#immediately writes a huge wall of text

[umbrvx]

i like ur art. its great and interesting!! i really like your artstyle and i really like the way u draw hsy, yjh, and kdj. you captured them so well in terms of vibes/character. also i was wondering do u have any advice to improve on drawing anatomy/poses/faces?

wahh thank you so much...!! i feel like im still trying to figure them out in a lot of ways but i do really like ironing out my visual interpretations of them so im really happy to hear if people like what im coming up with

also anon you super activated the part of my brain that cant help but yap about art theory... i spent some time writing as many tips as i could think of. unfortunately i dont think i have the time currently to do a fully illustrated guide, but ill still try to include some visual examples:

[incoming wall of text lol]

ANATOMY:

to preface i think that like 100% of the time you should reference a real life photo for anatomy rather than other artwork or drawn references. the best way to learn the body is by… well, actually looking at the body! but also artwork is informed by a person's own artistic ability/stylization choices/sense of idealism, so while looking at art can help give you an idea on how to break down forms, i think you would be best served observing real life references. i labor on this point because i do think that having over relied on drawn reference material and avoiding photographic references on the basis of not being interested on realism hindered me as a largely self-taught artist as a kid, so i want to encourage live or photographic reference since anatomy is one of the foundations from which everything else is built on. that being the case, all of my doodles i'm doing for this are going to be for the sake of example rather than to strictly say how you should or should not be drawing something

-> when you are doing a study of a photo, just try copying it as best as you can. pay close attention to the natural lines and shapes of the body -- the S-curve shape of the leg, the triangular shape of the forearm, the trapezoid shape of hips/thighs when they sit, and so on. note where the body folds or squishes or pulls; how mass will shift to accommodate a certain position. if a form is hard to visualize, focus on the negative space and carve that out, rather than strictly drawing the positive space.

don't expect to get it perfect the first time. in fact, iterate on it multiple times to build understanding. try doing it to a timer of 15, then 10, then 5 minutes. doing this will force you to have to prioritize the most important shapes. you can help reinforce this by using a thicker brush or a brush with no pen pressure (no joke ms paint works great for this) to force you to be loose and not become preoccupied with details.

-> pinterest is a great resource for finding and compiling photo reference material

-> organic shapes are curved, so embracing/emphasizing that (particularly for the extremities) can help make your drawings look more natural or fluid

POSES: -> it all begins & ends with contrapposto… you've probably heard of the line of action, which is related. if you're offsetting the shoulders & hips, it: makes poses more natural, more dynamic, and helps the pose sort of "draw itself" -- the legs will follow the direction of the hips, and you can use the arms to reinforce the angles

-> context is key. don't ask: what pose should i draw? instead ask: what do i want this character to convey? what does happiness, anger, sadness, and so forth look on this particular character? how do they express that? consider these drawings: these are both ostensibly the same pose, but look at how changing just the shape of the spine recontextualizes it.

for more on pose design i recommend watching Tracer & Pose Design 101 - The Animation of Overwatch by New Frame Plus (i promise this is a genuinely super informative video).

to expand on this, in general, all of the components of a piece (background, composition, pose, etc.) are best considered in conjunction rather than separately. it is difficult to choose a pose and then choose a background because they are missing the context that would make a piece cohesive. when you are planning a drawing, try to begin with your general concept/idea/prompt and then do several thumbnails -- small and quick doodles that should take no longer than 5 minutes each -- developing it: you may find that the pose and bg will naturally fall into place.

-> silhouette: the degree to which you need to push this varies by style but generally speaking the pose needs to be readable; i.e. instantly recognizable. try to keep important elements of the gesture outside of the silhouette. for example, if the character is pointing, keep that arm out of the interior of the body. the same pose can be more or less readable or dynamic depending on where the character is pointed in relation to the viewer

-> exaggeration!! goes along with the previous point. push the pose as much as you can (and what makes sense for your style) to communicate your pose as clearly and as intensely as possible.

FACES: -> i highly recommend the app Handy Art Reference Tool by Belief Engine for all things related to drawing hands/heads/feet. its on both android and ios. it isn't free -- it costs around $3 -- but that is seriously such a small price to pay for the amount of utility you get out of it: the hands models are fully poseable (there's also pose presets), you can rotate the head models however you want, and there is 3-point customizable lighting. it is really helpful for getting those super tricky and hyperspecific head angles that you just can't find a real life reference for. that being said given that there's only a few different head model variants, bear in mind how differences in features can affect what exactly a face will look like in those angles.

