#i spent like a week drawing all these to try and fit it into the due date

[tastlesstoast]

My card deck is looking a little weird guys...

My graphic design teacher probably hates me, every physical project I've done so far has been Doodle World related.

[nezuscribe]

you’re glad to have a friend like arranged!gojo, it feels good to have somebody to talk to and listen to. you feel nice being able to laugh with somebody and not apologize for the awful jokes or strange things you say. but sometimes you have to stop yourself from getting attached, reminding yourself that he won’t care for you like that.

and though that’s the farthest from the truth, it’s what you’ve convinced yourself. so when your birthday comes around, you decide to celebrate the way you always have, alone.

he’s your friend, not a husband, so you don’t see any need in dragging him into this ordeal.

you bake a little cake for yourself a couple day in advance, just like you used to at your old home. you stash it away for when night rolls around and it’s just yourself, you can enjoy it the way you have for years.

when you were little you would gawk and stare at the lavish parties your father and his wife threw for your sisters, the balls and the presents growing bigger and bigger the more they grew up. you’d mimic their behaviors on your own, dressing up in the best dress you had (a hand me downs from your older sister that never fit quite right) and pretended you too were surrounded by a room of people as they watched you eat cake.

and sure, when you were younger you’d feel embarrassed eating by yourself surrounded by drawings of people you’d prop up on chairs, but it’s become tradition now (not the drawings, you realize now how depressing that must’ve looked).

so the night of your birthday you take the cake you had hidden in the back of the ice den out, bringing it to the corner of the kitchens where the cooks kept the little table for themselves and began cutting into it, cursing yourself for freezing it too long.

you serve yourself a piece, hunching over your plate as you dug in with your fork, eating in silence.

you write a little note for the cooks to enjoy the rest of it as you place it back in the den once you were done, going back to your room for the night.

the following day when you were walking around the library looking for something new you spot gojo talking to one of his advisors, his eyes focused and his tilted slightly as he gave him all of his attention.

you pause, holding back until you were sure they were done with their conversation to reveal yourself from behind one of the looming bookshelves, watching as the advisor bowed his head to you before he left.

the crease between his eyebrows relaxes, his eyes softening when you waved at him, your smile gleaming.

“i didn’t see you for breakfast,” he tells you as he walks over to where you were standing, pushing some of his hair back as you grin apologetically.

“i slept in,” you admit sheepishly, tired from last night as you play with your fingers, “i also might’ve been a little snippy with alina when she tried to wake me up.”

gojo snorts, absentmindedly pulling some books out and putting them back in as he rests his side on the wall of binded pages.

“baking?” he asks simply, knowing you well enough to know that the only reason you’d miss breakfast would be because you spent the majority of the night in the kitchens.

“how’d you know?” you tease, crossing your arms over your chest as he tsks, his fingers picking some stray leaves from your head from earlier when you were walking through the gardens.

“i help whisk the butter and sugar when you don’t feel like it. i don’t know why you keep me out of the kitchens,” he murmurs petulantly and you chuckle a little bit, rolling your eyes at his antics.

“it’s for your own sake,” you tell him, a glimmer in your eyes that he’d chase around the world the see, “and besides, i wasn’t baking. i was enjoying the fruits of my previous labor.”

gojo squints a little bit, confused. usually you eat what you make the night of, sometimes bringing a plate by his room if it’s not too late.

“when else did you bake this week without me?” he asks, trying to mask his hurt with a playful grin, trying to recall the times he heard back from one of his guards that you were down in the kitchens.

“only a few days ago, when i trying to assemble the cake.” you say with a shrug. his mouth opens in shock, a pout on his lips as he averts your gaze.

“you had cake? without me?” he almost whines it out and you shove his boot with the point of your shoe, trying to calm him down.

who would’ve thought the most fearsome warrior of the north, hell, the entire kingdom, would have such a sweet-tooth?

“it was small,” you try to reason, “and you wouldn’t have liked the flavors. it’s a recipe from the west.”

gojo groans, stepping closer to you as he gently flick your nose, watching the way you’d scrunch it up in annoyance.

“but you know i love cake,” he murmurs, “and you said you’d only bake it for birthdays…you lied to me,” his pink lips pull into a pout, one that you want to kiss off his gorgeous face, and control yourself from letting the heat get too much in your cheeks.

“well,” you quirk a brow, “if it helps, it was for a birthday.”

gojo looks up from the ground, brows furrowed once again in confusion.

“mine?” he says a little hopefully, as if it was anywhere near his birthday.

you snort, shaking your head as your finger pokes itself in your chest.

“mine…you idiot,” you mutter under your breath, wondering how somebody how his caliber could be so daft.

but he doesn’t seem to find it funny, in fact, his brows seem to meet in the middle, the pout gone form his lips as he frowns.

“what do you mean yours? your birthday isn’t for…? isn’t it in…?” he tries to think, think back to when your birthday was, only to realize he didn’t know, to realize he’d never asked you about it, always assuming it’d be something told to him.

“it’s nothing big,” you try to say quickly to cover up the awkwardness, “i usually just make myself a cake and get it over with.” you say with a chuckle but he’s not finding anything about this humorous.

great, you think bitterly to yourself, said something else and fucked it up. you wince, wishing you’d just stayed quite.

“your birthday was yesterday?” gojo asks, his voice hushed and heavy. he looks like he cares, he looks sad. you find it unnerving.

“i,” you laugh uncomfortably, fidgeting with your ring as you swallow thickly, “i think so...? i eyeball the day every year.”

truth be told you done really know what day you were born. your father never remembered the exact date seeing how the nature of his relationship with your mother was so secretive, and nobody ever found the true date out. so usually you find a date each year that you think matches with what time season you were born with and go with that.

gojo feels like his heart has slowed, watching the way you shrink into yourself the way he notices you’d i when you feel like you’ve done something wrong.

“eyeball?” he bites out and you wince at his tone, and he wishes he could take it back and start over again without the bite of a general in his words.

“look gojo it’s nothing, really,” you insist, waving him off as you try to escape, shifting around so you were closer to the doorway, “it’s just a day, it’s nothing important,” you tell him reassuringly.

but he doesn’t believe you, running a hand down his face as he pinches at the bridge of your nose.

“why do you write these things off as if they’re not important?” his voice is deep, echoing around the walls of the vast library as your hold your breath, “why don’t you-”

“because it’s not important,” you say again, your voice a little bit harsher, “it’s just a day.”

his eyes drown in blue, dark and wavering like the shoreline.

“then why bake a cake?” he snaps, not in anger but in genuine questioning, and your face falls a little.

maybe because years ago you thought it was something important. maybe because you want that little girl to feel like she matters.

he gapes, knowing he said something wrong, but can’t speak.

“i…” you open your mouth then close it again, looking away from him as you shrug, “i have to go, i - um, shoko asked for me.” you lie lamely, not caring as you bow your head down slightly to him before you briskly leave.

and maybe if you turned back you could see the way his face fell too.

but with all the maybes you’ve told yourself no to, you’ve grown accustomed to the belief that every maybe wouldn’t have a chance of becoming something.

because maybe if you had actually told him the truth when you wanted to a couple days ago, that you’d like to celebrate with him, he wouldn’t shut you down the way you’d imagined he would and maybe he would’ve said yes.

but for now you convince yourself that this man is a friend who pretends like he cares. because never once have you heard of a man caring so deeply for somebody that he’d shed a tear over the fact that you’d celebrate your birthday alone. but then again, you’ve never met a man like gojo before.

[pboogerswbb]

EARNED IT

Paige Bueckers x reader

In which reader wants a pair of shoes but instead of just buying them, Paige makes reader earn them, each orgasm bringing her $200 closer - loosely based on a request @d3arapril got and passed onto me (ty girl ily)

Warnings: SMUT (slight CNC, use of a dildo, overstim, P being a little sadistic), lowkey filthiest thing i've written so beware

Wordcount: 4.9K

A/N: SURPRISE! enjoy this little pre-game treat while I work on the prologue for So It Goes ;)

-

It had been a long day. Work had been killing you and frankly, you missed your girlfriend who had been training tirelessly in the past weeks. It was as if the only times you saw each other were when she was about to leave, coming into your bedroom and kissing you goodbye for the day, or the couple hours after she got home when you ate dinner together and went to bed. 

It was all okay, you understood the stakes, you always knew what it entailed to date the famous Paige Bueckers. That basketball was her life, that it meant a lot of lonely nights, sometimes for weeks during the season. But it was all worth it, because when she was there, you were the most spoiled, pampered girl in the world.

You could hear the shower turn off as you sat on the couch of your apartment, looking for something to spoil yourself with on your phone - you had received a bonus earlier today and thought you deserved something nice to celebrate. So naturally, almost out of habit, your finger was scrolling on the Louboutin homepage, admiring your dream shoes - the shiny leather and bright red sole of the shoe drawing you eye in. Maybe if you saved a little more, you could finally get them.

“You’d look so fine in those,” you’re interrupted by Paige, leaning over your shoulder to see what you were up to. When you turn around you find her shower fresh, wet hair still dripping and a robe tied loosely on her body. She smelled so delicious and clean you just wanted to bask in her. To throw yourself on her and have her hold you for days on end.

Paige kisses the top of your head from behind as she leans down and wraps two arms around you. Heaven is the only way to describe how that felt after days of missing her.

“Well gimme a couple months and I’ll save up,” you chuckle, tilting your head back to look at her. She smiles but scoffs a little at your words.

“I gotchu,” she laughs and yanks the phone out of your hands much too quickly for your reflexes.

“No!!” you yelp, jumping off the couch in a white top and underwear, following her around your apartment, feeble attempts to try and steal back the phone as she dodges you with ease, a smug grin on her face.

“‘S not even that much, relax,” Paige pushes your hands away gently, plopping herself down on the armchair in your living room that the blonde had reclaimed as “hers”. 

“Got that NIL money, can buy my girl whatever she wants,” she brags, leaning back in the robe that’s not doing much to cover her legs up. The sliver of white boxers on her muscular thighs electrify you, and the confident expression on her face doesn’t help when you feel the familiar ache fluttering between your thighs.

“It’s 800 dollars Paige,” you point out, sitting yourself on the blonde’s thigh, like you had so many times before. It was something about this chair that made her want to have you on her constantly. Perhaps it was the way you two fit in it just right, the way you felt small in her arms. Nevertheless, you had spent hours in this chair scrolling Tiktok, sharing a tub of ice cream, reading books or just talking after a long day.

Paige holds you bridal style, your bare legs sprawled across her lap. Her fingertips draw patterns up and down on your thighs, sending goosebumps everywhere. You loved these moments, they almost made up the fact that she was gone most days.

“That’s nothing baby, don’ worry,” Paige murmurs, already putting her card details in. 

“I’m serious P!” you groan, grabbing your phone finally from the blonde’s hands. Truth be told, you felt a little bad. Paige was always showering you with gifts, trips on your birthday, hell she had even convinced she should pay for your groceries since she was over all the time and ate most of them. She paid for every date, for gas, drove you around whenever she could. She spoiled the hell out of you and you let her. You knew she loved to do it. But still, something about it made you feel bad. To have your girl do so much for you without giving anything in return.

“I wanna earn it! I just got a bonus and if I save up some more I can get them,” you explain, the bewildered look on Paige’s face finally softening. A small grin tugs at the corner of her mouth as her blue eyes roam over your face, flickering to your lips. Her fingertips sneak further up your leg as her tongue licks over her pink bottom lip. All that was enough for you to know Paige had something dirty on her mind.

“Oh yeah? You wanna earn it?” she asks menacingly. With a confused look you nod, not quite sure what she meant.

Instead of explaining, she’s pulling you in by the back of your head, kissing you feverishly. The tension grows quickly, each kiss more passionate than the last. She wants you bad. Your hands entangle in her wet hair as you wrap your arms around the blonde. The fresh scent of shampoo, mango and guava, fills your nostrils. Paige moves her hand to your inner thighs, squeezing and caressing the soft skin, making a wet spot grow on your underwear embarrassingly quickly. 

She pulls her lips away with a struggle, attempting to catch her breath. You wince, already missing her mouth. 

“You wanna play a lil game with me baby?” She asks, hooded eyes blinking quickly as she refocuses on your face.

“What game?” Your voice is shaky from how much the ache between your legs had grown.

Paige sits up a little, clearing her throat. “Well, you said you wanna earn it,” she starts, walking her fingers up your thigh slowly. “and I really wanna touch you baby,” she adds. “How about each time you cum for me you get 200 dollars?”

The blush that sets on your cheeks is immediate, making your face red and hot. At first you want to shake your head, immediately turn it down. It felt so wrong. But then Paige’s fingertips inch closer to your core, and you can’t help but consider. She really wants to get you off after all. And if there was one thing about Paige, once she started she didn’t know how to stop.

The blue eyes roam your face, looking for a reaction. With a huff, Paige leans in and kisses on your earlobe. “Been away so much lately, need my girl,” she hums into your ear, chills taking over your body. That’s enough to do it.

“Okay,” you whimper, Paige grinning against your skin.

“Yeah? You not gon’ tap out?” She says with that arrogant lilt in her voice as your gazes meet.

“No.” 

Your tone is much more confident than you are.

“Bet.”

With that Paige’s fingertips press into your clothed core, dragging along your clit as you moan, your head already lulling back.

“You already this wet?” The blonde chuckles irritatingly, but you’re too desperate for her to do anything about it.

“Been missing you,” you whimper as her fingers rub in a circle, her lips returning to your ear as they suck on your earlobe, pulling on it with her teeth.

“Fuck I know baby, haven’t been giving you enough attention huh?” She coos, hot breath on your neck. You nod, agreeing with her, growing wetter, needier for something she wasn’t giving you yet. “Lemme make it up for you,” she whispers, nuzzling her nose against your neck. “Stand up.”

You do as she says as if in some sort of trance, willing to bend every which way for her. Paige looks up at you, spreading her legs further and reaching for your panties. With a swift movement she pulls them down, leaving you only in the tight white tank top in front of her. 

She pats her thigh, flexing the muscle there, inviting you to sit. It’s so tempting you don’t hesitate even for a moment when you straddle it. A gasp leaves your mouth when your wet cunt meets her soft, warm skin. She hisses, feeling your slick on her, licking her lips.

“Oh shit,” you whimper, Paige’s hands moving to your ass, kneading hungrily. You could already feel a fire in your abdomen, making you lightheaded. 

“C’mon,” the blonde urges you to move, her hands beginning to grind your hips back and forth. The way her thigh drags along your clit is making you see stars. Paige’s eyes are locked on the way you’re grinding on her, her cheeks turning red as she lets out loud exhales and hisses at the way your pussy feels on her skin. 

Grabbing onto her shoulders, you fasten the pace, needy for more. 

“That feels so- oh fuck baby,” you moan, feeling Paige flex her thigh underneath you, providing just the correct angle and pressure for you. Your legs are already shaking as her hands guide you, hips moving back and forth.

“Shit,” Paige whimpers as if she’s the one getting off. Leaning forward she begins to kiss your neck, sucking enough to leave a mark and a sting but it only spurs you on. Grabbing the hem of your top, she lifts it just enough to reveal your tits, eyes locked on the way they move with your body as you grind faster.

“Look so fucking good,” she murmurs almost to herself, one hand kneading your ass, the other your breast. “C’mon, you gonna get off on my thigh?” 

You nod desperately, hair falling all over your face as the coil inside you tightens, the pressure on your clit bordering on overwhelming. Your movements were turning sloppy as your orgasm approached you, desperately grinding your hips. To help you Paige’s hands return to your ass, assisting with the movements. 

“Fuck Paige, fuck,” you gasp, the burn in your core so intense it made your eyes roll back. A loud smack is followed with a sharp pain as Paige slaps your ass harshly, spurring you on.

“C’mon baby,” she groans, leaning forward to kiss your chest feverishly. As her warm tongue begins to circle your nipple, you can feel yourself starting to spill over. Hands gripping onto her shoulders, she flexes her muscles one more time, your clit rubbing desperately on her thigh as you come. 

“Oh-” you’re gasping, face scrunched up in pleasure as Paige’s hands guide your hips, soft lips sucking on your nipple to make the pleasure even more intense. Waves of pleasure wash over you as your cunt clenches around nothing, slick spilling out of you.

“That never gets old,” Paige moans as you try to catch your breath, your movements coming to a halt as the blonde keeps kissing along your neck and jaw. Your body already feels tired, worn out. But the night was just beginning.

“That’s 200 bucks for you ma,” she grins, finding your lips in a needy kiss. “You should know tho, you riding my thigh is worth a lot more,” Paige murmurs against your mouth. “Fuck, would pay millions to see that shit.”

Her words make you whimper into her mouth, giving her the opportunity to slide her tongue inside, meeting yours in a wet, sloppy kiss. Grabbing your thighs, Paige stands up from the chair and lifts you with ease, her robe falling open as she walks you to the couch. Placing you on the soft cushions, she watches you with hooded eyes.

“Wait here,” she murmurs before disappearing into your bedroom. When she returns, her robe is hanging off her shoulders loosely, chests and abs completely exposed. In her large hands she’s holding a purple, 7 inch dildo. A gift from the blonde but left unused because of how busy she had been.

You could still feel your core throbbing from your last orgasm, but the heat was quick to grow again when you see Paige holding it with a grin. As you lie on your back, waiting for her to touch you, Paige walks to the opposite end of the couch, leaning back and spreading her legs. 

