#proof I sometimes draw legs also

[bottle-of-allay]

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Hermit-a-day May #26 groups and collabs (post office crew!)

[imaginedisish]

Lover, You Should've Come Over (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Get ready to cry. This is based on a request I received yesterday where the reader gets jealous of Jean. I tried to take this in a different direction just because I feel like this is a popular trope that has been done by many fantastic writers. It's also inspired by "Lover, You Should've Come Over," by Jeff Buckley. Hope you guys enjoy.

Summary: You've been pining after Logan since you joined the X-Men, and you're convinced he'll never love you back. He’s obsessed with Jean—always has been. Or...maybe he's not.

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI, Oral (f!receiving), fingering, PIV (unprotected...pls WRAP IT UP THIS IS FICTION!), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, f!reader/afab!reader, telepathic!reader, cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan (kinda? yeah.), non-canon compliant (you'll see what I mean...no spoilers), cursing, angst, feelings, implied mutant trauma (kinda a given in X-Men), probably some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,197 sorry

Wanting someone you can’t have—it’s that crying in the shower, pulling your legs into your chest, screaming into your pillow kind of heartache. You’ve come to know the feeling intimately. It’s an awful, horrid, stomach-churning kind of pain.

But you want him. Despite all the pain, you want him. Logan Howlett. You can’t seem to keep him off your mind. For the few months you’ve been one of the X-Men, Logan has been a constant. He’s always there—whether it’s to train or just to talk. But you know he’ll never want you. You see the way he looks at Jean. You wish you didn’t. You wish you were oblivious to that sort of thing. But you don’t need to use your telepathy to reach inside his mind for proof—you just know. 

You keep holding on, savoring every moment, every interaction you have with Logan. You sit on the lawn of the mansion with him, watching the sunset. You’ll come down to the living room late at night to find him sitting in front of the T.V. and join him. Sometimes he’ll drape an arm around your shoulder. He’ll draw circles into your side as you drift off. You’ll wake up the next morning back in your bed, Logan having carried you there long after you’ve fallen asleep. 

You’ve decided you’ll take all he’ll give you, even if it means nothing to him—even if it's platonic. 

But tonight, you wish something would come up through the floor and swallow you whole. A void, a black hole maybe. That would do the trick. Disappearing would make everything so much easier. The second-best thing to disappearing is sitting in the kitchen of the mansion, alone, with a pint of ice cream. You decide to practice your powers, moving the silver spoon with your mind, concentrating as you dig the spoon into the top of the pint and into your mouth. 

You hear a warm, familiar chuckle from the doorway as the spoon lands on your tongue. You look up, and there’s Logan, arms tucked across his chest. “Wish I could do that.”

You can’t help but smile around the spoon as he strides over to you, taking a seat on the stool next to yours. You slide the spoon out of your mouth and rest it on the napkin next to the ice cream. ��Hey,” you mutter, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

His shoulder brushes against yours. He’s so close it hurts. You try to shove the pain down and enjoy the moment. 

“Was hoping I’d run into you down here. Thought maybe you’d be in bed already,” Logan says, his eyes locked on yours. 

You shake your head, doing your best to keep that fake smile plastered on your face. “Couldn’t sleep.” 

You can see the sudden concern appear on his face. “Everything okay?” He asks, tilting his head to the side. Fuck, you think to yourself. Maybe he’s catching on. 

“Yeah,” you murmur, looking down at the ice cream. “Just still having a hard time adjusting.” It wasn’t a lie. You had always struggled with your powers, longing to hide, to shove them down. Your whole life, you were either a freak or something to be used—whatever was most convenient in the moment. The struggle between visibility and forcing yourself to be “normal” was an impossible battle. You were no stranger to being taken advantage of or being experimented on.

Logan was the first person who understood that—understood you. He made you feel seen in a way that no one ever had. It’s part of the reason you’ve fallen so hard for him. 

His hand is suddenly on your back, yanking you from your thoughts and back to reality. “I’m here,” he whispers. “Whatever you need, anything.” 

Anything. You wish he really meant it. 

“Thanks, Lo.” You smile up at him, letting your eyes linger on his lips for just a second before looking back down at the ice cream. “Want some?” You ask, nodding at the pint. 

“Only if you feed it to me the way you did when I walked in.” You can hear the smirk in his voice as he taps the spoon. You side-eye him incredulously. “I mean it. Wanna see you do it again.” There’s a husk in his voice, a shift in his timber that sends a chill down your spine. You try not to think about it too much as you pick up the spoon with your mind. 

You guide the spoon inside the pint, scraping the top, and lifting it up towards Logan’s mouth. He opens wide as you lead the spoon inside, his tongue hitting the bottom as his lips close around it. The implications of the moment don’t dawn on you until he’s grabbing the spoon with his hands and sucking on the metal. There’s something undeniably suggestive about this. 

Heat rises to your chest as you replay the image of him taking the spoon into his mouth in your mind. It’s so intimate, so domestic. And, certainly, something else—something that makes you tick, that makes that familiar fire grow deep within your belly. 

But—like always—the moment doesn’t last long. You wince, feeling someone itching against your thoughts, prodding at your mental shields, begging to be let in. Suddenly, there’s another voice in your mind. 

I gotta try that myself. You flinch at the sound, taking the spoon from Logan’s hand and shooting it across the room to where you sense the person’s presence. You turn around, and there’s Jean, resisting the spoon’s trajectory with her mind. 

It's almost pressing into her skull, shaking in mid-air, ready to break her skin. You gasp and drop the spoon, embarrassed to have registered her as a threat. “I’m so sorry,” you say, watching as Jean crouches down and picks up the spoon. “I didn’t know that was you in there, I swear.”

You expect Logan to stand from the chair and rush over to Jean, but he stays next to you, glued to your side, the palm of his hand resting gently on your back. “Jean.” His voice is firm, almost cold and harsh. “What was that?” You’re surprised at how curt he’s being with her, surprised he remembered that you’re sensitive to people probing around your mind, even if it’s friendly. 

Jean mutters a curse. “I was just communicating with her. I didn’t think she’d—” 

Logan stands, his hand still steady at your back. “Don’t do that again. Ever.” His voice is louder now, heavier. 

She whispers an apology, setting the spoon on the counter and walking towards the doorway. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you,” she says. “I should’ve remembered given your…” she pauses, searching for the word, “past…that it wouldn’t be a good idea.” She takes another tentative step. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she says, and she slips out. 

Logan settles back into the stool next to you. You’re shocked that he’s still here, that he hasn’t run away yet. You can hear him breathe—in and out—gentle, long breaths. You close your eyes and listen, the sound calming you down. You’re still expecting him to leave, to walk away, but he doesn’t. 

“You okay?” He asks, your eyes fluttering open, his voice hanging in the air. His head is tilted to the side, worry painted across his face. 

“Y-yeah. I’m fine,” you stutter, your voice cracking. “You don’t have to stay with me. You can go check on her if you want.” You nod towards the doorway—to wherever Jean wandered off to. 

“And why would I do that?” Is all he says in return, furrowing his brows. 

You put on that fake smile again. “I almost jammed a spoon into her forehead because she spoke to me telepathically.” You shake your head. “Don’t really think my reaction was particularly friendly—or something that good people do.” You break eye contact with Logan and look to the other side of the kitchen. “Plus, you two are…close.”

“Hey.” His voice is firm again, but gentle this time, reassuring. His hand slips across your back and rests on your waist. You’re so shocked by the contact that you almost miss what he says. “First of all, she knows better. Charles warned her about what you’ve been through. And second…” He trails off, smirking at you. “I’d rather be with you.”

Oh? Oh. He’d rather be with you. 

“I just thought, you know, you and Jean were…” You’re too embarrassed to finish the sentence and too nervous to hear him say the words you’ve been dreading most. 

He shakes his head, that smirk still spread across his lips. “No, it’s not Jean I want. Never has been.” 

Your breathing becomes shaky—your heart beating rapidly in your chest. “If it’s not Jean, then—” 

Logan cuts you off as he suddenly moves. His arm lifts from your waist as he stands, turning your stool around so your back is against the cold countertop. He’s gripping the arms of the stool now, caging you in. Your mind is hazy—you can’t concentrate with him this close. 

“You think I do the shit I do with you with Jean too, hm?” He’s towering over you, his head cocking to the side, his voice self-assured and confident. “Think I’m watching movies and sunsets with her? Carrying her to bed, too?” 

You’re overwhelmed, dizzied by his words, his size, him. “Just thought that—”

“Just thought what?” He cuts you off again. “That I didn’t want you, darlin’?” He brings his lips to the shell of your ear, one hand moving from the counter to your hip. “Wanted you this whole time,” he huffs, goosebumps rising on your arms. “Only you.” He presses a kiss to your ear, and then just underneath your jaw. 

“Logan,” you whisper. “W-want you too,” you choke out, your hands coming up and around his back. “B-but someone’s gonna walk in on us.” 

He’s ignoring you, biting your pulse point lightly and licking the pain away. “Let them,” he husks, refusing to stop. You instinctively bring your hands up to the nape of his neck, your nails digging in slightly. He groans at the contact, his chest heaving against yours. 

“One of the kids is catch us in here, or somebody else,” you mutter, his face still buried in the crook of your neck. “W-we should—”

“Go to my room.” He finishes your thought. 

“Please.” 

And then he’s picking you up from the chair, his hands under your thighs, grabbing your ass. You wrap your legs around his waist as he prowls out of the kitchen. He looks both ways as he crosses the hallway and makes his way to the stairs. There’s no one in sight. He carries you up the steps and down the hall to his room, practically breaking down the door as he swings it open and slams it shut. 

And then he’s laying you down on his bed, crawling over you, pressing his forehead against yours. “Wanted you in here sooner,” he murmurs, his lips just inches from yours. “Hoped you’d come over one night. You should’ve.”

His lips crash down onto yours before you can find the words to say. He’s starving for you, swallowing your moans as his hands slip under your shirt, his nails digging lightly into your sides. “So fucking beautiful,” he rasps against your lips. Everything is desperate and rushed, hands pawing at bare skin in the dim light of his room. 

Logan tugs on the hem of your shirt, rolling it up your body and over your head. He tosses it to the side as he sits up on his knees, taking you in. He curses under his breath, looking you up and down. 

“Logan,” you whine, arching your back. You need his hands on you again, his lips. Something. Anything. 

“I know, pretty girl,” he soothes, his fingers hooking inside the waistband of your shorts. “Gonna take care of you.” He yanks them down your legs, leaving you in just your bra and panties. 

He pulls off his own shirt, tossing it carelessly, letting it get lost on the floor. He settles back down over you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand finds your waist. He slides up to the bottom of your bra, teasingly pulling on the fabric before slipping his hand behind your back—skillfully unclasping the bra with one easy motion. You arch your back again, the bra straps sliding down your arms as Logan tosses the bra to the floor, too. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles, his hand tracing the curves of your breasts, massaging gently. “Perfect.” He captures your lips in another kiss as his thumb ghosts over your nipples, just barely giving you the relief you need before pinching softly. The pressure feels so good, so right, but it’s not enough. 

He draws circles around your nipples with his thumb, the sensation feeding the aching fire between your legs. Your hips involuntarily lift off the mattress, meeting his. “Need me that bad, huh?” He is always so incredibly cocky, even now—especially now. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you, and what to do next. 

