless, don't be surprised if you don't like it,” you continue as you grind a scoop of beans from your lightest roast. “A lot of people say it smells better than it tastes.”

It was slow enough, and he seemed quite interested in your explanation sans the confusing turn of phrase. You could take your time. Hell, you were ready to give him the cup for free as payback to your boss for the stupid smooth jazz playlist you'd practically memorized from the amount of times it looped. Your customer waited patiently, taking in every detail as his eyes followed your movements.

“Do you enjoy it?” he asks, breaking the temporary silence. When you turn towards him and blink curiously, he clarifies, “Coffee, I mean.”

The slow, steady drip of freshly brewing coffee begins, and you return your attention to him. “I do, yeah. Definitely an acquired taste, but nothing a little bit of cream and sugar can't fix.” You lean your elbows on the counter and tilt your head to the side. “A lot of people drink it for the caffeine more than anything.”

He blinks those white gold eyes at you, but nods in understanding after a moment. “Yes… caffeine I am familiar with. Some of the Guardians have taken a liking to energy drinks…” His voice trails off, as does his gaze, and you quirk a brow. He looks as though he’s seen terrible things and is suffering PTSD flashbacks right before your eyes… maybe you should move on from that.

“Well,” you start, bringing him back to reality as his head snaps towards you. You grab a cup, slide on its cardboard sleeve, and begin pouring the contents of the freshly brewed pot into it. Sliding it towards him, you watch him cradle it in his hands, seemingly intrigued by its warmth. “Ready to try it? Be careful though; it’s hot.”

“That should be no trouble,” he responds before bringing the cup to his lips. Your eyes widen with concern for a moment, but he clearly speaks truth as he takes a long sip without so much as a flinch. At least, he doesn’t flinch from the temperature of it. The flavor, on the other hand…

“It is…”

He tries so desperately to force a smile. His eyes narrow a bit, and the corners of his lips tug their way towards his cheeks, but it’s tight-lipped, and his nose crinkles in displeasure. You roll your lips between your teeth and try to subdue the laughter bubbling in your throat.

“Don’t force yourself. Here,” you say, holding your hand out to take his cup back. He does so instantly, dropping the facade and immediately regarding it with visible disgust. He looks akin to a cat that is about to smack something that has displeased them. Now you can’t help the chuckle from slipping out. “It can taste better, I promise.”

“I do not believe you,” he states plainly, but pauses when your fingertips brush against each other in the passing of the cup. It’s incidental, fleeting, but he seems to stare down at where your skin touched him, studying it. He blinks twice and meets your gaze. “...Though, I suppose I should relent to the resident expert on this vile beverage.”

“Vile?” you snort as you procure a spoon, cane sugar, and a small pitcher of half and half. “I suppose I can understand though. Even I don’t drink it black--er, without any additives,” you tell him, catching yourself before you confuse him with some other English terminology he clearly didn’t understand. Based on his reaction, you scoop a few spoonfuls of sugar, stirring it and pouring the half and half until the liquid takes on a lighter, cloudier hue. Blonde, you might call it. You slide it back over to him, and he squints at it. You laugh and, nodding at the cup, urge him to try it again.

“If this is some sort of trick…” he replies warily, taking the hot beverage into his hand for the second time. You give him a cheeky smile in return and rest your head on your wrist, waiting patiently for him to take another sip. When he realizes he’s not getting anything else out of you until he does, he sighs and brings it back to his lips. His trepidation is obvious; the liquid scarcely passes through the seam of his lips at first. But then it hits his tongue and his eyes widen in shock. After taking a proper sip then, he sets the cup back on the counter, staring at it as though it were the product of some sort of witchcraft.

“It is still bitter, and yet…” his words trail off as he stares at it before his eyes flicker to yours, full of wonder. “There is a complexity to it. Sweetness to combat the bitter. Cream to compliment the acidity…”

“Hmm, never seen someone turn into a coffee sommelier over the simple addition of cream and sugar,” you tease as he picks up the cup and continues drinking it. There is something fascinating about the utter innocence of it; rare is the occasion that one can witness a stranger’s firsts like this, and he brought an almost childlike wonder to the simple act of drinking coffee. It’s terribly adorable.

He sees the smile on your face and the tenderness in your expression, and he averts his gaze suddenly. The embarrassment doesn’t help his case in the slightest, instead pulling a lilting giggle from your lips.

“I’m glad you like it, really,” you add genuinely. “I would hate for your first impression to be one of just bitter, acrid bean water.”

“My first impression?” he inquires curiously. “I suppose such things matter. Though, truly, my first impression of you was that of a calm, patient, and gentle soul.”

That hadn’t been what you meant at all. You were referring to the cafe itself, not to its humble employee. His words leave your jaw slack and your eyes wide, and you turn away bashfully before covering your face with one hand. “O-oh, that’s--I meant--”

Now it’s his turn to chortle, and it’s a lovely, deep, rumbling sound. “I am aware. Still, I find it pertinent to speak of the truths I see in front of me,” he speaks, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he revels in the flush he feels radiating off of your very being. “Especially when they draw such wonderful expressions forth.”

He was teasing you. Here you were, moments ago, marveling at how naive he seemed to be. Now you truly felt the fool.

A golden hand places a few bills and coins onto the counter. “I look forward to the next time I visit this establishment. You can introduce me to even more of the seemingly vast world of coffee.”

You’re dumbfounded. Next time? And he wanted to see you? He’s moving to take his leave, giving you the softest yet somehow most knowing of smiles, and you feel yourself panic.

“Wait!” you call out suddenly.

He does. Though, there is a somewhat perplexed look about him at your sudden outburst.

“I… I didn’t catch your name. If you’re going to be a regular here, well… I like knowing my regulars’ names.”

That was a load of bullshit and you knew it, but that doesn’t mean he has to. You’d be damned if you didn’t know the name of the perfect, Midas touched man that would be haunting your dreams for weeks to come. At least he regards you with a solemn understanding, giving you a soft “ah” as though it made perfect sense to him.

“I am Adam Warlock. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Y/N,” he responds before, with an effortless flourish of his red cape, he finally exits the door with the gentle chime of its bell.

His voice… your name upon his lips sounded like heaven. Wait, how did he--!?

Oh. Right. Name tag, duh. 

Still though, you knew every shift from here on out would be painstakingly torturous as you waited for that beautiful golden man to walk back through the cafe’s door.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Something Rotten

Pairing: Dark!QZ Joel x afab!reader x Dark!QZ Tess

Words count: 4300 (more or less)

Rating: + 18, absolutely NSFW. This shit is triggering, read the tags carefully and please if your a minor don’t interact.

Warnings/Tags: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, smut, heavy degradation, kidnapping, reader is tied to the bed with a rope, mention of strong painkillers, depressing thoughts, both Joel and Tess are EVIL, mention of offering sex in exchange for protection, Dub-con/non-con (well, she’s into that and I made sure to say that she’s deeply aroused but still), no kindness whatsoever, face slapping, being threatened with a gun and knife, blood, wound (Tess writes a word on Reader's body with a knife), pussy slapping, tits slapping, oral (m receiving), deep throating, scissoring, slurs (whore, slut), pet names (honey, baby, pet, kitten), mention of Robert (you know that prick at the beginning of the series who makes Tess get beaten up? That's him. but anyway he is the least of the problems in this thing), ripped panties, orgasm denial, cum eating, hair pulling, reader has hair that can be pulled, no other description of her is given, I think it’s all but I will be sure to add anything I may have forgotten as soon as I can.

A/N: Happy Halloween! This is indeed a nightmare of a fic LOL

Ok, enough, I'm getting serious again. I know it’s a lot, please don't read if you don't feel comfortable with those kind of things. I've never written anything like this before, it was a test for me because those who read me know, I'm usually very soft. I've started writing the second part if anyone wants to read it, I preferred to publish this first because it was getting pretty long (And I honestly want to see how this one goes before I continue lol). Sorry if you find any errors, I hope there aren't too many. I don't have a beta, I reread it but my eyes are exhausted at this point 💀 (English is not my first language, you know that, right? lol)

Again, no one is obligated to read but I wanted to thank those who provided me with the songs I listened to while writing this: @magneticecstasy @hoelaris @lovely-vamp-princess @baronessvonglitter @whocaresstillthelouvre and @almostempty for having called together her trusted connoisseurs 😎, you all are truly amazing ♥️ (Something Rotten is a Placebo song I added between your amazing music advices).

Playlist can be found here.

(While we're at it, if anyone would like to be tagged on my fics in the future, let me know, thank you very much!)

Thanks to anyone who reads this!

Archive tags: @pedrostories ♥️

“Now what should we do with you?” Tess’s voice is sharp, with a smug undertone.

“Maybe we should get rid of her.” Joel is just as blunt, smiling wickedly as he watches you shake like a leaf.

There’s obvious disappointment painted on your face, as well as fear of what these two might do to you.

——————————————————-

You know Joel and Tess, everyone in the QZ knows them, at least everyone trying to make ends meet like you.

They’re the most skilled smugglers and also the most ruthless.

No one would want to have them as enemies, but you, due to circumstances beyond your control, just tried to steal some of their supplies. You heard they had just left the Qz to stock up, apparently they know someone outside.

You thought you were safe. Turned out you were wrong, they came back sooner than you expected.

You wouldn’t have made such a bold move if it weren’t for the fact that Robert died, killed by Tess, as far as you know.

You and Robert had a relationship, if you could call it that, he gave you protection in exchange for sex. You didn't like Robert, to be honest, guy was a piece of shit himself, but he was the lesser evil. He was generally stupid and driven by his dick rather than his brain so it was pretty easy for you to please him and make sure he kept you safe from the unrestrained FEDRA soldiers, who are anything but devoted to rules and discipline, and you never lacked food while you were with him, much more than some people in this seedy Qz had.

Batting your eyelashes and giving him head every now and then was enough to have what you needed.

Robert was a gun runner, people feared him, everyone except Joel and Tess who thought he was an incompetent and arrogant moron.

They weren't entirely wrong but everyone in this shithole of a place survives as best they can.

You should have relied on your own strength from the beginning but when you arrived here you were so tired, hurt, heartbroken from having lost all the people you cared about that leaning on someone seemed like an acceptable compromise.

You were desperate again after losing Robert, so hungry you barely remembered how food really tastes.

You snuck into their room, cursing your stomach that was growling loudly. You held your breath as the door creaked open to reveal a rather bare, makeshift mini-apartment. No one was there, so you tiptoed around looking for something edible. You noticed a floorboard that was a bit off. Bingo.

You lifted it up and found a stash of dried meat, along with several bags of pills and a gun.

You took some pills that you recognized as strong painkillers, just in case you might need them.

Your hand shook as you pulled out the plastic bag full of dried meat, your stomach giving you no respite.

And just as you were about to take a bite, you heard some noises.

Shit.

You looked around nervously for a place to hide but to no avail. The bed was resting on bricks and barely rose from the floor, too little room to slide under. There were no closets, no dressers or anything.

Shit.

You were screwed.

The footsteps you heard were getting closer and closer and in a total panic, not knowing what else to do, you cowered behind a couch, the dried meat still in your hand while the pills danced in your bra.

You were certain that you would be discovered in no time.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, a cold sweat was breaking out on your forehead. You squeezed your eyes shut in prayer even though you’ve never been a religious person.

Tess saw you first. “What do we have here?” she hissed. Joel caught sight of you next, your head awkwardly poking out from behind the couch.

Stupid stupid stupid.

“A thief,” he stated coldly, as he tugged at your jacket and pulled you out of your hiding place. Tess looked you up and down as you stared at the floor, terrified.

——————————————————-

“What the hell were you trying to do?” she asks you ironically, as if it makes her laugh. In fact, you feel ridiculous for even thinking you could get away with them, it would have been wiser to stay hungry while waiting to earn some cards.

Now you’re in troubles.

Big troubles.

You wanted to get the gun, but you couldn't and now you're standing in front of them, unarmed and scared as the barrel of Joel's gun is grazing at your cheek.

“I asked you a question,” Tess points out, “you better answer it.”

Joel hands the gun to Tess, tears the dried meat out of your hand and shove your arms behind your back, holding you tightly by your wrists, while Tess glares at you.

The gun is now before your eyes, shiny and threatening.

“I… was hungry” and then quickly add a “I’m sorry” that barely escapes your lips.

“So you’ve been working out this brilliant plan?” Joel teases, his deep voice giving you goosebumps.

After Joel suggests taking you out, Tess remains silent for a while, looking at you like a piece of meat “She’s pretty though,” and an even more chilling smile spread across her face, “fuck, you’re too pretty for being a rat”

“Yeah” Joel agrees “here’s a tip for you, honey, if you wanna screw someone try not to let your stupid ass show”

They exchange another knowing glance that doesn't bode well and Tess finally speaks “we could have some fun.”

Guided by self-preservation and fear, you widen your eyes and exclaim, “Oh no, please no!”

Tess places her hand under your chin, manipulating your face like a puppet, turning it left and right to inspect it. “You’re not sick, are you?”

You remain silent and after a few seconds you feel her open hand land on your cheek and an unbearable burning sensation spread across your skin.

What you feel immediately after is the cold steel of the gun under your chin.

“See, she doesn’t like it when people don’t answer her,” Joel whispers in your ear, adding more shivers to the ones already shaking your body.

You open your mouth, struggling to get out some sound. “No” is all you can say.

“Good,” Tess hisses. Joel’s grip on your wrists shows no sign of loosening and your cheek hurts like hell.

There’s no way out.

“Since you were stupid enough to try to sneak in, from now on you will stay here.” Tess announces to you, with a voice that does not allow protests “And you will be our little toy”

She runs a hand over your neck, goes down to your breast and squeezes it hard over your shirt “Do you understand?”

“Yes” you whisper immediately, fearing another blow.

You don’t have enough strength to rebel, you are weak while they are incredibly strong, your head is spinning and you are one against two.

To make sure you don’t get any weird ideas, Joel ties you to the bed. He runs a rope between one of the bricks and the frame of the bed, chuckling evilly, “I’m sorry honey, but I have to, your little head is too imaginative to let you loose in here.” The way he looks at you it’s disturbing, licking his lips in anticipation of what he’ll do to you that night.

He’s not sorry at all.

He can't wait to use you as he wants.

His gaze is intense and dark and you feel like he can get under your skin and read your every thought.

Tess controls Joel's moves, gun still in her hand and when you are completely at their mercy, lying on the bed, with the rope that at most allows you to turn on your back, she bends down to look at you, running the cold steel of gun on your face. You feel tears stinging your eyes as you look at her "oh come on don't do that, after all it's always better than breaking your delicate back with those shitty jobs, right?"

Her mellifluous voice makes you furious, does she think she did you a favor? You would like to spit in her face, on that cold and evil face of hers but you don't.

You can’t.

There's no point in trying to fight back, they'd kill you.

You know that.

They both go off to who knows where and you stay there, waiting, unable to do anything else.

________________________________

It’s the dead of night when the door creaks again and they come back in. Your wrists hurt, you feel stiff, exhausted even though you’ve done nothing but lie there, consumed by fear.

Tess is the first to approach “so kitten, have you been good today?” she coos wickedly and pats your head just like you’re her pet.

You feel a blind rage fill you as she calmly sits on the bed and takes off her boots.

Joel sits on the other side, takes off the dark blue denim shirt he is wearing and unlaces his combat boots.

You are lying on your back now and you crane your neck to watch them.

It’s incredibly frustrating for you to realize that both of your kidnappers are gorgeous.

Tess has a cold beauty, long dark blonde hair framing her face, her lean body reveals itself before your eyes as she takes off her clothes.

She has several scars scattered across her back and arms that make her look even more dangerous, adorning her skin like battle wounds. Battles that somehow she has always won. She’s feral as a lioness and as wicked as a demon.

You never knew you were into women but looking at her right now you can’t deny to find her attractive.

Joel on the other side is tense and nervous as a violin string, rippling muscles and large calloused hands, messy hair and a scruffy beard covering his cheeks.

Your eyes are drinking in his figure, glaring on his broad shoulders, strong neck and plush lips.

He’s definitely the most handsome man in the QZ.

He too has several wounds that blend into his olive skin, giving him the aspect of someone who cannot be argued with in the slightest.

In the little time you have already spent together, however, you have noticed how he bends to Tess's will, as if he were a guard dog always on alert to protect her.

Tess is the brains, Joel is the arm.

He's placed a large switchblade on his pillow, there to remind you that you have no escape.

They are both in their underwear, their clothes lying on the floor. Tess orders Joel to untie you, the rope slowly loose on your wrists as Joel warns you “you better not make a single move or you will regret it, slut”. His voice in your ear is terrifying, bouncing around in your head like a nightmare you can’t wake up from.

“Good girl” Tess praises you briefly while you remain still, before ordering “undress her”

Joel unceremoniously removes your jacket and shirt, throwing everything on the floor. He unhooks your bra, brushing his fingertips along your back, and you shiver imperceptibly.

As your bra comes off, the pills you’ve hidden inside fall onto the bed, rolling onto the blanket. Tess shakes her head, squinting “What are those? Didn’t you say you were hungry? Do you need pills to feed yourself, you little whore?” her voice is like ice and the blade of the knife abandoned on the bed is suddenly at your throat, held by Joel.

Your voice breaks into tears as you try to justify yourself. You try to say that they are only for you, just painkillers, you’re not a drug addict, you won’t sell them, you won’t try to ruin their business.