“C’mere,” she says hoarsely, her fingers curling to invite you closer. Excited, you crawl to her. Paige’s impatient hands grab you and pull you onto her lap until you’re straddling her.

“You wanna put on a show for me?” She asks. Her head is tilted back as she watches you, the blue of her eyes completely blown out.

“Yes,” you whimper and gasp when her hand smacks your ass again, sharp pain following but making your pussy more soaked if possible.

“Such a slut huh?” She asks, making you only needier. Paige looks down between her thighs, holding the toy there in her hand, the plastic pressing against your stomach.

“Ride this shit,” she says, and you can tell it’s not a suggestion with the way she’s looking at you, her jaw suddenly sharper, eyes even darker. Your legs still feel shaky, but the urge to be filled up by her is so overwhelming you can’t help but lift your hips.

The tip of the toy presses against your folds, the blonde sliding it to your entrance teasingly. Your slick is already dripping down its length as you lower yourself on the tip, Paige’s hand on your hip guiding you.

A loud gasp escapes your mouth as Paige pulls you down on the length, making you take all of it. The stretch is too much, overwhelming you quickly, making your eyes roll back. However, Paige’s grounding hand grabs your jaw firmly, bringing your eyes to hers.

“Earn it ma,” she commands, leaning back and holding the toy steady with both hands. You knew exactly what she wanted.

With slow movements you begin to move up and down on the toy, letting it fill you up all the way. It feels so good it’s almost painful, and you can’t help but moan loud when it hits somewhere deep inside you you didn’t even know existed.

“Oh god,” you moan, eyes shutting in ecstasy. Paige is leaning back, watching you with hooded eyes and mouth slightly parted, moaning with you like she’s the one getting fucked.

“You’re so hot,” she groans, licking her lips. “Play with those tits for me.”

Without thinking your hands grab onto your chest, kneading as you pick up the pace, now bouncing on the toy that Paige is holding. The blonde can’t take it anymore, hand snaking around you to grab your ass hard. 

“Paige-” you gasp as she smacks your ass again, hard enough to leave marks to remind you of tonight for the days to come.

“That’s it ma, love it when you ride my shit,” she whimpers, her voice hoarse and deep. Watching you is getting Paige so wet she thinks she might come untouched, watching you bounce on the toy - what might as well be her cock. 

She can’t help it anymore, purely the way you look is getting her close enough to come. Her veiny hand moves off your ass, dragging down her stomach into her boxers where she’s met with her soaked cunt already throbbing. 

“Ah shit,” she moans as her fingers slip inside her, filling her up while you ride the toy for her. 

“C’mon, faster,” Paige commands. Whimpering and writhing, you maneuver from your knees to your feet, squatting on the toy now. Gripping Paige’s muscular shoulders for dear life, you begin to bounce on the toy, your tits in the blonde’s face.

“Such a good girl for me, shit,” she moans, her fingers pumping in and out of herself. She’s struggling not to come before you, her head lulling back and eyes nearly shutting. 

“Oh fuck,” you cry out, the burn in your thighs becoming overwhelming as you ride her, your pussy clenching around the length inside you. Leaning backwards to give Paige an even better view, you reach back to hold her thighs for support, making sure she sees all the inches disappearing inside you, stretching you out.

“Fuck baby you making a mess on my cock huh?” Paige whimpers, trying to sound together but there’s a whine in her voice that’s telling you she’s trying not to roll off the edge.

“Feels so good,” you gasp, the new angle letting the tip of the toy hit the spongy part inside you, making fire spread all over your abdomen. You’re dripping around the toy now, probably all over the couch, but neither of you seem to care.

“You like how my cock feels inside you?” Paige asks, voice breathy.

Nodding desperately, you allow your head to lull back, the squelching sounds coming out of both of you echoing around the living room. “Love riding your cock baby.”

“Aw sh- please tell me you’re close ma,” Paige cries out, her cunt throbbing around her fingers as she watches you.

“N-need to cum,” you mewl, tears filling your eyes.

“Shit- that’s right baby, earn it for me,” Paige rambles, her voice getting whinier as your pussy squeezes the toy tight, your movements on it turning rampant as you chase your high.

“Such a good girl for me, gonna make me cum,” the blonde continues, forcing her eyes to stay open as she spills over the edge so she can watch you come on her cock. All of a sudden intense pleasure takes over you, and your moans turn high pitched and desperate as you release all over the toy, the stretch making your legs shake.

“Aw fuck you look so fucking good, yeah ride that shit,” Paige moans loud as she comes with you. Plenty of high pitched cusses spill from her pink lips but you barely hear her, too focused on the ecstasy running through you. Once the feeling passes you crash onto the blonde underneath you, whole body shaking from the strain.

“That’s it baby,” Paige praises, sliding her fingers out of her cunt and carefully bringing them to your lips. They’re glistening in the light, covered in her slick. Eyes still closed and head resting on the blonde’s chest, you part your lips and swirl your tongue around them, tasting her. You wrap your lips around her fingers and suck on them as Paige pulls the toy out of you, leaving an uncomfortable emptiness behind.

“No more,” you whisper once the blonde’s fingers return to her side. She chuckles, brushing the hairs sticking to your sweaty forehead. 

“C’mon now that’s only 400 bucks,” she laughs but you shake your head. 

“It’s ok, I can save the rest,” you complain, your body sore and tired and way too sensitive to be touched.

“Well I’m not done with you yet ma,” Paige whispers. “So you might as well earn a lil sum.”

With that Paige is pushing you to your back, the robe finally falling off her body leaving her exposed, nipples hard and goosebumps covering her milky skin. Her hands grip your thighs spreading them wide and without warning, she leans down and begins to slowly drag her tongue along your cunt, taking her time.

You’re already squirming, two hands on her head ready to push her off. The two orgasms had left you sensitive and worn out. You’re not sure if you could do more. But Paige seemed to have decided for you.

She grabs your wrists, pulling them to your side against the couch. “Keep ‘em there,” she orders as she begins to lick against your puffy, swollen clit, humming contently as your body begins squirms. 

“‘S too much,” you cry out but she shakes her head, moaning into your pussy. 

“No it’s not, you can take it,” she assures, arms wrapping around your thighs to pull you closer, to hold you down. She’s lapping you up now, desperately trying to taste every inch of you. Her warm tongue swirls in your folds, moaning at your taste. If there was something Paige Bueckers loves it’s eating pussy. “Doin’ so good for me,” she praises.

The sensation is enough to make your legs tremble desperately, your third orgasm quickly building up. Every muscle in your body ached, and all touches and flicks on your clit felt heightened, making your eyes well up. You were a mess, back arching, hands grabbing the couch, the soft pillows thrown all over the floor now. Every part of you was writhing except your hips that Paige was holding down and still for her sake. She was eating you like she had never tasted you before, as if she had been starving for you.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck-�� you mewl, grabbing onto her blonde locks still wet from the shower. As you yank Paige moans, watching you from underneath her long dark eyelashes. She’s watching for every reaction, blue eyes filled with lust and locked onto every movement, every expression. She can’t look away.

Paige lays her tongue flat against your puffy clit and shakes her head from one side to the other, your cunt beginning to throb immediately. 

“Just like that, shit baby,” you moan, pulling onto the blonde hair. Paige pulls back, buried so deep in your folds she’s gasping for air as she comes up. Her gaze moves from your face to your pussy, a mixture of her spit and your slick dripping out of you onto the couch.

“Aw fuck I can see this pussy throbbing,” Paige gasps and immediately dives back in, the strain in her jaw quickly forgotten by the sight of you. Suddenly she spits onto your folds and urgently leans back in to lap it all up. It was so hot, so dirty that the sight was enough for your muscles to begin to twitch a third time around this evening.

“Oh fuck, Paige-”

“Right there?” She asks, staring up at you from between your thighs, her fingertips digging into the skin of your hips. Her tongue lies flat against your swollen clit, circling against it making all the muscles in your body tremble desperately.

“Yes, yes yes yes yes!” You gasp, real tears spilling from your eyes. You’re teetering right on the edge, only needing permission now from the blonde between your thighs.

“Fuuuuckk ma, cum on my face, please,” she moans, fastening her movements and gripping you harder, her eyes rolling back when you yank on her hair hard. “Please,” Paige cries out, clearly desperate, needing to make you come.

“I’m coming, oh fuck-” you cry out, your whole back arching upwards but Paige’s hand presses you down as her tongue keeps working you, drinking up all of it as you crash over the edge. The sounds coming out of you are muffled from how hard the climax hits you, seeing stars as Paige keeps lapping you up.

“Okay okay okay stop,” you whine pulling her hair, the sensation becoming too much too quickly as you come down. But Paige only grabs your wrists tightly in one of her large hands, pinning them together and holding them against your stomach.

“I’m not fucking done,” Paige says directly into your pussy, not slowing down for a second. You try everything, squirming, pulling your hands free, but it was useless. She was way too strong, and clearly wanted you way too much to give in to your whining.

“Paige please,” you cry, eyes welling up again as the tip of her tongue moves back and forth at an accelerating speed.

“You’re not done till I say so,” Paige commands and from the tone of her voice you know - there’s no fighting if she had decided to have you.

“‘S too much.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Suddenly Paige has you flipped over, pressed against the soft armrest of the couch. Her strong hand quickly wraps around your hair and yanks on it, pulling your back flush against her exposed front.

“You want those shoes huh?” She asks with her lips pressed against your ear, a slight sadistic tone in your voice.

“Yes,” you answer weakly.

“Gotta earn it,” Paige says, kissing your neck before pushing you down by your hair till you’re bent over the armrest, ass high up in the air. Paige’s hands grip onto your ass and spread you wide open before you feel her tongue lick against your folds once, twice, until she dives and begins to lap you up even more hungry than before. 

“Oh fuck!” You gasp, completely forgetting about the thin walls and the poor neighbours next door. Nothing in this moment mattered except you, Paige and her plump lips sucking on your clit, still holding you wide open for her.

“Fucking love this pussy,” Paige groans, lips and mouth working hard, getting covered in a mixture of your mess and her spit. It’s simultaneously too much and so fucking hot, the way she’s eating you from behind, the way her nose is pressing against your entrance, rubbing against it teasingly.

Suddenly your pussy is throbbing around nothing, and it’s like the blonde can tell because next thing you know you feel a sudden stretch inside you. The toy from earlier suddenly pounds into you, making you gasp.

“Ohhhhhh shit P-” you can’t even form full sentences, the sudden sensation and the speed which Paige is fucking the dildo in and out of you with making you let out a cry louder than before.

“Ohh fuck ma, perfect pussy I swear,” Paige groans, pulling herself back to fuck the toy into you with more force, watching the way you’re getting stretched out. 

“‘S too big,” you cry, reaching back to push the blonde’s hands away. She grabs your wrists, holding both in one hand with ease and pinning them against your back.

“Don’t push me away,” she asserts, somehow finding a new angle as you crash flat against the armrest, making you take it even deeper. You could swear she’s in your guts now, and the loud squelching sounds your soaked cunt is making is only making your mind spin more.

Your whole body’s shaking as your front presses against the soft cushions of the couch, Paige pinning you down by your wrists as she keeps fucking into you. Your juices are everywhere, on the couch, on Paige’s face and hands, gushing out of you around the toy. 

“You gonna cum on this cock?” Paige asks, her voice hoarse with arousal. 

“Mmph-” you moan, face buried into the armrest. The blonde lets go of your wrists and smacks your ass, gripping it tight to fuck the toy even deeper, impossibly so.

“Answer me baby,” she groans, increasing her speed, the tip hitting the right spot each time to make you clench and throb so hard you could barely think.

“Yes yes yes ‘m gonna come fuck,” you cry, grabbing the cushions of the couch desperately.

“Yeah, you gonna cum for me just to get some shoes?” Paige sadistically says, kneading your ass. The wet sounds are becoming louder, your mess dripping everywhere.

“Yes Paige, please please please!” 

“Perfect girl, perfect fucking pussy huh? Letting me fuck your shit up just like this?” 

“Yes, please P-”

“Cum for me.”

She’s killing your shit, toy pounding into your guts. The stretch is so intense your eyes roll back involuntarily, and a loud whimper leaves your body as your pussy clenches around the toy, finally releasing and letting your climax wash over.

Paige is talking you through it, you’re pretty sure. But you can’t hear over your own moans, over the sounds coming from your body, over the way you felt like you might black out. Every muscle in your body is on fire, fingers gripping anything they could find. Next thing you’re being carried into your bedroom, Paige laying you down gently on your back and climbing next to you.

Finally your eyes flutter open as the blonde pulls you into her chest.

“What happened?” you murmur, and Paige chuckles.

“Just made you cum a lil too hard I think,” she laughs and kisses your forehead. Her hands are playing with the ends of your hair, stroking your arms and back, grounding you.

“Did so good for me,” the blonde coos, kissing your lips softly. You could still taste yourself on her. “You okay?”

You nod. All your muscles ache and the strain had made you exhausted, but that definitely made up for all the time Paige had spent away from you in the past weeks.

“That was hot,” you admit, which makes the blonde let out a loving giggle.

“Not you saying that, hottest thing we ever did I swear,” Paige praises, pressing kisses on top of your head again. “Let me go run you a bath baby.”

But as she moves you wrap your arms tighter around her waist, pulling her closer with all the strength you had left. 

“A little longer,” you whisper against her sticky skin. Paige couldn’t dream of leaving you alone, not like this, not when you sound like that - all of it makes her bend to your every whim, she couldn’t help it.

“Okay, a little longer,” she repeats. 

“And you’re ordering those shoes now,” you command, a slight shake to your voice from the prior activities.

“Deal.”

-

taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @bueckersfive @sierrale8ne @lovegalor333 @xxloveralways14 @vamptizm @jadasogay @paigesbabygirl

[libraford]

Park Cleanup Pet Peeves

I'll be starting my seasonal gig at Parks and Rec in a couple months and I've got a couple things I wanna say. I know that this will probably not reach the people who need to hear it, but if ONE LESS person leaves the parks a mess, I will be That Much Happier.

-You're not supposed to smoke, drink, or have sex in public parks but I know that people will anyway. But if you are going to do those things, please dispose of the evidence in the trash cans. A human has to pick these things up.

-Dog poop goes in a bag. Bag goes in the trash can.

-The little wax paper liners in the women's room? See you're supposed to put your pad/tampon in that wax paper bag, take the bag out of the bin, and then dispose of it in the actual trash can. Don't feel bad, no one told me either. Also no one told the dudes I work with. But this reduces direct exposure to bodily fluids, especially as the summer gets on and it gets hot in those bathrooms.

-On that subject! The little bins that they go in next to the toilet? Don't stick trash in there. Don't put diapers in there. Also don't put beer cans crushed in such a specific way that I slice my hand on them as I try to jimmy it out of there. Literally, that bin is too small for most things. They are meant specifically for those brown bags. Please for the love of god, throw things in the trash can.

-As for the urinals, please no solids. Most commonly gum and chewed tobacco, but you can use your imagination.

-If you're doing a photo shoot or an event with confetti, please use a paper confetti instead of a plastic one- its easier to get rid of.

-If you're doing a pizza party, we'd rather you stack the pizza boxes in a pile next to the trash can instead of trying to fit them in the trash. Because then we can just throw the trash bag over the top and tie it instead of trying to fish it out. This kind of goes for any big trash- if it won't fit in the trash can easily, don't try.

-Please don't call cops on people sleeping in the parks if they're not bothering anyone. Even if they've been sleeping there all day. Dude's just trying to chill.

-Destruction of the toilets will result in the indefinite locking of the restrooms. You ruined them and now everyone at the softball tournament can blame you for it.

-Parks people are not the police. We are maintenance workers who are not trained to handle most emergencies and the most we can do in any situation is report to the proper department. Please don't look to us for answers if someone is starting a fight.

-Also please don't spit on us for driving on the path. We're permitted to. Its essential for us to drive on the path to do our job.

-please don't abandon animals at the park. Rehome them properly. I spent a whole week trying to catch a rooster last summer.

-look, I get it- 'oh no, your pretty building has writing on it!' Grafitti is so edgy. We get it. But it means Jacob has to sand it off now so that the kids at the birthday party don't see a giant drawing of a weiner. Acts of rebellion that create more work for the working class are not revolutionary.

-please do not set fire to the Tiny Free Library. Why did you do that? That's mean.

-please do not feed bread to ducks and geese. Corn, birdseed, lettuce- those are better for them. If you want to reduce tge amount of goose poop in the parks, shop feeding them bread.

-also do not anger tge geese. They remember what its like to be dinosaurs.

I'll have more later, probably, once the season wears on.

[i-get-obsessed-fast]

Lacy

Well, aren’t you the greatest thing to ever exist.

Summary: You see your ex and his new girlfriend out at the bar and can’t help but feel a bit insecure, but no worries because Spencer Reid is there to remind you of your worth.

A/N: tbh I lost the plot halfway into writing this and got SO into the tension lol hope you enjoy still <3 xoxo

BYR(b4 you Reid): Alcohol, TENSION, kissing (ofc), feeling unworthy, and mention of case

The bar is buzzing, low lights, the hum of conversation, and the occasional clink of glasses.

The team had practically dragged you here, insisting that a night out was long overdue. After weeks of exhausting cases, the idea of cold drinks and hanging out with your favorite people outside of work hours didn’t seem too bad now that you were here.