Logan grinds his erection into your core. You can feel how big he is, the weight of him heavy against your cunt even in his jeans. You clench around nothing, whining his name as his strained cock teases your panty-clad pussy. “You want me to make you feel good, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter, biting your lips as his hand leaves your tits and sweeps down your stomach, stopping just above your clit. He slides his fingers down just a bit more, feeling where your arousal seeps through your panties. 

“Already soaking for me, sweetheart.” The bassy timber of his voice stokes that flame deep within your belly. Without warning, he’s hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and yanking them down your legs. “Can’t wait anymore, pretty girl,” he whispers. “Wanna taste this pussy.” He kisses your belly button, leaving a trail down the rest of your stomach as his mouth travels to where you need him most. 

There’s something depraved about the way he’s crawling down your body, taking in every inch of you. He spreads your legs apart with the palms of his hands—his thumbs brushing against your bare skin, licking teasingly at your inner thighs as he settles in between them. 

He pauses, looking at you under hooded eyes. You can see the want—no, the need—in the way his muscles flex and how he works his jaw. But he’s hesitating, his breath hot against your core, sending another jolt of desire through your body. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your eyes searching his for his next move. 

He finally presses a kiss to your clit. “You don’t understand how you make me feel,” he mumbles against your heat, licking a long stripe through your folds and back to your clit. “No idea how long I’ve fucking wanted you.” You throw your head back, whimpering his name as he laps again and again. He’s starving, and you’re the only thing that can satiate his hunger. His tongue swirls around your clit, flicking it, taking it in between his lips and sucking hard. 

Your hips lift off the mattress and Logan quickly moves to hold them down. “You’re not going anywhere, darlin’,” he grunts against you, the vibration of his voice going straight to your core. 

His free hand slips up the inside of your thighs, teasingly climbing higher and higher, his nails skimming your flesh. He’s toying with you, leading you on, taking his time. His fingers finally ghost over your folds, exploring you, stroking up and down as his tongue laps at your cunt. 

Logan prods your entrance with two fingers, slipping in just a bit, testing the waters. “Please,” you beg, pushing your hips down in an attempt to sink his fingers deeper into you. He stops you, his hand still firmly holding your hips down, refusing to give you the release you’re dying for. 

“So fucking impatient, aren’t you?” He tuts. And then he’s shoving two fingers all the way inside you, down to his knuckles. “Such a pretty pussy.”

“F-fuck!” You cry out, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he sets a relentless pace. He’s drinking you in, sucking roughly, his long fingers pumping in and out with a vengeance. 

“’This what you wanted, pretty girl?” He asks condescendingly in between laps. You’re too fucked out to form a sentence, your legs trembling underneath him. You know he’s loving this—loving that you’re a wet, needy, whimpering mess. 

Your walls squeeze around his fingers, your swollen clit throbbing as he laps at you. You’re so close already. “Lo,” you call out, fisting the sheets of his bed. Everything in here smells like him: pine and mint and musk and tobacco and that thing that’s uniquely Logan. It’s all so overwhelming and overstimulating. You’re ready to fall apart, to melt into nothingness. “S-so close.”

He squeezes your hip. “I know, sweetheart,” he soothes, his pace unwavering as his fingers fuck into you, scissoring inside you, drawing you closer to your climax with that come-hither motion he does so well. Your walls flutter again. “That’s it,” he coos. “Wanna feel you come—wanna know what it tastes like.” He licks harder, faster. “Let go for me, darlin’.” 

He pushes you over the edge, pleasure warming your belly as you let go. It washes over you in waves, his fingers still pumping in and out, his tongue still hanging on to the taste of you. You ride it out, his thumb brushing your hip, coaxing you through it. His fingers slip out of your cunt, but his head is still buried between your legs. You shudder as he licks long, slow stripes through your folds. 

“So fucking sweet,” he growls, still starving for more. “Not done with you yet.”

Fuck. 

But you need more—need his cock deep inside you, pounding into you. You need him in front of you, his lips on yours. 

“Logan,” you whine, your voice shaky and trembling just like the rest of your body. He finally lifts his head, his hair a disheveled mess, your juices glistening on his lips and his chin. The sight of him makes your breath hitch in your throat. There’s a feral, needy look in his eyes. He’s starving for more of you, and you’re not quite sure he’ll ever get enough. 

But he can see your chest heaving and the desire in your own eyes. He knows what you need—he always does. He sits up on his knees, staring at you while he slowly unbuckles his belt. The tension is palpable, the clinking of his belt against the hardwood floors cutting through it like a hot knife—the only sounds the melding of your quick breaths and the shuffling of bed sheets as Logan finally comes up to meet you. 

He's balancing on his forearm as he unbuttons his jeans, undoing the zipper and shoving the denim and his boxers down his legs. You swallow at the sight of his cock springing against his stomach. You had felt his erection before, but he is far bigger than you ever anticipated. 

With one hand on his cock, he lowers himself in between your thighs. You instinctually spread your legs for him, inviting him in. He nudges against your entrance, taking his time. 

His forehead meets yours, your chests flush against each other’s, panting in sync. You’re both waiting with bated breath, his tip slipping inside, but stopping short before going any farther. 

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Thought I’d never have you,” he confesses, pushing his tip a bit further in. “Would’ve given up anything for this. Would’ve waited forever.”

“You don’t have to,” you murmur.  “I’m right here. I’m yours.” 

“Mine?”

“All yours.”

And then he’s pushing deep inside you, down to the hilt, bottoming out. He swallows your moans with a kiss, biting your lip, drawing blood, and licking it away. “All fucking mine.” He stays buried inside you, unmoving. “Wanna stay inside you forever, sweetheart,” he growls, your heart bursting at the thought.

He pulls himself all the way out and all the way back in, stretching you out, working you open. You look down in between your bodies and watch as his cock disappears inside of you. “Feels s-so fucking good,” you stammer, already drunk off him. 

“Like watching me fuck into you?” Logan husks, picking up his pace, his hips snapping into yours. 

“Y-yes,” you whimper. His muscles flex as he ruts into you. He takes the hand that was on his cock and brings it in between your bodies, his fingertips quickly finding your clit and giving it a soft pinch. Your back arches off the mattress at the sensation. 

Logan hums at your reaction. “So sensitive,” he groans. “Taking me so good, sweetheart.” You can feel him losing control as he rams into you, his thrusts growing harder with each pump of his cock. He’s drawing firm, fast circles into your core. 

It’s all too much, him, his cock, his fingers. Your skin is on fire, your nipples pushing against his chest—the friction absolutely delicious. You’re already so close, just a few steps away from the ledge, and you’re ready to fall. 

“Know you’re close, darlin’,” Logan moans in between kisses. “Can feel you squeezing me.” 

You hum in response, but Logan refuses to let up. His pace is beyond brutal, pounding into you over and over again, his fingers working your clit in tandem. Your muscles contract around him, gripping tightly. 

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “So fucking tight, so fucking warm.” His praises are more than you can handle. “You gonna come on my cock, just like this?” 

“Yes, fuck, Logan!” You’re a babbling mess, his name the only thing on your mind, on your lips, hanging in the air like it’s a sacred prayer. Everything is him, and it always has been. In this moment and in every other, he is your end and your beginning. 

 “Let go for me, sweetheart. Know you can do it for me.” His deep voice is all you need to walk you through it. You’re breaking down, coming on his cock, the pleasure coursing through your veins, spreading like an untamable fire. 

He’s stroking your clit long after you’ve come, still snapping his hips into yours, still working up towards his own orgasm. His pace is getting sloppier, but he shows no signs of stopping. You can feel yourself growing overstimulated, his cock rubbing against your walls, his fingers circling your clit. “S’too much,” you whine, your nails digging into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist. 

Logan presses himself closer to you, as close as he possibly can be. “You’ve got one more in you, sweetheart,” he coaxes, not letting up. “Know you can take it.”

You’re breathless, clinging onto him helplessly. You’re clamping down on him again, taking him deeper than you did before. He’s hitting that sweet spot with every thrust. “Lo,” you whimper. “I’m gonna—”

“I know, darlin’,” he grunts. You can feel him throbbing inside you. “Let it happen, I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.” 

The tension is snapping again, breaking in half as he pulls another orgasm from you. You shudder as you come for a third time, overstimulated and beyond fucked out. You know he’s close behind, his hips slowing down, his forehead pressed against yours. He slips his hand away from your clit and around your back, pulling you closer to his chest. It’s so intimate, so perfect. 

“F-fuck,” he mumbles. “Where do you want me to—”

You hold him closer. “Stay,” you whisper. “Want you inside. Wanna feel you come.”

“Oh fuck,” he mutters, plunging deep inside you, his muscles tensing as he fills you up, your name on his lips. His thrusts slow, pumping in and out every now and then before finally stopping. 

You stay like this for a few minutes, his arm keeping you tight against his chest, his cock still buried inside you and your foreheads still pressed together. 

He brings a hand up to your cheek, his thumb brushing gently across your skin. You sigh, your eyes fluttering open and closed. 

He shakes his head. “I always wanted you,” he says, his voice low and raspy. “The whole time. It was only ever you.” 

His words could make you cry. It’s everything you’ve ever hoped to hear. You smile, his hand finding its way to the crook of your neck, his fingers lightly stroking your sensitive skin. “Can’t believe I didn’t see it,” you breathe, your voice laden with sleepiness. “I never knew. Thought you’d never want me.”

“I’ll always want you.” His cock finally slips out of you, leaving you feeling empty. His legs tangle with yours, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “Would’ve waited forever for you, darlin’.”

“Forever?”

“Longer.”

[sweet1delusi0ns]

Haikyuu boys n cuddles ──☆*:・ﾟ

Team ! Nekoma

Characters: Kuroo, Kenma, Lev, Yaku (may add more players later)

Kuroo✿

He thinks he’s such a sneaky shit, he does what tsukishima does exept he’s not trying to hide he just likes teasing

“Ughh do you have to be so needy!” “You came up to me and started cuddling ME?” Then he just rolls his eyes as if he won the argument. He will just go up to you and start smothering you!

He will startle you by randomly pulling you in and aggressively start nuzzling into your hair or neck, you pull on his hair to get him off since you literally can’t breathe most of the time. But sadly he loves when you pull his hair so it he started kissing on you which made it harder to breathe!

Kenma✿

Shy boy, he always will be! He never asks for cuddles since he gets timid unless he’s sad and needs your comfort but mostly he just plays games next to you, slowly inching closer to you until he’s on your lap or until you realize what he wants and hook your arm around him

He sits on the edge of his bed while you sit next to him, you normally crawl behind him to give him a back hug, basically caging him in but he doesn’t mind! You kiss up on his neck which makes him softly whine and shrug his shoulders; “Don’t distract me…” in reality he likes it when you distract him

He also loves when you play with his hair while cuddling, you put it up in a pony tail when it gets in his way while gaming. He thanks you later and you give him a lil kiss which he blushes too~

Lev✿

He use to only big spoon you cuz he figured he wouldn’t fit in your arms, even though he did really want to be held sometimes he just never asked since he thought it wouldn’t work but one day you suggested and he had stars in his eyes

When you first held him he was shocked, and in love. Now that’s the only way you guys cuddle! He hooks his legs around your waist and nuzzles into your neck. You hold him like a big baby!