“Pfff and we should believe you?” Joel scoff, laughing from behind your back, tugging violently on your arm and sliding the blade on your skin.

“I-please”

You don't even know what to say anymore.

"Stop whining, it gets on my nerves” Joel warns you as he slightly dig the blade into your cheek, scratching you just a little, just to let you taste the flavor of iron.

“You'll be a very good pet for us, won't you?” Tess whispers leaning close to your ear and running her fingers along your arm.

Tears now roll freely down your cheeks. She wipes away a tear and licks its salty taste from her thumb, pleased.

“Yes, I’ll be good I - I promise” you sigh.

“You certainly will be, if you don't want to taste Joel's knife.” He grins behind you and leave the switchblade on the sheets.

Your bra joins the other clothes on the floor as Tess squeezes one of your nipples between her fingers. She isn't gentle, she isn't delicate, her hand is firm, demanding, her fingers calloused.

After all, she isn't one to back down from a fight and everything about her shows it.

She pulls, pinches and twists, treating your nipple as if it belongs to her and she can do whatever she wants with it, looking you straight in the eye, intimidatingly, without even flinching.

Joel is still behind your back, sitting on the bed and he reaches for your hips, his large hands enveloping them and his fingers pressing hard into your flesh. He leans down and runs his tongue all the way up your spine, going up your shoulder and biting hard where it joins your neck. You cry out. You know it will leave a mark on you, his teeth tattooed on your skin.

Tess slaps your tit when a moan slips through your lips at the sensation of having Joel sucking hard on your skin, leaving more marks on your neck, his beard scratching you.

“You fucking like it, don’t you, pet?” She teases.

You can’t say anything, a stinging pain spread across your chest and you wonder how strong she really is despite her slim figure.

Joel detaches from you and Tess makes you lying on the bed again, unbuttoning and tugging down at your jeans, leaving you in nothing more than your ridiculously worn panties, they’re so old they’re basically see through but it’s not like you can have something fancy in the QZ.

She spots a wet stain right in the front and she smiles fake sweetly, you can still see the evil in her ice cold eyes.

She takes the hem and just rip them off, exposing your bare cunt.

You gasp and try to gather your hands in front of you for covering your privates but you can’t, Joel is still holding your wrists in a dangerous grip.

She laughs at your clumsy attempt “darling, rebelling won't do you any good, I thought I was clear before”

“Please,” you whisper, “please let me go. I didn’t steal anything in the end, I’m never coming back.”

“No,” she says firmly, “no. Do you know why? You don’t mess with us, you don’t even try. You have a lesson to learn.”

Her fingers run over your leg cold. You don't have time to beg again as another slap hits you. "Poor little girl, didn't your mother teach you manners? We'll have to think about it ourselves." She says, pursing her lips.

She slaps your cunt.

You throb.

And you’re wet.

You hate every cell in your body that is getting sexually aroused by them.

Your brain says no, but your body isn't following suit and you can't really explain it.

What was once pain is turning into a creeping, crawling tingle that runs under your skin.

Back in the days you had a boyfriend that used to fuck you roughly and you liked that but you certainly never thought to be aroused by people holding you captive.

It’s insane.

She lifts one of your legs up high, holding it tightly by the ankle as Joel brings your arms above your head on the bed and his grip continues to secure your wrists.

“Um, look at you. What a delicious wet pussy.” Tess coos.

Joel grunts at the sight “such a needy slut”

Tess positions herself between your legs and begins to rub herself on your pussy.

She doesn’t care a bit about treating you like a person, making your joints ache for the unnatural position, one leg impossibly strained with her grip and the other one straight on the bed with your thigh hurting under her weight.

You’re their muppet now.

The friction between your pussies makes you feel ashamed at first, you've never done it before. With each thrust of Tess on you, however, you begin to feel a heat enveloping your lower abdomen, going straight down to your clit making it sensitive and swollen.

You’re excited, as much as you hate to admit it.

Tess is wild, she’s claiming your body like a predator does with its prey, her small and perfectly shaped tits are bouncing in the air, nipples pink and hard.

You're biting your lip hard, holding back the moans that try to escape from the back of your throat.

You don’t know what came over you but wouldn't mind sucking on them .

You look up at Joel who towers over you, his gaze glassy, ​​fixed on your pussies slamming together making the most obscene sounds you've ever heard, like a squish on loop, wet and slippery.

Tess looks at you, her face twisted into an evil grimace as she groans and curse.

You're trying to control yourself in every way but your body responds, you feel a rush of pleasure flooding you. Fuck. It's like your brain is leaking out of your cunt.

You’re gasping under Tess.

Your hips move trying to seek more friction.

Hot tears stream down your face as you moan. You can’t believe how fucked up this is.

“Oh yeah, baby, go ahead and cry, be a pathetic whining mess, we don't give a shit. Your whore pussy is ours now.” Joel growls.

He moves in front of your face, his large hand covers your cheek completely and squeezes it hard, pinching your skin mercilessly before giving you a slap. You feel an unbearable heat radiating on your skin, you haven't even moved your arms even though he has let go of his grip.

“You’re just a plaything,” Tess echoes, “and you’re enjoying it, aren’t you, little scammer?”

Tess grinds against you relentlessly, she reaches down and twists your clit with two fingers and a wail of pain breaks from your lips.

You feel delirious under her ministration, her body takes what it wants from you and there's nothing you can do to stop it, on the contrary. Your nipples are so pebbled they look like little rocks on your chest, your cunt so sloppy and wet that your cream is lasciviously trickling on your inner thighs, you don’t recognize yourself anymore.

Tess comes above you, callin names and stuttering angrily.

You whine again and Joel barks “it’s time for you to shut up, slut”

He pulls down his boxers with a dark look and an incredibly devious smile plastered on his face. His cock is right in front of your eyes, semi hard, he spits in his palm and starts fisting it, up and down his length. It’s thick and swollen, more big than you expected.

His angry red tip almost touches your lips, he reaches for your jaw and pulls it “open wide, slut” he orders. Your lips are pressed together, you try to resist, but Joel takes a handful of your hair, pulling hard.“I. Said. Open. Wide.” punctuating each word with a stronger tug.

You can’t help but doing it, he’s basically tearing off your hair while Tess is still having no mercy of your cunt. She moves on the sheets and she stick two of her fingers in your cunt, up to the knuckles “Jesus, you’re fucking soaked baby, such a good slut”

Joel forces his cock into your mouth and begins to push inside you until he reaches the back of your throat, not letting you get used to it, your cry is muffled by your lips tightening around his shaft. His taste spread across your tongue as he moves abruptly into you, in and out of your lips. Your mind is fuzzy, you try to breathe from your nose but all you can feel right now is the aching of your jaw and the way Tess is scissoring her fingers inside your hole. They have no mercy and you’re madly aroused with it.

It’s not like you’re expecting something good from life at this point. Life isn’t gentle anymore, you lost everything a long time ago, you’re just trying to stay afloat biting off what you can and expecting nothing but bites back until the day fate or destiny decides it's over for you.

You don't know if there's a hint of what they call Stockholm Syndrome in all this but here you are, willing to be free use, for them to ruin, right on the verge of losing your mind. You’re pliant and hungry now, sucking on Joel cock like a good meal after a whole month of starvation, you’re reaching his balls with your hand, massaging and squeezing it lightly. Tess is watching you and she doesn't seem happy with the way you're trying to be, her hand lands again on your pussy, heavy and cruel, right on your clit.

“Oh don’t be too much of an ass kisser, I never liked them. And don’t do anything until we tell you to”

Joel grunts deeply as you let go of his ball “fuck I liked that though” and he grabs your hand back “since you like it, touch it, you dirty whore”

Tess rolls her eyes and slaps your pussy again and again until you feel your skin burning and you know you're about to come, your muscles are tense and your legs start to tingle as well as the bottom of your belly.

Tess understands and stops. “Oh, one more thing, you come if and when we decide.” A moan rises from deep in your chest and vibrates on Joel’s cock.

“Keep sucking” Joel urges you groping and squeezing your tits.

You move painfully up and down his length, him holding the back of your skull. Tess watches you, studying your reactions, a hint of jealousy in her eyes as Joel continues to thrust into your mouth, urging you “like this, little bitch, keep going - OH FUCK”

You can feel your cunt throbbing, screaming for a release.

Tess is giving you occasional kitten lick, so soft and so evil at the same time ‘cause you’re right on the edge. It’s a torture, an unbearable struggle that you can take anymore. Your cunt is clenching around nothing, your clit swollen and sore, you’re feeling delirious and you’re not allowed to come.

Tess picks up the knife again and you feel it slide across your inner thigh, it’s cold on your sweat-beaded skin and it makes you shiver. It rises dangerously close to your center, her evil eyes obsessively following the path of the blade. A sharp smile spreads across her face as she begins to sink the tip into your flesh, just enough to scratch your skin. You’re choking your whines on Joel’s cock as you smell blood in the air. It feels like she’s writing something, her trajectory is meticulous and careful, she pulls the blade out smiling again, satisfied with her work.

“Here you go, now everyone will know what kind of whore you are. If you ever get out of here”

She runs her tongue over what she just branded into your skin, your body shakes, your back arches insanely seeking for that delicious line between pain and pleasure, it’s stinging and soothing at the same time.

Joel is spilling inside you, his cum invading your mouth, painting your tongue and sliding warm down your throat. His face is red and sweaty, he's gritting his teeth, his neck is tense, his merciless hand holds you still clinging to your neck, he looks like a wild animal ready to devour you.

“Swallow it all, bitch” And you do it, you have no other choice. And you like it. You like the feel of his vein pulsing against the roof of your mouth, the heat and weight of him on your tongue, his musky flavor. It distracts you from the pain spreading across your thigh.

Joel only pulls out of your mouth when you've licked it clean.

It’s softening but it’s still the biggest cock you’re ever had.

He whispers in a hoarse voice that you are a very good little pet, smiling at you nastily, his big hands filling with your breasts, calloused and heavy, your nipples still hard under his palms.

Tess chuckles “yeah, she’s not that bad. And she’s a real fucking slut, aren’t you, honey? Your pussy is hungrier than your stomach”

You don't answer her, you are enraptured by Joel's dark and lascivious eyes, naked and helpless on the bed, branded like a cow, stupid and drunk on sex.

Your mind is no longer thinking clearly.

They both lie down on the bed to catch their breath, leaving you naked and sore at the foot of it, like a rag doll.

You never imagined this would happen to you when you came in here. And then, when they found you, the first thing you thought was that they were going to kill you. You're still here. Exhausted, in pain as you stare at the ceiling, sweat cooling on your skin.

You wonder how long it will last, where they will dump you when they get tired.

You're still alive anyway, that's enough.

There is definitely something rotten in you. You want to get up and see the word Tess wrote on your thigh but you are not brave enough. You trace it with a finger, shivering with pain, feeling your skin pull and pinch where it is starting to heal. If your touch is right it says “pet”.

[harmonyrae]

Devil in the Mirror: Part 2

Synopsis: Part two of my AU fic about Abysswalker inspired assassin Rafayel. His one night stand is his next target. He’s already signed the contract, but she’s captured his attention - and maybe his affection. He surprises himself when he invites her to be his date to his art exhibit. He is great at thinking on his feet, but his lack of self-control could be his undoing. (Written in Rafayel's POV)

Warnings: Mentions of violence & death & very explicit sexual descriptions. 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 6.9k

Rolling over, your hand falls to the mattress, when you don’t feel her your eyes snap open. Sitting up straight in bed you glance around the room. The wave of anxiety settles when you hear the sound of the shower. You spot her clothes piled on the desk. You swing your legs off the bed and stretch, your breath catches as you notice just how sore you are. Yeah, that definitely wasn’t just because of the absolutely insane sex - oh how you wish it was. 

The man you “dealt with” yesterday was huge. Double your size and a total beefcake. Probably spent more time in the gym in one day than you spent in a whole year. But in the end, you’re faster and years of practice with your blade meant the final slash across his throat was precise. But he got some good hits in and you’re sure the bruising was worse. Would it be more noticeable in the daylight? 

You slowly make your way across the room to the desk. Your fingers gently sweep across the fabric of her dress. Memories of the club flash through your mind. Her hips swaying against you, her hands threading through your hair, her pulse racing as you kissed her neck. Your peripherals catch your reflection in the mirror above the desk. 

Fuck.

Those were not the bruises you were expecting… Sure, the giant bruise across your rib cage was dark and tender, but you could explain it away easily. Took a tumble off your ladder while finishing your latest painting. But how the fuck are you supposed to explain the small bruises across your neck and chest? The press would have a field day…

Ding

Your phone chirps from its place next to the bed. You trudge back, grab the phone and fall back onto the plush blanket. You hold the phone above your face and swipe to unlock. A new message from Thomas. 

Thomas: Started a new file for your new project. Should I bring it to your place or hand it off tonight?

“Oh fuck…!” 

Your nose burns as you rub it. The panic you had suppressed from last night had resurfaced catching you off guard, causing you to drop your phone, right onto your face. For fucks sake… Your next target was literally in the next room. Your target, who was beautiful, bold, enticing… Who rocked your world less than 12 hours ago and slept beside you. Who you were desperately trying to stop imaging standing, hot and dripping, in that shower. God, you want to join her. Feel her hands on you again. Your hands holding her hips, pulling her to you, your lips on hers. NO. STOP. She’s your fucking target. You should go in there and finish the job.

No, no, no… Who knows who she came to the club with last night. You remember another girl, with short brown hair, dancing with her. Did they notice you and her on the dance floor? Did they notice her leaving with you? Did she text her friends or family this morning while you were still asleep? Too many risks. It wouldn’t be hard to link her death back to you. No, it wasn’t a good idea to do this now. And do you want to? What the fuck? That should NOT be a factor. But it is and the more you deny it the more your stomach twists into a knot.

You hear the water shut off. Shit. What do you do? What is the plan? Like you ever really make plans for these things. But this is different. Why is it different? It just is. So what do you…

While you’re thinking, well more like panicking, she exits the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her. She notices you sitting up on the bed and smiles. God, she’s radiant. Stop complimenting her. Well, complimenting her in your head. Just stop it. 

“Good morning, beautiful.” 

Really? You’re pathetic… Why did you say that? Now she’s blushing and walking over. In a towel, she’s in a towel. Your thin sweatpants are proving to be very revealing, your cock throbbing at the thought of her dropping that towel.

She cups your face with her hands, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. Can she feel it? Can she see it? Oh, she 100% can. Her eyes fall, trailing their way down your torso and - oh shit - she lets out a breathy giggle as she notices how hard you’ve gotten. Her smile widens and she leans down to kiss you fully. Her lips are just as soft as last night. She smells like heaven, you can tell she used the hotel soap but her fragrance is so much stronger. Delicate and breezy. Fucking hypnotic. 

Your hands find themselves on her hips, pulling her closer. She smiles against your lips and pulls back slightly. You can feel yourself pouting - real mature, she’ll love that. She giggles and swipes her finger across your bottom lip that’s pushed out. Wait, does she? 

“Usually, I would have left by now. To avoid that uncomfortable morning-after small talk. But… I didn’t really want to.” She says in a hesitant voice.

“I’m glad you didn’t leave.” Are you now? Really?!

“Me too.” 

You pull her back to you trying to continue the kiss, even though you know it’s a bad idea. It’s like you can’t stop yourself. You start trailing kisses down her chest, but she pulls back, stopping you in your tracks.

“But I do have to go. I have a meeting in an hour.”

“A meeting?” At the Hunters Association, most likely. 

“At the Hunters Association. Oh, I don’t think I mentioned my job before. I’m a hunter.”

“Ohhhhh wow!” Thank god, she bought that.

“Yeah, I have to do a debrief before my leave.”

“Your leave?”

“I… It’s mandatory after I got injured a few days ago. A huge Wanderer showed up at the park and I was the only hunter around and there were kids. People were getting hurt, so I… ugh… I jumped in and ended up in the hospital again.”

“Again?!”

“Well, I was on desk duty and not supposed to involve myself in any fights… My new injuries made my previous ones worse. I had to have a minor surgery. So now, my boss is making me take a mandatory leave and turn in my weapons so…”

“Wait, you’re telling me you just had surgery…”

She hesitates and avoids meeting your eye.

“Well, it was like… two days ago…”

“Are you serious?! And last night… You were at a club? Drinking? Dancing? And then we… Fuck! I could have hurt you?!” 

The panic in your voice is too intense, why are you panicking? She is a grown woman capable of making her own choices. However questionable those choices might be...

“I’m fine. Seriously, when I say it was minor, the doctors literally told my boss I could go back to work pretty much right away. But she’s still pushing for the leave. It’s more a punishment than a recovery. You didn’t hurt me. Well, you did, but in a good way.” Her smile turns dangerous and there you go blushing again.

“You are a handful aren’t you?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

She tugs at her towel, letting it drop down her waist and over your hands which are still on her hips. Her breasts sit perfectly in front of your face. You spot the various bruises you left, mostly surrounding her nipples. As you move your hands to let the towel drop to the floor, you see her lower stomach and inner thighs are also covered with your love bites. Her hands trace over the bruises she left on your collarbone. She shifts her legs and straddles your lap, her bare pussy sitting directly on your barely covered, painfully hard, cock. She gasps softly when she feels the rough stitches over the wound on your chest. 