You smiled as Penelope cheered. “To surviving the monsters of the world!” She raised her pink cocktail up high, all of you following her lead.

But the warmth from that moment is gone now.

You see them before they see you.

It’s like the universe had something out for you, your ex, standing just across the room, illuminated by the neon glow of the bar sign.

And not to far from him is his girlfriend, Madison. God she was perfect, her blonde hair, her long legs, the way she carried herself.

Her laugh rings out like wind chimes, angelic.

You were over your ex. But when you see who he ended up with, a flicker of insecurity crept in. She was nothing like you. Effortlessly feminine, with a kind of beauty that turned heads without even trying.

You’d met her a couple times before, back when she was just someone in his orbit. Even then you couldn’t help but be drawn to her. There was something captivating about the way she carried herself, like she belonged in the spotlight without even asking for it. And now, standing next to your ex, she seemed even more perfect. The thought lingered, no matter how much you wished it wouldn’t.

Your stomach tightens, watching the way they fit so perfectly together.

“You okay?” Spencer’s voice is gentle. He’s sitting beside you, long fingers wrapped around a half-empty glass of something dark.

The concern in his eyes is immediate, his brows pulling together the way they always do when something unsettles him.

“Yeah.” You manage, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m fine.”

You’re not fine.

You turn to Spencer, and the moment your eyes meet, he knows something is wrong. His gaze flickers past you, and when he spots them, understanding dawns on him.

“Don’t worry about them.” He says softly, his voice steady.

You nod, trying to convince yourself to follow his advice. But a part of you can’t resist, one last glance. It’s a mistake. Your eyes locked with his, and the familiar ache returns, sharp, and unwelcome.

“Oh no.” You mutter under your breath, watching them start toward you.

Spencer knows all about your ex, the way he tore you down piece by piece, the amount of nights you spent in tears because of him, and how his words made you question your worth.

Spencer hated every second of it.

It baffled him how someone like you, so kind and strong could have ever been treated that way.

When the breakup finally happened, Spencer hadn’t even tried to hide his relief. He was your safe place through it all, your constant.

He’d sat with you through the worst nights, held you while you cried, whispered reassurances that you were worth so much more. There were countless evenings when he’d stay over just to make sure you weren’t alone, reading to you until your breathing slowed, running his fingers through your hair until you fell asleep.

Now, as your ex and his girlfriend draw closer, Spencer���s hand instinctively finds yours beneath the table. His fingers curl around yours, warm and steady, grounding you. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Y/n?” Your ex says

“Alex.” His name tumbled awkwardly from your lips before you could stop it.

But you’re quick to recover, straightening your shoulders as you flash them a perfectly sweet, undeniably fake smile.

“Hey.” He says, “it’s been awhile.”

You can barely breathe.

“Yeah.” You nod stiffly. “It has.”

His eyes shift over to Spencer. “Hey, Spencer! How’s it going?” He extended his hand, expecting a handshake.

Spencer barely spared it a glance, giving a curt nod instead. “Hey.” He replied, keeping his hands where they had been, making it clear he had no intention on reciprocating.

Madison smiles that perfect, enviable smile that makes you feel even smaller. She’s prettier up close.

“Hi!” She says sweetly. “Hello.” You smile in return

Spencer shifts beside you, you could see the tension in his jaw, he didn’t like this.

“So, uh you guys here together or?” Alex asks with an eyebrow raised, “No the rest of the team is probably on the dance floor.” You say

“Oh so you still work for the BAU? That job, it was the reason for most of our arguments.” He laughed

“Yup. Still there.” You nodded as you took a sip from your drink. “And you?”

“Doing well. Madison and I actually just moved in together.” He casually says, like it didn’t twist the knife even deeper.

“Oh…that’s great.”

Madison beams, completely unaware, or maybe entirely aware, of the weight her presence carries. “It’s been wonderful. He’s so helpful.” She gushes as she leans into him, her hand resting on his chest. “I’m really lucky.”

Lucky.

You want to throw up.

“You know, y/n’s been doing some incredible work. We just closed a tough case in Miami. A women was targeting men who had abused her, both physically and emotionally. It was complicated, but y/n was the one who made the connection that led us to the unsub. Without her, we wouldn’t have had stopped her in time.” He says, never breaking eye contact.

It was subtle, but you catch the protective edge in his tone. He wasn’t just making small talk, he was reminding them, reminding you, of your worth.

Madison tilts her head curious. “Wow, that’s impressive.”

“It is.” Spencer agrees, his gaze steady. “She’s one of the best profilers we have.”

The words hang between you, their weight pushing back against the ache in your chest, and for the first time since they’ve walked up, you breathe a little easier.

“Well.” Your ex clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable now. “It was nice seeing you, y/n. Spencer you as well.”

“Right.” Spencer says, you just nodded.

Madison offers one last smile before they disappear into the crowd, their laughter trailing behind them. But it doesn’t sting quite as much now.

Spencer shifts his focus on you, studying your face carefully. “You okay?”

You exhale, the knot in your chest loosening. “I think so.”

“You didn’t have to be so nice, you know.” He murmurs. “Not to them.”

The comment catches you off guard. Spencer Reid, the guy who’s kind to everyone, even the people who don’t deserve it, is telling you that you didn’t have to be polite? It’s enough to make you pause, blinking up at him.

“Yeah, I know.” You reply with a slight smile, trying to shake off the lingering tension.

“Maybe we should do another round?” Spencer suggest, your mouth falls open in disbelief. “Okay, now what did you do with Spencer Reid?”

He laughed. “The Spencer I know doesn’t suggest another round of shots.” You continue

He shrugs, clearly enjoying the reaction. “I just want to make sure you have a good night. And I meant what I said earlier, you’ve been doing incredible work. We wouldn’t be here without you.”

“Spencer, you’re too sweet.” You say, your heart fluttering.

He calls the bartender over, ordering another round. Before long, the drinks are passed around between you and your friends, and the night pulls you in further.

You lose track of how many you’ve had, not that it matters.

Laughter bubbles from your lips, and somewhere along the way, you end up with Emily and Penelope singing and dancing on a mini stage.

You guys moved together on beat, laughing at each other, and singing to each other as if no one was watching.

You guys looked crazy.

“I need a break.” You giggle, peeling yourself away. “You better come back!” Emily shouts, spinning dramatically.

You wave her off with a laugh, your chest raising and falling as you catch your breath. The moment you glance toward the bar, you spot him, Spencer lounging in a chair, nursing a drink, and watching you.

His eyes are steady, like he’s been keeping track of you the whole time.

Without thinking, you make your way over. The alcohol has softened your nerves, and before you can second guess it, you slip an arm around him, settling onto his lap.

“Are- are you alright?” Spencer stammers, his hands instinctively resting on your waist as if to steady you.

You nod, brushing a strand of his hair away from his face. “I just needed to sit down.”

“There was a seat right next to me.” He points out, though the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” You’re already preparing to stand, but his hands tighten gently, holding you in place.

“No, no. not at all.”

Your fingers trail along his jawline, tracing the sharp lines of his face. His breath hitches, but he doesn’t pull away. The warmth in his eyes makes your chest tighten.

“Thank you.” You whisper, leaning in close enough that your lips brush the shell of his ear. “You really helped me today.”

“How?” His voice cracks slightly, his face only inches from yours. You guys were playing a dangerous game.

“With Alex.”

Spencer shrugs like it was nothing. “I only said the truth.”

You nodded, and let silence fall as your fingers threaded through the hair at the back of his neck.

“Am I pretty?” You suddenly ask, he blinks. Startled. “What?”

“Be honest. Not just because you’re my friend. Am I pretty? Like Madison pretty or just pretty…”

His jaw tightens, something flashes behind his eyes, frustration, maybe. Or something deeper.

“You’re beautiful y/n.” He tells you, you sucked in your lips.

“Y/n.” He sighs. “You can’t compare yourself to her. Alex was a-a jerk, who always made you feel like you weren’t enough, but you are. And he’s gone now. You don’t have to think like that anymore.”

Your teeth catch your bottom lip as you absorb his words. “So if you think I’m beautiful, why haven’t you ever said it?”

Spencer visibly tenses. “What?”

“Why haven’t you ever told me I was beautiful?”

“I-” his voice falters, his hands still firmly on your waist. “I’m telling you now.”

“Yeah, but only because I brought it up.”

He swallows hard, you could see his Adam’s apple, and his fingers trace absentmindedly against your side. Then, in a moment of quiet resolve, he laces his hand with yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“I didn’t think you’d ever want to hear me say that.”

Your heart thuds painfully. “I think you’re pretty Spencer. I think you’re handsome. I think you’re smart and funny. And-” you smile softly “perfect.”

His breathing picks up, and for a moment, he’s speechless. He clears his throat. “So why haven’t you told me all this before?”

You grin. “Touché.”

The electricity between you is undeniable. Your fingers continue to twirl absentmindedly in his hair, and he leans into your touch like he doesn’t want it to stop.

When your hand moves to cup his face, the tension snaps. Before you could think better of it, you press your lips to his.

At first, he melts into it, his mouth moving softly against yours. But then reality crashes in. Spencer pulls back, his chest rising and falling as he stares at you.

“Y/n, you’re drunk.”

You shake your head, trying to close the distance again, but he gently grabs yours arms trying to keep you still. “I want you, Spencer.” You whisper, your thumb tracing along his lips.

His eyes flicker with something you can’t quite read. “I want you too.” He admits, his voice low. “But not like this. Not when you might regret it in the morning.”

“I won’t.”

“You might.” He says softly. “And I respect you too much to let that happen.”

Your shoulders slump as you tuck your face into the crook of his neck. The warmth of his skin, the steady rhythm of his breathing.

“I value you, y/n. You’re not just a coworker, or my friend. You’re someone I care about, and I can’t lose you over one night.”

“Okay.” You whisper, though the ache remains.

“Come on.” He murmurs, his hand slipping into yours as he helps you stand.

As you weave through the crowd, Derek raises a brow, his grin all too knowing. “Where are you two heading?”

“She’s drunk.” Spencer explains, his arm steady around your waist. “No, I’m not.” You argue.

Derek laughs. “Uh-huh. You two be safe. Let me know when you get home.”

Spencer nods, his hold on you never wavering.

“Spencer.” You mumble once you’re outside, the cool air biting at your skin. “Yeah?”

“Can I spend the night with you?”

He pauses, his eyes searching yours. He wasn’t going to let you go home all by yourself anyway.

“Yeah.” He says softly. “Of course.”

You grin. “Yay.”

“And you’re going to read me a book, right?” You ask, he nodded. “If that’s what you want, is there any more requests?”

“Play with my hair.” You say. “All right, but I doubt you’re going to stay awake.”

“I will.” You insist, thought the sleepiness was already creeping in.

By the time you reach Spencer’s apartment, you were beyond exhausted. He guided you inside with careful hands, the warmth of his touch lingering. You barely noticed as he knelt to slip your shoes off, the tenderness of the gesture making your chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with alcohol.

“Come on.” He murmured, leading you to his room.

He disappeared into his closet for a moment, rummaging around, and returned with one of his worn t-shirts, and a pair of pajama pants.

“Here.” He offered them to you.

“Thanks.” You smiled, your fingers brushing against his as you took the clothes. Without a second thought, you pulled your shirt over your head.

Spencer spun around so fast, it was almost comical. “O-okay. Just- uh, let me know if you need anything.” His voice cracked slightly, his ears burning red.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Spence, you’ve seen worse things at crime scenes. Is my body really that bad?” You tease. “No, it’s not your body. It’s just, it was unexpected.” He says as he rubs the back of his neck and makes his way out of the room shutting the door behind him.

Once you were changed, you settled beneath his blankets. His scent surrounded you, clean and familiar, like old books and a hint of coffee. It was intoxicating.

A light knock came at the door. “You okay?”

“Yup.”

He stepped inside, his gaze immediately softening when he seen you wrapped up in his blankets. In his hands was a mug of tea and a small plate of crackers. “Here. The tea should help in the morning. And the crackers just so you don’t sleep on an empty stomach.”

Your chest swelled at the gesture. “Spencer.” you whispered, taking the cup from him. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” he lingered, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. “I was going to crash on the couch.”

Your brows furrowed. “But you never sleep on the couch when I stay over.”

“I just thought you might want some space.”

“I don't want space.” you said, your voice low, almost pleading. “I want you here.”

“Okay, I'll be right back.”

You watched as he disappeared into his closet, and when he returned, he'd changed into a loose t-shirt and sweatpants. The sight of him so relaxed, sent a flutter through your chest.

He crossed the room, sliding under the blankets on the other side of the bed. You felt the warmth of him, the shift of the mattress beneath his weight.

You finished up your tea, and crackers eager to lay down already.

“Can we cuddle?” You ask, his lips quirked, but his voice was tender. “Yeah.”

Without hesitation, you scooted closer, nestling into his side. His arms instinctively wrap around you, his fingers brushing lightly against your back. You swore you could feel his heart pounding, the rhythm quick and steady.

His hand found its way to your hair, his fingers trailing through it with practiced ease. The sensation lulled you almost immediately, every stroke unraveling the tension you hadn’t even realized you were holding.

“Y/n.” He whispered after a while, his lips close enough to brush against your forehead.

“Hmm?” You were barely awake now, the warmth of him anchoring you.

“I was supposed to read to you.” He murmured, a smile in his voice.

But you don’t respond. Your breathes had evened out, soft and rhythmic against his chest. He gazed down at you, the corners of his mouth lifting in quiet affection.

“Goodnight.” He whispered, brushing a gentle kiss onto your head. And with that, Spencer allowed himself to drift off…

Aww are they friends ?

WORSE.

Hope you guys enjoyed reading this!! Thank you all to everyone who comments and repost! Greatly appreciated!

Check out my other writings here<3

~ Tag list ~

@alastorssimp @sleepysongbirdsings @khxna

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Dead of Night - Spencer Reid

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Spencer stumbles upon a secret dark fantasy of reader’s and does everything he can to be the one to fulfill it.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: This is the first time I’ve ever written anything with themes like this so feedback is definitely appreciated. Not proofread cuz this is long and I’m tired ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I fully understand if the themes included in this are not for some of my regular readers and I encourage you to scroll if you’re not comfortable with any of the following warnings.

TW: perv!spencer, dom!spencer, mask kink, knife play, blood, dubcon, kind of cnc but it’s emphasized repeatedly that reader initiates and is in control of what is taking place, unprotected sex, penetration, creampie, degradation (slut), pet names (doll, angel) religious imagery, gun mention, std testing mention, fem + afab reader, soulmate talk

Rating: R, 18+

——

You knew it was wrong, you’d seen just how easily Penelope was able to track someone down through their “anonymous” profile on websites just like this one, but your desires got the better of you, and you just had to try.

Your profile was nondescript, your age, a vague physical description of yourself, and a link to a meticulously detailed account of your wildest fantasies. After weeks of back and forth, chatting with a few equally nondescript profiles, you found the one that you really clicked with, the stranger you decided you’d let sneak into your window and do whatever he wanted with you. After an std panel and the agreement of your safe word, you decided to fully commit, sending this complete stranger your address and logging off for the night.

Even though you knew this was a stupid idea, you weren’t a complete idiot, you had plans in case anything went south, including placing your handgun in your bedside table for easy access if you, god-forbid, had to use it. Placing yourself in a high-risk situation was the whole point, and you couldn’t wait to see how it turned out.

You spent the remainder of your afternoon preparing, doing every grooming ritual you’d usually do before a date, but this time felt somehow more important. You didn’t even know what this guy looked like, and yet, you wanted to be the picture of beauty for him. It was silly, but you always pictured yourself the prettiest you’d ever been when you daydreamed about being ravaged by a stranger. You wanted to be completely irresistible in every way, and you were doing everything in your power to accomplish that.

As the sun finally set, your excitement levels began to rise, anxiously awaiting the arrival of your masked suitor. You opened the bedroom window just above your fire escape, the cool night air drawing goosebumps over your exposed skin, only a thin lace slip and matching panties adorning your frame. You crawled into bed, double checking your bedside drawer before pulling your comforter over your body, eagerly drifting off to sleep.

—

Spencer had been keeping a secret, one that he did not want you to know about, until today. A few weeks ago he’d stayed late to finish up some paperwork for the last case you’d been on, when his pen ran out of ink just as he was about to sign off the last document. He walked to your empty desk, reaching across it to grab a pen from the cup next to your monitor, when his arm brushed against your mouse, causing your display to light up.

He knew he shouldn’t snoop, but curiosity got the best of him, scanning through the title of each tab open on your browser until a certain website caught his eye. He went against his better judgment and clicked the tab, his jaw dropping upon viewing your profile, and with it, the graphic description of your sexual proclivities. His brain immediately cemented that information in his mind’s eye, fit to torture him for days after the encounter.

He couldn’t stop picturing himself fulfilling all of those desires for you, having to excuse himself to the bathroom several times a day to take care of the bulge in his pants just from being around you. He eventually bit the bullet, creating his own profile on the website and messaging you as an “anonymous” suitor, beyond pleased when the two of you hit it off. He felt bad not telling you, but this was a means to an end that would surely leave you both satisfied, and the devious part of him won out this time.