You also draw shapes in his back which makes him shutter, he’s also ticklish so he starts to giggle~ he also smothers you with kisses while talking about how much he loves you!

Yaku✿

He is a cuddlerrrrr! He’s also a lover, so any time you guys cuddle he gives you so many kisses and compliments! He doesn’t care if he is holding you or if your holding him he will always love up on you~

Like I said he doesn’t care what position the only thing he cares about is being with you! When you guys face each other he always gives you nose kisses, and you always give him nose boops, if you don’t he will make you. Seriously he with grab your finger and boop his nose himself

He also likes playing with your fingers, he likes how soft your hand are, he also gives you hand massages too before kissing the back of your hand~

Also not proof read cuz again I’m lazy😔 anyways I’m prob gunna post another haikyuu post then write sum naruto😋

[t4rner]

this is hardcore ✧ mark x fem. reader

★ mature content. unprotected p in v, fingering, you’re getting eaten out, don’t know how else i can put it. office sex. age gap but never mentioned. you’re a secretary. i recommend listening to ‘this is hardcore’ by pulp while reading. this is NOT proof read

i’m never writing a smut ever again.

alex ‘mark’ turner x fem. reader

She has been working at the Tranquility Base Hotel (and Casino) for nearly two years now. Her job wasn’t exactly thrilling, bringing coffee to your boss every morning was not exactly phenomenal, but how could she complain?

As well as waking up earlier than she should, just to buy him a coffee, she also recorded everything in every meeting, in her little black notebook, what things were said, and if they were important, she’d highlight them, or she’ll end up drawing a little star beside it if she had lost her highlighter. again. Though, her boss would’ve just bought her more, and if she refused, she’ll never hear the end of it. She’d end up in the filing room for hours if he asked, if he needed numbers on something specific, or just needed another double-check on something, she’d do it.

The job took up her life, but sometimes she didn’t mind. Even when he’d ask her to stay after work, she never refused. He was a different man when it was just the two alone.

Mark was a strict man, ethical, and straight-forward. He didn’t give a fuck if he behaved like a complete asshole. If you were shit at your job, you’re fired, end of story. She’d overhear the other workers bad-mouth him, calling him a tyrant, but she said nothing, because she knew how he truly was—how he was when he was around her. If he thought she stayed too long after work, he’d send her home in a cab that was on his tab. He refused to let her pay for anything. He was a good man, but his ego was too big to ever let it show around anyone that wasn’t her. He thought he’d look weak, and he definitely did not want the people that worked below him to think he was.

He usually works long hours, even when the office emptied, he’d still be rooted to the chair by the next morning; when he did get up, he’d usually leave the office for an hour or two, to check on the hotel.

It was Friday night when she was still in the office during after hours, sitting on his floor, correcting every mistake she could possibly find. He sat by his desk, his legs spread as his fingers twirled his pen, staring at the bright screen of his computer.

She eventually looked up at him, and she clears her throat, which makes him turn his head almost immediately. They had slept together nearly a week ago. He invited her over to his apartment, and one thing led to another, and now things were tense, and she didn’t like that.

“Do you have a problem with me?” She questions, her lips curving into a small frown. He tilts his head to the side, before placing the pen down onto his desk. When he doesn’t speak, she continues. “You barely uttered a word to me the past week.”

He sighs, before he rubs his face, and he stands up, which makes her instinctively stand up as well. “Just had a rough week, darlin’. It’s not you.” He hums as he gently wrapped his fingers around her wrist, twirling her slightly before pushing her against the edge of his desk, “I could never have a problem with you.” He murmurs, his fingers brushing back strand a of hair behind her ear. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, and she sighs. “Mark—“

“Shh, shh..” He sighs, before he leans in, pressing his lips against her jaw, “Do you know how hard it’s been, not being able to touch you like this?” He utters against her skin, his breath hot as he trails down to the first button of her blouse. “I can’t think of anything else but you.”

His fingers trailed up to her blouse, unbuttoning the white shirt achingly slow. She lets out a hitched breath, her eyes fluttering at the feel of his lips on her skin. “Tell me to stop.” He mutters as he eventually unbuttons her blouse, sliding it off her shoulders, which makes her shudder.

She wanted to, but at the same time, she couldn’t. She felt the same way. When she didn’t speak a word, he presses his lips against her collarbone, til it traced down her sternum. “You’re so gorgeous.” He breathes out. Her fingers gripped the desk tightly, and she gulps. His hand moved up to palm her bra, and his lips moved to the top of her breast, kissing and mouthing her sweet skin.

“I want to make you feel good.” He whispers, “Can I?” He looks up at her, and she quickly nods, and it didn’t take him even a second until he was on his knees. His fingers meticulously unzip the sides of her pencil skirt, letting it fall to the floor. He presses soft kisses against her hip, his finger hooking into the waistband of her black, lace panties, pulling it down slightly as he continued to kiss down her leg, and her fingers move into his hair, her grip tight.

His fingers fidget with her panties, and a whimper escapes her, and he smiles, looking up at her. “Never sought you to be such a needy little girl, sweetheart.” He hums, before he eventually slides them down, “Come on, be a good girl and sit down on the chair.” He nods, before he eventually stands up, watching her as she carefully moved to sit down, and he smiles. “Atta’ girl..” He whispers, before kneeling back down, noticing how wet she was, already dripping onto the leather seat. “I haven’t even touched you yet.” He chuckles, his hands moving up to her thighs, pulling them up until they were resting on her shoulders.

His hands find their way to the sides of her stomach, and his head dips down without warning, his nose grazing against her swollen clit, and her thighs squeeze around his head, rolling her head back. “I got you, baby.” He murmurs, before he presses her mouth against her pulsing folds, and she lets out a moan, her grip tightening in his hair. He sucks her labia, his fingers moving to cup her breast underneath her bra, as his tongue twirls around it. His tongue works side to side, before it delves between her folds, and her moans grow louder, her body writhing underneath his mouth. Everytime her thighs clench around his head, her fingers tightening in his hair, or the moan of his name, it strives him to continue.

“Mark, I’m going to cum..” She gasps out.

He continues his semi-aggressive movements, until he pulls away, switching to his fingers as one digit delves between her folds, and she cries out, his thumb moving in circular motions around her clit, and that warm feeling starts to pool in her stomach, and she knew she was getting close.

His finger pumps deep inside of her, curling into that sweet spot of hers, and suddenly she was a goner. She lets out a soft cry as her body shakes as she cums, and his finger slows its thrusts, guiding her through her orgasm, before he eventually pulls out. He licks his fingers clean, before leaning over her as he presses his lips against hers, swallowing her small whimpers. “You want more, don’t you?” He whispers, and she whimpers in response, nodding, before he deepens the kiss, his fingers moving to unbuckle his belt, slipping it off and letting it fall to the floor, already forgotten as he unzips his pants, pulling his pants down. His aching cock was soaking with pre-cum, already staining his boxers, and he pulls her up, guiding her towards the desk, pushing her down until her stomach pressed against his cold desk. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, “Especially like this.” He hums, before he slips off his boxers, his girthy, veiny, hardened length springing out. He pumps his dick, letting the pre-cum leak out, and he gently presses the tip against her pulsing hole, “I’ll take it easy on you..” He murmurs, and she can only shake her head, “Mark, please..”

He couldn’t even keep in his lust and desire as he plunges deep inside her, his fingers holding onto her hips, his words long forgotten. He pulls out, teasing her with his tip, before he sinks in again, his thrusts were slow, but eventually sped up. Her moans grew louder as relentlessly assaulted her insides, he could feel her clenching around him and he groans, his thrusts growing deeper. He could feel her molding around him, as if she was made for him, and him only. “Look at you, baby..” He groans, “So tight.. made for me, aren’t you..?” He murmurs, until his fingers moved towards her clit, rubbing circles with her thumb, and her eyes water, the overwhelming sensation hitting her all at once, and she could feel herself chasing her second orgasm. “You’re.. taking.. me.. so.. well..” He pants. “Going to fill you up, sweetheart..”

“If you’ll let me..” And she moans in response, “Yes!” She cried out eagerly.

He eventually hits that sweet spot of hers as he shifts his body, and soon enough, she was coming apart, yet he continued his deep thrusts, bruising her insides as he soon eventually came after her, groaning as he fills her up; her thrusts going sluggish as he continued, trying to keep all of it to stay in.

The room is eventually silent, except for their heavy pants, and he eventually pulls out, his length softening.

“Are you okay?” He breathes out as he cups her cheek, making her look at him, and she nods, “I’m okay.” She smiles tiredly, and his lips curve into a small smile in return.

“I’ll take you home this time.”

[kenlvry]

main 4 and craig and tweek with sleeeeeepppyyyyyyy gn s / o

sleepy reader

edit, 8th march. okay so two things, wrote this while half sleepy, i js realized you said gn reader... and i didnt proof read so im pretty sure theres pronouns here imsososososo sorry also im pretty sure you meant sleepy reader and not reader who's always sleepy so.. sorry

✷—*⁠.

kenny

he loves it tbh, since youre always sleepy your quiet meaning ur calm and is always at peace. he loves being around you its always so peaceful.

he's curious though, you'd wake up from a 7 hour nap and is still yawning complaining about how tired you are.

whenever he sees you you are always knocked out, if not youre on the verge of knocking out. the teachers somehow never catches you despite you always sleeping in class.

sometimes when you lay your head on your table and he'd lay his head too looking at you admiring your calm demeanor.

its really funny sometimes, you two would laugh your lungs out and the next second you are snoring and z's are coming out of yo head

stan

he's really curious abt it, at first when he always sees you sleeping during class or lunch he thought you were a corpse someone drag around.

when he gets to know you though he starts loving you sm. he envies at how you are always tired and could not give a fuck about the world, he wishes he could be like you and sleep anywhere. he tried before, it ended with him being pranked by cartman.

he makes sure everything and everyone around you is quiet so they dont disturb you (aka cartman)

he just wishes you dont fall asleep so easily cz damn you two would be waking to home and then your on the floor with one leg up sleeping like damn ?!?!

kyle

also envy you, he wishes he could just forget about everything and sleep away his problems.

he would ask you for tips on how to sleep so easily and why your so sleepy but you dont know i mean... just sleep yk???

he is so surprised at how your always moving around, like you were just in class sleeping how are you in the cafeteria sleeping again?? now your sleep walking what????

he curses the living shit out of cartman if he tries to wake you up, he's like a full on guard dog when your sleeping

he would carry around a small pillow for you so whenever he hears you you yawn he's ready with a pillow.

cartman

100% would embarrass you when he found out you can sleep easily.

he would offer you a pillow as a nice gesture but when you actually fall asleep he would put a blanket over you and those night caps with pompoms at the end of it. he'd take a picture and tweet it out "mf is the sleeping beauty ‼️"

he also would draw on your faces, but after you beat the living shit out of him for it he stops.... for now.

he honestly finds it so cute, the way your so calm and how you still trust to sleep around him despite the things he did to you in the past.

he also would tell everyone to shut up when your sleeping. he'll make sure nobody bothers your beauty sleep.

craig

he also is curious abt it, like how can you wake up from a 8 hour nap and proceed to continue it at school??

if he texts you and you don't reply he knows immediately that you are sleeping no doubt. you dont know it but whenever your sleeping he stands really close to you and flip everyone off so they don't try to wake you up.

once he flipped a teacher off bc the teacher was tryna wake you up, you both got detention..

he always notices whenever youre sleepy, even if you dont yawn or nothing he can immediately tell.

he finds it so so so so funny too, like you and him would talk to someone and then turning to you just to find you completely knocked out "are they okay?" "dw this happens almost every minute". he laughed to himself at how you are able to make everything your bed.

the wooden desk? its your bed, the floor? thats definitely your bed, the fucking sidewalk?? so comfy.

he also would bring a small pillow everywhere, if youre gonna lay your head down on the concrete atleast be comfortable

tweek

he panics at first "are you ok??" "is she dead??" "are you alive??" you reassure him thats its a habit you have and that you are not dying.

he also envies you, he wants to sleep whenever he feels like it too. everytime you sleep he always watches you and admire you, he says that when your sleeping your beauty increases, you are so sure he's lying bc when you wake up you are drooling...🤨🤨

you'd complain about not wanting to sleep all the time though, he gives you some of his coffee to help.. little does he know 🧍

he would tell everyone to be quiet bc your sleeping and freak out if somebody tried to talk to you for no reason. your confused though, everytime you wake up from a nap your hair looks like you've been in a war, he says its cute?? whatever he says ig

he would try sleeping with you too, sitting beside you and trying to doze off, he fails miserably though.

he's always worried about how the teacher are gonna get mad at you for sleeping and always wakes you up if a teacher looks even a millisecond at you just for the teacher to completely ignored it.

all in all he loves it, he wishes you can teach your ways to him one day.