“When did this happen? Wait… Did you stitch this yourself?”

You take her hand away from the wound and hold it tenderly, placing a kiss on her knuckles. 

“It happened the other day. It wasn’t serious so I handled it myself.”

“And you were upset with me… Wait, are you a doctor?”

“No, not a doctor. Stitches look pretty good for a non-doctor? Pretty impressive, yeah?”

You were avoiding her question of how for as long as you possibly could. Her eyes narrow and she pushes you back onto the mattress before moving to straddle your torso. Feeling her grind against your stomach, you could feel how wet she was, and it wasn’t from the shower. Fuuuuck.

“You didn’t answer my question. How did it happen?” Her hands drift down your arms and take hold of your hands.

“So, I’m an artist. I make my own paint. Sometimes finding the ingredients I need can get… risky.”

She squints her eyes, considering your story. Her hands close in around your wrists as she pulls them to her waist.

“Risky, huh? So what happened?” 

“I uhh… I was diving to find some coral. I needed a particular shade of red for a - ahh hah…”

She had slowly lifted your hands to her breasts and your self-control was at an all time low. You already sounded extremely suspicious. What if she felt the cut on your head? Would she buy the diving story a second time? She moves your hands up and down, giving her the friction she desired. She dropped her hands away when you started kneading her breasts on your own, letting her head fall back. Your thumbs moving up to roll over her peaked nipples.

“I thought you said you had a meeting…” You almost didn’t recognize your own voice. What was she doing to you?

“You’re right, I should go then…” 

She smirks down at you as she shifts slightly, moving to get up. You sit up and reach your arms around her waist, pulling her down on top of you. Her chest flush against yours, you could feel her heartbeat. You crash your mouth into hers. She kisses you back with equal intensity. One of her hands makes its way down your torso, the other still, braced against your chest. Her hand begins rubbing over your cock through your sweatpants. This is such a bad idea. You should… Your thoughts come to a screeching halt as a moan escapes your throat.

“Too much?” 

She had reached her hand down into your pants and was cupping your balls. The squeeze she had given them had taken you by surprise - you really are getting lost in your thoughts... She felt so good, her body melting into yours.

“No… no, I just didn’t expect it. It felt good - kinda…”

“Kinda?”

“You’re not afraid to be a little rough, are you?” She smirks before taking your bottom lip between her teeth, giving it a tug before letting go. Well that answered your question. 

Ding

Your phone chimed. It’s got to be Thomas. Shit, what time is it? The exhibit…

“Sorry cutie, that would be my manager.”

She releases your balls and you whine. You. Whine. What are you, twelve? But she was literally bringing you to the brink so fast you didn’t want her to stop so suddenly. She smiles and leans down to place a kiss to your forehead before standing up and grabbing her towel to wrap around her once more. 

You sit up and pick up your phone. Sure enough, a message from Thomas. 

Thomas: Exhibit is in 2 hours. Please tell me you are getting ready…

Thomas really needs a vacation. That would also mean he wouldn't schedule interviews or exhibits for a while. Okay, mental note, plan a mandatory vacation for Thomas as soon as this mess of a job is done.

Me: Stop worrying, I’ll be there.

You toss your phone to the bed and look up to see she was fully dressed again. There goes your chance at a round two. Thanks, Thomas. You stand and approach her, she’s carefully touching up her lipstick and trying to smooth out her messy curls in the mirror next to the desk. You wrap your arms around her waist and look at her in the mirror. She smiles as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You have to get to work?” 

“An art exhibit. I have a new collection on display today. Starts in a few hours” Before you had even a minute to process your next words they were spilling out of your mouth. “Would you be interested in joining me?”

“Are you asking me out?”

You were losing your nerve. Good, you shouldn’t be asking her to join you anyways.

“I am.”

Rafayel, you are truly the worst.

“As in, you want me to check out your art or…”

Yes, just a guest. Just check it out. Not a date.

“As my date.”

For fucks sake…

“I don’t really want this to be a one night stand.” You continue. “You’re gorgeous, funny, bold and sexy as fuck…”

“I’d love to be your date.” She answers quickly.

You see your goofy ass smile in the mirror, you try to hide behind her head. She laughs before turning around. She places a kiss on your cheek. She grabs her purse off the desk and pulls out her phone.

“I’ll call you after my meeting?” She hands her phone to you and you put in your number.

“And I’ll pick you up. Do you need a ride there?”

“No, I’ve already texted Tara to pick me up. I guess I will see you later?”

“Yes you will.” 

— —

You spend the next 2 hours gathering your things and getting back to your house to shower and get ready for the exhibit. Fuck, this is going to be a nightmare. You’re going out, on a date, with your target. How the hell are you going to get yourself out of this one? Do you want to? 

As you mull over your current situation, you stand in your closet and look through your designer suits. Maybe the blue one with a crisp white dress shirt? Low key, casual, nothing fancy. Could give the impression this date is more casual and certainly won’t lead to anything serious. Or maybe the red suit with a black dress shirt? Or the black suit with a lavender dress shirt? You have never thought about what to wear to an exhibit before, usually grabbing the first suit you see and slapping on a smile for a few hours to make Thomas happy. 

Buttoning the lavender dress shirt proves to be challenging with your hand shaking so much. No shot you’re nervous. Well, the contract you signed agreeing to kill this woman did say if you failed to accomplish this mission the consequences would be… well actually, they didn’t specify. They just said “you don’t want to know” trying to be menacing assholes. Honestly, you kind of want to know at this point. She did give you the best head of your life and she’s funny and cute and… 

Ding

Your phone chirps bringing you back to your very complicated reality. Placing your golden sea turtle cuff links on the dresser you pick up the phone to see a message from her. She’s ready. Are you?

— —

Settling into your dark blue McLaren, you do a quick quality check to make sure the interior is pristine. You haven’t driven this car in a while, but it certainly makes a statement. So why not? The cream interior is spotless and it smells like vanilla. Thomas definitely took it to get detailed recently. That little shit used it without asking again. Maybe you can use that against him to get out of this event early. 

Pulling up to the address she gave, you spot her on her phone pacing along the sidewalk. Blood rushes straight to your cock. Oh fuck… The black high-waisted skirt falls just above her knees, a loose black blazer hangs off her shoulders and the pop of red from a lace bustier tucked into her skirt props her tits up so perfectly. And of course she’s wearing the same heels from last night. You can’t stop yourself from remembering how she kicked them off before tugging her dress down to fall to the floor. Oh, she sees you and is waving. Pull it together, for the love of god. 

You hop out to open the passenger door and hold her hand as she ducks her head to get in. You damn near run back to the driver side so you can sit beside her. As you close the door, she giggles and you turn to face her.

“You look really good in a suit. Damn.” There’s a hint of blush creeping up to her cheeks. 

“Are you saying I look bad in everything else?”

“No! You look good in everything I didn’t… you’re such a tease how dare you!” She swats at your arm laughing along with you. “But honestly, I think you look best in nothing at all.” 

Oh. Great. Just what the press want to see you arrive with - an erection. You feel her hand lightly graze your thigh. You look over at her with a smirk. 

“Oh and I’m the tease?”

She giggles and removes her hand, but you grab it and place it back on your thigh. She gives you a gentle squeeze and settles back in her seat to watch the city blur as you speed to the gallery. Your hand stays over hers, relishing in her warmth. 

Pulling up to the gallery, photographers surround your car. Security works to usher them away so you can get out. Once there is a path, you give her hand a squeeze before hopping out to open her door. Helping her out of the car, she keeps her head down as the flashes strobe around you. You wrap your arm around her, protecting her from the photographers pushing closer. Once inside the gallery she looks up at you with wide eyes. 

“They knew it was you immediately! They really wanted to talk to you out there.”

“Yeah, they memorized all my cars… And the only people I talk to are the reporters inside and I don’t even want to talk to them.”

“Why not?” You sigh in response.

“I don’t like talking about my art. I want my art to speak for itself. Everybody interprets a piece differently, I don’t want to tell people what they should see.” 

“Well I certainly look forward to telling you what I see in your art.”

“I can’t wait.” She smiles up at you, damn her smile is breathtaking. 

Her hand clings to your arm as you take a turn around the gallery. You politely greet patrons and listen to her analysis of your work. You scan the room for Thomas. Eventually you spot him, his eyes go wide when he spots the woman on your arm. You wink at him, but he stares daggers directly into your soul. You approach him with a shit eating grin. You aren’t sure why he is so mad, but he’s just too fun to mess with at this point. 

“Rafayel! Right on time, wow, that’s so unlike you.”

“I’m always right on time Thomas. Nothing really starts until I arrive.”

“Right. Right. And hello miss, who might you be?”

Now he is staring daggers at your date. The primal urge to wrap your hands around his throat takes you by surprise. This is literally your first date with this woman - besides your night with her at the club and in your hotel room. It just makes you angry. That’s all you know. You wrap your arm around her shoulder, your smile tense.

“This is Y/N. She’s my date tonight.” 

Thomas chokes on air. He coughs for a minute before regaining his composure. 

“I apologize, ahem, hello Y/N it is a pleasure to meet you. I just didn’t expect Rafayel to bring a date tonight. He usually attends exhibits alone.”

“Well, I’m glad he’s branching out. It’s nice to meet you Thomas.”

“Might I have a word with Rafayel for a brief moment? I have to prepare him for a few interviews.” 

“Of course. I’m going to find the bar and grab a drink.”

“I’ll find you as soon as I’m done.” She winks at you before turning to stride towards the bar. You watch her walk away, her ass swaying. She knows what she’s doing, you just know it. 

“Fuck!” Thomas hits you over the back of the head. The sting of the slap against the stitches makes your vision blur momentarily. “Thomas, I have stitches you dickhead.” 

“Oh shit, I’m sorry. But what the fuck are you doing? You know who that is right?”

Thomas lowers his voice to a whisper as he pulls you over to an empty corner. His face is shrouded in shadow, but you can tell he is beyond pissed.

“Yes, I know who she is. I met her at the club last night and we might have… uhh…”

“You might have what?”

“I might have… okay, before you sent me the details I might have met her at the club and then we may have gone back to my hotel room and…”

“Please stop. You did not fuck. You did not. Oh for fucks sake, Rafayel!”

“I know! I know it's complicated, but I have a plan.” 

“Oh, you have a plan?”

“Yes!”

You did not, in fact, have a plan.

“Just trust me.”

He should not trust you. 

“I’ll do the interviews and be out of here in a blink and focus on the job.” You couldn’t focus on anything but getting back to your place with her and getting a repeat of last night.

“Fine. Lucy and Kenneth want to interview you and let the photographers get a few shots of you. But I beg of you, don’t get any pictures with her that look, too friendly. It’d be front page news tomorrow.”

You decide not to tell him they’d already photographed the both of you when you arrived. She had kept her head down and the security surrounded you, they hadn’t gotten a clear shot. It’ll be fine. 

“I got you. Don’t even worry about it. Oh and next time you want to borrow my car… ask.” 

Thomas’ face turns bright red. He nods and runs a hand through his hair before scurrying away to talk to a group of businessmen surrounding one of your latest works. Probably looking to purchase and hang up in their stuffy office. You’d rather go broke than let your art suffer in such a place. 

You turn towards the bar and spot your gorgeous date sipping a martini, chatting with a woman in a navy suit. She looks like… oh no. Not McCarthy. You damn near sprint over to stop the conversation before McCarthy can pull any salacious details regarding your connection with the mystery woman everyone saw you arrive with. 

“Oh that’s fascinating! Rafayel seems like someone who wouldn’t need a muse if I’m honest.”

Shit.

“I’ve been reporting on Rafayel’s career since the very beginning. I’ve seen him go through many muses. I am so looking forward to seeing what he has in store with your… influence.” 

Your instincts to drag her to a secluded building and end her miserable little life… The moment you see the sparkle fade from your beautiful dates eyes, your mind shifts into overdrive. You step closer and wrap your arm around her waist pulling her close to your side.

“McCarthy. So good to see you. How’s the divorce going? Must be a nightmare with the defamation lawsuit my lawyers launched against your agency.”

McCarthy’s face falls and her nostrils flare as you air out her dirty laundry. If she’s going to be a bitch, you have no problem being a bitch as well. You’re not going to let her ruin this… whatever “this” is.

“Ah, yes, it’s uhm… difficult, but I have no doubt the lawsuit will be dropped. My sources are always airtight, Mr. Rafayel.” Oh she is really trying your patience. 

“Airtight? Hmm… a thieving gallery janitor, an abusive valet, a housekeeper who set up secret cameras in my house on behalf of - oh right - yourself and your agency. I think you might need to look up the definition of airtight, Madison.”

McCarthy’s brows knit together. She sucks in a breath and bows her head. 

“I believe my colleague just arrived. I do hope you both enjoy the evening.”

She turns on her heel and leaves in a hurry. You stifle a laugh at how red her face became after calling out her bullshit. But the cutie on your arm shifts uncomfortably next to you and all the joy of ruining McCarthy’s night vanishes. Turning to face her, you see her cheeks flushed and her restless fingers twisting the martini glass in her hands. 

“Sorry about that cutie. McCarthy is a pariah. She had to start her own news agency since no one would hire her with her dirty investigation tactics.”

“Yeah…”

“What are you thinking? Come on, I see those wheels turning.”

“Just because she uses dirty tactics doesn’t mean her intel is false.”

This is not the conversation you wanted to be having tonight. Sure, you’ve had a few slut phases and the term “muse” was widely used by the media when referencing your… escapades. But this girl… she’s not a muse. She’s the air in your lungs. She makes colors brighter and the sun warmer. What is above a muse? Whatever that is, she’s that. But you have to be honest with her now. She could just go home and look you up on the internet. And that would make everything worse.

“She’s not wrong, I’ve had my fair share of muses. But before you start thinking you’re just another one - you’re not.”

“You have to admit, that’s what I’d expect you to say.”

“You got me there. But I mean it. You approached me last night, remember? You took me by surprise, I couldn’t… I didn’t even… I…” 

“You’re cute when you stutter.”

You let out a loud laugh and pull her closer to you, her hand reaching up to rest against your chest.

“You make it hard for me to think straight. It’s why I like being around you, I can’t get lost in my thoughts when you’re around.”

She shifts her leg to press against your cock - half hard from earlier and growing harder as she rubs her thigh against you. She is playing a dangerous game.

“It’s not the only thing that gets hard around me, huh?” Oh she really likes to tease… damn it. That is your specialty and she is beating you at your own game. 

You lean in close and let your lips graze her ear. She shivers as your breath hits her skin.

“Have you seen yourself? You drive me crazy.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” She leans back and bats those dark lashes at you. 

“Please do.” 

She reaches her arms around your neck and pulls you close. Her chest pressing against you so you can feel her nipples hard against the thin fabric of her top. Yeah, you’re not going to be the one to kill her, she’s going to kill you at this rate. You feel her hot breath against your ear as she speaks..

“I’ve been wet for you since we got here.” 

You don’t even hesitate before grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the offices at the back of the gallery. Digging into your pocket you find your phone and open the gallery management app. She giggles as she jogs along behind you trying to keep up with your pace. You press your phone to the panel on the door and slide the bar on your phone to unlock. You swing the door open and pull her into the dark hallway, closing the door with your foot and relocking it on your phone. You find the nearest office and pull her inside.

And just like that, your lips are on hers again. Your pounding heartbeat steadies, the closer she is the calmer you feel. Her hands run all over you, your chest, your neck, your hair. She pushes your jacket off of your shoulders as you pull her skirt up over her hips. You pull back and start trailing kisses down her jaw, settling yourself into her neck nipping and sucking until her breathing is ragged. 

She tugs at the buttons of your shirt and slides her hands in to caress your chest. God her hands against your skin feel like fire. You shrug off your shirt before returning your hands to her back, tugging at the clasps of the bustier. They unclasp easily and you pull back to watch it fall away, her breasts bouncing as they’re released from the structured top. You toss the top to the floor before leaning forward and capturing one of her nipples in your mouth. She lets out a moan as her head falls back. 

You tuck your hands under her ass and release her nipple from your mouth with a loud pop. You lift her and she wraps her legs around you. She wasn’t lying, you can feel her wetness against your stomach as you carry her to the desk. 

You don’t even bother to look for the nameplate on the desk before shoving the folders to the side and settling her ass on the cool wooden surface. Your fingers hook on her lace panties and you tug them forward. You both gasp when you hear a ripping sound. You look down and see the fabric is torn in half. She slaps you on your shoulder.

“I liked those!” Her voice is raspy and full of need. Her hands quickly wrap around the back of your neck, almost forgetting her torn undergarments. 

“I’ll buy you a new pair in every color. At least now, it’s one less thing to remove later.”

“Later?” She giggles against you as you resume kissing her neck, slowly moving down to her chest. Your hands digging into her hips.

“I plan to make you cum until you lose your voice from screaming my name. This is just a preview.” 

You reclaim her nipple in your mouth and gently tug at the sensitive bud with your teeth. She groans loudly and shifts her hips forward, desperate for more. You oblige, of course. You run your finger over her entrance and whimper against her skin - she’s so damn wet. You pull back and press your forehead to hers, flashing a devious smile at her before sinking your middle finger into her needy pussy. 