He did everything you asked, getting tested so he could fuck you raw, he was apprehensive about the risks of a potential pregnancy even without the fear of std transmission, but the way you begged so beautifully in your messages for him to creampie you was more than enough to convince him. The moment he got your message with your address, he went out and purchased a mask to conceal his identity just like you asked, and anxiously waited for nightfall.

—

The graze of fabric against your skin gently woke you as your bedding was pulled down off of your body, your mind clouded from the deep sleep you’d been sunk in seconds before. You rolled onto your back, starting to lift your head until a large hand clamped over your mouth, forcing your head back down onto your pillow. Your eyes widened, darting around the room before settling on the masked figure on top of you. You tried to scream against his palm, but the sound simply reverberated back against you, muffled by his strong grip.

His free hand made quick work of cutting off your slip, the thin fabric splitting easily against the blade of the knife in his grasp. You struggled underneath him, weakly pushing at his strong shoulders, feigning defense as the heartbeat in your cunt grew stronger by the second. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening, the adrenaline coursing through your veins making you feel almost high.

“Don’t fight it.” He hushed, holding the knife flush against your neck. You slowed your movements, settling for shifting your legs against his. He removed his hand from your mouth, freeing it up to gather your hands to pin them above your head as well as give you an opportunity to use your safe-word if need be.

He trailed the knife down your body, your chest heaving with shaky breaths as the blade scratched a small cut between your breasts, warm droplets of blood forming in it’s wake. He followed the curve of your body, leaving shallow kitten scratches until he reached your hip, using the tip of the knife to carve a heart into your skin. The sting of each movement set every nerve ending in your body on fire, the wetness pooling between your thighs increasing by the second.

He pressed his thumb to the wound, smearing the blood down to the waistband of your panties, using the digit to pull the fabric before letting it snap back against your skin. You gasped, your labored breaths growing more desperate as he brought the blade to slice the fabric, exposing your embarrassingly wet cunt.

“Look at how wet you are, you love this, don’t you?” The condescension in his tone felt almost half-hearted, and the more of his voice you heard, the more familiar he started to sound, but you couldn’t quite place why. You looked down at him, watching his every move as you tried to place him.

He set the knife on the bed, using his now free hand to yank his pants down, his hard cock slapping against his thigh. Your eyes went wide at his size, looking just long and thick enough to have you a little worried about being able to take him raw, but the thought of being stretched to your limits sent another wave of arousal straight to your core and helped quell that fear ever so slightly.

“If you don’t want this, just say the word.” His words dripped from his lips like honey, sickly sweet, and in that moment you had never felt more sure of your desire for anything in your life.

—

Spencer wondered if the way he was feeling was akin to that of religious psychosis, so engulfed in your very being that he ought to worship at your altar for the rest of his life, fit to carry out any act you requested of him.

His brain kept your description of your fantasy scrolling in the back of his mind, catering to everything you had written to a T in hopes of making this a night you’d never forget. The only thing at the forefront of his thoughts, however, was the intoxicating sounds you made every time he gripped or marked your skin. Each note sought to pull his focus, threatening his plan as it tempted him to lose control all together. He couldn’t do that, his conscience too righteous in its goal to keep you as pleased as possible.

He took his time, marking you just the way you’d requested, his cock twitching with every whimper that flowed out of you until he finally reached your core, the lace of your underwear glistening under the moonlight cast through your open window from how wet you were. He wanted to sink fully into you without a care in the world, but he had to make sure this was absolutely what you wanted. He was, to your knowledge, a stranger after all, and the last thing he wanted was for you to be uncomfortable in any way.

—

You frantically shook your head in acknowledgment, spreading your legs wider for him, ready for this tall stranger to finally be inside of you. Your eagerness spurred him on, a surge of confidence washing over him as he let go of your wrists, his large hands gripping your hips and pulling you further down the bed. He lifted your legs so your knees rested atop his shoulders, his rough movements making you gasp.

He brought his cock to your core, running the shaft through your slick folds before slapping the head against your clit a few times, the repeated hits making your hips jolt ever so slightly. He hummed low in the back of his throat, lining up his tip with your entrance before thrusting forward, bottoming out inside of you in one fell swoop.

“You’re so tight.” He grunted, one hand holding an iron grip on your thigh to hold your leg up, the other digging fingerprints into your hip. You gasped once more at the intrusion, feeling more full than ever before as he set a steady but unrelenting pace. Your gasp turned to crying moans, brows furrowed in awe at the way his cock stretched you so deliciously, prominent veins rubbing against the contours of your sensitive walls.

Each snap of his hips had his balls slapping against your ass, the lude sound mixing with his grunts and the wet squelching where your bodies met in the most intimate way, the decibel level in the room reaching an all-time high.

You bit your lip, trying to quiet yourself to at least somewhat lower the noise and not disturb your sleeping neighbors, but the absence of your desperate moans was not lost on him. His pace slowed, his left hand firmly gripping your chin to force you to look at his masked face. His eyes met yours through the thin slit in the dark fabric.

You knew those eyes, those big, soft brown irises, so comforting, yet darker than you recognized, pupils far more blown than you’d ever seen before. You knew him, but there was no way. Your mind must have been playing tricks on you, because there was no way that Spencer Reid would do anything this perverse, let alone with you.

“Louder, slut.” He squeezed your cheeks, forcing your lower lip out from under your bite.

“I-I’m not a slut.” You mumbled, barely above a whisper.

“Only a slut would leave her bedroom window open, practically begging a stranger to come in and fuck her.” This was far too brazen to be Spencer, you thought, a level of blunt confidence you’d never in a million years expect from him.

“I-I didn’t mean to.” You stuttered over your words, raising your voice in an attempt to half heartedly defend your actions.

“Well then, you should really be more careful next time.” He laughed, releasing his grip on your face before playfully slapping your cheek and increasing the pace of his thrusts, his now free hand finding your clit. His calloused thumb drew broad strokes over and over and over against your sensitive bundle of nerves, a knot tightening in your stomach as you drew closer and closer to your release. You turned your head, trying to bury your face in the pillow as you writhed underneath him, your body frantically looking for relief.

“Oh don’t be shy doll, let me see how much you’re enjoying this.” His tone was almost sing-song, clearly enjoying this just as much as you were. He pressed his body down closer to yours, almost pinning your thighs against your stomach, the change in angle forcing a borderline scream from your lungs, crying out strangled ‘uh’s with every stroke. You looked him in the eye, desperate to know if this deity above you could possibly be your nerdy coworker, and every interaction you’d had with him flashed before your eyes.

Every fleeting glance he took at your chest or your ass, the way he lingered behind you in the field, feeling his presence even when you couldn’t see him. You couldn’t think of a time he wasn’t around a corner when you turned it, always near whenever you needed his help on a case. You always secretly hoped he'd make a move sooner or later, but you never thought it would be anything like this.

He was omnipotent, knowing exactly how to make you feel things you’d never felt before, pushing your body to levels of pleasure you never thought possible. You thought you might disappear, your brain short-circuiting as you tried to make sense of everything, finally understanding why the French refer to orgasms as the little death.

Your walls fluttered around him, the sounds leaving you reduced to pathetic whimpers as your vocal chords grew strained.

“That’s it, cum on my cock, angel.” He groaned, his thrusts growing increasingly desperate. The pet name surprised you, but if he saw you as an angel, how fitting considering how godlike he felt to you in that moment. You could tell he was close, and if your orgasm was what would get him to cum inside you, then so be it. Your eyes glazed over, your hands clawing at his back as you chanted ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ like a mantra, wave after wave of euphoria washing over every nerve in your body.

—

Spencer was a man possessed, his primal urges leaving his mind completely uninhibited, so lost in your body that he thought he might need divine intervention to ever leave you.

He didn’t quite understand where the sudden dominant urge coursing through his veins had come from, but he didn’t care to dwell too much on the thought, content to fuck you into the mattress until you screamed his name.

He knew that wouldn’t happen, but he secretly hoped you’d realize who he was, wishing for nothing more than for you to want him for him. His heart felt like it may burst at the thought, the desire to be wanted as he was ever-lingering inside of it, that being the very motivation behind his lingering tendencies from the start.

As your heat contracted around him, he felt an embrace like no other, hoping the myth of twin flames to be true. If this connection wasn’t proof of it, how could he rationally explain anything? He knew the scientific reasoning behind it, but it didn’t feel like enough, such a finite explanation for a feeling so sempiternal.

He wondered if you felt the same way too, so lost in his every desire that he let himself dive into the delusion, using the pet name he wished he could call you every day for eternity.

Your chants and cries as you came set him free, his hips stuttering as he finally filled your aching cunt to the brim with his seed. He hovered above you, catching his breath, watching your expression soften as you rode out your orgasm, practically glowing.

When he finally snapped out of his lust-fueled haze, he fully remembered his role, pulling out of you and quickly scrambling to stand, fixing his pants and underwear. You had agreed to his departure after, and as badly as he wanted to hold you until you drifted off to sleep, he respected your wishes more than his wants. He walked to the window, lifting his leg to climb out of it when you cleared your throat, drawing his attention. He turned, seeing you sit up, hazy smile on your face.

“Thank you.” You sighed, and he gave a nod of acknowledgement before slipping out of the window and into the night.

—

When you awoke, you had a couple minutes of doubt in which you thought the events of the night before had all been a dream, until you moved to get out of bed and winced at sting from the shallow marks adorning your body and the dull ache between your legs. You smiled to yourself, before looking at your phone and realizing what time it was. You were going to be late, and panic set in when you realized you’d have to go to work in the makeup you’d fallen asleep in last night.

You rushed out the door, checking your makeup in a compact mirror in your car, wiping a small bit of smudged mascara off of your brow bone before walking into work.

“Fun night?” Derek quipped as you walked through the doors, always the first to poke fun at your perceived escapades.

“You could say that.” You laughed, setting your handbag on your desk before joining the team to walk to the conference room.

“What happened?” Penelope asked, almost panicked, taking your arm in her hand and pointing to the only visible cut on your body.

“Oh that’s nothing, I just scraped my arm on my car door.” You reassured, smiling at her. As much as you loved your best friend, she didn’t need to know the truth of your little white lie.

“You should really be more careful next time.” Spencer’s voice came from behind you, his hand gently resting on your hip before squeezing right where the heart shaped cut from the night before was inlaid in your skin. His words reverberated in the space between your ears as your brain processed what he’d just said.

Realization hit you like a semi truck, your lips parting in shock. Your suspicions had been correct, and you almost wanted to turn around and kiss then interrogate him right there. You couldn’t do that though, having a full work day in front of both of you.

Now you just had to figure out a time and place to broach the subject with him without completely humiliating yourself.

——

part 2 can be found here

tag list: @pleasantwitchgarden @lover-of-books-and-tea

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my general or spencer reid taglist :)

[holyblonded]

choices | always sunny in australia

pairings: matildas x teen!reader, sam kerr x teen!reader

summary: you’re deadline of choosing a club is drawing to a close

warnings: tad bit of anxiety

notes: i love writing this series but she doesn’t have a name yet 😭 also please tell me where you want her to go!!

Barcelona, Arsenal, Chelsea, Lyon, Bayern—the list goes on. Ever since your debut with the Matildas, your phone hasn’t stopped buzzing with offers. Some of the biggest clubs in the world want you, and yet, the idea of actually making a choice feels impossible.

You’ve never played for a professional club before. Just your school team—a high-level program that ran things almost professionally, but still, it wasn’t this. This is something entirely different.

And it terrifies you.

Luckily, you had been fortunate enough to run into Nicole— literally. You had bumped into her on the street, and somehow, a simple conversation had led to her becoming your manager. She was American, well-connected in the American football world, and, most importantly, someone who quickly understood you. She had a way of grounding you when your thoughts spiraled, and she had spent the past few weeks constantly reminding you:

“Kid, it’s going to be alright,” she told you over the phone more times than you could count. “You have all these offers because they know you’re great. Because you deserve to be here. The potential? That’s just a bonus.”

It helped, at least for a little while. But now, being in camp with the Tillies, you realize something. You really should have kept this whole thing a secret.

The moment you step onto the pitch for training, it starts.

“So…” Ellie drawls, stretching out beside you, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Lyon’s looking nice, huh? France, big club, great team chemistry…”

“Mate, don’t listen to her,” Steph interrupts, rolling her eyes. “Arsenal is the place to be. Proper football, historic club. You’d fit right in.”

Caitlin nods along. “Arsenal’s a family, you know. You’d love it.”

You open your mouth to respond, but then—

“Oi, don’t fill her head with that nonsense.” Sam appears, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Chelsea, Kiddo. That’s where legends are made. London is blue, everyone knows that.”

Mini, who had been listening quietly, grins and jumps in. “Or, you could not go to London and join Westham. Come on, imagine it—me, Kristie, and Harper anytime you want.”

“You’re really using your child as bait?” Macca snickers.

“She loves Harper,” Mini argued. “Why are you working against me? We are trying to get her to Westham together.”

You groan, shaking your head as they all start bickering. It’s a full-blown debate now, the pros and cons of each club being thrown around like a transfer market panel show. Even Kyra joins in, throwing out a case for Arsenal again (and, unsurprisingly, getting an eye roll from Sam and Mini).

It’s all meant to be playful, but after a while, it starts to feel like too much. Too many voices, too many opinions, too much pressure. Your chest tightens, and you step back, suddenly needing space.

“I—I need a sec,” you mutter before quickly slipping away from the group.

You should have known they wouldn’t stop at training.

The moment you step into the weight room, water bottle in hand, you feel multiple sets of eyes lock onto you. A chill runs down your spine.

“Oh no,” you mutter.

“Oh yes,” Ellie grins, draping herself over the bench press like she’s been waiting for this moment. “Weight room negotiations, baby.”

Alanna claps her hands together, looking far too pleased with herself. “Alright, Sunny. It’s simple, they are prepared to sweeten the deal.”

You blink. “What?”

Steph crosses her arms, tilting her head. “Think of it as… recruitment incentives.”

Mini steps forward first, completely serious. “If you come to West Ham, Kristie, Macca, and I will take you in, no questions asked. You’d have a proper home, actual home-cooked meals, and Harper already loves you. Plus, family. Can’t put a price on that.”

You hesitate. That… that actually sounds really nice.

Ellie shakes her head. “Please. You belong at Lyon. Think about it—France, a club filled with legends, the best players in the world. Plus, French food. And if you come, I’ll personally make sure you get the best local recommendations.”

Alanna snickers, clearly enjoying the chaos. “Ohhh, big promises being made.”

Mini narrows her eyes at Ellie. “You can’t even speak French.”

“I am learning,” Ellie shoots back. “Another pro, language immersion. Learn French from the French with a fresh croissant in hand.”

Steph, watching it all unfold, casually chimes in. “Or, you could just pick Arsenal and not have to deal with all that.”

Caitlin leans against the squat rack, looking casual. “And, Arsenal will pay for your flights if you ever want to visit home. Think about it. Free trips home.”

Kyra nods. “I second that.”

Macca, who has been listening with amusement, finally chimes in. “You come to West Ham, and I’ll teach you how to do a proper Aussie barbecue. None of that tourist nonsense.”

At this point, you’re just laughing. “You guys are insane.”

“Insane, or genius?” Ellie smirks.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head as you grab a dumbbell. “You really want me to pick your teams, huh?”

Sam shrugs. “Nah, no pressure.” Then she grins. “But Chelsea’s the move.”

Alanna just chuckles as you let out a groan, watching the chaos unfold. “This is so much better than any TV show.”

You find Sam at the edge of the pitch after training, taking a breather by herself, her gaze fixed on the horizon. It’s rare for her to be alone, and you figure this might be the perfect time to talk.

You hesitate, standing a few feet away, unsure if you should approach. After all, she’s been nothing but relentless in pushing Chelsea your way. But then, you remind yourself that she’s been your teammate long enough to know when something’s off.

She turns when she hears you approach, an easy smile spreading across her face. “Alright, kid, what’s up?”

You let out a breath, not sure how to phrase it. “I, uh… I’ve been thinking about the whole transfer thing. I just… I don’t know what to do. Like, everyone’s got their opinions, you know?” You look at her, meeting her eyes. “I don’t know where to go.”

Sam’s eyes soften, and she motions for you to sit down beside her. “Of course, mate. You want to talk about it?”

You sit down, a little closer than usual. The weight of your decision feels heavier now that it’s all real, and Sam seems to sense that.

“You’ve got a lot of people pushing you to choose their team,” Sam continues, her voice calm but not dismissive. “It’s hard not to feel like you’re making the wrong choice when so many people have their own agendas.” She smirks. “I’ll admit, I’ve got my own agenda, obviously.” She pauses, then glances at you, tone changing to something quieter, more sincere. “But I’m gonna put that aside for a second, alright?”

You look at her, a little surprised. “Wait, what?”

“I know I’ve been pushing you toward Chelsea. I’ve been doing it since you got here, but,” Sam exhales, her smile fading as she turns her focus forward again, “I think I might’ve been going about it wrong. It’s not about where I want you to go. It’s about what’s gonna make you feel right, you know?”

You blink, a bit shocked by the shift in her tone. You’ve always known Sam as the kind of person who goes after what she wants with everything she’s got, and yet here she is, backing off.

“You’ve been so caught up in everyone’s opinions,” she continues, her voice low and gentle, “and I get it. I really do. But at the end of the day, it’s your decision. You’re the one who has to be happy with it. You’re the one who has to live with it. Not me, not Mini, not Caitlin or anyone else. You. It’s your future, your career.”