[mrs-snape5984]

“Take my mind and take my pain…”

“Like an empty bottle takes the rain. And heal, heal, heal….” (“Heal” by Tom Odell)

Nighttime is my favourite time of the day. Being surrounded by this natural darkness and silence (not in the way, in which I have to “mute” the world all day long by shutting the blinds and wearing noise cancelling headphones to avoid being overstimulated) makes me feel…safe. Almost content.

In some nights, I’m even strong enough to leave my room, so I can sit outside on my balcony, enjoying a fresh breeze on my face. The world is silent, there’s no car on the streets and all I see, is the Moselle glistening in the moonlight in front of me. Finally feeling human again…

During the phases of my crashes, I can’t even step outside to my balcony. Sometimes I’m desperate enough to crawl outside, when my legs are refusing to do their goddamn job even with the help of my cane! In these moments, I’m glad to be alone…without any witnesses to my humiliation.

Last night was a lost night. I passed out…again. It scares me to hell that these moments are happening more often nowadays. All I know, is that I sat down on my bed…crying from exhaustion and pain. And hours later, when I’m coming back to consciousness, I’m still in the same sitting position. There are proofs in my room, that my children must have been here…proofs like a drawing lying next to me on my bed…a plushie sitting on my coffee table, watching over me. And I know that my kids will tell me, that I didn’t wake up…no matter what they tried to do.

Yesterday a friend of mine wanted to visit me in order to enjoy a cup of tea with me in the darkness of my room. I was so excited to see her…to have someone here for a little while…to feel less lonely for a moment. My body ached so badly and my exhaustion felt like a truck, who was parking on me…so I passed out whilst I was waiting for my friend to come over. When I came back to senses, there were several text messages and several calls from her. She was upset, that I didn’t hear the doorbell, both of my phones and her knocking on the door. So, after a while, she left…and all what’s left for me is a feeling of being a total failure…a pathetic shadow of myself.

There’s still no cure for ME/CFS…and no one knows, if there’d ever be one. All I can do, is trying different things, and yet…nothing helped me. With each new crash I’m falling deeper into the void of darkness and despair. Each new crash takes its toll on me…takes a piece of me away! I’m so afraid of losing myself completely!

When I commissioned my friend @sleepybradipo for this meaningful piece of art, I begged him to make the trust between Severus and Julia - but also their despair - palpable. They’re searching for a way to heal Jules…to cure her body and her soul. Maybe the answer lies in the Dark Arts…who knows? These lovers will try anything possible in order to save her…just like I wished to be saved.

Ivano, when I got the idea for this project, I just knew, that you would be the best artist to make my dream come true. Your tender style makes my heart swell with so much love and gratitude. I adore your work and the dedication to all these marvellous details in this artwork…it’s everything, I hoped to see, when I described my idea to you. Thank you for helping me to soothe my troubled heart and mind with your beautiful art and your kind words. I’m beyond grateful that I met you here, my friend. You’re truly a blessing to me. Thank you for everything. 🥹

Oh, and please take my apologies for this chaotically worded post. My disease seems to rob the next piece of me by stealing my ability to create vivid images with my phrases (I already mentioned that in my last post).

I’m sharing my nocturnal view with you. Feel free to enjoy the Moselle at night.

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

[weird-arcanefangirl]

Rainy Days

TW:signs of depression, blood(described), wounds and later chapters WILL discuss suicide and self harm. If you are triggered by these themes do not read this. I will make happier stories

I do not relate to this, and this might not be accurate. My grammar and writing abilities aren’t good, please correct me or give me constructive criticism ❤️ also, this story was !!!PERFECTED!!! with AI, I wrote it myself, everything, but because I’m German and my whole family doesn’t know much English, this is one of my only options. I have the original where I wrote it into my notebook and made notes for myself and I still have it in it’s earlier stages (I already wrote much more when I was younger, my grammar was pretty bad tho) if anyone wants proof (the notebook) I’ll release it on @toulouseradiosilence <3

enjoy!

Chapter 1: Rose

I wake up to the sound of rain pouring onto the roof. The first thing I do after lying on my side for another 5 minutes is to look at the alarm clock. The time it’s displaying is barely visible, yesterday’s meal is standing in front of it. Would you call that dinner or breakfast? It was at about 4AM, so I’m not really sure, but it also does not matter, so I shove the leftover ramenbox and cheap diet lemonade off of the bedside table. The bottle shatters on the floor, startling me. Besides the cars, rain and airplanes outside this is the first noise I’ve heard today, and probably one of the ones I will hear. I finally look at the time. 10:30 AM. I’m not late to anything, I haven’t been late to anything in months.. or years. Because there is nothing to be late to. Nobody needs me, I’m not part of this “system”. And I think that’s not as bad someone would expect. I don’t have any responsibilities whatsoever. I don’t have to take part in this society, I can do whatever I want. And I choose to lay in my bed, draw or sleep. I have food in my storage (ramen, diet lemonade/ water). Sometimes I crave foods I used to eat when I was younger, but it’s certainly not worth going to the store for. Some days I eat a lot, some I don’t eat at all. Most days, actually. Some days I don’t get out of bed and some I don’t even wake up. Others I don’t sleep. Sometimes I look at drawings or other posts on tumblr. That’s all I really do. Sometimes I think about signing up and posting my drawings, but I’m not good with social stuff and this is too social for me in many ways, so I don’t. I have to go to the toilet, which is pretty unusual for me, considering i barely drink anything. I don’t want to get up though, so I continue lying in my bed for another 20 minutes, until I feel too uncomfortable. I sit up and put my feet into the ground. Something sharp cuts into one of them. I don’t do anything; I don’t even look down to see what just hurt my foot. Another minute of just sitting there and staring goes by until I decide to check. A piece of a broken diet lemonade bottle. I stand up and shove the trash under my bed, I didn’t remove the shard. I start walking. The cut stings. I really do not care though. Dragging myself into the bathroom, I push the door open and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, but I quickly look away. I sit down onto the toilet and.. pee.. yeah, I pee. Afterwards I continue sitting on the toilet and my eyes trail along the way I was walking on, from the toilet to to the door. The door is open. I live alone. There’s a trail of blood on the floor. What? Oh. It’s my blood. Wait, yeah, of course it is. Who else’s would it be? I put my leg into the other to look at my foot. The shard is still in there. I actually kind of panic because it looks really, really bad. Almost my whole foot is cut open. And THAT is a reason to stay in bed all day (as if I wouldn’t do that anyway.. but now I have an excuse, I guess.) I limp over to my bed, but before laying down I check whether I still have some water. Luckily, I do. So I let myself fall onto the bed back first, take a chug of water and start to sleep.

Next chapter will probably release next week❤️

omg I just read through it and the amount of typos I made?? Guys pls tell me if there are mistakes this is embarrassing 💀😭

Also I hate the pace, its so fast…

[bbyquokka]

Skz members and thigh fcking? It can be dom or sub skz. I just feel like certain members would absolutely love the feel of fucking your squishy thighs :3

skz and thigh fucking!

SMUT BELOW CUT – MINORS, AGELESS & DEFAULT BLOGS; DNI

warnings: gn reader, thigh fucking, dom/sub dynamics, public settings, established relationship, sadism (seungmin), degrading names, pet names, some possessiveness (minho), idol au, orgasm denial, semi proof-read. IF I MISSED ANY, LMK!! words: 1.7k ~ (1,767)

dont repost. dont translate. feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

★﹐chan．﹗﹑

the type to roll you on your side, regardless of where you are. sofa, bed, floor, he doesn't care, as long as he gets to feel your soft thighs caressing his cock. as long as he gets to feel your warmth and hear your soft whimpers and moans. he's also the type to do it whenever he feels like it. taking full satisfaction in using you for his own selfish reasons. he'd ignore your begs and soft pleas of wanting him to touch you, claiming he will only touch you when he has orgasmed. this only fuels you into working harder, moaning just that extra bit more, wiggling your hips against his, clenching your thighs and occasionally rub his tip. when he cums, it would typically coat your thighs and whatever surface you're both on, but it's not enough for him so he'd roll you onto your back and drive every single moan, whimper and beg out off your body until you're both exhausted (or until sunrise)

★﹐minho．﹗﹑

minho would spend his time in caressing your skin. he'd start by kissing and massaging your soft thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh. he's so gentle and delicate to you, making your body tingle and belly feel excited from anticipation. don't get him wrong though, he is a possessive man who likes to mark what is his (even if the marks are hidden) teeth sinks into the flesh, harsh suckles as your skin turns purple and feels wet with saliva. minho would look up at you, a devilish smirk on his lips before ordering you to get on all fours. you do but instead of penetrating you like you'd expect him to, he would push your legs together, hold your hips and slowly push his cock between your thighs. the long moan that would emit from his lips is a new, foreign sound that you've never heard before. you dare look back and when you do, you see your usual, composed man slowly crumbling with each thrust and rub of his cock between your delicious thighs. his penis twitching, pre-cum leaking. lips parted as breathy moans and grunts escaped his throat. he'd hold himself, wanting to continue on and feel more and more of you. he'll never feel satisfied when it comes to you, his hunger only heightening until it become dangerous. 

★﹐hyunjin．﹗﹑

much like chan, he doesn't care where or when. he wants you and he will have you. his favourite place to fuck your thighs, is in a changing room or public bathroom. he'd bend you over, your hands planted on the mirror or cold tiles. his pants and underwear below his knees, yours around your ankles. the reason he likes doing it in public so much, is because he likes watching you struggle to not make a sound. he loves how you desperately bite down on your lip too hard to the point where you'd draw blood. how even a slight moan or whimper could echo or cause the people around you to stop what they're doing and question “what was that sound?” if you're really struggling, he would cover your mouth and muffle your moans. most of the time though, he just likes watching you suffer. whilst fucking your thighs, he would play and do other things to highten your pleasure. fingers wrapped around your neck, playing with your nipples or sucking on his long fingers. sometimes it's too much for you both and you'd cum together, sometimes you cum without him even touching you and vise versa.