She brings her hands to the back of your head and pulls you to her. She kisses you hard between breaths. You feel your cock throb as she kisses you. Her tongue presses against your lips, but you’re enjoying these moments of teasing. Your finger plunges deeper, earning you a low grunt and shiver. You press your ring finger inside of her, dragging the pads of your fingers against her slick walls.

It seems she isn’t going to let you be the only tease. She bites your lower lip and drags it out as she leans back. You taste the faintest bit of blood on your tongue and make a sound you didn’t even know you could make. You hate how it sounds like a growl, she probably thinks you sound like an animal. As quickly as you think she hated it, you were proven wrong since she is squeezing the living fuck out of your fingers.

As you remove your fingers, she breaks the kiss to whine at the sudden emptiness. She looks down, expecting you to pull your cock out, but instead, you lower to your knees. Her eyes widen and you chuckle as you catch her eye. Your hands slowly caress her calves until you reach her ankles, you lift them swiftly and toss her legs over your shoulders. She gasps and shifts her hips pushing her pussy closer to your face. God she smells divine.

You press your mouth against her, allowing your nose to split her open before dragging your tongue from her entrance to her clit. You suckle her clit slowly as you unbuckle your pants and push them down over your hips to stroke your aching cock. With one hand on your cock, you move your other hand up over her thigh to thumb her clit. 

You shift your mouth away from her clit as your thumb takes over. You turn your head side to side to sink your mouth as deeply inside her as you possibly can. You press your tongue into her entrance, savoring just how sweet she is. She writhes against your mouth as you continue to swirl and push your tongue deeper. You feel her pussy squeeze your tongue and you can’t hold back a moan. The vibrations must have sent her over the edge because she’s gripping your hair and trying (and failing) to stifle her shouts of pleasure. 

“Rafayel... fuck I’m coming ahh- I’m oh my god…”

Her voice is low, she can barely breathe, and it completely unravels you. As if there was a countdown, both of you are coming. All you can hear are the filthy sounds coming from your mouth, the slurping, the moans, you aren’t even thinking about the mess you’re making under the desk. 

When you finally pull back and look up to her, her cheeks are flushed and her chest heaving. She looks down at you and clasps a hand over her mouth to muffle a giggle as she looks to the floor below you. You follow her gaze and see the mess you made. Whoever uses this office is going to lose their shit tomorrow…. 

“It’s always a good sign when it’s messy.”

“Is it now?” 

She smiles as you rise to your feet and tuck yourself back inside your pants. She reaches for you and you settle your hands on the outside of her thighs. She slowly traces her fingers over your abs, chest and down your arms. Your breath catches when her hands return to your shoulders and trial up to your face, tugging your chin upwards to look at her.

“As much as I like seeing this side of you, I’m really glad you invited me today. Seeing your art, you’re incredibly talented.”

“I’ve never enjoyed these events, that is until today. How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make me feel on fire and completely calm at the same time?” 

“I was going to ask you the same question…”

Your heart skips a beat. She locks her fingers behind your neck. She gently pulls you into a kiss. Not a heated, passionate kiss, but a gentle kiss. Her soft lips press against yours, her tongue tracing your bottom lip slowly. She doesn’t tease like earlier, she’s sweet and slow. You don’t deny her this time. She slips her tongue between your lips and she sighs softly as she tastes herself on your tongue.

Knock knock

You pull back and she gasps, quickly wrapping an arm over her breasts as she glances over her shoulder at the door. You quickly scoop her top off the floor and toss it to her. She wraps it around her backwards and reconnects the clasps before shifting it around and pulling the cups up over her chest. Just as you finish buttoning your shirt another knock sounds at the door. 

Knock knock knock

You stride across the office thrusting your arms through the sleeves of your jacket. You glance over and see the gorgeous woman beside you straightening her skirt. She gives you a soft smile and nods. You know the desk will hide the mess you made and there’s nothing else to signify anything unsavory happened. You take half a second to wonder who else at the event had access to the private offices. Maybe Thomas? Is he looking for you?

You swing open the office door and are blinded by a flash. You blink rapidly as your eyes readjust. You hear a gasp behind you and as your pupils return to a normal size, you understand the reaction. Your stomach drops in an instant.

“How interesting… Seems I was right after all.”

McCarthy stands in the doorway, a camera in one hand and her other on her hip. By the shit eating grin on her face, she must think she has something worthwhile to print. You chuckle under your breath and stare at her.

“McCarthy, if you’re not careful, I could easily add stalking to that lawsuit.”

“I have a key. And I’ve used this office before. But I will admit, I’ve never used it like you two just did.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about McCarthy, but if you don’t-” She cuts you off.

“A photo is worth a thousand words, Rafayel. And a photo of a famous playboy artist, his… muse… and her torn panties on the floor of an office is surely worth several thousand.” 

You hold your breath as you look over your shoulder. Sure enough, the torn panties you tossed aside are on full display. By the time you turn back around, McCarthy is gone. You stumble out into the hallway, jogging to the end and back looking for any sign of her or where she could have gone. Your chest starts hurting and you realize you haven’t taken a deep breath in several minutes. You gasp for air and run a hand through your hair. Thomas asked you for one thing.

“I’m sorry…” Her voice is barely above a whisper. 

When you turn to look at her, you see her wrapping her blazer around her torso. You hadn’t realized she’d slipped it on. It’s like she’s using it to hide. You walk right up to her and hold her face in your hands. 

“No no no. Stop. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“If I hadn’t been teasing you, we wouldn’t have even come in here and-”

“McCarthy is the lowest of the low. I’ll call her to see what I need to do so she won’t publish the photo. I’ll even get the fucker who gave her a key fired for good measure. It’ll be okay. You have nothing to apologize for and I don’t want you to think you’re responsible for any of this bullshit.”

“I know you have interviews to do before we leave. But you probably shouldn’t go out there with lipstick on your neck.”

She licks her thumb and gently wipes away the lipstick stain. You smile and lean in to kiss her forehead. You let go of her hips and cross the room to where the discarded panties lay. You stoop down and pick them up, swiftly placing them in your pocket.

“Are you keeping them as a souvenir?”

“What if I was?”

“That’d be pretty hot.”

“What would be pretty hot?” 

Thomas’ voice startles both of you. You glare at him over her shoulder, but as soon as you meet his eyes you know you’re on borrowed time. He’s angry. No, not angry. He’s homicidal. You’ve never seen him look like this. It’s kind of impressive, if not terrifying. 

“Thomas, I’m glad you’re here. Have you seen McCarthy?” 

You approach the door, casually slipping your arm back around her and pulling her into a reassuring embrace. Keep her calm. Defuse the bomb that is Thomas. Bribe McCarthy. Talk to the journalists. Get this woman home to fuck until neither of you can walk. Easy.

“Oh, I���ve seen her. And boy, does she work fucking fast.”

“What do you mean?”

“Rafayel, I asked you for one thing. Just one. And now, I have an absolute shit storm to deal with.”

“Thomas, what are you talking about?”

“Check your phone.”

You pull out your phone just as her phone rings. 

“I have to take this, one sec.” She steps further into the office to take the call.

Unlocking your phone you see a never-ending list of notifications. Social media, texts from friends and other artists, multiple missed calls from Thomas and a call from an unknown number. As you sift through the notifs you finally see what they’re in relation to. Your knees nearly give out. You look up at Thomas, eyes wide.

“What… I… how…”

“You never pay attention to my updates and now it is biting us both in the ass.”

You look over your shoulder and your eyes lock onto hers. The horror in her eyes tells you she already knows. Her eyes glisten with tears and your anger is about to take over. When this is sorted, McCarthy is dead.

“You told me…”

“I told you McCarthy has moved to instant news. As soon as she got that damn photo she was already uploading it. Now the world knows about your little sexipade and her name is trending with the hashtag Rafayel’s girlfriend.”

“Fuck.”

Tag List (comment if you wanna be added!): @crystalrainforest @libriomancer

I wasn't sure I would write another part to this, but I am low key glad I did. More to come I hope!

[satorusugurugurl]

I Think He Knows: (Chapter Four)

Summary: When your novel takes off and becomes a best seller, doors of opportunities open for you. You can work on the series you have dreamed about all your life. And you’re also given the chance to stay in a tiny cottage in Europe for two years to help with inspiration! Your best friend, Geto Suguru, shatters at the news. How could he tell you how he feels when you leave him? His opportunity appears right before him when you confess that your editor thinks a change of scenery will help with your not-so-steamy romance scenes. They’re lacking a particular spice because you’re a virgin. So, Suguru does what any best friend would do. He offers to teach you how things work. Will you cross that line as friends? Or will you both say goodbye?

Pairing: Geto Suguru x FAB!Reader

Word Count: 4,954

Warning: Language, fingering, hand-job, kissing, heavy description of genitals.

A/N: Here’s the update!! I'm sorry its so late. My wrist feels a lot better today!! 😘💚💚 thank you for your patience!!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven

You were glaring at your computer screen; the words struggled to come to you. Nanami was pleased with the changes you had made to your latest chapters; he said the kiss scenes were much more realistic, all thanks to your best friend, but as much as he liked it, it still didn't change the fact that your smutty mutual masturbation scene sucked balls.

“It’s getting there.” He glanced back at the words. “You’ve moved on from using meat stick to penis—while is anatomically correct, it’s not quite rousing. Perhaps try using the words shaft, dick, maybe cock.”

“Kento!”

“I’m being serious, how many erotic novels have you read where the writer uses ‘she grasped his penis in her hand’ no ‘she grabbed his cock’.”

“Right—”

“Then there’s the climax.” Nanami sighed, flipping through the pages. “Be honest with me; have you ever seen a man have an orgasm? It’s not like a fire hose in hentai—” A judgmental look was shot in your direction, which was well deserved. “It’s more like spurts.”

“Ugh, seriously?”

“Yes, and Oaklynn’s orgasm, you just described her facial reactions and breathing. Get into the pulsing or contractions she feels. Hell, make her squirt. Ilsan is a knight; he's been to brothels so the man would know how to please a woman.”

“Squirt—?”

The way Nanami deadpanned at you before running a hand down his face told you he had figured it out. He must have finally put the deli meat sex scenes, terribly written orgasms, and your lack of knowledge of female orgasms. You slowly sank lower into the booth with a flushed face.

“You’re a virgin.”

“You’re a virgin~” You mocked, sticking up your nose as the nightmares and flashbacks of your luncheon came to an end. Nanami’s suggestion to watch porn gives it a better understanding of how orgasms work. There was no way in hell you were doing that. “I don't need to have sex to know how to write a good sex scene!”

That statement was true, and having some experience would benefit you. It had kissing scenes. And it most definitely would help you with the grinding scene in the alley you were adding in. Suguru made things comfortable for you; he wasn’t pushy or manipulative. He was so gentle and kind, making sure you felt okay. You were so grateful for him, but after you started feeling weird last night and told him to stop, maybe he didn't want to keep doing stuff with you.

If you were honest with him, maybe he'd understand. But it wasn't very comfortable. It felt so intense, and you were all tingly.

Once you finished your rewrites, you would have to sit down and talk to him. You just hoped he didn’t think you were avoiding him after what happened. The sooner you finish, the sooner you can talk to him, get things back to normal, and maybe ask him to help you more. His lessons truly were helping you.

If only we weren’t having such a hard time with the stupid scene!

“Come on, just type it, dick, just type out the letters. DICK.” Your fingers hovered over your keyboard, your eyes narrowing at the screen. “It’s just a word!”

Before your fingers could even touch the ‘D,’ a fist pounded against your door. At first, you were startled; your heart lurched into your throat as your hand rested against your chest. The fist slammed against the door once again. If someone knocked at your door at 2:30 in the morning, it wasn’t a good sign. You were about to grab your phone to call Suguru when you heard his voice at the door.

“Answer, answer god, please.”

He repeated the exact words as you shove your lap desk off to the side before jumping up for the door. You open the door just as Suguru pulls his fist back to knock again. His face was pale, and his dark bangs clung to his forehead with sweat. The dark circles under his eyes were the evidence of the nightmares that he had been having and the lack of sleep.

Regardless of his appearance, your eyes still frantically searched him up and down. You were trying to find evidence of injuries or something that told you what was wrong. You could find no traces of anything other than his insomnia. He was in a white T-shirt and baggy gray sweats and stood there silently. Look of relief washing over your face. He just stood there. A look of relief washed over his face at the sight of you.

“Suguru? What’s wrong? What happened?” He doesn’t answer your frantic questions; instead, he grabs you, pushing his way inside your apartment and kicking the door shut. “Suguru?!”

You yelp as you both fall to the floor, his arms wrapped firmly around you as he holds you flush against his chest; your best friend is shaking, his breath heavy as he clings to you as if you would vanish if he let go. Seeing him in such a state made you sick to your stomach. He didn’t deserve to be plagued with the pain of what happened years ago. You knew he blamed himself for what happened with Riko. You wish you could take the pain away from him.

While that was impossible, you could be there for him when he needed you the most. So you wrapped your arms around him and squeezed, hugging him as tight as possible. “Thought I lost you.” He whispered, his hands clinging onto your tank top.

“Suguru—” you whisper, hands gently caressing his back. “You’re not going to lose me.” You feel him relax against you, shaking softly as he pulls back an inch. “Nightmares again?” His dark strands of hair cover his eyes, but he nods. “Sugu, oh sweetie—do you wanna stay the night with me?”

Your words seem to hit him like a freight train. The panic and fear in his eyes turned into relief. His muscles relax as he exhales through his nose. You reach up and caress his cheek, letting him know you are there, and he leans into your touch, nuzzling his cheek into your palm.

“Yeah, can I please?”

“Of course you can.” You lock the door before grabbing Suguru’s wrist and pulling Jim into your bedroom. “You can go to sleep. I need to finish editing this page before I lay down.”

As you sit back down, placing your lap desk in front of you, Suguru takes a moment to look around your bed. There are tiny Post-it notes and looseleaf paper spread out over your comforter, along with the mini spiral notebook you had in your purse. He had teased about it initially, but he realized that you need to jot down your ideas when inspiration hits you. So your stocking was full of the little mini notebooks you loved to carry.

Seeing that blissful smile tugged at your lips, in the warmth of the flush in your cheeks, made Suguru float with happiness. That joy that was brought on by notebooks was something he would never forget. He wanted to make you happy for the rest of your life. Not just with notebooks but a life you both could build together in a romantic relationship. Suguru wanted to give you the world on a silver platter because you deserved it and much more.

“Oh fuck, sorry, Sugu.” Small hands quickly removed the notes and the papers covering the other side of your bed. “Just transcribing and everything.” You motioned for him to lie down, patting gently on the mattress.

Suguru crawled into bed with you, covering himself with the sheet, before snuggling his head against one of your pillows. The smell of your favorite shampoo and conditioner had his nerves relaxing as he watched you glare at the screen. From the way your nose was turned up, you were deep in thought. His curiosity got the better of him, and he learned in closer, his eyes roaming over the screen.

‘Oaklynn’s face scrunched up in pure pleasure as her orgasm hit her. Her breathing was heavy, and Ilsan growled in her ear, pumping his fingers in and out of her vagina.’

Vagina?

‘That’s it~ such pretty sounds—nngh!’ Ilsan’s voice cracked as Oaklynn’s soft hand squeezed his penis, twisting her wrist as she stroked. ‘O-Oh gods! Oak~ Oaaak!’ A spray of cum coated Oaklynn’s hand, his sticky seed spraying all over her, pooling onto the mattress below them.

“PFFT!” Suguru tried hard not to laugh, his hand flying up to muffle the chuckle. But god, it was too funny!

Upon hearing the laughter from your best friend, your eyes snapped down. There he was, tears in his eyes, tanned skin flushing a rosy color as his eyes remained glued on your screen. With a tiny gasp, you slammed your screen shut before hiding your face in your hands. Your jerky, panicked motions seemed to set Suguru off more as he threw his head back, barking out in laughter.

“Oh my god! Stop!”

“W-Why was he cumming like a faucet?!” Suguru rolled onto his back, wiping at the tears.

“Stop it!”

“And using the words vagina and penis? I preferred it when you called it Meat Stick and Fairy Cave!”

You grumbled before moving your hands to push him. “Could you please stop talking!? Please, I know it’s bad!” Those words had Suguru jerking his head up, finding you flushed cheeks and glimmering eyes.

“It’s not bad—”

“Yes, it is! This screams, ‘A virgin wrote this! She’s never gotten any action,’ Which is true! How can I describe an orgasm when I’ve never even had one?!”

The truthful outburst left you panting as Suguru’s laughter abruptly stopped. His dark eyes were transfixed on your face before you got up, putting away your notes and laptop, and as you silently moved around the room, you could feel Suguru’s eyes on you. And they stayed locked on you until you crawled into bed with a sigh, curling onto your side.

The self-doubt was in your every move, from how your body tensed to your shallow breathing as you fought back tears. You knew Suguru didn’t laugh to be malicious, but it wasn't a confidence booster either. At times like these, you questioned if you were good enough to do this and if writing a smutty fantasy was what you were capable of.

Suguru frowned as he watched your body tremble, soft whimpers sounding in your chest. God, he felt like an asshole. With hesitant movements, Suguru inched himself closer to you. His hand gently inches itself around your waist, pulling you into his chest. Seeing that you didn't fight him or verbally tell him no, Suguru wrapped his arm underneath you, spooning you.

“I’m sorry.” His breath was hot against your cheek. “I shouldn't have been snooping, especially when you were in rewrites.”