She pauses, looking at you, as if waiting for you to process what she’s saying.

You can feel the lump in your throat start to form, and you swallow, nodding slowly. “I just… I don’t want to mess it up. Everyone keeps saying this is a huge step, and I feel like I’m about to make the wrong one.”

Sam chuckles softly, leaning back on her hands. “Listen, I’ve been in your shoes, more times than I can count. The pressure to make the perfect decision, the fear of making the wrong move… but you know what? There’s no such thing as the perfect move. There’s just the one that feels right for you at the time. And yeah, sometimes that can change. Sometimes, you’ll feel unsure, and that’s okay. That’s part of the journey.”

She turns to face you fully now, her eyes kind, but serious. “What I want for you, what I really want, is for you to pick the place where you’re gonna be comfortable. Not the place where you think you’ll get the most fame, or the most money, or even the best team on paper. I want you to pick the place where you’ll wake up every day and feel like you belong. Where the coach sees you for who you are, not just the next big thing. Where your teammates become your family, where you can grow without all the noise.”

You feel a weight lifting from your shoulders, and you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

“That’s all it comes down to?” you ask, still processing. “Being comfortable?”

Sam smiles warmly. “Yeah. Because you’re gonna face challenges no matter where you go. But if you’re comfortable, if you know deep down that you’re in the right place, you’ll be able to handle those challenges with a clear head. And if things don’t work out? That’s okay, too. You always have the option to move on. Nothing’s permanent, especially in football.”

Her words settle over you, and for the first time since the whole transfer thing started, you start to feel a little more at ease.

“So… I should stop worrying about everyone else, huh?”

Sam shrugs with a grin. “Not stop worrying. But take our opinions with a grain of salt. At the end of the day, it’s your gut that’s gonna tell you where to go. Trust that.”

You nod, feeling lighter. “Thanks, Sam. Really. That… that actually helps a lot.”

She pats you on the back. “Anytime, kid. I’m always here. But next time, pick Chelsea, alright?” she teases, the smirk back on her face.

You laugh, feeling like a weight’s been lifted off your chest. For the first time in weeks, the pressure doesn’t seem so unbearable. It’s not about making the ‘perfect’ choice anymore. It’s about making the one that feels like the best fit for you. And that, somehow, feels right.

You should have really expected it to continue onto the pitch.

The teams are mixed for the scrimmage, but that doesn’t stop the recruitment attempts.

The second you receive a pass from Mini, Ellie, who is on the opposing team, immediately tries to sweet talk you instead of pressing.

“Hey, mate,” she grins, jogging backward. “Think about it— Lyon. France. The best club in the world. You could be teammates with Renard. With Horan. With Diani. And of course, DVD.”

You shove the ball past her, shaking your head. “Not happening, Ellie.”

Across the field, Mini sprints to your side. “West Ham, Sunny! Think about it, me, Kristie, Harper. You’d have a family there.”

Caitlin intercepts a pass and grins at you. “Or, you could be with us at Arsenal, playing beautiful football and winning trophies.”

Steph steals the ball next and points at you as she runs past. “Arsenal.”

Alanna, of course, is eating it all up. She jogs past you, arms crossed. “You know, if you don’t decide soon, I could start some transfer rumors. Just saying.”

“Alanna, don’t,” you groan.

She smirks. “I dunno, mate. ‘Tilies Young Star Leaning Towards Move to—’”

You throw your hands up. “Enough!”

Everyone stops, waiting. The whole team is looking at you, expecting an answer.

You exhale sharply. “I already made my decision with Nicole in the middle of camp. I’m going to sign with-“

[fudgecake-charlie]

"They think I’m the least dangerous person in this car, do they? Well, they’re about to learn very differently."

Decided to redraw a moment from On the Getaway Mile by Odaigahara on AO3/ @droidofmay !

This may have taken a ridiculous amount of hours condensed into a few days and I went through it drawing cars and car interiors, but this was an absolute blast to do :D I hope I've done the fic sort of justice.

Process shots and long comparison rambles under the cut!

Welcome to my secret lair!!

I spent roughly... 18 hours working on this, the majority during this week and over the past three days, so I need to share my toils with people <3

Character/car references and page thumbnails! Featuring an incorrect scene placement and bad camera position. I reread the scene and placed it properly in the actual page. I hate drawing cars!! I was actually the most worried about panel placement when I started this— I was a guy who only did non narrative/illustrative panel pages and layout-less comics, but it wasn't that bad with a script! I could separate beats into panels, note which panels should be emphasised/larger, and assembled that into a page.

If you compare the fic with this comic, you can see how much dialogue I edited and moments I cut out. I couldn't fit it all on without having to draw even more pages, I wish I could though! Poor Mumbo only gets one line here. I'm so sorry my darling man <3 I also gave him a slight cyborg design because his implants are really important for his character and I needed some way to visually show that, even if it's not canon/mentioned.

The colouring method for this was really fun! It's similar to my aggie rainbow painting method but with less steps, hence narrow value range. It looks pretty and gets the vibe across well though.

Rapid fire points!

I was planning to do 3 different fic comics! Not anymore!!!

This is absolutely for the hotguy comic zine applications. <3 "Can I try rizzing you up // PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE" /ref

I drew page 2 first, then 3, then 1. I think you can tell!

Mumbo is sitting on the wrong side and should have his seatbelt on. He's also not carrying the stolen laptop as described.

It's explicitly noted that Mumbo cannot scan Grian like he can with Scar. Whoops!

Transmissions from the Foundation are via Mumbo and Scar's implants, but I couldn't think of a good way to portray that.

Despite guns and weapons being mentioned, I somehow didn't get the opportunity to draw a single one.

I love hand lettering. I also hate it! I will continue to do it.

Here are the no colour pages as a thank you for scrolling <3

[its-cartooncrazy]

[Image description: a list of all tarot cards in the major arcana, along with their meanings. They have been matched to a vessel from slay the princess, using the drawings from the memories page. Full text ID under the cut.]

Hello I spent like a week being abnormal about this (no I did not know the tarot cards by heart before this, yes I do now) so here is my definitive list of which princess matches which tarot card. If you disagree with me then you're wrong (joking, please feel free to tell me with your reasoning, I'd love to hear it!!)

Full list of my reasonings under the cut (scroll to the big text saying "Reasonings" to skip the ID)

[Full ID: three columns, listing first the tarot number and name, then card meanings, then the princess. They are as follows:

0. The Fool. cycle of life, birth & death, hope, optimism, childish, spontaneous, lateral thinking. The Damsel

1. The Magician. practical, success, witty, at home, central nervous system & lungs & senses, unemotional, over analyses. The Moment of Clarity

2. The High Priestess. heightened perception, unknown, mystery, occult, patience, intuition, strong independent woman, unable to control or dominate. The Wraith

3. The Empress. powerful women, creativity, growth, beauty, birth, fertility, warm, loving, sensual, enjoys life to the full. The Adversary

4. The Emperor. structure & power, competitive, achievement, authority, hierarchy, dominance. The Tower

5. The Hierophant. status quo, appearances, marriage, teaching, interpreting, structure, routine. Happily Ever After

6. The Lovers. love, romance, union, soulmates, resolved inner conflict, choice. The Wild

7. The Chariot. reward, victory hard won, don’t give up, try again, vehicles, overcoming obstacles, self discipline, hard work, focus. The Beast

8. Justice. logical decision, balanced mind, negotiation, truth, honesty, integrity. The Spectre

9. The Hermit. Solitude, thinking, introspection, learning, teaching. The Prisoner

10. The Wheel of Fortune. Fate, coincidence, luck, cycles, confusion. The Stranger

11. Strength. generous, loving, courage, conviction, optimism, resolve, generous, antagonism resolved, animals (loving). The Den

12. The Hanged Man. unable to move, temporary pause, patience, self limiting, trapped, sacrifice, wait for info. The Cage

13. Death. cycle of death & rebirth, transformation, something is ending, confronting smth alarming, major change. The Eye of the Needle

14. Temperance. balanced, adaptable, see both sides, calm, solve disputes, works well in a team, mixing opposites, blending, time. The Princess and the Dragon

15. The Devil. material world, buying love, material security, mental health, powerlessness, violence, obsession, secrecy. The Witch

16. The Tower. disruptive, violent, necessary change, enlightenment, trauma, loss, upheaval, tragedy. The Fury

17. The Star. hope, new life, fresh insight, phys or ment wounds heal, heal & inspire others, help, human rights, nature, equality. The Thorn

18. The Moon. dreams, imagination, subconscious, illusion, vagueness, deception, fear, anxiety. The Nightmare

19. The Sun. happiness & vitality, energy, confidence, children, freedom, fun, self expression. The Razor

20. Judgement. decisions, awakening, rebirth, healing, homesickness, celebrate success, self evaluation, blame. The Grey

21. The World. end of a cycle, accomplishment, journey, belonging, wholeness. The Apotheosis

End ID]

Reasonings

The Fool I put the damsel down for pretty early, just because of the childish optimism, but later I was thinking about the damsel route and why it wouldn't fit the Lovers and I said the damsel is more about how they are rushing into it. And then I remembered the Fool is about rushing in lol. I couldn't really consider anything else after that

The Magician mentions the central nervous system and lungs, so I considered putting the nightmare here for paranoids mantra, but the card didn't really fit her that well and the central nervous system is different to the autonomous nervous system anyway so. The Moment of Clarity gets this spot for her practical breaking of you, and the success it brings her. Not one of my easiest placements but I'm still pretty happy with it

The high Priestess was hard to place because she's about the occult, and powerful women who don't need a man. If only there was a princess who fit that mold... (/s if it wasn't clear) so yeah. Half the princesses were written down here at one point. The Wraith gets this spot because I found other places for all the others I guess and also because "She could not find her strength in others, so she found it in herself."

The empress is again a powerful woman, but a loving and nurturing one, who encourages growth. It was both the growth and the partnership she has that gave her the adversary

The Emperor is about hierarchy and dominance. I knew very early on that the tower would fit best here. "This one is dominance."

The hierophant is about structure, appearances, and also marriage. Happily Ever After is all about being trapped within this structure, with ties specifically to marriage. Literally tell me I'm wrong?

The Lovers. Okay. So there's a few this could be. The Damsel, with the voice of the smitten? Not really as equal a partnership, as I mentioned in the Fool section. They don't really know each other. The Thorn, where you can kiss her? Well that ignores like. The entire rest of the route so no. Happily ever after? Maybe, but I prefer her in hierophant. The adversary, with your equal partnership in kicking each others asses? Easily, but I also put her elsewhere. Ironically, the Lovers was one of the last two cards I placed, and the only princesses left were the wild and the grey, and unfortunately I couldn't agree with the drowned grey going here. The wild has you literally being one, achieving a common goal. It's not my favourite placement but I dont hate it so.

The chariot is about putting in the hard work and seeing it through, and she does make an effort to capture you (swallow you whole) and bring you to the door so she can escape. Also it's about vehicles, and she literally acts as a vehicle for you. That idea was too funny to not do tbh

Justice is one of three cards that mention balance, so I wanted one of the ones where you merge to go here. Much like the scales of justice, it is about considering all sides and picking fairly, so it had to go to the spectre, who gets justice for her murder when you help her out. The spectre was written down for like half the cards on this list though my god

The hermit is about solitude and self introspection. The prisoner, sitting in silence for millenia, felt very fitting. I also wanted the cage to be here, because the image of the hermit is him holding up a lantern, and having the cage holding her head like that would be fun, but she fit better in the hanged man so.

The wheel of fortune was one of my later picks. Fate, and also cycles. Its a little vague, and can fit with quite a few princesses, but I put the stranger here. Is it the vibes? Something about coincidences and not meeting her feels similar, but I cant put my finger on it so if you can explain please do.

Strength, but of the inner sort. The Den didn't really have anywhere better to go, I don't know if instinct matches with any of the cards. I felt confidence in ones self was pretty similar to instinct, plus it has ties to animals.

The hanged man is self restrictions. I would have liked to put the thorn here, honestly, hanging from her vines. Ultimately it was the best choice for the cage, though, and I had another good option for the thorn. Anyway, the cage can be hanging from all those chains and hooks. "This one is a body that convinced herself she was only a set of eyes." Sounds like her limits are self imposed for sure!

Death and the tower have similar meanings in that things are coming to an end, and both of them I felt were good fits for both eye of the needle and the Fury. Ultimately I put eotn here because its more cyclical, and when she was the adversary she wanted to continue fighting over and over again.

Temperance is the second balance card, specifically about blending this time. Opposites merging, solving disputes. Felt very much like the princess and the dragon chapter. "This one is perspectives bleeding into one."

The Devil is a person tricking you, but also material security. I only ever put the witch down for this one, and I only ever put her down for one card lol. The mutual trickery and betrayal in her chapter felt too fitting. "A trick behind your back, and a trick behind mine."

The tower, like I said, is similar to death in that they are both about things ending. But the tower is more dramatic, about the sudden upheaval, so I thought thematically it matched with the Fury better, who is very upset and very taking it out on you. This is one of the cards I knew the meaning of from the beginning, so unfortunately there was never a point in which the tower was matched with the tower :(

The star is hope and healing. One of many that the spectre could have matched with. (I wanted to make her star shaped wound be the star... oh well). The Thorn fits well here, if you both choose to end the cycle of violence and leave together. The star also has ties to nature, which fits with the thorns... thorns... I would have preferred her at the hanged man for her self limiting, being trapped in her own thorns, but this is also a very good choice so I'm not too mad lol

The moon is fear and anxiety. Plus the moon only comes out at night, when everyone is sleeping, when you have nightmares! But mostly it's the vagueness, mystery and anxiety stuff.

The sun being joy meant I knew I wanted the razor here from the beginning. I briefly considered putting her at death (for the cycles, and also the uh, death) but I think the dying part of her route is not actually that important? Anyway the razor is my wife and I'm glad she's enjoying herself. "She is cruelty. But she is also joy." See, shifty gets it!

Judgement is where you look back on everything and judge yourself. It was one of the last two cards to be assigned, and the wild did not fit here at all. Plus the grey sort of punishes you for your actions? It's unavoidable, is my point.

The world is accomplishment, wholeness. She is as close to becoming the goddess she truly is as any vessel ever comes. "This one sits at the cusp of awakening." Shifty says. Also Apotheosis literally means climax so I had to put her at the end of the tarot, you understand.

So yeah that's that. Thanks for reading, if you managed to get through all that. Feel free to debate different interpretations at me, I'd love to hear em!

[novlr]

I have a bad habit of never finishing writing I start - I work hard on a story, make it to 3/4 of the way through, then lose passion for it and start something else. I know the key to overcoming this is discipline, and I’m trying very hard to make myself keep going with my current story that I like very much and spent so much time researching and outlining, but it’s a struggle every day to make my writing goal. Any advice for how to re-ignite writing spark or how to push through to the end?

We can lose our drive to write for a lot of reasons. It often indicates a growing maturity as an artist — you understand the craft better and your own (current) limitations better, and so you begin to feel overwhelmed in a way you didn’t before. It can also be that external anxieties are getting in the way or simply that you’ve lost interest in your current project. 

Hope is not lost. Read on for some tips on reclaiming your writing spark. 

Shift gears

Sometimes, all you need to reignite your writing spark is to engage your brain in a different way. If you’re struggling with your novel, take a break and try writing a poem or a piece of flash fiction. Or, you could try drawing sketches of your characters, a map of your story’s world, or some possible outfits for your climactic battle scene (it doesn’t have to be good. No one’s going to see it). 

The trick is to stay creative but to approach your work from a different angle. 

Change location

If you’ve been trying and failing to write at your desk, surrounded by crumpled up dreams drafts and last week’s candy wrappers, you may be suffering from an environment with stagnant energy. Try taking yourself on a writer’s date: go to a location that fits the tone of the project you’re working on (lux hotel lobby, seedy theatre bar, the wilds of a nearby park), and see if that gets your creative wheels turning. 

Dress [in]appropriately 

In Writing Down the Bones, Natalie Goldberg has a chapter called “Blue Lipstick and a Cigarette Hanging Out Your Mouth”. By this she meant, “Use outfits and props to step outside yourself and get a new perspective”. You might find it helpful to have a special “writer’s sweater” that you only wear when you’re writing or to dress like someone confident and cool enough to smash writer’s block in the face. 

Do some soul-searching

What’s really going on here? If the above tricks aren’t doing it for you, there may be some bigger issues at play that are inhibiting you from connecting to your writing spark. 

Write letters

I’ve written about the restorative powers of letter writing before, and I’ll mention it again: handwritten letters are a great way to get the words flowing. You don’t actually have to send them when you’re done (although you can if you want to); the recipient doesn’t even need to exist. Simply by putting your thoughts down in a low-risk way, you’re unclogging your creative pipes. 

Join a writing group

There’s power and accountability in numbers. You can find writing groups online, through community centres and writers centres, or by sticking a flyer up in a bookshop and starting your own. There’s even a Novlr writing community on Discord where we share tips, struggles, and just generally talk craft! By inviting other people into your writing practice, you’ll have some support and encouragement to keep you going. 

Find your writing spark with writing prompts

The internet is awash with writing prompts. These can be a helpful way to get something down on paper and stretch out your writing muscles. Whether it’s a premise, an opening line, or a character study, writing prompts can give you a gentle, creative push and even inspire new work.