★﹐changbin．﹗﹑

changbin is the type to be a switch. he loves every part of you and loves to dominate you. he loves grabbing your thighs and pulling you close to him, one hand in your hair, one hand on your hips as he sloppily thrusts between your thighs, but he likes it when you take control halfway through. when you demand him to slow down. when you call him degrading names like “slut” and “whore.” when you demand him to hold, denying him of his orgasm that's fast approaching with each degrading name you call him. your baby girl would feel so ashamed, so embarrassed when he would cum without your permission. he'd apologize profusely, begging for no punishment (even though he wants to be punished) you'd deny him of touch, your thighs are off limits, much to his dismay. he cannot touch you or himself until you say so and all poor binnie can do, is nod his head and agree with tearful eyes.

★﹐jisung ．﹗﹑

he wants the thighs and he would do anything for the thighs. your thighs are his favourite part of your body. he loves seeing the elastic of your thigh highs dig into your skin creating a skindentation. he loves watching your thighs every time you wear a skirt or shorts. your thighs in jeans or sweatpants? he is a weak weak man. you know he likes your thighs and is weak to them, so you like to tease him. you  purposefully wear tight clothing that grip onto your thick thighs, watching jisung practically salivate. sometimes it gets too much for him to bear. his cock so hard, it hurts and strains against his clothing. he'd have to drag you somewhere and pull down your clothing whilst saying sorry over and over again. his hands shaky with need, his penis red and angry. you'd pretend to be mad at him but secretly, you love watching jisung crumble and succumb to his own need and lust. once his penis is between your plush thighs, he feels relief but it only takes a few thrusts before he is a crumbling, sobbing mess as his cum shoots out and soils your clothing.

★﹐felix．﹗﹑

you'd notice he is a little stressed. his dancing seemed off. he was making mistakes that he wouldn't normally make and would get annoyed very quickly. he's sexually frustrated due to being busy with the upcoming comeback. having you watch his every move and being dressed so beautifully is not helping the man to keep his composure. after the nth mistake, he'd mumble a “i can't fucking do this.” in an impatient tone as he'd grab your wrist and pull you up on your feet. he'd spin you around, hastily pull down your clothing. you'd try to protest but as soon as you see his lustful eyes staring at you via the dance room mirror, do you understand. soft kisses on your neck along with nibbles and sucks. his hands roaming along your thighs before gently parting them enough for him to slide his penis between them. he'd start off slow and steady, increasing his tempo as he feels the relief of pleasure wash over him in waves. hands playing with your nipples, teeth sinking into the back of your neck, he listens to your gentle moans. “we don't have much time. help me.” he'd beg. you'd nod and reach down, thumb rubbing his soaked head fast and rough. long, deep moans in your ears, his hips bucking and movements uncoordinated. you'd know he's close so you would place your hand in from of his cock and feel his cum shoot out on the palm of your hands. unfortunately, it would spill onto the floor and somehow land on the mirror causing you both to clean it up or get scolded by chan.

★﹐seungmin．﹗﹑ 

much like hyunjin, seungmin likes it more when he is aware there's people around. your hands would be clutching the cold metal of the bathroom sink, the door left unlocked on purpose by seungmin. he wants someone to walk in, he wants someone to see how you're not so innocent. he'd do anything and everything to make you moan louder and louder, his cock rubbing between your thighs. he'd pull your hair, bite on your earlobe, praise you and gently choke you. he'd do everything to drive out every single moan and whimper and make you be heard by the members. tear stained cheeks, clothing above the chest and below the knees, you'd beg for more but seungmin is a menace and would refuse. the painful ache growing and growing with each thrust to the point you're on the verge of tears. after hearing you beg and cry for more, he would pull his cock out from your thighs which would leave you all confused. you'd question him and when he'd say “i'll fuck you later.” do you cry. seungmin loves it when you cry, he loves making you crumble to this state. it's sadistic, he knows but he can't help looking at your crying face and see you beg and plead. tears rolling down your hot cheeks, broken sobs as you beg and beg and beg. his penis would twitch and leak before he himself, can't take no more. he'd pick you up by your ass, pin you to the bathroom door and penetrate you, fucking you against the bathroom door. if the members couldn't hear you both before, then can hear you both now.

★﹐jeongin．﹗﹑

he's experimenting. he wants to find out what he likes and doesn't like. he knows he loves your body and thighs but he wants to know what it feels like to have his penis between the soft flesh. he'd bring it up to you and you would happily agree, much to his relief. foreplay would be standard. kissing until you both struggle to breathe, nipples being played with until they are tender and swollen. hair being pulled and ruffled with love bites decorating each others skin. when the time would come, Jeongin would grab your legs by the ankles and hold them together and up. he'd slowly insert his penis between your thighs, letting your legs rest on his shoulder so he could look at you. it's not something he would expect. the sudden warmth he is welcomed by, the softness of your plush thighs that caress him so deliciously. you'd watch his every move, watch him go through every emotion. it'd make you feel giddy, watching Jeongin kiss your ankles and legs as he constantly thanks you for letting him do this whilst tightly holding onto your legs. the feeling is so new but good to him that he wouldn't last long. cum would shoot out onto your stomach and chest, catching you both by surprise. he'd fluster a deep shade of embarrassing red, letting go of your legs and grabbing some wipes to wipe away the cum. you'd say it's ok but he can't help but feel bad so he would pleasure and treasure you all night.

note: it sort of rushed so i apologise for that :( but i hope it's enjoyable nonetheless! ‹3 remember, requests are closed but thoughts are open! pls leave feedback, reblog & enjoy ‹3

tags (open): @sstarryoong ; @septicrebel ; @alyszaen ; @writerracha ; @hyunluvxo ; @aestheticsluut ; @xcookiemonsteer ; @telesvng

[a-killer-obsession]

Android!Killer notes and lore

Post will probably be updated over time as I think of more things 💙

Official name: Killer 2.0. Bounty posters call him Metal Man Killer. Marines considered him a new pirate, so he had to start his bounty from scratch, and as such is no longer considered a Supernova

Built by Kid to deal with his grief after Killer dies. Android contains his brain, retrieved from his original body after it took too much damage to support life

If you see posts with him interacting with original Killer its cos its just a fun lighthearted alternate timeline where Kid just built him as a replacement just in case. Don't ask me how he gave it Killer's personality, those posts are just for the giggles

Uses his original mask (repaired and restored) as headpiece. Lights have been installed in the holes to fill the gaps and hide the underlying electronics and brain

Helmet contains lenses for vision. Equiped with higher level vision such as nightvision, thermal imagining and xray

Aerial on side of helmet allows for better hearing as well as allowing others to communicate with him directly via den-den

Just as strong and agile as he was in his human body, though it did take a lot of physical rehab to get used to the mechanical body

Metal sections made from high quality metals making him essentially bullet proof

Basically, he's a purpose built super soldier

Water resistant, but not submerge safe. Kid is a skilled engineer, but hes no Vegapunk. Killer 2.0 can not submerge his chest section, or his systems will fail to work, and much like a devil fruit user he would sink like a stone. He can be pulled out and repaired, his brain is well protected, but he can't save himself

Chest, abdomen and buttocks are squishy, imagine the texture/firmness of those silicone chicken fillets you use to make your tits look bigger

Has a cock that's essentially a dildo that can emerge from a slit in the rubber between his legs, and yes it can vibrate

He can feel touch on most of his body, though mostly it just feels like pressure, he's basically a touch lamp, but Kid had Franky help him wire some parts to feel more, such as his hands and dick, allowing for pleasure, though he doesn't really have the ability to 'finish'. He can recieve an artificial boost of hormones to simulate pleasure and satisfaction but thats as close as it gets

Why did Kid give him a dick? Because he's a good friend, that's why totally no other reason

No mouth or asshole though, bit of an oversight on Kid's part tbh

Doesn't actually plug his hair in to sleep, those cables are entirely just scrap for show, hastily spraypainted to replicate Killer's hair. He does get plugged in to charge, but his cable comes out of the panel on of of his hands (both hands have charging cables for convenience so he can use whichever side is easier)

Lights flash when he's on charge because Kid stole the wiring and coding from some random electronic. He regrets it every fucking night.

Spends a lot of time oiling and polishing his hair cables and touching up the paint, it's sort of a force of habit but mostly it makes him feel more normal. Ties his hair up with zipties sometimes.

Serious mental health issues. I mean come on, the dude went through all the Wano bullshit, literally fucking died, and now he's not even human. Please someone get him some therapy. Sometimes uses his old lipstick to draw a big smile on his mask when he's having a mental breakdown.

Still loves to cook, but now he has to have a taste tester with him because he has no capacity to eat or taste

Kid obsessively does maintenance on him every single day because he can't bear to lose him again

Kid also needs therapy. This whole android situation is a cry for help tbh

Kid did his best to replicate Killer's voice, but there's something electronic and uncanny about it

All the Android AU posts

Refs:

[dapandapod]

For @firefly-party mine beloved wifi, who asked for steddie, and rain against a window.

There is much to be said about living in a trailer, but Eddie always loved laying in his bed and listen to the rain as it was beating against the roof with fierce determination.

Might be a bit cliché, but look, it's cliché for a reason. right? 

Knowing that it's shitty and cold outside, knowing you are comfortable and warm inside, preferably wrapped up in as many blankets as you own, there is just something universal about that.

It's different after the upside down. It doesn't feel as safe, because some nights during a thunderstorm, he is not sure what is beating the roof, not sure what is reaching for him.

It's also different, because instead of the trailer, he is in a shitty apartment now. Walls stained with time and smoke and cheap landlord's poor taste in wallpaper, windows permanently sealed shut for the same reasons.

And because he is not alone.

Maybe that is the biggest part, actually. The best part, too.

The bed is probably a little too narrow for two people, but they make do by tangling themselves so close together it's hard to say where Eddie begins and where Stevie ends.

The duvet is bunched down by their waists, Steve's leg hooked around Eddie's calf, Eddie's arm across Steve's back, Steve's breath against Eddie's collarbones.

Eddie was never particularly hairy himself, despite his huge mop of hair, and that just allows him to feel the smattering of chest hair pressed against him, and the trail leading from Steve's belly button down his boxers. 

The air is stale with sleep and sweat,  the morning grey through their too short curtains.

Eddie is enjoying the sensation between sleep and wakefulness, where you are aware enough to feel, but asleep enough to drift.

The fog clears only when Steve stirs, shifting closer and nuzzling into the crook of Eddie's neck.

The rain outside has yet to give up its fierceness, true to the season, but without the roof of the trailer, without the thin layer of metal making out the husk of his previous home, it feels different.

Instead of hiding underneath a leaf, he feels like he finally found a burrow, a home. 

Not a very good one, objectively, but his nonetheless. His and Steve's.

Jesus, Eddie finds it hard to believe sometimes. 

Steve shifts again and makes a sound, something that sounds like half a snore, half a word, and Eddie finds himself smiling. That famous hair is a right mess, sticking up in every direction, exposing Steve's forehead.