“I-It’s okay. I’m struggling with it; I want to be the best I can, ya’ know?”

“Mhmm, I know princess.” The warmth of his body had you relaxing. “Can I ask you a question?”

You turned your head and pressed your cheek against his. “Yeah, of course you can.”

“You’ve never had an orgasm?” His voice was so smooth and sultry, making you shiver. “Like ever?”

It was true; you struggled to reach the mythical ‘Big O’ since you started masturbating. You felt like you would get close, it was within grasp, but you would fall short. There was a time you thought maybe you did, but the fact you had to question yourself was the only answer you needed to know that you had, in fact, not had one.

“No, I haven't; I think my fairy cave is broken.”

Suguru’s chest rumbled as he laughed loudly, giving you a tight squeeze. God, he had it so bad for you. You were so innocent and cute; you had such a good sense of humor.

“I don't think it’s broken.” His statement had you rolling so that you were facing him. “You just need to explore it some more.” His hand reaches down gently, resting it on your ass. “I could talk you through it if you want.”

Tingles ran down your spine as he squeezed the fat of your ass. It was a mixture of relief and excitement that your reaction didn't turn him off from the night before. Your hands moved, gripping his shirt gently before biting your lip. You had tried so many times before, but Suguru—he knew what to do.

“I don't want you to talk me through it—I want you to do it.” Suguru’s dark eyes went wide, his pupils the size of pinpricks. “If you want to.”

Your best friend leaned close to your ear before placing a kiss against it, and he moved further down to your neck, his tongue past his lips, kisses and little licks over your sensitive skin. The sensation had you squirming, your pulse racing in your throat, and a shuddering sigh left your mouth. Suguru sucked on your neck as his hand groped and massaged your ass. Your body felt like it was kindling with fire, a low burn in the pit of your stomach as he continued to pepper kisses over your neck.

“You want me to make you cum?”

“P-Please.”

“I’d do anything for you.” He grunts gravelly into the crook of your neck. “I’ll make sure you know what an orgasm feels like. That way, your already amazing writing is more accurate.” Teeth grazed over the skin, leading to your shoulder, as one of Suguru’s hands slipped under your shirt, trailing over your belly. “Can I touch you?”

“Y-Yea—aah—” his hand groped your breast the second he heard ‘yeah’ leave your mouth. He gently squeezed it, massaging it between his long, thick fingers. His thumb gently brushed over the nipple with every squeeze. “Mmm—” you pressed your lips together as your eyes tailed down, watching his hand move underneath your tank top.

Suguru continued to kiss and nip at your neck, trailing kisses so gently over your skin; well, his other hand pinched and pulled at your nipple, rubbing the bud between his fingers. The way your body twitched and jerked underneath his touch had his cock throbbing hard within the confines of his sweats. The breathless gasps, the way you took your bottom lip between your teeth, gently gnawing at it, you look so fucking hot; he wanted to do more to see what other reactions he could draw out from you.

Suguru’s hand left your breast, slowly trailing down past your stomach before pressing his whole palm over your clothes-clad pussy. Being touched intimately for the first time had you jerking, eyes snapping shut. Suguru groaned, rubbing his hand over your pussy, feeling the warmth of your sex. You gasped as he pulled his hand away to his index and middle finger over your clothed clit. Your body jerked forward, your arms wrapping around his neck, hands sticking into his hair as he brushed over the sensitive bundle and the nerves a second time.

“Does that feel good?” Suguru asked, his mouth pulling away from your sensitive skin.

Your mouth fell open as your eyebrows knitted together. “F-Feels r-real good.” His fingers began rubbing against your clit in slow circles, drawing out a whine from your chest. “O-Oh fuuuck S-Suguru.”

“I got you~ I got you, don't worry.” His fingers rubbed faster, memorizing how you jerked and reacted, repeating the same movements to get you to respond more.

The intensity of everything was becoming too much for you to handle. It felt like your whole body was on fire, like a pot on the stove roaring to a boil. You needed more; you weren’t sure what, but you needed more of this, of Suguru. He needed to quench your thirst, to put water on the flames burning with every nerve of your body, and you knew that his fingers would be the only thing that could help you.

“I-I want more.” Your voice was so timid, making Suguru’s hand seize up momentarily. “Please.”

“You sure?” he asked, his voice dark and husky.

With a nod, you grabbed his wrist, bringing it up to the waistband of your shorts. “Yes, I’m positive.” You gently pushed his wrist down, allowing his fingers to slip under the elastic band. You could’ve sworn Suguru choked on his breath, his eyes widening in the low light of your bedroom as they glanced down to his hand that had breached your shorts.

Suguru wrapped his arm around you, holding you steady as his hand dipped lower, brushing against your slick folds. The initial contact has your head tilting back m as he groaned, feeling your delicate skin before rubbing at your clit gently. You gripped the fabric of his shirt, digging your nails into it. Your body trembled as you buried your face into his neck, whimpering against his skin.

“S-Suguru—”

“Is this okay?” Suguru moved slowly, carefully listening closely to your breathing and noting how you shook—memorizing each twitch, saving it for him to jerk off to when you fell asleep. All you could do was nod your head as you lost yourself in the pleasure. Seeing that you were doing so well, Suguru slipped his hand back further, his thumb rubbing against your clit before slowly sliding two fingers into you.

“Nngh!” You gasped out, pressing your lips against Suguru’s neck as you mewled. “Sugu~! Sugu~!” Your walls were beginning to flutter and convulse around him as he slowly curled his fingers in.

Feeling your hot breath against his neck, how your lips gently traced unintentional kisses over his sensitive skin had his cock throbbing hard. Suguru pressed into you, rubbing his hardening cock against your thigh. He slowly began thrusting his fingers in and out of you, wet squelched flooding the room as he rubbed your clit harder.

“I want to make you cum Princess.” He snarled against your cheek.

The vulgar words had you clamping down harder on his fingers. Your body was getting hotter, from your toes to your pussy, all the way into your stomach. That coil from a few nights before began tightening, coiling deep inside you. The intensity had you tugging on Suguru's shirt.

“S-Sugu~ f-feels intense a-again—Ah oh fuck it’s l-like before.” There was a twinge of uncertainty and fear in your voice. “I-I—”

“I know it's weird, but just let go. I got you—it’s going to feel so fucking good in a second.” His fingers moved in and out of your tight, wet heat faster, drawing out more gasps from you. “Trust me.”

“I-I do feel good, b-but—” Suguru hooked his fingers up, moving them in a come hither motion, causing your legs to shake. “Fuuuck! Oooh fuck!”

“God, you sound so good,” he whispered so softly you couldn't hear him over your moans. “So good.” Suguru had dreamed about doing this to you for so long, to have you underneath him, showing you how much you meant to him. It was a dream to have you clinging to him, gasping his name.

“Sugu—Suguru—” You could feel something coming; it was intense, making your toes curl. “S-Sugu—I-I—I think—!”

“That’s it~ that’s it, let go~ you’re gonna cum.”

His fingers pressed into the sponge spot inside of you. The pressure of his fingers and his thumb rubbing your clit had you seeing stars. You screamed into his neck, shutting your eyes tight as your thighs clamped around his hand. The pure fiery pleasure had your whole body and pussy convulsing as you cried out loudly, so loud Suguru heard your neighbor hit the wall with a ‘shut up.’

Suguru couldn't care; he wanted you screaming his name. He groaned as he felt your slick on his fingers, slowing down to help you ride out your first orgasm. "Shhhh, shh—princess, don't be too loud~" You panted heavily against his neck, tears in your eyes as the last waves of pleasure washed over you.

“Oooh fuck.” You wheezed out as Suguru gently pulled his finger out of you. “Oh my god.” As you rolled onto your back, Suguru quickly slid his fingers into his mouth, sucking your cum off with a satisfied growl. You tasted sweet with a tang of citrus; it was addictive. God, what would he do to taste it firsthand?

As he pulled his fingers out of his mouth, you rolled back onto your side and stared at him. Suguru smiled cocking an eyebrow at the almost unreadable expression on your face. “Yes? Can I he—eeegh!” Your hand brushed over his hard cock, catching him off guard. “W-What are you doing?” you say up on your knees, cheeks flushed with post-orgasmic glow and determination.

“I-I've never seen a man cum! A-And seeing that you offered to help me, c-could I watch you jerk off? O-Or maybe if it’s okay, could I touch you? Y-You’re hard, right?”

Your bluntness and straightforward request left your best friend gaping at you. You wanted to touch him? God, this was like two dreams coming true. But as much as he wanted to have your hand on him, he was afraid he’d blow his load the second your fingers wrapped around him. So he's going to have to compromise for now.

“How about I jerk off, and you can wrap your hand around me?”

“Okay! Um! Let's start.”

You sat back on your heels, swallowing hard as Suguru pulled the sheets off his body. You could hear your pulse pounding in your ears as you watched your best friend sit up, resting his back against your headboard, dark hair falling over his shoulder with every movement. Why were you so nervous? It was just Suguru’s dick, just your best friend, who just made you cum your brains out. Nothing about this should make you anxious! He was helping you! This was research!

But your research had your pussy throbbing as Suguru hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his pajama pants and pulled it down. When he did, his thick erect cock bounced, landing against his stomach with a hardy thump. It was heavy and thick, and it had you pressing your thighs together. The tip was a deep, dusty, rose color, dribbling out a clear substance from the tip. His shaft was tan; thick veins ran up and down as it twitched.

“Oh—” you whispered, taking in his well-trimmed pubes, admiring his happy trail that went from the bottom of his belly button down to the base of his cock. “Oooh fuck.”

“Yeah—” Suguru groaned, tilting his head to the side as he watched you with dark, knowing eyes. He saw the way you looked at him, your gaze lingering on his cock. “this is it.”

Suddenly, it became crystal clear why he had so many romantic partners. He was thick and big. You’re sure it would hit every place inside you that would feel good. Wait a minute, not you, his previous partners! It must’ve hit all the right places inside of them. It probably felt so good. Like how his fingers felt pressing that spot inside you. His cock had the perfect curve that would hit it just right.

“You good there? Did your virgin brain malfunction?”

In a way, it did, but you wouldn’t acknowledge that it had. “W-What!? No, of course not!” your eyes started to burn with a visible flush. “No.” Suguru just laughed breathlessly.

“I'm just teasing you, come here, I’ll show you what it looks like when a guy cums.” Your eyes slowly drifted back towards him, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of him stroking his shaft. His hand moved silly up and down, smearing what you could only assume was pre-cum over himself. “Fuccck.” he grumbled, “I’m so hard, I-I'm probably not going to last long.” That was okay with you. “You can wrap your hand around mine.”

With his invitation, you placed your hand over his moving your arm up and down as he stroked his cock. He didn’t go all the way down to the base. Instead, he focused his attention on the head of his cock. Each time, he stroked his cock, his head tilted back against the headboard as his legs spread. The muscles in his upper thighs constricted with each jerk. He looked so fucking good, like some sex god.

Seeing him in such a state had you trying to match his movements as best as possible and attempting to keep up with his steady but jerky pace. Your eyes wandered to where his shirt pulled slightly up, just enough for you to see the bottom half of his abs that were clenching with each stroke that focused on the head of his cock.

While his movements utterly entranced you, Suguru’s eyes were drawn to you. The way you took your bottom lip between your teeth, how your eyes roamed over him, focusing on the muscles in his stomach, before trailing back towards his cock. Your presence was enough to have him dribbling more pre-cum out. Suguru straightened his legs out, toes curling as his hand moved faster up and down over the head of his cock. He had it down so bad for you that it was going to be enough to send him over the edge.

“Oooh fuuuck~ fuck fuck fuck~” he growled through gritted teeth. “Fuck yeah.”

Fuck, oh God, he looks so good. Watching him pleasure himself had you feeling warm and fuzzy deep inside. He was really into jerking his hand up faster, squeezing himself hard. He looks so fucked out of his mind, and you were sure if you could see your face, your expression with mirror his. There was something about watching him getting off that had your pulse racing in your pussy throbbing, your shorts were already wet enough, and you could feel more slick coating them.

Moving your hand with his wasn’t enough. Biting down on your lip, you pulled his hand away. “Hey, what ar—aah—” Suguru’s head lolled back as you wrapped your soft hand around him, jerking your hand up and down at the same pace he was going.

“O-oooh.” You were not expecting it to be as velvety smooth as it was. The feeling of his cock in your hand had awakened something in you. You leaned over him, resting your free hand on his upper thigh. Stroking your hand over his cock up and down faster and harder, squeezing it like he had done to himself.

Suguru threw his head back against the headboard, hissing through his teeth as his eyes watched your hand move up and down over him. He had the scenario so many times in his head and his wet dreams when he would stroke himself until he would cum all over his hand. The final push was to feel you touching him with such enthusiasm.

“C-Cummin! Fuck! I’m cumming Princess!” Spurts of thick white cum shot out of his tip, lashing out over his stomach and his T-shirt. It wasn’t all like a hose; it was small ropes, for it to be exact, that lashed out over him and your hand. “A-Aah!” His whole body jerked his abs, clenching as his eyes rolled back, and you continued jerking your hand, milking him for all you could.

“W-Wow, tha-that was hot.” at the sound of your voice Suguru shot his hand forward, grabbing your wrist, stopping you from continuing to move over his cock. “O-Oh, sorry—“

“N-No, you’re okay, just sensitive.” He grunted as he let you go, allowing you to pull your coated hand back.

You both sat in your bed, traces of your orgasm coating both of you as Suguru came down from his high. Silence filled the open air between you, but it wasn’t at all awkward; instead, it was thick with tension, sexual tension. A tension Suguru was familiar with while the feeling was alien to you. Part of you wanted to reach out and kiss him, but something inside you prevented you from moving forward. Because this wasn’t a relationship, this was just your best friend helping you when you were struggling. It was nothing more than that.

Seeing as you were the only one capable of functioning, you got up and headed into your bathroom, grabbing a warm wet rag to clean you both off with. “Thank you for letting me do that.” You whispered as you cleaned off your hand before gently handing him the rag. “That was very informative, and I think it will help me with the pages. I’ve been struggling with it.” Suguru stared blankly at you, taking in your words as he wiped his cum off his stomach and shirt.

“Of course, I’m glad I could help you out.”

“Uhm, so do you wanna go to bed?”

“Yeah—yeah, that sounds good.”

“Awesome!”

After snatching the rag from him and tossing it in the bathroom, you crawled back into bed with your best friend. A man you had known since your childhood who you had grown up with. The two of you had been through thick and thin together, always there for one another no matter the circumstances.

As you lay down on your side, Suguru wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against your chest. You couldn’t help but wonder if you both had crossed the line tonight. Or if you had taken a step towards a new chapter of your relationship? Those questions could wait until morning because you were only concerned about how good it felt to be wrapped in his arms, listening to his heartbeat as you both drifted to sleep.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks

Tag List (TO BE ADDED AGE MUST BE IN BIO)

@lemonintrovert01 @spankmydepression @renttheannihilator @witchbybirth @missmuffinr @lialia3945 @theobsidianempress @aquasan29 @toffeebrat @aussiemeerkat @chimichangagirl @zoroisminty @spankmydepression @em-aizawa @gojosimp26

[dervampireprince]

ASMR | Castlevania - Alucard x Listener SFW Comforting Alucard After A Nightmare

[M4A] [Set soon after the finale of Castlevania Season 4 (there are no Nocturne spoilers here)] [Established romantic relationship] [Reverse nightmare comfort] [TW mentions of death, murder, very brief mention of Alucard's sexual assault that happens in season 3, death of parents and grieving]

Didn't realise season 2 of Nocturne was releasing so soon and I wasn't sure if I'd get around to watching it, saw one picture of Olrox, and whoops watched the entire season in one evening. This audio was requested before season 2 came out and was scheduled for later but I brought it forwards since hopefully there will be some want for Alucard right now. I got too inot this one and how much I need Vlad and Lisa to have told Adrian that they're still alive that while pretending to cry in this audio I actually started crying oops. It's a shame the Castlevania shows aren't more popular. I always see such a lack of fanworks compared to other shows like Arcane. I know there is more horror and violence in Castlevania than Arcane, but Castlevania and Nocturne are such wonderful shows, well-written, beautifully animated, and nice representation on top of all of that.

A non-spoilery thing that got me with season 2 is how often Mizrak was allowed to cry, not just a little welling of tears in his eyes, this big stereotypically macho masculine man was allowed to just sob over and over, in front of other men, and he was never shamed for it, never embarrassed by doing it. And that shouldn't be so groundbreaking to me in 2024, but sadly I think there still isn't enough of male characters being allowed to show intense emotions that aren't anger. I've also loved in the Castlevania shows how gay/queer relationships are normalised. Striga and Morana, Alucard being bisexual, Olrox and Mizrak... there's never any homophobia thrown at them by other characters. Mizrak might have internalise-homophobia, but his inner conflict seems to more be because Olrox is a vampire not that he's a man. And I don't care whether that's historically accurate, I personally like seeing historical and fantasy settings where they just decide homophobia/transphobia don't exist. I don't think that's erasure, I think it can be an enjoyable fantasy for queer people to enjoy a period drama where queer people can exist in the open with the understanding that this is a fantasy piece and not a historical documentary. I don't know, maybe that's just me who loves historical settings who would love to see and read stories about gay and trans characters being able to be out in the 1800s and what that would look like, what a 1700s binder could have looked like, what 1920s advertisements for shaving razors aimed at trans fems could have looked like, things like that. I don't know, maybe that's just me, I just think it's fun to think about. Sorry that this ramble ended up in an audio description.