Experiment with found structure

If writing a traditional story feels like pulling out your own teeth, try a found structure story. This means using fictional “found material” like shopping lists, calendars, to-do lists, ticket stubs, banking records, and so forth to create a narrative. 

Here’s an example: Imagine a week in which a bride-to-be prepares for her glorious wedding, is left at the altar, rages in misery, and ultimately emerges healthier and stronger. Now, write her shopping list for each day of that week. How does it change from beginning to end? How much emotional detail can you communicate to the reader through the items that appear on these lists? This can be a fun way to create a story without the anxiety of writing it.

Set a petty life goal

I am a proud champion of the value of pettiness as a motivator. There are plenty of noble reasons to write: to share powerful stories, to help readers in need of healing, to inspire others to write stories themselves, and to draw attention to important social issues or minority identities. 

There are also some really inane and selfish reasons to write: to become more famous than your ex, to appear on TV and make your ex regret everything they’ve ever done to you, to have your book made into a movie and receive casting consultation rights and pitch your favourite actor in the lead role and allow them to take you for coffee as a thank you. But the thing is… these are the motivations that are really going to pull you out of the dirt when you need it most. Find the silly driving goal that really gets under your skin and hold onto it for dear life. 

Forgive yourself

Many writers experience a lot of shame when they aren’t writing as much as they feel they should. Needless to say, this shame only makes the writing harder. Allow yourself the space to take some time when you need it, process your struggles, and return when you’re ready. The page will be waiting when you get back. 

[leighsartworks216]

Angel, Please

Zayne x gn!Reader

Went shopping with my roommate thinking it would be really quick, and then spent like an hour in there just pushing the cart for them and losing all energy and ability to think. This is the result of that

Title is from the song "Angel, Please" by Ra Ra Riot

Warnings: sensory overload, anxiety, avoiding a mental breakdown, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship

Word Count: 2,103

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You stare down at the shopping list in your hand, written in a mix of handwriting. Some items listed were written down by Zayne, others were added by you. A culmination of a week or so worth of groceries. It’s harder to read the words than it should be.

You have milk, cereal… You look back and forth between your cart and the list, but you can’t connect the dots. Nothing is clicking together.

Milk. Check.

Cereal. Check.

Your skin feels uncomfortably hot and itchy, but you don’t take off your sweatshirt and you don’t scratch. Your chest is tight, and you can’t seem to get a deep enough breath in. You zone out while staring at the list, urging your body to get a hold of itself.

“Excuse me,” someone scoffs as they invade your space to reach for something on the shelf behind you. They give you a look, judgemental and cruel, and walk away with a huff. Their basket bumps your cart with a clang that makes you twitch.

God, could they please turn the music down? The lights down? You just- You just need everyone to disappear. You just need to disappear.

You bite your cheek long enough to suffer through a self-checkout. You rapidly scan whatever you do have - more than just milk and cereal, but you don’t even process them anymore - and pay as quickly as possible, conscious of the eyes of other waiting customers trying to check out boring into you, judging you, urging you to just fucking move already.

The cool autumn air doesn’t soothe you enough. You throw everything into the trunk of your car. The pavement of the parking lot vibrates your hands as you push the cart to the nearest return. You rub them on your sweatshirt desperately.

You have to keep it together. You can’t break down in a parking lot at a grocery store just because all of your senses were freaking out. You are a Hunter! You fight Wanderers! You put your life on the line every single day! Why are you losing it here of all places?!

Your hands shake as you find Zayne’s number. It connects to the bluetooth in your car and you pull out of the parking space.

Are you really 100% fit to drive? No. But you need to get away from here as soon as possible. As tempting as it would be to ask to be picked up, you don’t want to be a burden.

“Hello?”

You swallow thickly. Your hands rub restlessly at the steering wheel. “H-Hey.” You clear your throat. “Hey. I’m heading home now.”

“Are you alright?” Zayne asks.

You want to put your head on the wheel and cry. You feel pathetic.

“Did something happen?” You picture his frown. The way his eyes sharpen when he tries to pick apart a little mystery. You want him with you right now. “Please answer me.”

“I-I’m fine,” you answer quickly, a knee-jerk reaction to the question. You know you’re trying to convince yourself. You know he doesn’t believe it for a second. “Just… Just stay on the phone with me until I get back. Can you…? Am I bothering you?”

He hushes you softly through the phone. “You’re not bothering me, darling. I’ll stay with you.” You sigh shakily. His voice sounds so nice right now. Your left leg bounces restlessly. “What do you want to talk about?”

You scramble to think of anything. You anxiously wait for traffic to clear enough to let you turn out of the parking lot. Your mind is taking in too much and too little information at the same time. Cars are just colored shapes, but you know where every single light source is around you. They keychains hanging from the key in the ignition rubs your leg like someone is drawing fire across your skin with a paintbrush. You try batting them away, but the jingle grates in your ears like it’s been amplified.

You pull into the flow of traffic, at last.

“Why don’t we talk about that show you enjoy so much?” he offers carefully. “The one with the girl caught in a love triangle? What was her Evol again?”

“She…” You swallow and check your speed. As badly as you want to get home, you don’t want to get pulled over either. “She can feel other people’s emotions. And, and in one episode she changes them, too.”

He hums thoughtfully. “Does she feel the attraction from the other characters? The men from the love triangle. What are their names?”

“Joseph and,” you turn on your blinker and wait at the stop light, “Damien. She can, but she feels bad because she’s not interested in either of them. So she pretends she doesn’t feel it.”

“So if she’s not interested in the prospective love interests, who does she like?”

You slowly pull up as a yellow arrow blinks, waiting for a gap in traffic to pull through. Once you’re driving steadily again, you answer. “She has a crush on her bed friend in the show, Melina. It’s really sweet, actually. But Melina has no clue, even though Therese, the main girl, keeps hinting at it, because Melina thinks Therese is interested in Damien.”

“That would be a tricky situation to be in. Who do you think she’ll end up with by the end?”

You laugh, but it’s slightly airy and strained, like someone punched it out of you. “I hope she gets with Melina, obviously!” You turn your blinker on again at a stop sign and turn after a second. This road doesn’t get too busy. “There’s actually some hints that Joseph and Damien will end up together. Everyone online thinks they’re competing for Therese’s love to try hiding their own feelings for each other.”

He doesn’t respond for a second. “Are you almost home, darling?”

You blink, and just like that, you’ve been snapped back into your body, aware once more of your surroundings. You’re in the middle of pulling into the apartment’s parking lot. You don’t even remember the drive to get there. “Y-Yeah. I’m here, actually,” you murmur.

“Okay. I’ll meet you down there. Do you need me to stay on the phone until then?”

You fiddle with the keychains, considering it. Everything doesn’t feel so itchy anymore. Your eyes hurt, but it feels more like the sting of exhaustion. Your head still thuds with a headache, but the noises that fueled it before feel more bearable now. “I think I’ll be okay.”

“Call me again if you need to. I’m on the way.”

The call ends and you turn off the car, pulling the keys from the ignition and holding them in your lap. You feel surreal, like your brain hasn’t quite caught up to your body now that it’s not screaming about every little thing. The parking lot outside your window doesn’t feel real. The bike you parked next to, your bike, feels out of place.

You groan and rest your head against the steering wheel, shutting your eyes tightly. Why can’t you just feel normal already?

A finger taps on the glass. You look up and watch as Zayne opens the door for you. “Are you alright?” he asks again.

You bite your tongue to avoid answering automatically. But the real answer eludes you. You don’t think you’re gonna freak out if your sweatshirt happens to brush your neck in a weird way, but you’re not exactly sure you could just calmly ignore it if it did happen either.

You slip out of the seat and out of the car. Zayne has that concerned look on his face, like you’ve just told him you haven’t slept for a week straight, but he doesn’t say anything, just shuts the door behind you.

He opens the trunk and begins gathering messily thrown-together bags of groceries. You grab one of the lighter ones that he leaves for you, and close the trunk. The car beeps when you hit the lock button on the fob.

Once you’re inside, you sit at the kitchen island and watch as he puts away everything you got. You find the crumpled list in your pocket. You have the clarity now to see just how many items you missed, including things you needed to make dinner tonight. You want to crumple yourself up into a ball like this paper.

Zayne’s hand comes into view as he slides the paper over to where he stands. He has a notepad and a pen, and he goes down the old list to write out what you missed.

“I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t answer until he finishes the list, clicking the pen and setting it down. Then, his full attention is on you. “Can you tell me what happened now?”

You can’t meet his eyes. It’s hard enough admitting actual health issues to him, let alone stupid shit like this. Logically, you know he’s seen this happen to you before, know he wouldn’t think it’s stupid like you do. But it’s still difficult.

“I just got overwhelmed,” you mutter. You trace shapes into the marble countertop. “Everything was so loud and bright and… And I panicked, that’s all.”

“How do you feel now?”

You sigh and cross your arms on the counter, resting your chin on them. “I’ve got a headache, and I’m tired. But I’m not? I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like I’m in a dream. Nothing feels real right now.”

He hums in understanding. “I can think of several treatment plans that may help.” You finally look at him and he shoots you a wry grin. “First, I suggest you take some pain medication for your headache, before it gets any worse. After that, you have a few options. You can go take a nap or spend some time alone to decompress. You can put on your noise-cancelling headphones and listen to music or a podcast. Or we can watch that show you told me about, and I can make you some tea.”

“That’s a lot of choices, doc.”

“It’s in the patient’s best interests to have a lot of options,” he says. “You’re not beholden to any one choice.”

You look away as you think about it. What do you want right now? What do you need? “Can I mix and match?”

He nods. “Of course you can.”

“Tea sounds nice,” you start. “I don’t want to sleep right now, but I can listen to music, I think. But I just want to be with you.” You look at him again. “Is that alright?”

He smiles, answering you without words. Instead, he moves around the kitchen to fill a kettle with water and sets it on the stove. He disappears down the hall to retrieve two pills and your headphones, setting both on the counter in front of you. He fills a glass with some water for you to take the meds. You grab the headphones and slip them on, and head over to the couch to get comfortable. They connect to your phone once you turn them on. You scroll through your playlists for a while, but the more you look, the more unappealing it sounds to you.

Zayne comes in with a steaming mug of tea, prepared how he knows you like it. You hesitantly take off your headphones. “Actually, will you read to me?”

“What would you like to hear?”

You shrug. “Anything. I just want to hear your voice right now.”

He browses the bookshelf nearby. You set your headphones down and blow on the tea to cool it down. He slips one of the books out and carries it over to the couch. You curl into his side the second he’s sitting down.

The book is one of your favorites. You’ve never seen him read it before, but he’s seen you pull it out lots of times ever since you moved in together. You smile. A comfortable warmth emanates from your heart.

The paper slides gently from one side to the next as he turns the pages. It’s not grating. It doesn’t send shocks of discomfort through your body. You cradle the mug close as you rest your head on his shoulder, letting your eyes relax as you skim the familiar words. His shirt on your cheek isn’t scratchy at all. It’s nice and soft.

He begins reading and you close your eyes. You breathe in deep the cool scent of his cologne, the fresh smell of his body wash, the slightly bitter, rich essence of the tea.

You can relax here. You can exist here. This feels real.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope

[abbyslovergirlxo]

Liar

Pt2 to The Most

synopsis: after your wife’s death, grief consumes you. three months have passed and Mel Medarda finds you on the balcony painting

Tw; grief, reader is not so nice to Mel, conflicted feelings, death

It had been three months since Ambessa’s death. It hadn’t felt like it though, days would fit more so to you. A lot had happened since, lots of ‘progress’ as Mel liked to remind you. Time to time you’d indulge her and listen to all the beautiful things she made possible due to the defeat of her mother. In your head you knew she meant well, it truly made you happy to hear about the news. But there was a pit inside you so deep that it swallowed anything you thought made you happy.

Week by week was spent in the confines of your room. Mel had tried many times to draw you out but to no avail. Sure she’d see you at supper and other tiny moments but that was all that you allowed the world.

Night after night you dreamt of her, her ruby painted lips and hazel eyes. Sometimes it was comforting in approach, you’d see her in her robe laughing on the marbled balcony under the sun. Or you’d get lucky and envision her whispering sweet nothings to you, her voice blurrier every time though. Other nights were not so gracious. The nights where you saw her dying over and over, always left you in a cold sweat. The first time you’d dreamt it you’d refused to go to sleep for three days.

Time had not proven to heal you at all. Everyday you felt heavier and heavier. Here and there joy would find you in small moments, but always in the back of your mind was her. Always. And you weren’t sure if you were prepared to live with that for the rest of your life. Maybe you should’ve considered it when you agreed to kill your lover. But that was of no use now.

Currently you stood in front of your easel, splotching purples aggressively into the corner of the canvas. Occasionally you’d step back and look over it, examine it, study it. It wasn’t exactly perfect but it was something and you hoped that was enough.

“ They told me I could find you here.”

You didn’t bother to turn around, knowing who it was.

“ Found me.”

Your voice was different, your once light voice was now rough and raspy. Either little emotion thrown into it or too much to conceptualize. Mel had noticed it a couple weeks ago. She worried silently that it was all of your outburst that caused it. She had been stern with the staff to keep quiet about the screaming that could be heard from your room most nights.

You didn’t stop your painting, pressing streaks wherever it seemed called to be. Mel opted to walk next to you, since it was apparent you were making no true effort to face her. She looked at you, then trailed her eyes to your work. She grimaced slightly at the painting but held her composure well.

“ There is something we must discuss.”

You hummed, the only gesture you allowed to let her know to continue.

“ The founder's ball, we need you there.”

Instantly you shook your head no.

“ I need you there. The people need to see us as a united front.”

“ Mel–”

“ They need to see that the remaining Merdardas are dedicated to our city. I can’t do that without you, not entirely. My mother left many things in your name, without y–”

“ Take it. Whatever has been left to me, strip me of it and take it.”

She looked at you, stunned. Mel clenched her fist slightly, trying her best to refrain from anger.

“ No, that’s not possible. Noxian titles are only passed on in the death of a person.”

“ Then I’ll die.”

“ You need to stop this.”

You pressed the brush harder into the canvas, moving more rapidly now. Mel said something, of which you couldn’t be sure. The only thing you were sure of was that you hated this fucking painting. You didn’t get her eyes right. Or her arms. Or her hair or her hands or anything. Especially her lips. No matter how blurry everything else had gotten, you’d never forgotten the blueprint of her mouth, the creases of them like a roadmap to your heart.

Until now, apparently. You clenched the brush. Another press. Another one. Then another. A black streak, unloving and darkening. You weren’t sure when you’d started ruining the painting. You hadn’t even noticed what you were doing until you felt a hand grab your shoulder, spinning you to look at such a familiar face. The tears made it a bit blurry, the horrid expansion of paint like a decrepit mirage in your peripheral. You sobbed, looking over the fuzzy face.

The gold ring. You’d forgotten the gold ring.

“ Hey…hey I need you to look at me.”

Your head dropped, salty tears dripping from your face onto the marbled floor.

“ I can’t remember her face, Mel…”

At Least not in the way you wanted to.

It’s something that came to you three days ago, when you sat at your desk trying to sketch her. You’d scribble out her beautiful curls, and under eye bags. But then you’d mess up the crease in her neck, the softness of her iris. You’d spent the next 2 hours trying to capture your wife onto tear soaked papers. The ones she’d brought you from that one shop you’d liked, even if you protested about its expenses. But to no avail. It wasn’t until finally you gave into that pounding, that monstrous noise in the back of your head.

Not even 10 minutes later, you stared soullessly at the lifeless body of Ambessa. Why couldn’t you remember her with that sunkissed tinge in her cheeks? The abrupt laughter against your neck? The curve of her smile as she danced with you? Why couldn’t you remember your Ambessa how you wished? Why were the splatters of blood on her face so much easier to paint? Five years of marriage blurred and five minutes of grief ingrained.

Mel looked as if she too wished to cry but she feared your grief was too big to make room for her at this moment. You looked unwell in such a way that she wished for just a second she could be her mother if it meant it’d take that look off your face. It reminded her of a deer, one too weak to stand and too anguished to allow help.

“ I…”

You finally peered up at her, eyes glossy, her hand holding you up almost. Your eyes were distant, as if you were neither here nor there. For the past three months every time she looked at you, one of two things were at the forefront of her mind. One being that you really needed help, that your mind was proving to be more sick than your body. And then the second. The thing she never let seep out of her, the thing she always kept stuffed down. I’m sorry.

“ I do.”

She seemed unsure of what to do, what to say. She felt as though she had a delicate thing in her grasp and the last thing she wanted was to break you even more. For a moment she forgot about the founders ball, about the regulations and to-do’s, about Jayce, about everything. And in the next moment that followed, all she could think about was her mother. For years she’d spent her time hating her, angry at the morales she clung to, the abandonment. For so long she spent her time seeing her mother as a dark shadow with no face, only an evil presence who she needed a drip of love from more than she’d ever admit.

But after her death it's as if something had lifted. Grief still invited itself into her bed most nights but now she could rest that piece of her heart that always resented her mother. Now that shadowy figure was the stern faced woman who brushed her hair, the applauding voice during her training, the smiling mother who greeted her.