Rain makes him soft, Eddie thinks, as he leans down the few inches it takes to press his lips to that perfectly kissable forehead.

On the floor above them, Eddie can make out the sounds of their neighbors waking up, but he isn't ready for that yet.

It's warm, cozy, safe. 

Steve gives a content sigh and his arm tightens around Eddie, before it travels up, his hand reaching Eddie's neck, under his hair,  his thumb just touching the shell of Eddie's ear.

"We should probably get up," Steve mutters, eyes still closed, lips pouty in the way they are when his cheek is pressed against the pillow.

"Probably," Eddie agrees, lips still against Steve's forehead. Pulling away is impossible, this moment feels like it is plucked out of time, a bubble of their own. "But when was I ever known to make good choices?"

"Hmmmmm," Steve supplies, and Eddie takes that as Steve disagrees, that Eddie is full of infinite wisdom. Good man.

Along Steve's back, Eddie can track moles, like a star chart written in Braille, just for him to read.

Maybe Steve will let him draw them out again, the sharpie only stayed visible for a few days.

"Did you buy eggs?" Steve says, keeping his eyes stubbornly closed as he plays with Eddie's ear, making him shudder.

"Yeah. And ice cream. Today is an ice-cream-for-breakfast-day." Eddie declares, leaning backwards to pull Steve half on top of him.

That's it, he realizes. That is what he was missing. The weight, the security of another person, the proof of being loved and trusted in ways he only imagined back in that trailer, with the world closed off, still only a thin metal wall away.

"Nancy will have my head if I'm late," Steve grumbles, but moves to fill the spaces where Eddie is not, covering him as much as he can.

"Can't be late if you don't go in," Eddie says with his infinite wisdom, cradling Steve closer, closer, close is never close enough.

"Can't fault that logic," Steve huffs. "I really don't want to get up."

"So stay," Eddie whispers.

He doesn't realize how much he needed to hear it, how much he needs Steve, until he says it.

"Always," Steve promises, promises always, always, always, whenever Eddie asks.

The rain doesn't let up until lunchtime. Steve is only let go to empty his bladder, and Steve stays, stays, always stays.

Rainy days are the best.

[gaywattpadstorykid]

Rainy Days

TW:signs of depression, blood(described), wounds and later chapters WILL discuss suicide and self harm. If you are triggered by these themes do not read this. I will make happier stories

I do not relate to this, and this might not be accurate. My grammar and writing abilities aren’t good, please correct me or give me constructive criticism ❤️ also, this story was PERFECTED!!! With AI, I wrote it myself, everything, but because I’m German and my whole family doesn’t know much English, this is one of my only options. I have the original where I wrote it into my notebook and made notes for myself and I still have it in it’s earlier stages (I already wrote much more when I was younger, my grammar was pretty bad tho) if anyone wants proof (the notebook) I’ll release it on @toulouseradiosilence <3

enjoy!

Chapter 1: Rose

I wake up to the sound of rain pouring onto the roof. The first thing I do after lying on my side for another 5 minutes is to look at the alarm clock. The time it’s displaying is barely visible, yesterday’s meal is standing in front of it. Would you call that dinner or breakfast? It was at about 4AM, so I’m not really sure, but it also does not matter, so I shove the leftover ramenbox and cheap diet lemonade off of the bedside table. The bottle shatters on the floor, startling me. Besides the cars, rain and airplanes outside this is the first noise I’ve heard today, and probably one of the ones I will hear. I finally look at the time. 10:30 AM. I’m not late to anything, I haven’t been late to anything in months.. or years. Because there is nothing to be late to. Nobody needs me, I’m not part of this “system”. And I think that’s not as bad someone would expect. I don’t have any responsibilities whatsoever. I don’t have to take part in this society, I can do whatever I want. And I choose to lay in my bed, draw or sleep. I have food in my storage (ramen, diet lemonade/ water). Sometimes I crave foods I used to eat when I was younger, but it’s certainly not worth going to the store for. Some days I eat a lot, some I don’t eat at all. Most days, actually. Some days I don’t get out of bed and some I don’t even wake up. Others I don’t sleep. Sometimes I look at drawings or other posts on tumblr. That’s all I really do. Sometimes I think about signing up and posting my drawings, but I’m not good with social stuff and this is too social for me in many ways, so I don’t. I have to go to the toilet, which is pretty unusual for me, considering i barely drink anything. I don’t want to get up though, so I continue lying in my bed for another 20 minutes, until I feel too uncomfortable. I sit up and put my feet onto the ground. Something sharps cuts into one of them. I don’t do anything; I don’t even look down to see what just hurt my foot. Another minute of just sitting there and staring goes by until I decide to check. A piece of a broken diet lemonade bottle. I stand up and shove the trash under my bed, I didn’t remove the shard. I start walking. The cut stings. I really do not care though. Dragging myself into the bathroom, I push the door open and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, but I quickly look away. I sit down onto the toilet and.. pee.. yeah, I pee. Afterwards I continue sitting on the toilet and my eyes trail along the way I was walking on, from the toilet to to the door. The door is open. I live alone. There’s a trail of blood on the floor. What? Oh. It’s my blood. Wait, yeah, of course it is. Who else’s would it be? I put my leg into the other to look at my foot. The shard is still in there. I actually kind of panic because it looks really, really bad. Almost my whole foot is cut open. And THAT is a reason to stay in bed all day (as if I wouldn’t do that anyway.. but now I have an excuse, I guess.) I limp over to my bed, but before laying down I check whether I still have some water. Luckily, I do. So I let myself fall onto the bed back first, take a chug of water and start to sleep.

Next chapter will probably release next week❤️

[railmerosalie]

Okay let's get something straight, i wrote this during a 10 hour car ride. Not proof read we die like tributes. @mystargirl-interlude i hope this isn't too shit my dear.

Peeta is mostly a soft dom y'all, I will die on this hill. Now we all know he's a smooth talker and my god does that extend to the bedroom. "Shhh pretty girl, keep your eyes on me" , "just like that angel, you feel so good". This man will praise anything you do, sometimes he will just babble out words like 's-so good' even if he's doing all the work. Would 1000% stroke your cheek with his thumb while moaning in your ear. Has a thing for hair pulling, either yours or his own, he doesn't care. Speaking of hair, he would softly brush yours out and braid it during aftercare, you don't ask him too, he just wants too :)

Holds your hands while ramming into you while in missionary. Wants you to mark him, to have good memories associated with his scars. While this man is a soft dom he will put you in your place, however, he hates the idea of hurting you/causing you pain. He would hold your arms around your back in a soft grip while rocking into you slowly, "hmmmm, what happened to my good girl?". You could try and struggle against him, to make him move faster, but good luck, he'll maneuver you as easily as a sack of flour.

Eye contact !!! Loves seeing your pupils dilate when he hits that certain spot. He also finds it reassuring, it keeps him grounded. Now dont get me wrong, he lovvves getting his dick sucked, but there's something about eating you out that really gets him going. I think it's despite being a baker, he's never tasted something as sweet and addicting as you. He's a pussy pleaser idk what else to say 🤷🏻‍♀️.

He loves drawing you naked. You guys would be relaxing in a field, you reading while he scribbles away. At first you think he's drawing the wild flowers you're sitting in, peaking over to see that he's drawn your torso, tits and neck with one hand wrapped around your waist and the other at the base of your throat. Despite the dirty image he somehow makes you look angelic. If he gets up before you he'll leave them on the kitchen table along with a fresh pastry from that morning's batch, and a note telling you how beautiful you are <3

He LOVES manhandling you, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder or carrying you bridal style while hugging you to his chest. Will hold up your entire bodyweight while jack hammering into you. Speaking of manhandling, he would hold your writhing body against his as he fingers you.

His chest is super sensitive, something as simple as softly dragging your nails across his skin would make him moan. If you licked his nipples he would start to whimper, now pair that with covering him in hickeys and a handjob, he would cum soo fast. If you were to smack his ass in a causal show of dominance he would blush. Oh and he likes holding your tits, no matter how big or small they are (they're just soo warm) either his hands or face always seem to find them.

His prosthetic leg gives him more trouble than he lets on. So for the love of Christ make the poor boy comfortable and take it off while riding him. It means he can focus just on you without the pinching on his thigh.

Okay i need sleep

[ai-check]

A good way to find out whether a piece of art is AI is to search for logical errors. Human artists add everything with a purpose even if they might lack the skill for it, but AI doesn't understand what it's doing since it's only copying what it sees (note: you can see a similar effect when people trace art, but don't understand what it is they're tracing)

An artist might make a logical error or two just because art has many details that you need to keep track of over the course of a few days, but most of the picture has consistency. A major point is to search for as many inconsistencies as possible because they all add up to prove that the art is AI

But enough of that, allow me to give you a visual example using this AI picture of Hatsune Miku:

As with all AI art, it looks fine at a glance which is why you have to look deeper to find your proof

Starting out with the most well known sign of AI use: the hands

The first hand is a mangled mess, while the second one has an extra long finger that turns into hair. This alone can prove that the art is AI (though do be cautious, artists sometimes miscount fingers in their art! If there are more or less than 5 fingers but they all look real, look for other signs in the art before accusing of AI)

Another thing to keep in mind is that AI is terrible at continuation. That is to say, if there is something intersecting where an object goes, it will not understand that the object behind it is the same one. An example in this picture would be the pigtail that's separated by the arm:

Note how thin the pigtail is at the top, but the bottom comes out much thicker as if she grew extra hair. This effect is much more obvious in other pictures so you may call this nitpicking, but the point is to show you methods & what to look for

Another example would be the legs and the skirt:

The leg is coming from in front of the skirt??

One more way to easily tell AI apart is the eyes, as the eyes can be heavily stylized, but AI has troubles keeping them looking consistent with each other:

Miku's left eye is noticeably lighter and more blue (no, it's not the shading when her entire face is supposedly under the same shadow), the edge of the iris is misshapen, there are many random shapes in the eyes. The pupil is probably supposed to be the big lighter circle in the middle

Miku's right eye has less shapes in it and the pupil seems to be a tiny light dot in the middle?

The highlights in the eyes are also done differently and inconsistently. Usually even if the eyes are drawn quite different, the highlights are what makes them come together, even in anime where the focus is on animation & not so much consistency

These are the main inconsistencies to look out for in any art, but even that might not be enough at times, especially if a person is drawing over AI art to try and fix mistakes. Unfortunately, I have seen it before and it is something to look out for, so let's quickly point out any other logical mistakes in this Hatsune Miku picture so you have a better understanding of what to look out for:

The shape of this object is square, but there's a weird angle at the top

2. The pink hood is not attached to anything on one side. Additionally, her hair blends into the hoodie string

3. Bottom hair strand isn't attached to the rest of the hair (the hair is coming from the top right, yet it ends there. Unless a hair strand did a 180 turn behind Miku, it has no purpose looking like that)

4. The pink hoodie has a single button hole in the middle of one side, and one at the bottom of the other side. This is also odd considering it's supposed to be a hoodie, which doesn't usually have buttons. Additionally, I'm sure the text of the shirt is messed up and is unreadable in any language

5. Inconsistent hoodie colors, the left side has a white bottom while the right side has a pink edge. Also it splits into two on the right side for some reason. Also also, the left side has something that looks like a messed up pocket with pink rocks attached to it, which doesn't make sense when the bottom of the hoodie has a different type of pocket.