Anyway I'm glad I got an Alucard request, I love him very much. And I love his Nocturne design. I've seen some complain about it but they frankly sound like borderline transphobia when they're complaining that he 'looks to feminine'. I think he looks beautiful, and it's definitely giving the same aesthetics as Ayami Kojima's original illustrations and concept for Castlevania where frankly most of the men she draws look more androgynous than typically 'masculine'.

.

Old public spicy audios on sound gasm (link in pinned post). 2 Exclusive spicy audios on Patreon every month. I also stream on Twitch every week @ dervampireprince . [minors + ageless blogs dni. this blog is for 18+ only.] [do not repost/reupload/edit any of my content]

[thydungeongal]

Okay, so we know that Gygax was a misogynist and fascist. I read the forum posts with the infamous "nits make lice", and yes, it's a description of in-universe attitude, but he then went on a pretty fash rant about an eye for an eye being just and pacifism being "slave morality", so I don't see reason in figuring out his specific kind of bigotry.

Arneson was also a fascist. Guy who wrote Tekumel was so as well.

Were any of founders of hobby not racists and misogynists? Tunnels and Trolls looks promising, because there is a woman who was always a player but is credited in all editions for her contributions, so I hope misogyny is not foundational of hobby, even for generic fantasy games. But also one of spells sounds as a very bad taste racist joke (mind control spell was called "yassa massa" until 5th edition included), and I remember that in his space rpg from 1976 there was an illustration that was a very bad taste caricature of Israel-Palestine conflict (spaceship with crew dressed in stereotypical Arab clothing is being chased by ship in the shape of Star of David, I don't remember what did speech bubble say).

But what about the rest? Do you know how normal were contents of early editions of RuneQuest and other games that are considered foundational? Classic Traveller looks fine, but only because it doesn't feature any topics where racism or misogyny could be obvious, so I am not sure. Was there like, a sensible amount of women early in the hobby? I know there were some from reading old ass magazines that occasionally published materials written by women. But do you know more about it?

Not gonna lie, this is just me feeling guilty and bad because of one article that takes a pretty gender essentialist outlook on everything, but thinking that I enjoy something "fundamentally male" is Not Nice, girl

First edition RuneQuest is refreshingly lacking in a lot of the casual racism and misogyny of its time, and Greg Stafford was genuinely interested in culture and mythology. It's not perfect by any means but I think RuneQuest does treat the cultures he takes influence from with a lot of respect.

Traveller is funny because first edition Traveller has a whole bit about "we default to using he/him pronouns for characters but that does not mean that they have to be men, by Jove!" which is a huge dub for the he/him lesbians.

As for whether there were a lot of women in the early days of the hobby, I don't know. But I know that Iron Crown Enterprises (creators of Rolemaster) had at least some women in their employ, some of them credited as playtesters (in addition to the charmingly eighties attribution of "and various other young dudes and dudettes).

But ultimately, screw Gygax and his gender essentialist ideas. There have been lots of women in the space since its inception and while the roots of the hobby may have been male-dominated the very fact that so many women have flocked into RPGs is all the evidence you need that this is not a hobby that necessitates a male brain whatever the fuck that means. Gygax may have managed to catch lightning in a bottle with D&D but that doesn't mean we have to give him the final word on everything RPG-related forever. Also because he said a lot of other really dumb shit besides the "RPGs are for the male brain," so like he wasn't the esoteric genius people sometimes try to paint him as.

[musicalmoritz]

Good Femslash Fics Already Exist

With the whole push for more femslash in fandoms, I’ve never understood the amount of hate I see femslash “fans” direct towards existing creations. There’s nothing wrong with wanting more variety, I do too, but every time someone brings up the fact that femslash fan fictions are already being written someone opens their mouth to say “yeah but those suck.” And then they proceed to read 300+ atrociously mischaracterized mlm fics. They complain abt plotless fluff and then read the exact same pwp scenarios over and over again

And hey, if you don’t want to read femslash that’s totally fine. You don’t have to pretend it interests you. I’m someone who actively looks for femslash and my only problem has been a lack of content in smaller/male-dominated fandoms, the fics themselves are cute af. Ya’ll are missing out on some real masterpieces by labeling all existing femslash fics as “boring,” some of my favorite fics ever are femslash. If an mlm ship invades the tags just filter it out, filter out every mlm pairing in the fandom if you have to. AO3 gives us that option for a reason

I’m not saying we don’t need more variety, but we’re not going to get that by shitting on writers who actively put in the work to make more femslash. When I started writing femslash consistently it was very discouraging because I’d seen soooooo many people online saying they want more femslash fics, yet nobody was reading mine. Then I looked at the stats on other femslash fics and they were the same, really great fics were barely getting any hits or kudos. It kinda sucks knowing that an mlm fic I wrote in 3 hours got more kudos than a wlw fic I spent months on (for pairings of relatively equal popularity). This seems to be the biggest roadblock for people wanting to write femslash, no one supports it. Even tho fandoms claim they would support it, they never do. It’s something I’ve learned to stop caring about but not every writer is gonna push through

This brings me back to a comment I saw about “boring, hair-braidy wlw fics.” That description really stood out to me, and to this day it makes me feel a little self-conscious about my old femslash fics that were “boring” and “hair-braidy.” But then I came across a fic for this one pairing that had actual hair-braiding. It was incredibly well-written and meaningful, exploring how both characters struggled to ask for help but they were able to recognize each other’s dilemmas and help in subtle ways. They did this, of course, by fixing each other’s hair when they both felt helpless to do anything with it. Such a simple way to express a very deep bond. This made me reassess the way people talk about femslash fics, and the way I’d been thinking of them myself. Is fluff really that much of a crime?? Do all cottagecore-type fics really have no substance?? Do femslash fics have to copy exactly what slash fics are doing, or are they allowed to have their own tropes??

My attitude towards the overload of plotless fluff wlw fics is “this is a good starting point.” We need more people writing femslash, more variety in what is written, but that doesn’t mean what we have is bad. I critique wlw fic tropes a lot but I always give the disclaimer that I actually love the fics themselves, I just want to see more of a different thing. And I comment on every femslash fic I read (every fic I read in general but especially femslash), I try to leave something thoughtful to let the writer know I appreciate the effort they put into their work. You’d be surprised how many writers said they were encouraged to update a fic or write more femslash because of a positive comment I left them. Engaging with fics will give you more of a good thing. It has so much more influence than that video you’re about to make talking about how there’s no good femslash fics. When you say things like that it actually discourages people from writing, and makes them feel bad about things they’ve already written. Support femslash writers guys, it’s sexy

[sansa286]

F&B Propaganda: Paternity Disputes (or Lack Thereof)

Something that's always confused me when reading Fire & Blood is why some characters have their paternity placed under scrutiny due to a lack of resemblance to one parent, while others are given a pass. These are some thoughts and analysis I had on the subject.

So, we all know F&B is a pseudo-history book written from a plethora of unreliable pseudo-sources, some of whom very well may be telling the truth, other's who are fibbing a bit (or a lot), and the rest that told flat-out lies and regurgitated gossip. Therefore, certain inconsistencies, like paternity debates, are not showing that GRRM is an inconsistent writer, but rather him pointing out the blatant favoritism and narrative spinning that happens when history is written. Simply put: unless/until we get the events of F&B written in an ASOIAF style multi-POV structure, most of the stuff in F&B is meant to be taken with a grain of salt, some grains bigger than others. For example: Visenya being "jealous" of Rhaenys over Aegon preferring her romantically is clearly out-of-character, but treated as legit because Visenya is not a well-liked person in the grand-scheme of Westerosi history and culture. Therefore, painting her as envious is a way to spin her as "bitter" and "unlikable," when she more than likely just had a lot of ambition, and/or did what she thought was right for the Targaryen cause (flawed those actions may be).

We all know Rhaenyra was the subject of side-eyes over her three eldest sons, Jacaerys Velaryon, Lucerys Velaryon, and Joffrey Velaryon, who are officially recorded as sons of Laenor Velaryon; however, it's widely believed (and canon in the show) that they are biologically the sons of Harwin Strong, who Rhaenyra had an affair with because Laenor was gay and their attempts to conceive children were not successful. The reason in-universe people believed (both in the books and the show) that they were Harwin's is due to their dark hair and eyes (Harwin has green eyes in the show, but in the books it's inferred that they're brown like the Velaryon boys'.)

However, the Velaryon boys are not the only ones who don't share the same coloring as their parents (or the parents on paper). There are actually two others that come before them in the Targaryen bloodline that share that in common, however their paternity is never called into question. They are Alysanne and her daughter, Alyssa.

Biblically accurate Alysanne Targaryen. "Her eyes were blue rather than purple, her hair a mass of honey-colored curls." - Fire & Blood (pg. 131, ch. "The Year of the Three Brides")

Alysanne is the fifthborn child and secondborn daughter of Aenys Targaryen and Alyssa Velaryon. Her older siblings were Aegon, Rhaena, Viserys, Jaehaerys (who she married), and Vaella (passed away in the crib). All of Aenys and Alyssa's children are inferred to have had stereotypically Valyrian features (silver hair and purple eyes); Rhaena is the only one we get a full description of outside of Jaehaerys and Alysanne, but if the others didn't look Valyrian, it definitely would've been noted in the book. Aenys and Alyssa are noted for both having Valyrian features (par. 3 here & F&B p. 127; Aenys weirdly enough never gets hair color mention, but if it were anything other than silver we'd know, but we'll get to Aenys in a minute). We're told explicitly Alysanne has a head full of honey colored curls and blue eyes. But this is never brought up as a point of contention or placed her paternity up for debate. It's just assumed that it's due to her maternal grandmother, Alarra Massey, being an Andal woman.

However, this assumption is never mentioned in F&B. Her features are just mentioned and that was it. The theory laid-out by fans is that her hair and eyes come from her grandmother, however, Alarra's looks are never detailed in F&B. We only know that she was considered very beautiful (p. 127); and there are plenty of people of Andal descent who do not have blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Her [Alyssa Targaryen] hair was a dirty blonde tangle with no hint of silver to evoke the dragonlords of old, and she had been born with mismatched eyes, one violet, the other a startling green." - Fire & Blood (pg. 287, ch. "The Long Reign-Jaehaerys and Alysanne: Policy, Progeny, and Pain")

Which brings me to her daughter, Alyssa Targaryen, who was also noted for having non-traditional Valyrian features (dirty blonde hair, green and purple heterochromia eyes). But Alyssa's paternity is also never brought up as possibly being anything other than what was recorded at her birth. (As for the show, Daemon's perspective on his mother is warped due to being knee-deep in the Targaryen sauce, so that's why I think his mother doesn't look like what she's supposed to in the show. If they ever do an adaptation of Jaehaerys' reign, I hope they don't throw a silver wig on her, but given what they did to Rhaenys who tf knows?) Interestingly, Alyssa is also described as long-faced, which is a trait associated with the Starks, and Alysanne was noted for being close to...Alaric Stark (I'll spare you that theory though.)

This is all fascinating with the knowledge of the dance being in the exact same book, because Rhaenyra has three dark haired and dark eyed boys and there's all of this speculation. Some may assume it's because both Rhaenyra and Laenor have silver hair and purple eyes, but so did Alysanne's parents, Aenys and Alyssa V. And like their great-great grandmother, Alysanne (if we're to believe she simply looks like her grandmother), Jace, Luke, and Joff also have a grandmother with non-Valyrian looks in Rhaenys, who in F&B had dark hair. There is no report of catching Rhaenyra and Harwin screwing around, jut observing the differences in looks of her children and Laenor. Surely, if we're to never assume that Alysanne is not a bastard because her grandmother (may have) had the same features/genes that simply skipped a generation, we could also do the same for them?

Sidebar: I am not saying that Alysanne is secretly a bastard or that the Velaryon boys' actually are trueborn, just that the reasons for this assumption are silly. If one kid is going to have their paternity scrutinized for not resembling their parents coloring-wise, then all kids who fall in that category should. That being said it is important to point out that it's not IMPOSSIBLE for Alysanne and the boys being/ not being a bastard to be true. It's been pointed out for years by the fandom that the people in ASOIAF don't understand genetics. The only reason Ned had a leg to stand on is because Cersei straight-up admitted to sleeping with Jaime, and letting him father her kids. Had Ned realistically went to Robert without Cersei's admission, and said that her children are not his because they have blonde hair and green eyes, he would be laughed at because a child resembling their mother and not their father is common. And on the off-chance that he does get some traction with it, well, not enough people would believe him, and Tywin would make a bigger example out of House Stark than he already has.

But again, secret-bastardy/secret-trueborness is not the point I'm trying to make. And if Alysanne were really a secret bastard, then, honestly, more power to her. She'd only become more iconic in my eyes.

So this begs the question: why are some people not speculated on for not resembling one or both parents coloring-wise while others aren't? It brings me back to the introduction: F&B is propaganda and certain pseudo-historical figures need to be portrayed in a certain light in order for the story they want to tell to be successful. This goes doubly-so for those that were close to Jaehaerys, and in this case: his mom (Alyssa V), his wife (Alysanne), and his daughter (Alyssa T).

Jaehaerys is considered the peak of the Targaryen dynasty and well liked by the establishment in Westeros (the Citadel, the Faith, various lords and ladies of the major houses). He is the Great Conciliator. Therefore, certain "creative liberties" being afoot is quite expected and this is not above the antics we see take place during his reign. Just look at how the true cause of Gael's death was covered up for years and the fishiness of Saera's disappearance and Viserra's death.

Alyssa V is considered a perfect mother, despite the less-than-stellar choices she made with her children outside of Jaehaerys. She's considered to be so great that the lords that sat the Small Council were able to put aside their misogyny and allow themselves to be ruled by a woman until Jaehaerys came of age. She is one of the main reasons Jaehaerys was able to take the Iron Throne in the first place. It would not go well if the man who was considered to be the greatest king of Westeros had a mother who may have cuckolded his father. Compare this to Aenys, who despite having Valyrian features had a one-off rumor about him being the secret bastard of Rhaenys the Conqueror and one of her male favorites mentioned in F&B; and this is 100% due to the fact that Aenys is considered by Westerosi historians to have been a weak and incompetent king. (Just think: if Aenys, who resembled his parents, had bastard rumors - do you seriously expect us to believe that neither Alysanne nor Alyssa ever had any?) "But, Jaehaerys is strong, brave, diplomatic, wise, etc... of course he comes from a mom who embodies Westerosi ideals to a tea. She even died trying to give her second husband more heirs despite her delicate age. Such a moral [debatable] man could only be born from a woman who was nothing but dutiful."

Alysanne is considered the perfect wife and queen consort, highly regarded for the active role she took during her husband's reign. She was intelligent, altruistic, birthed many children, and rode a dragon. She was so good at her job as queen she got several laws passed that now share her name. "Not only could such a woman not be born a bastard, but she in addition to being Jaehaerys' wife is also his sister, and could surely not be born from a woman who would ever risk bringing a bastard into this world."

And then, there's Alyssa T, the secondborn daughter and fifthborn child overall of both Alysanne and Jaehaerys, and was a wife to the highly regarded Baelon (also her brother), which means she was never going to be on the receiving end of those accusations. She even escapes having the usual witchcraft practitioner and/or lesbian/queer rumors that are usually thrown at women in Westeros who do not fit the traditional ideas of being a woman (even Visenya had those accusations). Her preferring boyish activities is never painted as a negative by the narrative unlike with other women in Westerosi culture. "Of course she's straight as an arrow and brags about how much sex she's having with her well-beloved and cherished-by-all brother-husband who was considered a peak heir and would neverrrrrr marry a bastard. Of course she thought most girls were idiots. Of course she brags about how many sons (never daughters) she's going to give her husband. Of course she does not care about anything outside of being a broodmare after being married like all good girls do. Bastard? Never. Two of her grandsons were kings we fondly remember. She is trueborn like her mother. She is Athena if she fucked."

But Jace, Luke, and Joff? Their mother was the first ever female heir apparent (not presumptive, apparent) to the Seven Kingdoms, and kept this status even after her father had three sons. She never apologized for this. And she entered a war over for her claim. "She wore a braid like that crazy warrior-witch Queen Visenya. She's breaking tradition by going ahead of her brothers in succession. She's bitchy sometimes. She's not thin like good women are supposed to be even after birthing several children. Speaking of children, yeah she did her duty and had many male heirs but some of them have dark hair and she's a whore, so they must be bastards. She's trying to take over a man's place. Of course she's evil and reveled in the deaths of her baby nephews. Of course she fucks outside of marriage. Honestly, I'd be more surprised if they weren't bastards!"

TL;DR: F&B uses paternity debates as a way to attempt to delegitimize/sow doubt against people the narrators don't like, this only prove by how inconsistent one's potentially faulty paternity is evoked on the basis of looks and nothing else. The chances of any of your trueborn faves secretly being a bastard is never zero. Now, I kind of want Alysanne to be a secret bastard.

UPDATE Sept. 5, 2024: Edited for grammar, word-flow, and minor spelling mistakes.

[taelophone]

Hold My Hand teaser

Good To Grow pt. 2! Warnings; very detailed descriptions of being lovesick. The worst fluff/pining I've ever written omfg.