It suddenly occurred to her how you both must’ve been different sides of the same coin. You’d known the kindness of your Ambessa for the entirety of your marriage. But after her death, that seemed to die with her. Now all your mind allowed you was the distorted images of her body. Maybe it was your way of punishing yourself. Who knows. All you knew was that all her death offered you was oblivion. And yet her death offered the woman in front of a way out from such darkness.

Mel smiled at you, wiping the tears from your face.

“ I can tell you about it if you’d like.”

She reached over cautiously to your shaking hand that still clutched the brush. She grabbed it softly, but your grip was firm, your breathing still uneven. God, why did your chest burn?

“ I can paint her for you too if it’d please you?”

Finally you looked at her, really looked at her. You let the brush go, allowing her to take it. Your hand moved for you, your mind not catching up to your body. The touch of your palm caught your off guard causing her to flinch. She didn’t remove it, waiting for your answer. But you didn’t respond, your thumb doing small circles on her cheek. She wondered if you’d even heard her.

“ You…”

She nodded, as if encouraging you.

“ You look like her, you know?” You whispered.

Mel nodded again this time, unable to hold back the tear that fell. She cried softly as you continued, your hands roaming over her face gently and softly. You traced her face as if she was going to disappear any moment, as if the last piece of your wife was going to vanish into thin air. She leaned into your hands, your ring finger trailing her jawline, rubbed over her brows and caressed her nose. Mel was pleased when she saw you smiling softly, even if it held a million echoes of torment behind it. Atleast you were smiling, she thought.

“ Was it worth it?”

Her brows furrowed, knowing exactly what you meant. She stared at you, your smile never gone, only a bit weaker now. She’d asked herself the same thing many times before she’d rest her head at night, before she stormed into meetings, before she did anything. She considered telling you the truth. But then she looked past you, at the distorted image of her mother in purple, the violent strokes of black across her face. She looked at the bags under your eyes, felt the tenderness in your touch. Mel thought back to the night she’d come to you, telling you what must be done. She’d told you that it was necessary and once it was done it’d be worth it. She remembered the tremble in your lip when you’d asked her this same question months ago.

And she answered the same way she did before.

“ Yes.”

Mel watched as your smile faded, your hands retracting. You looked gone again, the echoes of torment no longer in the background.

“ Liar.”

The tone of your voice was so light, so empty that she had no idea if you were speaking to her or yourself. She watched as you walked away without another word. She stood there, holding that stupid brush before she threw it at the painting. Her knees betrayed her as she crumpled to the floor, her formal composure leaving her. The soft tears she’d offered you before were heavier now, louder with a burning truth behind them. Mel Medarda broke apart on that tile, eyes burning holes into that awful painting.

“ You’ve left me here with this! With her!”

She screamed at the canvas as if she’d hear her mothers voice do the same back to her. But it never did. Solemnly her voice died down and her chest burned.

I’m sorry. She thought. I’m so sorry.

[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 13

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: you notice a familiar pattern of how things tend to go in your life.

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings.

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

Felix isn’t there when you wake up. 

You aren’t exactly surprised but you can’t say it doesn’t sting a little bit. You were hoping to wake up in his arms, staring dreamily at his inhuman delicate features before you had to face reality. 

He did, however, leave you a note. 

‘Dear sunshine,

Thank you for last night. I’m sorry I had early morning business to attend to. I would keep you in my arms all day if I could. You are my everything.

LF.’ 

You suppose that makes things a little better. With a stretch, you get out of bed and take a shower. Your body feels surprisingly good, only a little sore from yesterday’s activities but overall pretty content. Your heartbeat flutters in your chest. In just the past 24 hours, you have gotten a chance to see your sister and explain yourself as well as get with the man that has been tempting you with his tantalizing sex appeal for weeks. Life is pretty good. 

Things around the house are surprisingly domestic. You see yourself fitting in a little bit too comfortably. You watch more reality TV and romcoms than you probably should. You train with Changbin and Felix, and sometimes Jisung will take you outside to practice shooting in the makeshift-range. You sit and read in Hyunjin’s room while he paints, sitting in comfortable silence. You help Jeongin sort through his closet and try to deny when he wants to give you hand-me-down jewelry much more expensive than you’re worth. You deny Bang Chan’s proposal for another date, feigning sickness under his careful eye. 

You and Felix sneak touches when nobody is watching. Some nights he sneaks into your room after dark, when you’re on the verge of sleep. You only register the scent he leaves behind on your pillow and careful kisses pressed to your forehead when he leaves before dawn, silent as a whisper. Other nights he pounds you into the mattress hard enough to make you forget your own name, drawing countless orgasms out of you until your body is spent. He knows your body as well as his own. 

Today, you play uno. 

You aren’t mad when Jisung comes barreling down the hall with alcohol in hand, fist rapping against the door and pleading at you with large eyes to come and play. You can’t deny, wouldn’t want to even if you could. 

You, Felix, Jisung, Changbin, Minho and Jeongin play the most chaotic game of uno you have ever played. Hyunjin and Chan are in his office, discussing matters far too dreary for you to want to comprehend. You wouldn’t want Chan to play anyway, as you think he would make the activity far too tense for all; you do find yourself missing Hyunjin’s presence, though. You’re not sure where Seungmin is, as he didn’t answer his door when you knocked. You sway back and forth lightly, alcohol drumming through your veins. Though you didn’t have much to drink, you can feel the buzz that makes it slightly easier to smile, especially when Jeongin picks up twelve cards. 

Minho targets Changbin, constantly skipping his turn which makes him groan louder and louder each time. A series of giggles escape your throat and you find that you’re truly, pleasantly enjoying yourself. 

Until shit hits the fan, of course, like it always does. 

You can tell something is wrong before anybody confirms. A tick of silence that sits unnaturally at the table before you hear the screaming.  

“Where is she!?” you hear a strangled cry. 

You find out after the fact: Nobody has ever seen Kim Seungmin lose his composure quite like he had on this night. He had always been stoic, reserved, calculating. Not one to allow himself to become overrun by emotions. This is not something that you would have inferred after seeing him in the state of disarray that he arrived in. 

In fact, it reminded you of the way you looked on the day that you arrived. 

Bruises, tears, blood. Seungmin is the whole trifecta when he limps into the kitchen soon after slamming the front door behind him hard enough to shatter the glass. You jump in your seat. The alcohol that once caused a warm, pleasurable feeling now causes you to feel nervous, unalert. You could throw it up in an instant now that it sits uneasy in your stomach, threatening to burn your esophagus.

“Seungmin?” It’s Jeongin that speaks up, standing slowly with his hands raised as if ready to calm a wild animal. Chan and Hyunjin have now joined in on the rapid development. 

“You,”  he stares, a pointed gaze in his eyes as he looks you up and down. “This is all your fault.” Everybody else is in various stages of standing and grabbing various objects, probably to stop the blood that pours out of his leg. You can’t bring yourself to stand; in fact, you’re the only one remaining seated, rooted in place at the table and frozen to the point that you can’t bring yourself to speak. The words are on the tip of your tongue, tears on the brink of falling when all you want to do is ask, ‘what have I done?’ It feels undeserving, selfish for you to cry when Seungmin is standing there, tears pouring out of his eyes as a heavy sob racks over his body. 

You realize then the nature of his injury. Seungmin has been shot, the fabric of his pants rolled up on one side to expose the skin on his calf. It’s deep, a mixed and irritated red/purple color that’s unsettling to look at, and suddenly it’s as if you’re back in that warehouse with Jungwon, trying not to stare at the wound that sat right between his eyes killing him dead. This scene is almost more gruesome, Seungmin’s own hands soaked in the substance as if he tried to put a stop to the bleeding with just his hands. The blood is everywhere, on his face as he makes to wipe away his tears, smeared on the wall that he leans against, all over the floors trailing to the kitchen. 

You do throw up this time, unabashedly. You make it to the trash can at least and you vaguely recognize a hand on your back rubbing small circles to comfort you. It’s Lee Know that holds back your hair as you retch a second time, overwhelmed by the sounds of shouting and pushing and things falling over as Seungmin goes on a rampage. 

“Heeseung shot me and it’s your fault!” you hear him cry. “I wish you never came to live with us.” Your blood runs cold as you slump to the ground, watching as Seungmin gets dragged away in order to get medical attention. 

“Heeseung…” his name escapes your lips. You want to make some sort of argument that he’s the one who’s keeping you here, that he’s the reason you’re still in this house… but that’s not true. It’s Chan. Realistically you could be halfway across the world by now with your sister and Lee Heeseung probably would never find you.

The room has since cleared out but its remnants serve as a reminder of what has just happened. You recognize Felix looping his hands under your arms, helping you up and walking with you to your room. You try not to look at the blood on your way out. 

You sway back and forth outside of your door, trying to ground yourself. Felix’s worried expression does nothing to help, though his gentle hand on your shoulder is more than welcome. 

“Felix–” 

“Seungmin used to play baseball,” he tells you, staring up at the ceiling. “He would’ve gone pro, too. When he was a senior in college he tore his ACL. It was pretty nasty, the way he described it. When things started going downhill, he found Chan. Or, rather, Chan found him. After he joined SKZ, Chan promised to pay for his surgery to repair it. It’s been years but I think he’s always been hanging onto that promise.” 

You hug Felix tight as the tears flow out of your eyes, sobbing vehemently into his arms. His hand comes to stroke the back of your head, to comfort you. 

“It’s my fault,” you whisper. “He’s right.” 

“These things happen,” Felix says as he tries to console you. “It’s part of the job description and Seungmin knew that. He’s upset but his anger is displaced. It’s not you, it’s Chan he’s really upset with. He knew that surgery was just Chan’s way of trying to get him to stay, a bargaining chip.” 

You pull Felix into your room at that moment after looking both ways, noticing that nobody is occupying the hallway. 

You practically shove him against the wall just so you can rest your head against his shoulder. 

“Felix, there’s something seriously messed up going on in this house,” you sigh. 

He doesn’t respond at first. You notice the sad, faraway gaze in his eyes and you choose to kiss it away, pushing your lips against him in a way that is soft but heavy, heavy in all that lies beneath it and what is left unspoken. His lips are pillowy against yours and you can feel every breath he takes, every soft inhale against your lips. 

The two of you walk backwards until you’re in the bathroom, your back pressed against the countertop. He lifts you up effortlessly, never removing his lips from yours. He lifts your shirt over your head, discarding his own at some point in the process. You realize his plan as he turns the faucet, turning on the shower before checking the water to make sure it’s warm. 

Gentle caresses, as if his fingertips are trying to memorize the exact way your skin feels against them. He traces every curve, presses chaste kisses against your neck before helping you up. You finish undressing and allow him to guide you into the shower. 

The warm water against your skin feels amazing, immediately washing away any traces of the scene you just witnessed. Felix falls to his knees before you and you watch as rivulets of water stream down his face. He pushes you until you lean against the shower wall for support and he grabs your leg, hooking it around his head until he has access to the thing he had been looking for. 

When Felix eats you out this time it’s gentle, exploring, and he coaxes an orgasm out of your body like it’s his second nature. His tongue against your clit, his fingers crooked inside you, you find it easy to fall apart for him. 

He stands, pressing a kiss against your head. He scrubs your body for you, washes your hair, kisses every inch of exposed skin until you’re a giggling mess. Even when the laughs turn to cries, he wipes each tear away, drying your body off with a towel and helping you get into bed. 

You realize that without him, with all the time that has passed and trauma that has racked through your body, you wouldn’t have made it this far. That you wouldn’t be this alright with the circumstances you’ve been presented with. In just a few weeks he has helped you to become stronger, to realize that you are worthy of being loved and capable of laughing even when all things go to shit. You realize at this moment that you love him. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

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[sushi-enthusiast]

Handyman!Ghost part 4

Part 1

Masterlist

Handyman! Simon x divorcée!f!reader

MNDI 18+

CW: straight to smut, cunnilingus, some alcohol consumption, explicit consent, PiV, improper use of counters, aftercare, use of condoms!!

PLEASE remember to use protection.

Smut under cut

The door opened, revealing the woman Simon had spent his evenings fisting cock to the mere idea of. To have her within his grasp made his cock throb with need, but more than anything he felt the need to make her feel safe, wanted for more than just her body. As she greeted him, he handed over the orchids and slid off his shoes. To be in her home beyond a professional setting set his nerves on fire. She took the wine and poured them each a glass. The warm lighting in the kitchen gave her a heavenly glow, bathing her in golden light and casting a halo around her head as she leaned against the marble counter. She tilted her head as she took Simon’s hulking form in. Regardless of one’s height, the Brit was a behemoth of a man, it was clear that he had been active most of his life, even with a thin layer of pudge accumulated as he aged. She gave the man a sly grin “so, Simon, you work out often?” Simon nodded “try to, get in about three times a week.” His voice was gruff, and clearly a bit confused. Taking a sip of her wine, the the goddess of a woman responded “would you like to get some cardio in tonight?” Simon’s face flushed as he moved around the counter, closer to what he could only describe as some sort of angel sent from heaven. He placed a hand on the curve of her waist, pulling her closer to him “think I can fit that into my schedule.” Simon bent his neck down and placed a soft kiss on the crook of her neck, eliciting a gasp from the woman.

It had been too long since anyone had kissed her, let alone kissed her neck. Her hands flew into Simon’s hair as she redirected him to look at her. She parted her lips, trying to remember how to initiate a kiss, though she didn’t have to think for long. Simon’s plush, though somewhat chapped, lips met her own. He traced his hands down the curve of her back before landing on her lower back, fingers brushing against the flesh Simon so desperately wanted to sink his hands into. Their lips connected she wrapped her arms around the tall man’s neck, drawing him impossibly closer to her. As their tongues began to explore each other’s mouths, Simon began to grow bolder, grabbing a hand full of the woman’s curves, shifting from her love handles down to her ass. Simon felt as if he had been possessed by a greedier, more carnal side of himself as he felt her plush body flush against his own.

This feeling only intensified when Simon felt the woman begin to explore his body, fingers dancing down from his neck towards his muscular arms and down to the hem of his shirt. Her fingers slipped under the fabric and moved up his stomach to his chest. The two pulled away for a moment to catch their breath. Simon’s eyed burned with need, something he saw reflected in the woman before him. Resting her forehead against Simon’s the woman spoke. “‘S here okay?”

Simon practically growled, his voice laced with desire as he jumped to answer “fuck, yes.” He pulled her in for another kiss, propping her up on the marble counter top as he did so. He pulled away again as he went to move the satin robe and whatever she was wearing underneath. He was speechless for a moment when he realized the only thing she was wearing under the robe was a lace négligé. Finally, he spoke “let me eat you out. Please.” His voice was far from the gruff, commanding tone she had heard him use as he worked on her home. Instead, it was a please, still gravelly but filled with need, it had a keen to it that the woman hadn’t been expecting. She gave him a warm grin, that was an offer she hadn’t heard since the early years of her first marriage. She nodded eagerly before responding with a simple “please.” That was all Simon needed before he was on his knees and kissing up her thighs, nipping the plush flesh occasionally as he worked his way up to her now glistening core at a torturous pace. Finally, he licked a soft stripe up each of her lips, teasing her for just a little longer before his tongue swirled against her clit. She let out a low moan, finally reminded of how amazing it felt to have a man between her thighs. Thighs which she was fighting from clamping around the poor Brit’s head. As Simon massaged her clit with his tongue, he circled the tip of his finger around her entrance. Once Simon decided she was prepared enough; he dipped one of his thick fingers inside, curling his finger in an upwards motion as he continued his ministrations on her clit. She let out a shuddery breath, no longer able to control her thighs as they clenched around Simon’s head. The low laugh Simon let out reverberated against her pussy before he pulled his mouth off to speak. “Keep ‘em spread lovie.” He used his free hand to push a thigh away before diving back in like a starved man. Slowly, he worked her open, adding another finger as he continued to mouth her clit. The upwards motion of his thick fingers, creating a girth that her own hadn’t been able to manage, in combination with his tongue softly circling her bud, began to cause a tightening sensation in the woman’s lower stomach. She knew her orgasm was fast approaching, her head starting to go fuzzy as she tugged on Simon’s hair. It was an effort to alert him to the orgasm that was about to wash over her as well as an attempt to ground herself as she fell deeper into pleasure. Simon let out a grumble of “give it to me” before quickening the motions of his fingers. The pressure bubbling in her stomach blossomed until finally she found her release. Her orgasm ripped through the woman like a freighter through tissue paper, causing her thighs and hands to shake as she leaned back on the counter.

Simon stood over her with a glistening chin and a twinkle in his eyes. Simon lifted his shirt to wipe his face before pulling the fabric off. He brushed a hand over her hair before cupping her cheek. He looked at her with genuine care as he spoke “you okay to take me?” She nodded before propping herself up, grabbing onto his bicep. “More than okay, Simon” she laughed, pulling him into another kiss as she sat back up on the counter.

She worked her hand down onto Simon’s waistband, fingers brushing against Simon’s now fully erect cock before pulling the sweatpants and his boxers down. Simon’s cock bounced as it was free from its flimsy confines. She worked her hand up and down it, realizing just how girthy it really was. Simon’s hips jutted into her touch involuntarily as he gripped the countertop. With her free hand, the woman pulled out a foil square. She ripped the corner open before rolling the latex sleeve onto him, perhaps she was teasing him a little more than was necessary.