6. The background. Note the railing starts right above the yellow on the left side, in the middle of the bridge. But then suddenly is at the far edge of the bridge on the right side with the white road between the two

Lastly for good measure, take a look at the whole picture again and look at how inconsistent the shading is:

The lighting can be split into two parts, where the light comes from the top of the character & where the light comes from the right side

Light comes from the top:

Top of the hair

Raised arm

Top of the hoodie & shirt

Skirt

Light comes from the right side:

Pigtails

Bottom of the jacket

Fluffy collar

Face

You can't justify it by saying "it's coming from the top right" because that's not how the shading would work in that situation. If it was, the lowered arm wouldn't have such a bright light since the light wouldn't be able to reach it. Note that the raised arm also doesn't cast a shadow over the chest

A lot of these things are something you understand through experience in art, so it's okay if you struggle to see what I described here. After all, I'm here to help so that I can use my artistic experience to better identify AI art as well as help you learn the signs of it

[spencerreidswhore187]

Checkmate (Part One)

By @spencerreidswhore187 for @sackofpissandshit

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Summary: Spencer finds out that reader is not who he thought they were. (Lots of angst)

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Unsub (g!n) Reader

Word Count: 2.3K

TW: Death, violence, brief mentions of kidnapping, rape, alcohol/substance abuse and guns.

A/N: Hi! This is my first Spencer Reid fanfic and I’ve also not proof read it so please don’t judge if it’s not very good. It’s inspired/named after the song Checkmate by Conan Gray and influenced a little by the film Mr and Mrs Smith.

“I’m sorry Reid,” Emily whispered. When the team found out, they had to draw straws in order to decide who’d be the one to tell Spencer. Penelope had tears in her eyes and Emily chewed her nails down to the finger. None of them wanted to be the one to break his heart, not after Meave.

Spencer had experienced heartbreak before but not like this. Whereas before, when he watched the girl he loved get shot, his heart shattered into a thousand pieces. It hurt him so much, like a physical wound. But now? His heart was fine and, yet, it were as if the rest of his organs had shut down. He couldn’t feel anything. He was floating. He could see Emily’s lips moving but all he could hear was your voice, playing over and over and over again in his head.

Spencer remembered the day he told you that he loved you as though it was yesterday. It was late at night, stars splattered across the midnight sky; your legs were draped over his as you lay stretched across Spencer’s sofa. You both had spent the day binging the Star Wars franchise for what was probably the a hundredth (in release order, much to Spencer’s dismay.) You’d looked so beautiful with the crimson and azure lights reflected from the lightsabers on the TV dancing across your skin.

Your mouth was full of pistachio ice cream when the words slipped out, “I love you.” Spencer recalled the way your eyes widened - as if no one had ever said those words to you before. “I love you y/n. I love you, I love you, I love you.” Your lips stretched into a soft smile.

“I love you, too, Spence. More than anything, never forget that.”

Spencer would have sacrificed anything to go back to that moment: every IQ point, every novel in his possession, his role in the FBI. But no matter what happened, Spencer could not turn back time. He could not return to a time before he knew you were a killer.

—————————————————————

“He’s a fucking FBI agent.” Ben spat.

“No he’s not,” you protested, “he’s a surgeon.”

It’s why he had so many spontaneous shifts, why he’d suddenly have to leave in the middle of the night or during a date, it’s why he’d sometimes be gone for long periods of time.

You hated the way Ben laughed at you. You hated Ben. Full stop.

“How can you be so ignorant y/n. You are so god damn naive.”

“He’s a doctor. I swear.” Spencer wouldn’t lie to you. He’d promised you, the night he said he loved you, that he would never lie to you.

Ben slung an arm around your neck and pulled you into him, overwhelming you with the vile scent of alcohol and piss.

“Then fucking explain this,” he grinned, showing you a photo of your boyfriend. You lurched forward as you read the headline of the article: ‘Dr Spencer Reid of Quantico’s Behaviour Analysis Unit’.

It hurt. So much. This betrayal consumed you. You shoved your boss off of you and vomited. You could hear Ben’s laugh reverberating off the grim walls of the basement you were in as he stumbled away.

You scrubbed at your lips, trying to rid yourself of taste.

Your boyfriend, your best friend, worked for the FBI. And you were a killer.

You were eight years old when it happened, they’d grabbed you off the street as you were walking home from school. The police would have found you if they’d looked. Then men go took you did not wear masks, nor did they bother disguising themselves or the van they tied you up in the back of. It had taken your parents four days to realise you were gone. It had taken the police two hours before they gave up searching. No one had cared enough to find the little lost child. No one had ever cared about you, until Spencer.

You learnt quickly that the only way to survive was to do what they say. Deal drugs, steal, you didn’t care. You would do anything to live. And these men exploited that. They manipulated you. They corrupted you. They were the first people you killed. You slept better than ever that night, in an abandoned alley. Alone. Free.

That’s where Ben had found you. Ben, the leader of a minor gang, paid you to go after those who’d wronged him. The people who broke his rules - rapists, pedophiles, murderers. You enjoyed being a vigilante at first. But soon you learnt you could hurt them in way worse than death…Ben agreed with you.

You would frame them for crimes, rob them, plant drugs in their possession. You would stand from the sidelines at watch their lives collapse.

And now it was your turn. This was a strange sense of Karma.

You and Spencer played a game of Chess every night before you went to sleep. You were waiting for him to come home as you slipped a vail of hemlock into his drink and placed the glass next to the board. Staring at pieces, you heard the front door open.

“Checkmate,” you whispered.

—————————————————————

Spencer pressed his loaded gun firmly behind his back, breathing heavily as he climbed the stairs to the bedroom. He knew what would be waiting for him, the same thing that awaits him every evening when he returns from work.

You were sat crossed legged in your chair, leaning over the chess board analysing the pieces. You’d been playing this game for the last three weeks - both of you always managed to escape being checked.

You had a glass of water in hand and there was a glass for him next to his seat. Neither of you drank alcohol. Spencer had been sober since his drug addiction and you refused to drink after he told you that he was ten years sober. It was things like that, the small things you did, that made Spencer believe you were gentle and kind. He chided himself for being so stupid.

You looked up grinning at Spencer who was leaning against the doorway. He loved that smile. He hated himself for still loving it.

“Hey Spence.”

How could you be so glib when your hands are covered in the blood of innocents?

“Hi y/n,” he said, fist tightening around the gun.

“How was work? I saw or the news there was crash near the hospital. Did many people get-” you were interrupted by the sound of a gun cocking.

You abruptly stood up and stumbled away from Spencer.

“W-what are you doing.” You tried your best to sound scared when he pointed the gun at you.

“What do you think I’m doing? You are a criminal. You are a fucking murder!” Spencer did not feel guilty when you flinched.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Baby, please, I’ve never heart anyone. Please put the gun down and we can talk.”

Spencer had never noticed your tell before but it was clearer than ever, now. You chewed on the corner of your lip. This was all the confirmation he needed.

He would not be played like a pawn.

“Cut the act, y/n.” You searched his eyes but they were void of any emotion. Her loving Spencer was gone. Dead.

“What act?”

“You know what bloody act. No more games.”

Fine. You couldn’t help but think that things were finally getting fun.

“You’re not going to shoot me, Spencer, you’re an FBI agent. You have a code of conduct. You have morals.” You mocked, disdain evident in your words. “That’s right, isn’t it? You have doctorates but you are not an actual doctor. What you are is a fucking liar.”

That was the first time you’d ever called him Spencer. It had always been ‘Spence’. The facade was truly gone and he felt wretched.

How could you use him like that?

He walked towards you, pressing the barrel of his gun against your temple, forcing you to walk backwards until you hit the wall.

“You’re not going to shoot me,” you repeated.

And you were right. Despite Emily telling him to shoot if necessary, Spencer could not bring himself to do it. He was better than you. He had to be better than you.

“Yes I am,” he whispered.

He was not surprised when he felt the cold metal of a blade kiss his neck. Spencer had walked into your trap.

He was surprised, however, when a lone tear slipped down your cheek. His fingers itched to brush it away.

You looked up at him, “did it mean nothing to you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“This. All of it. You knew who I was…what I was the whole time and still you made me love you. You made me believe that you actually loved me.”

This was perhaps the first time Dr Spencer Reid had ever been confused.

“I-what?”

“Why did you have to make me love you?” You breathed.

“Y/N. I don’t understand.”

“You lied about being a doctor. You were undercover. You orchestrated this entire relationship just so you could arrest me. I want to, no, I need to know why.”

“That’s not true. I lied to protect you. My job gets people hurt, it gets people killed!” Spencer cried, “I lied to protect you!”

You pulled your knife away from his neck.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I would never hurt you.”

“You have a gun aimed at my fucking head!”

Spencer dropped the gun and kicked it away from the two of you. You were so close that your noses kept brushing with every movement.

He inhaled sharply, “how many people have you killed?”

“I-none.”

“Margaret Sheppard, Claire Daugherty, Travis Smith, Lance Chen and Aidan Keith. Do those names ring any bells?” Spencer pressed into you, his long fingers curled around your upper arms.

Spencer tried not to think of the nights of the murders, the ones you spent as a knot of limbs - not knowing where one of you began and the other ended. He tried not to think of the way you would gasp or how, afterwards, you would pull him to you, leaning your forehead against his, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. The betrayal was the most painful thing Spencer had ever experienced.

“I did not kill any of them. I didn’t,” you protested.

“So explain to me how they all ended up dead within days of each other. Their necks slit and an ‘x’ cut into their wrists?”

“Spencer, I promise you, I did not kill any of those people.”

“It’s your MO y/n. We know it was you.” Or, he thought he did. You weren’t chewing your lip. “You’re telling me that you have never killed anyone?”

“That’s not-”

“Don’t lie to me!” He shouted, slamming his hand against the wall. “Please. Please just tell me the truth.”

“I have killed people before. I have killed to survive. I have killed because I had to. I have killed because I wanted to. I have killed for fun. But I have not murdered anyone in the last three years. I have not taken a single life since the day I met you!”

Spencer couldn’t breathe.

You continued, “Margaret Sheppard drowned her newborn baby because it was crying too loud. Daugherty ran a sex trafficking ring, Smith and Chen took turns raping their 15 year old daughters. Aidan Keith beat his wife black and blue. They are…were…rich. They were going to get away with it. I did what I was told to, I made them stop.

“I stole millions of dollars from Sheppard. She had no choice but to claim bankruptcy. I helped every single girl escape Claire Daugherty before I put her in a coma. I planted very incriminating evidence on Travis Smith and Lance Chen - evidence that landed them both a life sentence in a high security prison. And Keith? I wanted to kill him. He was one of the men who kidnapped me when I was a child, but I didn’t. I saved him for last. I destroyed what mattered most to him: his reputation.

“I lied and I stole and I hurt but I did not kill any of them. I would not have done anything that would have risked my relationship with you, Spencer.”

He pulled away from you and started pacing around the room. You stood frozen as he reached for his drink.

I have killed to survive. Those words were replaying in his head (curse his eidetic memory). He wanted to know what you meant. He needed to know. What did you mean by one of the men who kidnapped me? Neither Emily or Rossi had told Spencer any of this. None of the BAU had. He mentally went through all of the cold case kidnappings from around eighteen years ago in the area but none stuck out. Were you lying? Was this some elaborate trick? A trap? His head was spinning.