*DOING!*

Huh…?

*DOING!*

What the hell was that?

*THUD!!*

You turned your head towards your bedroom window, furrowing your brows with concern.

Something had been hitting your window, and it hadn’t been letting up.

You got out of bed, quickly going over to your window and drawing the curtain. It was definitely still early in the morning; you could see the tint of melancholy blue in the sky as you peered out.

The deep blue painted the color of the warm, pale face you had grown to love over the past few years. You stared down at him, his rosy cheeks and angel blonde hair staring back up at you.

You used all your strength to open your old, creaky windows as they growled at you for the early morning noise, chastising the lack of attention you gave them.

“Oh…Hello!” You murmured, resting your hands on the windowsill as you leaned out the glassy entrance.

“Agoeie! Goedemorgen! Come outside!” He beamed, waving at you eagerly.

“What time is it..?” You questioned, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes. “It’s so early..”

“It’s like 6:30! Don’t worry, I’ll have you back before 7…PM.” He said, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

“I have to ask my mommy…” you sighed, staring down at him with an amused expression.

You sighed, stretching your arms up as much as your window would allow, shuddering with pre-morning adrenaline that dispatched from your fingertips.

“Please?” He called, standing up on his tippy toes as if that would make much of a difference from the second floor. “We’ll have fun!”

“Okay…let me go get ready.” You sighed, waving goodbye and placing your hands on top of the window ledge again, pushing it down with all your might.

“Yes!” Joost exclaimed, darting to your front door and finding purchase on the warm blades of grass as he waited for you to get ready.

You brushed your teeth as quickly as possible, pricking and scraping your gums a couple of times from the speed and aggression of your toothbrush.

You flew out of the bathroom, making quick work of sliding through your bedroom and tearing up your closet for something to wear. 

Yellow, yellow, white, pink, blue, green, white, yellow…man, how much yellow did mom buy? You sorted through the different fabrics, ignoring the array of colors until you pulled out a yellow spaghetti strap top.

There were flowers embroidered at the top, with a little bow at the top of the bust, just like a little babydoll shirt. You laid it out on your bed, now searching for some bottoms.

You turned to your jean pile, pulling out a light blue pair of cuffed shorts and a cute flower button that matched pretty well with your shirt.

You tugged on your outfit, keeping in mind how hot it was going to get later thanks to the summer sun. Thanks, weather.

Once you were all dressed and situated, you smoothed out any potential wrinkles in your top or jeans, knowing full well it wouldn’t really matter in the long run. 

You moisturized your arms and legs, knowing that dry skin was the enemy these days thanks to the great explanation from your mother. The smooth and shiny lotion added somewhat of a sheen to your skin, ensuring that it would be good to go and hydrated for the rest of the day.

Once you smelled like Jergens Cherry Almond and youth, you headed to your parent's room and barged in, not able to grasp the necessity of knocking before entering.

“Hi, mommy…” you whispered, immediately zoning in on her form which had been startled awake.

She sighed, clutching at her chest as it registered that there hadn’t been a break-in. “You scared me…hi, sweetie…” she breathed, catching the breath you had stolen seconds prior.

“Can I go and play with Joost? He’s outside.” You asked, noticing the absence of your father. “Where’s daddy?”

“He left early for work. They gave him a new schedule, so he’ll be heading out by 5…what time is it?” She surveyed, finally peaking open her eyes.

“I dunno.” You shrugged, watching as she stared at her alarm clock.

“Sweetie, it’s 6:40…you can’t wait another hour?” She sighed.

“No, he’s already outside.” You murmured.

She sighed, running her hand across her face. “Fine, have fun. But I want you back home before dinner, and this is only allowed because Joost is going with you. Don’t split up, stay together.” She mumbled, lying back down.

You nodded, immediately nodding. “Yes ma’am! Thank you, mommy!” You beamed, slamming her door shut and departing from the house within the same 10 seconds.

You flew down the last few stairs, grabbing your ivory messenger bag and sliding on your yellow jelly sandals before making your way out the front door, immediately locking eyes with Joost on your front lawn.

“Hi.” You smiled, waving at him as you closed your front door.

“Hallo!” He beamed, standing up from the spiky blades of green to pull you into a hug.

“Oh..! Okay.” You smiled, gently but hesitantly reciprocated his hug and patted his back gently.

You could finally see his face clearly, and you could see the little freckles he had begun to accumulate during the beginning of summer.

He was dressed casually, with his khaki cargo shorts and black LittleBigPlanet shirt, in addition to a new black beaded bracelet you had never seen before.

“Where are we going?” You murmured, letting him take your hand as he led you away from your front door.

“To this arcade I saw…and then we can go climb trees again.” He nodded. “Can you put these in your bag for me?” He asked, holding up 6 fat stacks of 25-cent coins rolled up in red and white paper.

“Woaaaahh..” you murmured, eyebrows shooting upwards at the number of coins he had. You opened your bag, letting him drop the stacks of coins in before snapping it shut again.

“That’s a lot of coins..” you said, walking alongside him as you began your walk to this arcade he was talking about.

“My dad gave them to me!” He smiled,  giving your soft hand a gentle squeeze.

“That was very nice of him.” You smiled, glancing up at him briefly. “I like your dad, he’s cool. He lets me eat your ice cream in the freezer.” You snickered.

“Wait what-?” Joost blurted. “He told me he was eating them!”

“He lied. It was me.” You beamed, giggling at his slight frustration.

“Man, stop it! They’re delicious and they’re mine.” He huffed.

“C’mon, friends share! I’m carrying your coins right now, they’re heavy.” You pouted, letting go of his hand.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, clutching your hand again. “You’re gonna run off!”

“I’m not! I promise…” you mumbled, still a little irritated with him.

“Fine, you can eat my ice cream.” He huffed, rolling his eyes.

You smiled, welcoming his hand within yours again. “Thanks!”

He rolled his eyes but gave you a small smile anyway. He wasn’t really mad, and he couldn’t exactly pinpoint why.

He had always been somewhat of a spoiled baby; his parents did everything for him, and he didn’t necessarily have to share with anyone considering both of his siblings were over ten years older than him.

To put it short, he wasn’t used to sharing. Yet.

But he wasn’t very mad at the idea of sharing with you. In fact, it made him feel all giddy and fluttery inside.

“Do they have prizes at the arcade…? Like candy?” You asked, looking up at the light blue sky with thin, stringy-looking clouds.

“Yeah, of course.” He nodded, though he suddenly paused. “Wait.”

You paused with him, stumbling over your steps a little before looking at him. “What?” You whispered, looking around frantically.

“We’re too early. It doesn’t open until 11.” He sighed, staring at the large, blocky-looking building covered in what would be neon lights over in the distance.

“Really, Joost! You showed up at 6 in the morning just to say we can’t go!” You huffed.

“We can still go! We just have to go later…”He sighed, turning around and setting off in the direction of the woods. “I’m sorry…but we can still go climb trees.” He reassured. “We’ll be back later.”

You sighed but gave a small shrug. Loud arcades weren’t really your scene anyway, so the change wasn’t unwelcome.

This time around, you actually knew where you were going. The wooded, quiet, little forest was somewhere you went almost every single day, hand in hand together as you helped him climb up each branch. So you knew the area and how to get there.

He wasn’t good at climbing, that’s for sure, but he seemed to love doing it anyway. With help, of course.

“You wanna start a fire when we get there? We can use stones to keep it in a circle…” He offered.

“Why would we need a fire?” You asked, tilting your head to the side in confusion. “It’s already hot!”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I thought it’d be nice for marshmallows, but we don’t have marshmallows.” He giggled.

“You’re so strange.” You tittered, following him into the green and brown paths of trees and slumping down in front of a large downy birch tree.

“I’m not strange, I just think out of the box.” He giggled, nodding subtly.

“Yes. That’s very you.” You smiled, nodding in agreement as well.

You chattereded back and forth, talking about anything and everything your small minds could think about.

Winning the lottery, the bugs on the trees, ABBA, and overall life.

“I think when I grow up I wanna take care of animals…” you murmured, tearing up a piece of leaf gently, piece by piece.

“I wanna be on Eurovision!” He beamed, not even having to think about it at all.

“I’m gonna be on Eurovision, with a lot of music, and be rich! Then I’ll get married, and have 5 dogs!” Joost assured, drawing nonsensical shapes in the dirt with a random little stick.

You nodded, slowly bringing your hands to a stop on your leaf.

“I wanna get married…and I wanna wear a big, long dress. And I’m not sure about dogs, I think I want a bunny…” you muttered, daydreaming about the absolute ball gown you’d wear if you ever got married.

“Bunnies are very cute.” He nodded, dropping his stick and bringing his knees to his chest and his arms on top of his knees.

You followed suit shortly after, deciding to wrap your arms around your legs instead.

“Who do you wanna marry?” He asked, tilting his head and letting his semi-long blonde bangs hang off to the side.

“I’m not sure…” you murmured, not having actually spent a lot of time thinking about the topic.

“If it could be anyone in the world, probably Nathaniel Motte…” you shrugged. “Or Leonardo DiCaprio.”

“Ew, Leo?” He giggled. “Who even is Nathaniel anyway?” He surveyed, fighting back giggles.

“That guy from that new song! Y’know! Shush girl, shut ya lips! Dooooo the Hellen Keller, and talk with ya hips!” You sang, giggling wildly. “It just came out like this April.”

“Oohhhhh, them. Three-oh-or-something,” he nodded. “That guy's ugly.”

“He is not! He’s tall and has long hair, and he’s very handsome to me.” You snickered, sensing the warmth on your face.

Joost side-eyed you, furrowing his brows in slight concern before standing up abruptly.

“I’m tall! See?” He stated, standing up as straight as possible and flipping his hair out of his face. “And I have long hair!” He added, placing his fists on his hips smugly.

“Would you marry meeee?” He asked, grinning at you boyishly.

You stared at him, giggling at his antics quietly before he pulled you up on your feet—, holding you in the air from under your shoulders.

You yelped quietly, dangling your ankles above ground as you held his wrists gently. “Joost!” You whisper-yelled, staring into his eyes of melancholy. “Put me down!”

“No! Not until you answer me!” He laughed defiantly, holding you up as high as his arms would allow.

He looked so much different from this angle. You had always seen him from below, but now that you were up above him, you could see his face in the pale white hue of the fleeting moonlight.

A baby angel held you up in their soft hands, helping you learn your new wings of emotion as you held that blind faith that he wouldn’t lead you astray.

That halo of platinum framed the sides of his face, lopsided and tilting just above his eyes as he struggled to keep it from blinding him 24/7. You knew that there had to be someone resting upstairs in that moment, because if divinity didn’t exist, then why was he so divine?

“I—…I dunno? Maybe?” You squeaked, giving him an upside-down grin.

“It’s yes or no, c’mon!” He chuckled, shaking you gently as he kept your head in the clouds.

“Uh…yes..?” You hesitated, nodding slowly.

“Good.” He beamed, putting you safely back down on the ground.

If you could see your mind, you’d be scouring the entirety of the woods for the mind that you seemed to have lost just a second ago.

“I’d marry you too.” He giggled, holding your hand and pretending to put a little ring on your finger…on the wrong hand.

How cute.

“I dunno, I think being married sounds fun…but it’s also scary. What if we get tired of each other?” You murmured, hand still interlocked with Joost’s as he listened to you carefully.

“Well, we’ve known each other for a while, right? Are you tired of me?” He asked, flipping his hair out of his face, AGAIN.

“No…” you whispered.

“Well then think of it that way!” He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with joy and life.

You nodded, fidgeting with his fingers as he watched you silently.

His blue eyes searched your soul absentmindedly, peering through each and every corner of your mind as he wrangled with a brand new feeling that weighed on his chest. It squeezed his lungs, piercing his heart and tying itself around his soul for good

He giggled breathily, more out of shock and realization before he spoke.

“You’re really pretty…” he blurted, going pink in the nose, as he tilted his head to the side.

You veered your head up, glancing right at him through your lashes. “Thanks…” You nodded, avoiding his eyes totally as you suddenly became…afraid..? Of his presence.

Your mind, body, and soul told you to run away; to clutch the soft ivory of your bag and flee to safety and cower under your blankets. But your heart clenched and twisted, writhing in fluttery agony as you smiled at him.

Your stomach felt like you hadn’t eaten in years; the sick threatening to spill from your pores and out into the world around you. Maybe then it’d take form and clarify your thoughts; whisper how you were a terrible friend for even feeling this feeling.

Little did you know, you would spend the rest of your life bunking with this dormant feeling of lovelorn anguish.

You leaned up, pecking the side of Joost’s cheek gently and smiling at him softly.

Joost froze, staring at your wide eyes before placing his hand on his cheek, chuckling breathlessly. He went red with adoration; it lit him on fire and burned him from outside in.

In the same way you felt sick and afraid of your own heart and mind, Joost had never been more fearful in his life. Doubt swirled together with sentiment and found themselves tangled in his hair, the knots traveling down his throat and stinging his tongue with paralysis.

He couldn’t move or speak. Not in the way he wanted to, anyway.

If he could record this moment in his mind and replay it over and over again, he’d put several blockbusters out of business.

“Uh…Dankje…” he sputtered, staring down at the ground.

“Oh—! I…I’m sorry…?” You whispered, the heat of embarrassment clouding your mind.

“Nee, Nee, it’s alright!” He assured, scrambling to think of how to let you know he wasn’t it off-put.

Without even thinking about it, he pecked his rosy lips against yours, strangling his anxiety  as a few threads tied to his stomach ripped.

Great. Now you were BOTH confused!

You stared at each other, wide-eyed and dazed. You could see the galaxies and cosmos in each other’s eyes, and for a brief moment in time, you could see the lacy white fabric of a wedding dress trailing down the blue carpet of a church walkway.

[m1ndbrand]

"all it took was..." — The new President

WARNINGS: Coriolanus Snow is it's own warning(Snow after the 10thGames, 2 years after to be precise); Mentions of death and corpse(small description, nothing big).

SUMMARY: The 12th Hunger Games winner unfortunately fortunately gets the attention of President Snow.

WORDS: 1.384

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the franchise The Hunger Games characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them. I do claim what I wrote and only that.

A/N: If you know the tragedy of Coriolanus by William Shakespeare some names will be recognizable...Also I'm sorry but this chapter won't be the continuation of their little...encounter— but I promise, it's going to happen!

TAG-LIST: @sorry-mrs-jacobs; @phoward89;

MASTERLIST

He was never someone who believed in the stars and whatever they might mean to some people.

It seemed completely idiotic and beneath someone from the level of education, you would get from the Capitol to have this belief that in his humble opinion, of course — was archaic and beneath him.

Fate and stories written on the stars were all but a way of fairy tales being made, a topic on some and even a very important one at that "merging" some characters together like the universe itself deemed them a pair, one in two.

Star-crossed lovers.

How he hated that idea, he couldn't believe he even fed it to—

Let's not dwell on that topic, he had better things to do, like arrange a new Games Maker for the 12th Hunger Games.

Doctor Volumnia Gaul is no more, some freak accident with one or more than one mutt; it wasn't clear, the body was far too mutilated to be recognised by anyone at all if not for the DNA tests and well...the place of the accident, a place only a few people were able to enter and of course Doctor Gaul was one of those people, him included in the small pool.

It was slightly weird however how the mulls were able to break free, the reporters debated it for the first days the case broke daylight, but the theory was quickly suppressed.

After all, mulls were still in being tested and we're highly volatile, their behaviour unstable and unpredictable. And of course, accidents happen.

But the world continues to go around and so shall the Capitol, he needed to find someone and fast. 

He should have looked more into it, the selection that is. But he had more important things in his place, strength the security in the several points of entry on all distractions, the training of the peacekeepers and the change of the uniform like he so petitioned for just to name a few.

The new and young president had more important things to worry about than some person who would probably be soon replaced if so needed.

The theme he chose ,he didn't even try to remember the man's name, was an advanced-looking arena; a sign of the year the Capitol got a new President. Coriolanus liked the idea. It painted his future reign as one that would lead them into the future, lead them into a better time.

It painted him as a good leader.

The reaping ceremony passed without a problem. Some students clearly didn't like something— their tribute lack of attributes to make them win or the idea of having to participate in such 'twisted games' as the rebel-like-youth liked to name his games. He honestly couldn't care less, blue-ice-like eyes looking straight at the screens with a fake polite smile when the camera twists at him, showing his all too polished self composed with a deep red suit and thick coat that made his figure even more imposing than it normally is.

He would soon return to his manor and actually work, the two hours of the opening ceremony put his work ethic behind schedule more than he liked to admit.

There was much to be done to make the Capitol and the Districts into the way he saw fit and Coriolanus shouldn't waste more time than he already has.

Not even a day later he would have the files of everyone who chose to review. For some reason the late president did this— the threat of the Rebels was still very much a problem and he was of course scared shitless by them so all 'useful' information was of course turned into two paper pages that it was his duty to read through.

Coriolanus was just about to skim through them all but the very first file caught his attention, District One female tribute.

Not the girl's image he didn't even look at it properly, he already saw every tribute face on the reaping ceremony... all looked underfed and clearly not fit for an entertaining games in terms of pure brutal strength, the mentors would need to sell them well to the Capitol. No it was her name. Her last name rang a bell.