As soon as the condom was on, Simon grabbed her hips and lined himself up with her still dripping entrance. He paused and looked into her eyes “you sure?” When she nodded and gave a pleased sounding hum, Simon began to work himself into her. The stretch would have been painful without preparation, but currently it was filling. It nearly knocked the breath out her lungs but more than anything, Simon’s cock filled her so deliciously, the woman was unsure if she would ever be able to let him leave. She hooked an arm around him to ground herself before grinding back onto Simon’s dick. He was halfway in, the warm squeeze was more than enough to draw Simon to the edge, but he grit his teeth and inhaled to compose himself before he began filling her completely. With soft words and starving touches, Simon managed to bottom out without issue. He allowed the woman, still as ethereal as ever, to adjust to the feeling. Once he felt her nod against his chest, Simon began to buck up into her. The pace was almost brutal, would be if his cock didn’t curve so beautifully right where she needed it. Simon thrusted into her like a man on a mission, fast and needy. As if years of pent up frustration was being released in this act. Despite the speed and how desperate he seemed, Simon still remembered to reach a hand between her thighs. His thumb flicked over her clit, much lighter than she expected from a man pounding into her at such a brutal pace.

Sweat dripped down Simon’s forehead as he felt his own orgasm growing near. His grip on her plush hip grew tighter as he continued to tease her clit and thrust into the woman. Her pussy began to clench as the tension in her core started to spill over, she let out a wanton moan as she finally came undone. Her orgasm came just in time for Simon’s own release, his hips began to slow down before he bucked into her one last time before he crouched over her form.

Simon’s arms encased the woman, pressing on the the hair that was now splayed out like a halo on the counter. Simon pressed a gentle kiss onto her forehead, either cheek, and her lips. Slowly, he pulled out and pulled the condom off, tying it and tossing it into the bin. He pulled the woman, still feeling like she was on a cloud, off the counter and into his arms. He lumbered over to the couch where he set her down, covering her shivering form with a blanket before brushing a thumb over her cheek. “You did beautifully, luv.” He stood up, still keeping a hand on her. “I’ll be back, where’s your water.” Limply, the woman gestured to her fridge. Simon walked away, disappearing for a moment before returning with two glasses of water as he settled onto the couch. He brought a glass up to her lips, only setting the glass down when it was half drank. Then, Simon wrapped an arm around the woman’s form, tucking her against his body in a half sitting, half spooning position. Slowly, the two drifted off, satisfied.

[vveebee]

[ TEASER ] BOUND BY INK - p.js ( 박종성 ) ➤ 'sunny days' - wave to earth

RELEASE DATE : somewhere end of march TAGLIST : OPEN ! your age must be 18+ AND visible on your blog. blank blogs aren’t accepted either. this will result into a block. READ NOW .ᐟ masterlist | playlist | vee talks abt 'bound by ink'

in a world where you're fated to someone with correlating tattoos at the age of sixteen, it can almost be impossible to find your other half. how do you know your word fits with someone's quote? or that your sentence requires someone else's word? at fifteen years old, you and your best friend are sure that you are destined a happy ending, but when his sixteenth birthday comes around the corner, your words and phrases don't seem to match. then... just who are you fated to?

pairing .ᐟ jay x afab!reader

genre .ᐟ soulmates to lovers, soulmate trope, slow burn romance, smut

contains .ᐟ enhypen's jake + heeseung, boynextdoor's woonhak, txt's yeonjun, ive's gaeul, oc runa and yina, reader lwk has no friends, misunderstood reader kinda, mentions of bullying, highschool to university life, brother!woonhak, bsf!runa, bsf!yina

warnings .ᐟ MINORS DNI, mentions of drinking, pet name use (baby, pretty, doll), porn with plot(? idk be the judge..), making out, skin biting/sucking, mutual masturbation (never written this), oral (fem + male rec), protected sex then unprotected sex (stay safe), slow then rough(??), slight overstimulation

vee's note .ᐟ hi!! first fic (kinda since i dropped bittersweet..) this teaser's kinda disappointing and has nothing to do with the actual romance-ish parts. perhaps i'm foreshadowing? don't know, that's for you guys to find out! mdni divider belongs to its respectful owner - @/cafekitsune

teaser wc .ᐟ [ 0.9k ]　　recommend playlist songs

the following content is included in the final product.

12 years old.

YOU sit on your soft mattress, choked sobs coming from your throat as your tears stained your floral bed sheets. Those were your favourite sheets, but now they were tainted in wet, salty tears.

Due to your cries, you were unable to notice the sudden movement coming from the entrance of your bedroom. The door slowly creaked open as a figure stepped inside. They were so quiet that their footsteps didn’t alert you, but the feeling of your bed dipping right next to you did.

“What’s wrong, Y/n?” The person speaks, and you feel a warm hand come in contact with your back, rubbing circles clockwise gently. You try your best to wipe your tears away, sniffing so much that you could be mistaken as a nosy dog. You don’t want to look all disgusting in front of this person. Brushing the hair that stuck to your forehead, you turn your head to said person and see your mother sitting before you.

Your gaze adverts to your lap. “Has something happened? Did those girls bully you again? You know we really have to tell the school about thi–”.

“No! We can’t,” you interrupted, you could see your mother’s lips form into a line. You know you shouldn’t speak to her like that. “Sorry. That was rude,” you sighed, “It’s nothing bad, they went through my bag and took some things.”

The subtle motion on your back draws to a stop. You look back at your mother to see her eyebrows furrowed. “Did they take anything valuable?” She asked, making you shake your head and explain that it was only a few markers and stickers.

There was a short silence between the two of you, before she spoke again. “You have camp next week, you should be excited for that instead of crying over a few markers.” That was her attempt to cheer you up, but you weren’t crying over markers with little to no ink or stickers with unappealing colours.

You were crying about camp.

Right, it’s your first camp, away from your family. You’d always been around them and have never spent a night away, but now have to from Wednesday morning to Friday afternoon. “I don’t want to go,” you muttered, sounding quite sulky, “I don’t have a single friend in my group, how unlucky is that?”

A sigh.

“It’s not unlucky, maybe fate is just.. telling you that you should make more friends. What will you do next year? Minju’s moving away, so she won’t be going to the same school, nor will Eunchae.”

“I’m not talking about fate, mum, I’m talking about luck. There’s a difference.”

Your mother pats your head, smoothing out your hair in the process, “There is a difference, bun.” Bun was supposed to be short for ‘honey bun’, she was always just too—quote on quote—lazy to say the whole thing. “Fate is out of your control, kind of like magic. You know, that Harry Potter stuff you watch. Whereas for luck, you can somewhat control it.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, what nonsense is she talking about?

“What I’m trying to say is, you make your own luck. By doing little things you can alter it, put yourself out there!” She exclaimed, and often you’d think how this woman in front of you talking about fate and luck is the person who brought you into this world. “I got that from Loretta Lynn. Pretty neat, huh?

Loretta Lynn?

Sounded familiar. You’ve heard her before, quite a lot actually. “You mean that lady who made the old music you listen to?”

She tilted her head, “I guess you can say that.. But that doesn’t matter, I just want you to remember that, okay? You make your own luck.”

You make your own luck.

What an odd thing to say. How could you possibly make your own luck when it was purely based on chance? You never understood quotes like these. They messed with your brain and made you question the real meaning of existence.

In one motion, you stood up from your bed, all calmed down now. “Where’s Woonhak? Didn’t you pick him up from Dongmin’s birthday party?” You asked, curious of your younger brother’s whereabouts, it’s rare for you to do this.

“He should be in the living room.”

“Okay.” You respond, heading for the door. “Oh, and mum?”

“Yes?”

“Please stop blasting Lorielle Linda’s music..”

She chuckled, “It’s Loretta Lynn, bun. But, sure. I’ll refrain from listening to her around you.”

—

WOONHAK instantly notices your presence in the living room, your shadow caused by the bright sun beaming through the window looming over him as he sits on the carpet. He was glued to his stinking Ipad again.

“You might get box eyes from looking at that for too long,” you said, earning a glare from him. Did he always have to be so… irritable?

He kicks your shin lightly, “Well you have a phone, so you can’t say anything… What do you want?”

You shrug. “How was Dongmin’s party? Fun?”

“Why are you suddenly interested in a party full of ten year olds?”

“Am I not allowed to?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Just answer the question.”

“No, you.”

The both of you stared at each other, Woonhak’s Youtube video running in the background, something about a secret hack to a game or something. “Mum was talking to me about her old music again, something about luck.”

He raised an eyebrow.“Luck? The hell?”

“Hey. I’m telling her you said that.”

“It’s not even a swear! Just continue talking about your story–”

“Mum–!”

“Y/n, stop~ You’re being annoying!”

coming soon.

©𝘷𝘷𝘦𝘦𝘣𝘦𝘦, 𝘦𝘴𝘵 2025 𝘈𝘓𝘓 𝘙𝘐𝘎𝘏𝘛𝘚 𝘙𝘌𝘚𝘌𝘙𝘝𝘌𝘋 | 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺, 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘻𝘦, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘺 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯. 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥

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[oncasette]

𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐂. send in a character + a scenario for a blurb + 𝗨𝗠𝗕𝗥𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗔

ok theseus request!!!!! what about some hurt/comfort, maybe him reacting to you crying? + [ CUP ]:  bringing both hands up to cup the receiver’s face, the sender draws them in closer to them in order to get a better look at their face. (I feel like this prompt fits the scenario perfectly so yeah <3)

𝗦𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗧 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥, 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗’𝗩𝗘 𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗘 𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥

summary: 1.7k

It’d been all his stupid idea, one you vehemently wanted to run away from. One that struck fear up your spine like lightning and sent fire licking at the base of your skull. An idea that, now, led you to be standing outside his old flat’s front door with ice-cold rain sticking your clothes to your skin and hot tears streaming down your cheeks hours after he’d left you reeling in your own flat. 

or the three times theseus asked you to move in with him and the one time you asked.

warnings: implied smut

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Moving in with Theseus hadn’t been your idea. It’d been his. Totally, completely, and unarguably his idea. One he’d spent weeks, at this point, convincing you to go through with. An idea you’d initially been so adamant about turning down. But he was nothing if not persistent. 

He’d presented you with a key the first night he’d asked. Just a key, warm from where he’d kept it in his coat pocket pressed tight against his chest over the course of his work day. He’d dug it out of the jacket that had been hastily tossed off to the floor near the side of the bed when you’d nearly jumped his bones after he’d apparated back to his flat. You’d already been home–his home, that is–snuggled up in his bed with a cup of tea and a sleep shirt he’d had since his seventh year. 

“What’s this?” you asked as he’d handed it to you. His hands shook, and he’d been grateful you failed to make a comment on it. 

“A key,” he hummed as you took it. 

“But… Thes, I already have a key to your place?” Your eyebrows knitted across your forehead as your statement quirked into a question. 

“I know,” he said. “My lease comes up in a month and I…”

You brought a hand up to the side of his jaw, urging him to continue as his lips pressed kisses to your palm. 

“I know yours does, too. A week after mine, but I was hoping you’d think about letting it.”

It’s a wonder it hadn’t clicked for you yet. His beautiful, bright girl that amazed him every day, who was making him spell out this question for her, letter by letter, while his heart threatened to give out in his chest. 

“Letting it do what?” you asked. 

“Run out,” he exhaled. Merlin, his lungs felt heavy. 

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” you asked, hand dropping to your side as you sat up fully. You brought the top sheet with you, covering the skin Theseus had spent the last hour and a half marking with his teeth. His eyes burned as he followed your movement and leaned his back against the headboard. 

“I’d been trying to, yes,” he said. 

“Don’t you think it’s a little… I don’t know,” you swallowed, throat dry with a lack of an answer. “Fast?”

“Love, we’ve been together for nearly two years. I thought–”

He’d been cut off with your legs being thrown over the edge of the bed, feet scrambling to hold your body up as your hands reached for the clothes you’d been wearing earlier in the evening. 

“I can’t.” With your eyes screwed shut, you tugged your slip back up over your body and crossed the room to grab the shirt you’d come to his flat in–not the one of his you’d been wearing when he’d come home, a sight that has his jaw aching. It’d taken you a minute longer to find your wand, white knuckling it as you pressed a kiss to your boyfriend’s hairline. You were gone within the minute, with the key left at the foot of the bed.

He hadn’t even had the chance to move from the spot you’d left him in. 

He’d left it alone enough after that, though his heart had ached each time his hand passed over the weight of the key he still kept in his pocket. 

The second time he’d asked–more insinuated, this time–had been at breakfast two weeks later, thankfully, in a less vulnerable state of dress. 

“I saw the flat yesterday,” he said, though his eyebrows were raised with the hint that there was more lingering under that statement than you’d wanted. “Unfurnished, that is. I saw it a couple weeks ago when I bought it and everything, but I saw it for the first time since I’d signed the lease on it yesterday.”

“Theseus.”

“Look, I know. I know.” He drew his fist tight as he inhaled. “I know you think it’s too fast, darling.”

“Then why are you doing this?” you asked. 

You weren’t even sure why you were fighting it this hard at this point anymore. It was all you’d thought about since he’d asked the first time. And you weren’t going to lie, you’d warmed to the idea. Not that you were ready to admit that, apparently.

He brought your hand up to gently lay kisses on your knuckles. “Just come see it with me, yeah?”

You offered him a pointed look. “Don’t have to make any snap decisions,” he assured you. “Even though I’m desperately hoping that you will.”

“Okay,” you whispered.

“Okay?”

“I’ll go look at the flat with you,” you said. 

He’d been so eager, the smile he’d given you had been enough to allow him to convince you to stop by the next morning. 

It was a lovely flat, honestly. It had a kitchen large enough to house an island, a bedroom much bigger than you’d been anticipating, and a view that had you fully leaning out the window to get a better look at. And, it was a five minute walk away from your office. A fact Theseus had mentioned thirty seconds into your initial walkthrough. A walkthrough that had unsurprisingly consisted of all the reasons Theseus had picked the place. Or, better worded, all the reasons Theseus thought the place would be a perfect fit for you. For the both of you. 

“The living room’s the perfect size for your couch, you know. I was thinking you’d want to bring it along if you ever ended up here since you spent so long picking it out and everything…”

“Thes, it’s beautiful. It really is,” you said, stepping closer to him as you watched the corners of his lips twitch into a grin. 

He fully bridged the gap then, hands falling to your hips to tug you into his chest. “So?”

“I’ll think about it,” you hummed and he leaned down to kiss you fully. 

“Improvement,” he said. “I’ll take it.”

The next couple days had been a constant barrage of dropped hints. It felt like you’d been suffocated beneath the weight of the question, one that hadn’t been asked in its entirety since that first night. 

He’d been halfway through one of his… less subtle hints when you snapped. All you’d wanted was time. A bit of time. A tiny, miniature, speck of time to organize your thoughts, and he’d given you just short of what you’d needed. 

The key had been dangling from his fingers, for Merlin’s sake, and it took all the strength in your body not to snatch it out of his hands and throw it out the window of your own flat, the one the two of you were currently curled up in. 

“Stop it!” you spat. “I said I would think about it, right. I can’t think about anything with the way you’re keeping this up.”

He stalled, fingers wrapping around the gold key to hide it from view. His jaw snapped closed as your own clenched. 

“I’m sorry, I just…” you sighed. 

“No, I get it. I’ll give you some more time,” he said, a crack of thunder in the distance rumbling overhead as you watched him pull away from you to gather the few belongings he’d brought with him. 

He left with little more than a muttered goodbye as he slipped out the door. Not even a kiss, one you’d been hopeful enough to think would come despite your current situation. 

It’d been all his stupid idea, one you vehemently wanted to run away from. One that struck fear up your spine like lightning and sent fire licking at the base of your skull. An idea that, now, led you to be standing outside his old flat’s front door with ice-cold rain sticking your clothes to your skin and hot tears streaming down your cheeks hours after he’d left you reeling in your own flat. 

You knock on the door with feeble fingers, toes curling in your shoes as your socks meld to the skin of your feet. You wait a minute. Two minutes, nearly three before he throws open the door with only a pair of trousers on. 

“What are you-” he cuts himself off. “My love, are you crying?”

You barely manage out a shake of your head, a piss poor attempt at a lie, as a shiver rumbles through your torso. 

“Come here, come inside,” he steps aside enough to let you in. He shuts the door once you’re inside, immediately tugging you into his chest where the warmth of his skin does wonders to calm the tremors wracking through you. Both of his hands come up to cup your cheeks, drawing your face into his direct gaze no matter how much you want to shove your nose into his neck and hide from his worrying eyes. 

“What is it, darling?” His eyes scan your face as his hands hold the weight of your head up under your jaw. His thumb clears a tear off your cheek before it has the chance to fall. “C’mon, love. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Please let me live with you,” you sniffle, hands coming up to grasp at the waistband of his pants. The way you’re clinging to him feels desperate, like he’d slip away if you managed to let go. 

“What?”

“I’m so sorry I let it go on this long. I’m sorry I ever made you think I don’t want this, want you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted,” you sob. “Please let me live with you.”

“I thought you wanted-”

“I thought I did, too,” you hiccup, and Theseus has to fight to hide the smile that’s working its way up his face. “But, then I realized what I really wanted was you. This. All of you.”

“You have me. You’ve always had me darling, promise,” he says. “And obviously I want you to live with me… but are you sure?”

You nod. 

“I need to hear you say it, lovely. You’ve kind of been fighting me on this since day one,” he says. “I’m sure,” you say.