Spencer reached for the untouched glass of water next to the chess board and took a sip.

You lurched foreword and pulled the cup out of his hand, throwing it against the wall. Tiny fragments of glass flew around the room as it shattered, water staining the wall.

It all made sense to Spencer, in that moment, as his eyelids grew heavy, you had poisoned the drink. That was why you had kept glancing at the glass. But, if you wanted to kill him, why did you stop him from drinking more? Why did you break the glass? The last thing he did before the world went dark was whisper “I love you.”

A/N: Thank you for reading! Part two soon ◡̈

[aalghul]

Nice post about Roy I like how kind your response was. But yeah as a Roy fan I find the idea that he would hate anyone but the man who killed his daughter to be silly. Cause like thing is Roy has a line till he doesn’t. Like you said Roy draws a line for himself with Cheshire but he never ever 100 percent commits. Even after the bombing and her holding a gun to Lian and threatening to shoot her while trying to escape prison, in his time with the League he still is hinted to love her and still lets Lian visit her. Flash forward to now they are still on again off again lovers/enemies. The old Titans ‘Roy breaks up with Cheshire’ story was written like it was the full end of their relationship but DC loves that concept and in comics they will always come back.

With Mia or people hurting his family Roy would not care at the end of the day unless that family member died sorry. Roy forgave a woman who babysat Lian and helped terrorists kidnap her and then broke his leg in an attempt to kill Cheshire. No he didn’t just forgive her he offered to let her keep babysitting Lian saying he didn’t think he had the right to judge anyone.

People other than Roy say he belongs in the light but Roy kind of hates that about himself and actively denies and resists it because he thinks the dirty work is the real important work. He worked in fantasy superhero CIA for years and even killed for them, left and made the Outsiders, initially didn’t want to leave and basically stayed till the last second till his mental health gave in, joined the League and didn’t actually have a great time with the group or ever really believe he belonged, had a horrible ending with that group and became a straight up villain after the ROA fiasco and worked on a team of villains all of whom except Slade he expressed some sort of sympathy for.

Roy just doesn’t give up on people and kind of really wants to do antihero work and tries to again and again. The age/maturity thing kind of gets it but that only matters where you connect Roy and Jason, they are peers and work together in some fashion off screen for a year in Outsiders, put a ROA recovering villain Roy with really any post UTRH Jason save Morrison Jason and you could write an intergenerational friendship arc easy.

People forget but before 52 first started a lot of people wanted a Jason Roy book. It was floated around as an idea for ages and rumor was even Winick made a pitch but can’t confirm. When 52 was first announced a lot of people thought not only that RHATO made sense and only Kory didn’t belong but thought the comic had real potential. And really it might have since Roy and Cheshire at one point would not have made sense for either character and notably everything about their relationship happened off screen. We give things a pass because of how well the stories are written. I think most issues with comics are people moralizing about the characters and saying they would never do this or that when 9 times out of 10 the writer just shat over the execution of a concept and the writing as is was shit.

-- i’m just going to include my thoughts down here --

I agree with everything you said about Roy just not being the person who holds a lot of hatred for people. He comes off as strict and even angry sometimes, but at heart, he’s one of the most understanding characters.

I always took Roy’s failed attempts at being an anti-hero as proof that it’s not what he’s meant to do. He keeps trying because he sees his sympathy and desire to do more as a sign that he needs to get his hands dirtier, but each time leaves him with the realization that he can’t be doing that type of work. He was reluctant to leave the Outsiders because he didn’t want to abandon them, that’s why he does leave as soon as Ollie provides funding for them (which he also does specifically because he knows Roy wouldn’t leave, no matter how much he wanted to, otherwise). The Outsiders did end in Roy himself realizing he couldn’t stay there.

I think Roy has always worked best in the various Titans teams he’s been part of. Unfortunately, Teen Titans (2003) set a new status quo with enough of the original Titans leaving and the team working under the leadership of younger members even when more experienced Titans were present. So we could never really go back to the titans as they were in any of the iterations prior to that.

I don’t think Jason and Roy worked together for a whole year; it was just Jason reaching out to Dick, and then subsequently teaming up with him and Roy to give them information of Black Lightning. Which definitely worked to let Roy know the type of person that Jason is (i.e. not a villain), but it was also very much through Dick, so it would again be a reminder of the time that Jason, as a child, teamed up with Roy and the others. Roy’s affinity to taking a guiding role when he works with team members significantly younger than him is just such an important part of who he is that I can’t get past it. I don’t mean to say that Roy’s going to treat Jason like a child, but that there’s going to be a significant gap between their friendship as compared to the friendship that post-flashpoint gave them. Roy is just at a completely different stage from Jason, who is essentially just beginning to catch up on life as a teenager. That difference can’t be ignored easily.

I didn’t read comics back then (and was also a very little kid lol) so I didn’t know about that being something people wanted back then! It must be disappointing to see how it’s turned out.

At the end of the day, I personally think that Roy and Jason could work together very well short-term, and then it would have to end in them walking their separate ways because Roy can never stay in the dark too long, whether he admits it or not. I get what you’re saying about good execution making all the difference, though! I just want to stay as consistent to Roy’s character as possible, so Jason and Roy as best friends/a long-term anti-hero duo never quite works out.

[queenofthequillandink]

Drawings from Tucker's sketchbook to go with the latest chapter of my DPxDC crossover fic Unearthed, Reborn! Everyone please know that Tucker draws better than I do, but I'm doing my best.

Image IDs and a clearer idea of who's writing what below the cut.

[Begin image ID: A series of nine photos showing two sketchbooks pages with black and white pencil drawings. Page one shows hero costume designs for Jason Todd and Sam Manson, with comments written in varying handwriting. The second page shows a costume design for Danny Fenton.

The first closeup shows Jay with his ghostly wings out, hair color-swapped to be mostly white with a black stripe, and wearing simple, functional armor. He is in an action pose, wings extended and lunging to the side. An arrow points to his wings with "WING ARMOR" written in Tucker's handwriting. Sam responds, "you didn't draw the back because you don't know what it looks like, do you?" Tucker writes, "NO PROOF"

The second closeup shows Jay's armor in greater detail, with more notes. One arm on the basic drawing model is extended to the side. Black-shaded hands are labelled, "GLOVES" by Tucker. Danny responds, "no fingieprints," to which Jay has written, "Blocked." An arrow points to the same arm, labelled by Tucker as, "REINFORCED WEAVE FABRIC (TBD)." Tucker labelled a vest with obvious plates drawn on as, "ARMORED PANELS." The model wears a utility belt, labelled with the exchange, "Tucker: UTILITY BELT. Sam: sometimes the Bats have good ideas. Tucker: BASICALLY." Tucker has labelled the elbow and knee pads, "WEAPONIZED POINTY BITS." Danny responded, "nice." Next to the boots, Jay wrote, "Combat boots?" Tucker responded, "WHAT AM I, A SCRUB? OFC." Jason wrote, "Nice"

Below the model is a bust closeup of Jay's costume. It shows a pointy-fronted hood attached to a "vest" that only extends to just under Jay's armpits. Black face paint covers the area over the eyes and a plain mask covers the model's nose and mouth. Danny drew an arrow to the hood and wrote, "Assassin's Creed mfer." Tucker responded, "SHUT," underlined once. On the other side, Sam drew an arrow to the face paint and wrote, "emo." Tucker responded, "SHUT," underlined twice. Beside that, Jay wrote, "Will the hood stay on?" Sam replied, "only time & copious bobby pins will tell."

The third closeup shows Sam's costume in detail on a plain model, in the same one-arm extended pose. She wears a skin-tight undersuit, gloves, a leaf-pattenered scalemail shirt that reaches her elbows, layered pauldrons, an uneven hem overskirt, and knee-high boots. The vague shape of a weapon hangs on her right hip. Above the head, Jay wrote, "hood buddies!"

Around the model are various labels in Tucker's handwriting, including, "LEAF PATTERNED LIGHT SCALE," "GLOVES," "REINFORCED UNDER LEGGINGS (I'M NOT A MONSTER)," and "REINFORCED FABRIC." This last label points to an outstretched arm. Next to her skirt, Tucker wrote, "NOT A MINI SKIRT =]" and Sam responded, "unfortunately, i can't get mad bc i love it." Beside the boots, Sam asked, "steel toe?" When Tucker responded, "TITANIUM TOE," she replied, "hand in marriage."

Below the model is a closeup of a row of the overlapping, slightly curved leaves that make up the scale. Danny wrote, "dude, how many of these did you make?" Tucker replied, "TOO MANY."

To the right of the model is a bust closeup on Sam's hood, pauldrons, and the top of her scalemail shirt. She has the same eye-covering black streak and plain face mask.

The fourth closeup shows the same bust. It also shows a medieval mace, labelled all over in Danny's handwriting. It says, "extra grip," on the handle, as well as "twist here," with a second arrow pointing to the head, labelled "for spikes here." Spikes emerge from half of the mace's head. Below, there's an exchange that reads:

Jay: why don't I get a cool weapon?

Danny: you're 5

Jay: =(

Danny: ...fine

Sam: can i get grippy gloves too?

Danny: ooooh, good idea

Below is a side profile, full-body shot of Sam in costume, hood up. She's lunging forward on one foot, both arms extended. From beneath her scale mail emerge vines, which twine around her arms before shooting forward.

The fifth closeup shows Danny's outfit on the model. It's a slightly baggy wrist-to-ankle jumpsuit and an armored vest, both in blotchy camo. The jumpsuit is tucked into combat boots and gloves, with a utility belt over top and the collar of an undersuit peeking out at the top. Danny has written, "Camo? In my costume? It's more likely than you think." Underneath, Tucker replied, "PRETEND I CAN DRAW, PLS." He's labelled the torso, "REINFORCED CHEST ARMOR." Sam drew an arrow to the mask, which is shaded black with a small fanged grin detail on it. She wrote, "this looks terrifying." Tucker replied, "IT'S SMALL! IT'S HARD TO DRAW!"

The sixth closeup shows a bust. Danny's hair is floofed upwards, black at the roots and white at the tips. His ears are pointed. His mask shows his fanged grin in greated detail, higher on the right side than the left and with overly large incisors. Sam has written, "still terrifying," with an arrow pointing to it. Tucker responded, "FINE HE'LL JUST BE SCARY."

Below, a low-detail head profile shows the mask and Danny's pointy ears from the side. Tucker has labelled it, "HOOKS OVER EARS" with an arrow pointing to straps around the ears and, "CLIPS IN BACK" with a arrow pointing to the base of the skull.

The final closeup shows Danny in costume. His right leg is emerging from shadows on the ground while he steps forward with his left left, knee bent. His left hand rests above his head on a rectangular prism with no added detail. It reaches from ground height to just above Danny's hair. He's reaching forward towards the viewer with us opposite hand.

An exchange written over the prism reads:

Danny: What's my hand on?

Jay: Dumpster, bc you're a trash man.

Danny: Ouch

Sam: oooh, get his ass

Tucker: DAMN, VISCIOUS

Danny: You're grounded

Jay: =(

Danny: You're ungrounded

Jay: =)

End image ID]