A big warning bell was inside his head and it made his eyebrows furrow, hand picked up the two-page long file and flipped through the description of her family. Something was amiss, he could feel it in his bones. Something was wrong. 

Coriolanus could almost feel the hunger tearing at his stomach, his small sweaty hand tightly gripping his equally moist cousin's hand as they received the news of his father's death.

His other small hand gripping the files of several names of supposed rebels that could be the reason behind his father's death. Blond hair falls against his sweaty forehead as at that time he didn't understand why he had to read the names of random men.

Brutus.

His hand grips the file on his hand, veins popping up as his eyes skim through the contents of the file, once and then twice. He didn't even sit down, reading in silence for 10 minutes over and over again to look out for another word, sentence, or anything more.

Only two people are still alive from her family— grandmother and little brother, Valeria Brutus and Menenius Brutus, then they got the last name from her grandfather. His hand moves the paper right and left, trying to see if her grandfather's first name was there. But it wasn't. It probably wasn't deemed to be useful information since he is dead. Putting the papers down he turns with a sigh to his window, chin rising as he looks to see all the perfectly arranged garden of pure white roses in the front of his mansion.

No this shouldn't matter. It didn't matter, not now. He got what he wanted he won, the victor. He was still standing with or without his father.

The nostalgic feeling of feeling hungry regrows once again and it makes him nauseous, sharp eyes turning to the face of the girl on the page. She looked like every other girl he reminds himself as he starts a little too long at her face. Eighteen, one more year and she should have been safe from the reaping.

A smile creeps on his lips. Amusement dancing in his eyes like he had just read a good enough joke.

He couldn't sleep.

Coriolanus hated to be in need of something even if it was just a simple pill to go to sleep. He was better than that, he could sleep alone thank you very much.

Couldn't he just get the information he wanted? He could, he had the resources, and he had the needs to if he so pleases, so why not?

No.

No, he wouldn't lose to this...whatever this is, curiosity, need— want to know. Closure.

Maybe that was it. Know the person or people that did this to him. To his family. The people that made him starve and struggle. Envy and step on people that he knew were living better than him, growing to bring them down so he could feel himself high above them all. Know the people that in a way, made him the way he is now.

Rising he presses the inside of his palms to his eyes.

For fucks sake— Shut the fuck up! 

His mouth was open. Eyes shot open and hands grabbing tightly the silk covers, knuckles turning white. Did he shout those words? Wasn't it all in his head? His hands were shaking, face was slightly flushed red from anger.

It's one of those episodes.

Rising he curses under his breath, feet carrying him to one of the small tables with some pills on them. Deep eyes thin as he tried to look into the colours of the various drugs that looked like they were thrown there and he picked a deep purple one in the midst of the rainbow and quickly gulped it down without water.

His attention is caught by the silver-like glow of the moonlight slipping through his windows, blue tired-looking eyes looking up at the sky, they find the stars instead of the moon that sings for attention. Wishing to catch a stray star amidst the ones that stay. Maybe he could catch it as it falls.

With those thoughts, sleep would soon catch him.

Previous

[teeztruthers24]

in this moment of time, i hope we last forever

PAIRINGS: poly ateez x reader, (mainly) wooyoung x reader (poly OT8 x reader)

WARNINGS: reader has anxiety, reader is written as afab but please interpret however you'd like, classic case of new years-related anxiety (aka I don't like growing older), small hurt/major comfort

FYI: I rlly like reader-inserts and while I try not to emphasise on the physical descriptions of the reader, if there is something that can be improved on or changed, please kindly let me know!

SUMMARY:

it's christmas eve and where you would usually find yourself squirrelling with excitement at the prospect of spending such a lovely holiday with your family, this year, you found yourself strangely unenthusiastic and disinterested in the spirit of christmas joy.

luckily, your eight boyfriends (who thankfully had no christmas schedules on christmas eve) knew you like the back of their hand and were quick to ensure the night was still full of love and warmth in this cold december winter.

START:

warmth. that’s all you could feel covering your bones. cutting through the cold, misty air of the december winter was a gentle blanket of warmth that you found yourself frequently seeking from your boys. though some more than others. it couldn’t be helped; hongjoong and yeosang were freezers during the cold, you included, which meant all three of you snuggled in close to the others who ran warm like furnaces. honestly, there was no need for a fireplace (not that the boys could have one in their dorm – you were sure it went against apartment building code) when six out of your eight boyfriends basically embodied the word heat.

it was christmas eve and you and your boys had a tradition of opening presents at midnight and spending the rest of the day together; as a family. typically, once the boys had wrapped their christmas schedules for atiny, you would make reservations on christmas eve for a luxurious dinner at the same restaurant you all went to for your first date, followed by a lovely, relaxing walk along the han river, hand-in-hand with san or mingi who used to fight to claim your hand until they realised you had two of them.

however, for reasons you couldn’t yet find, when the morning of christmas eve shone through your windows, your heart failed to raise in the spirit and joy of christmas. there was a lack of excitement at the thought of spending christmas dinner at the restaurant with your boys – and the very thought of your dullness made your heart ache.

why did you feel this way? you decided to chalk your lackluster for the christmas holiday to your apprehension of the impending new year – the unknowing of it all; your future in all aspects, including with the boys – and tried to make an effort to divert your unsettled mind to your work.

despite this turbulence warring in your mind, you felt so incredibly lucky to have partners who noticed your downcast expression and were quick to act; with yeosang informing the others who were yet to either get home or were busy in their own corners of the house, yunho cancelling your dinner reservation because he knew that going out would simply add burden to your plate, and wooyoung and san who brought you into a much-needed hug.

knowing your boys knew you well enough to handle you and your self-proclaimed mess made your eyes well up with (happy) tears. sniffling, you turned your head to rest in the warmth of wooyoung’s neck and gripped san’s big arms with all the strength you could muster.

“we should get something to eat, shouldn’t we love?,” wooyoung spoke softly, and when he saw your head nod ever-so-subtly in the crook of his neck, “hmm do you know what you want, or would you like sannie to order something for everyone?” he dragged his hand up and down your back.

“hmm…I don’t want to choose please…sannie you know what I like, could we get it from the nice Japanese place downstairs?,” you muttered quietly to san, who nodded at you with so much love and adoration in his eyes, you could feel all your anxiety melting away in the moment.

“yeah of course darling,” san said, his fingers delicately tracing the outline of your face. “I’ll ask the others to text me their orders and I’ll be right back okay love?” he gave you a heart-warming smile.

nodding your head, you whispered a “be safe, love you sannie” before wooyoung moved the two of you to the bathroom to wash up as he knew you would feel better (even if just a little bit better) after a warm shower and changing into matching pyjamas’ seonghwa had bought all nine of you.

after a warm shower and feeling your mind clear away the cloudiness, wooyoung held your hand (which he had never let go ever since you stepped foot in the doorway after work) and pulled you ontop of him on the couch. covering the both of you in a warm blanket yunho gifted you for your birthday from Japan, he pressed soft kisses into your hairline, gently pressing your back towards him, almost as if he was trying to fuse your bodies together.

in return, you idly traced shapes into his warm chest and watched as his other hand reached over to grab the tv remote to turn a cheesy christmas movie that neither of you were paying full attention to, on.

with the gentle lull of wooyoung’s chest moving up and down in sync with his breathing, and the warmth of the blanket covering the two of you, you felt your eyes start to close and your mind shutting off – as it usually does when you’re with your boyfriends.

seeing you drifting off into sleep, wooyoung smiled, his heart feeling so big, and turned the volume of the tv down as to not disturb you. he slowly lifted his hands to send a picture of you into your groupchat with your boys and vaguely threaten them to come home quietly or not at all – to which they all complied for fear of the wrath of the jung wooyoung when someone disturbs his loved ones.

you didn’t know how long you had been asleep for, just that when you woke up, you could feel the presence of all your boyfriends at home; some in the living room sitting next to the fusion of your and wooyoung’s bodies on the couch, and some you could hear in the kitchen, setting up the dining table with takeout san had so graciously bought for you all.

you didn’t need to open your eyes and look at the figure kissing your head because you could recognise the plump lips of your lovely mingi and the feeling of his large calloused hands pulling you up from the couch and into the kitchen room to eat.

walking into the kitchen room, you noticed someone (seonghwa most likely) had lit all the christmas candle holders in the room, dimmed the lights for a romantic feel and set up christmas crackers on the table for everyone. you could see everyone smiling and giggling whilst setting the table and getting ready for dinner.

it made your heart feel so full seeing your family flit around each other so perfectly, and when jongho turned to you with a hand outstretched for yours to bring you to your seat, you realised that you also fit perfectly in this small family of yours. almost like it was made for you.

after a tasteful dinner that you all pressed sweet kisses into san’s cheeks (or onto his lips) for getting (to which he blushed a bright pink), you all cleaned up and decided to head to the living room for a marathon (like two movies max.) of cheesy hallmark christmas movies.

and when you snuggled close between wooyoung on your right and hongjoong on your left, and the rest of your boyfriends seated comfortably around one another, covered in warm blankets and with cups of hot chocolate (or jongho’s coffee at night for some reason), your realised the coldness of the december winter didn’t bit you as harshly as it once had before you met your boys. the gentle, homely love of the moment was something you found yourself wishing on your christmas wishlist, lasted forever. because this – this you could get used to.

[venacoeurva]

Commission of a more 🔞adult persuasion 🔞 are available again! Some very important rules before you IM me (ignore mentions of the slots being experimental, the rules were from my recent run of these testing the waters but still apply other than that) and the process:

Under the cut to save your dashes

Process:

Read the rules (below) and figure out what you would like if it's something I'll do (if shading, poses, overall scene, etc.). Also please acknowledge the price is something you can/are willing to pay.

IM me including an email you can use to discuss such content, if you're someone I recognize and am comfortable taking such a comm from you (unlikely chance I WON'T, but y'know) I'll email you. DO NOT INCLUDE THE ACTUAL COMMISSION DESCRIPTION/ANY IMAGES OF THAT NATURE HERE. Don't accidentally get yourself flagged.

I will give you a randomized codeword in the IM so I know who is who, especially if email and username don't match. Also, so I can verify it's not some rando who saw us interact/saw that you commed me before and is trying to sneak around. (in my and others' experiences, people do weird, cringeworthy desperate things to get these types of commissions, man...)

When I email you, respond with the following info: -The codeword and who you are on Tumblr -Paypal email to invoice - What you would like drawn as well as parameters (if cropped specifically, what type? If you want shading, if a comic then how many panels or pages, etc.) -Any visual references such as for OCs/Player characters or AU versions of characters. I will not draw characters that only have a written description unless I have done a commission with that for you before and I know you do written descriptions very well and are responsive wrt changes.

We continue from there. If I accept your commission, I will then invoice you and once paid and started, send you a sketch to be approved, and finish it once that sketch is approved. Until you approve a sketch or give feedback asking for any changes necessary and then approve the modified sketch/want any more changes, it will be counted as inactive and will not be worked on further. A lack of response from the client when it's required to move forward for 3 months will result in your slot being forfeit, and if I have gotten past the sketch phase, you forfeit a refund as well; this doesn’t come into effect if I haven’t started your comm yet due to backlogs.

Some examples of the type of lineart texture and how I do the black lineart shading in my style, including an actual comm I COULD censor enough. I can also add the weathered and halftone effects, just ask for it!

[venusgirltarot]

What Would An Album About You Sound Like?

Disclaimer: This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Tarot readings are about possibilities based on your current energy. Energy is forever changing and nothing is set in stone. Always remember, you have your own free will to make whatever decision you feel is best.

Close your eyes, take a deep breath, envision the person you are thinking of and then choose the pile(s) you feel most drawn to.

Pile One

Ahhh okay this is so cute. Im going to try to explain this as best as I can, Pile 1. So this seems like a concept album. The idea of the album (not the sound but idea ya know) reminds me of “Melodrama” by Lorde. I’ll leave a quote here for a better description but it’s like a concept album about a single night

“Melodrama is described as a loose concept album that explores the theme of solitude, in the framework of a single house party with the events and moods that entail it”

The album about you is similar in the sense that it’s a “loose concept album” but it’s about the writer seeing you. It’s like you’re at this party that the songwriter is also at and they’re obsessed from the moment they lay eyes on you. You’re like this beautiful unobtainable being to them and they want to get to know you so bad but they just can’t seem to talk to you. This could also progress to a one night stand that never progresses to more because of a lack of communication to this album is going through the writer meeting you and watching you throughout the night and then goes into their regrets and what they wish they would have said to you the next day, if that makes sense.

They see you at a party and think you’re so beautiful but can’t seem to find the words to tell you that. I keep hearing “I like the way my bedsheets look on your body” from “hello!” By role model. (I believe that’s the right song but lmk if it’s wrong so I can fix it!) and I keep being reminded of this musician on TikTok “Chappell Roan” and their song “Red Wine Supernova” I think that’s similar to what this album would sound like and it also fits the aesthetic. I highly recommend you listen to this song because it fits your album so perfectly. I tried to find a lyric that resonates the best to include but they all work so well that I couldn’t choose.

Despite this entire album being about only you and just one night leading into the next morning, it’s still so diverse (I hope that makes sense) like you’d think there’s only so many songs you could write about a 12ish hour time frame and one person but this writer has endless things to say about you and the night you met them. I could see one song having a feature and it’s later in the album somewhere between tracks 7-12 or so. The aesthetic of the album is very neon lights, the dance floor on prom night after everything has died down and people are starting to go home, slow, melodramatic and just really pretty. Again, I highly recommend you check out “Red Wine Supernova” because it fits so well.

Track list:

1. Pretty

2. Blooming

3. missing you

4. Shinning Eyes

5. Dying Slow

6. Party Streamers

7. Old Fashioned (Feat. Another Artist)

8. Starlight

9. Nova’s Surprise

10. Sunset

11. morning after

12. You

Pile Two

Pile two, your album sounds like one written by Hozier, Noah Kahan or The Lumineers. It reminds me a lot of “Angela” by The Lumineers. Specifically the lyric “Angela, spent your whole life running away” and “vacancy, hotel room, lost in me, lost in you” it also reminds me of Ethel Cain in the sense that it’s a concept album about running away and starting a new life (but not as dark as ethel’s and with a much better outcome than she got. I heard “success story” it’s about leaving behind a difficult past and moving forward. There’s hope for the future in these songs, remembrance of the past and healing trauma. It’s a beautiful album with a good balance of different emotions. I could see this album coming with a short film or a series of music videos that piece together to tell a store. Similar to “III” by the Lumineers.

I keep hearing a few snippets from the deluxe version of “Stick Season” (that will be out June 9th 👀) like “Medicate meditate swear your soul to Jesus / Throw a punch fall in love give yourself a reason” or “we ain’t angry at you love, you’re the greatest thing we’ve lost” it’s such a beautiful album with so much soul and emotion.

I could see this album getting an acoustic live version that artists do sometimes like “Album, live from Wherever” you know? This album has very unique and catchy lyrics that stick with people, the type of lyrics people take and sell on things in their Etsy shop or use as a quote in their yearbook or put in their instagram bio. It almost feels like poetry. I also heard “escapism” this is the type of music that paints a picture and takes you somewhere else. This album will kind of chronologically tell a story about you moving forward and healing from trauma and finding a peaceful ending. Ending with a song like “Angelia”

Track list

1. movement

2. Adelaide’s Interlude

3. mother

4. farmhouse

5. leave me behind

6. baby blue

7. mustang

8. you’re gonna go far

9. more than this

10. peace

11. at your own pace

12. growing pains

13. at last

Pile Three

I feel like this album has a soft rock sort of sound? Like hozier with a rockier edge if that makes sense? It reminds me of the way hozier sings about love. He sings about a very deep and impactful love and his writing his like poetry and I think that’s what an album about you would sound like. I think this album could be about the writer/musician fighting feelings for you because they’re focused on career or are just concerned about the outcome of the relationship. They might have a fear of falling or something.

However, the last card I pulled was the 10 of cups so the outcome is very good. I feel like this album is coming from a reflective place like this is after yourself and your spouse have settled down and had kids or pets or whatever you would like and your partner is looking back at your relationship from the very beginning up until now and writing about it.

I keep hearing “I’m in love with an emo girl” I don’t think this is what the album will sound like but maybe that’s your aesthetic/vibe? This might just be conformation for you. I also keep hearing that Shania Twain song “you’re still the one” this is the kind of album that fans would dissect like narrow down the time you met your person and talk about every lyric and how that lyric relates to you and your relationship etc. this album talks about how devoted and in love with you your person is but also talks about the (I heard “trials and tribulations”) it took for you two to get there so it may include religious reference. Like religion by Lana Del Rey or Don’t Blame Me by Taylor Swift where there’s this slight aspect of religion/devotion to your partner.

You hear a lot about how you have to actively choose your partner everyday to make a long term relationship work and this album would definitely delve into that a little. It could also be produced by you and your partner’s mutual friends or people who have been there since the beginning or very early in in your relationship. I think this would be a longer album and there’s definitely 18+ songs on there 👀

Track list

1. October

2. Cosmic

3. Full Moon

4. Bourbon Street

5. She’s All Over Me

6. Starla

7. The Empress

8. Diamond Eyes

9. Find More of Me

10. Dreamscape

11. Escapades

12. Midnight

13. You’re All I Need

14. Mirror

15. Apartment 32

16. Deep End

17. Eternity