-> i still recommend doing studies of real people. as with anything else, learning generalized proportions is important, even if you are going to later on bend or break this depending on style

-> as for my own approach... it kind of depends on the style i'm doing at that particular time. for my paintings (what id consider my main style) i approach a character with a few real-world features in mind and then apply them to the best of my ability. it usually will take a few iterations to land on an interpretation i really like as i try out different things. a lot of the face also gets developed during rendering rather than through my initial sketch too, as i adjust for lighting and correct proportions on the fly

(look how much this image changes between sketch and render lol)

if i were to recommend anything, i think it would be to nail down your most distinct features first -- the ones that will make your character's face recognizable, and could apply regardless of art style. in my case with kim dokja, i knew when i first started drawing him that i wanted to give him a longer face and down-turned eyes. when i decided to do the disco elysium inspired set, in which i was breaking out of my comfort zone by letting go of any idealizations focusing on conveying characterization/making them feel "real", i landed on some more specific traits (defined lower lids/perpetually tired eyes/eyebags(?) the crease there idk how to describe it) which i continue to try to evoke even if im drawing something much more cartoony

(pictured are my first kdj -> disco elysium style -> my post de-style kdj)

as a side note, this very same process changed yjh much more dramatically

(^ that first guy is mad someone else)

those handful of key features will be the thing that you can then take into a simpler style and simplify or exaggerate to whatever degree suits you. you can also play with shape theory (square = sturdy/solid, circle = natural/smooth/welcoming, triangle = energetic/dangerous). shape theory doesn't necessarily need to be so rigid -- you can combine shapes as you please to convey whatever vibe you're going for -- so please think of it as a tool that may help rather than a rigid law you must abide by.

-> expressions: exaggerate them. thats kind of it!! make it big!!! you wanna be able to really feel those emotions. the principles of squash & stretch help here: think of how the muscles move when you, say, open the eyes or mouth really big. as one side of the face stretches open, the other side squashes to accommodate it

even without changing the position of the jaw here, moving the nose and scrunching the eyes will sell the expression

you can also play with squash/stretch to break proportions to sell a feeling more

since expressions are just, well, poses for the face, everything else for poses applies here (and facial expressions & pose should also be considered in tandem). while the term contrapposto itself just refers to the offset of the shoulders & hips, the similar principle of asymmetry also carries here as that will help make the expression a bit more dynamic.

and i think... that's it!! all i can think of at least. i hope it helps anon!!!

[pbpressure]

capture | p.b

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: smut, fluff (reader sounds a little clingy but its cute), fingering (reader receiving), oral (paige receiving), some yearning, hair pulling, slight dom sub dynamics but nothing too serious. lmk if i missed anything!

wc: 3.3k (slight pwp, cmon act like you know me)

summary: paige and reader are out of the country but want to be inside each other LMAO

authors note: i don’t even know what to call this, i barely proofread it. i’ve honestly been having such a hard time writing but hopefully this suffices for now! munch madness i mean march madness is upon us hehe

enjoy! x

when paige told you that she booked you two a getaway for spring break you had no idea that it would be this luxurious.

the room alone was huge. windows covering an entire wall from ceiling to floor. most surfaces were covered in beautiful decor and the bed faced the humongous pool that sat just beyond the deck outside. it was perfect.

you couldn’t actually fuss about the cost or how hard it must’ve been to book because paige was quick to hush you with a kiss on your forehead and mutter how she’d always “do anything for you.”

the vacation honestly felt more like you both ran away. off of your phones for days, with the exception of checking in with family and taking numerous photos. although it wasn’t intentionally secretive that made it even more enjoyable.

the beach, which you had visited every day thus far due to its close proximity, was perfect. the area surrounding your villa nice and quiet as well. 

of course with the extra rest time that comes with a vacation you had encouraged paige to rest, that’s all you wanted for the both of you. but after the first two days you realized that even you could only nap so much. 

today after a little more exploring the amenities of your villa you did lay down together and close your eyes for a bit. when you open them again you don’t know how much time has passed, but paige was knocked out of course.

you had been awake for a good 20 minutes. in your defense you did try to close your eyes again but it was unsuccessful.

your body was draped over paige’s, one of her hands resting naturally on your thigh that was slung across her hips. her bicep flexed slightly as it was propping her head up on the pillow. you catch yourself silently chuckling when you realize you were just staring at her in awe.

it was all so domestic. from the sleeping position to the way that one of the only noises you could hear were little puffs of air from paige’s parted lips. if you could capture the feeling into one world it would be complete. or maybe absolute.

you’re aching at this point from craning your neck to gawk at paige and you honestly feel ridiculous for how long you’ve been laying like this.

with the urge to bask in the sun and swim a little you gently turn over, lifting paige’s arm from you. you slip out of bed, careful not to wake her and you quietly get changed and head outside. 

the wide window in the room gave her a clear view of the pool. hopefully she’d wake up, see you perched in a chair, and come join you.

her nap actually lasts way longer than you anticipated and you were getting antsy. you read your book until you couldn't anymore and switched your lying position too many times to count. it had already been about an hour and a half since you’d got up from the bed and paige was still asleep.

the sun was starting to set and you hoped she would get up soon, but alas the impatience was becoming a bit painful. 

you pick up your phone deciding to text paige and immediately open the camera. putting a slight pout in your lips you take a selfie, tits perky and in frame. then you flip the camera and angle your phone down to get your entire lower body and the pool in one picture. you take the photo, press send and quickly type up something to emphasize on the amount of notifications she’d get. 

*buzz* 1 attachment 

*buzz* p, can you nap faster? i’m…bored.

*buzz* 1 attachment 

of course paige was still on dnd so naturally you pressed the notify anyway button. sighing in contentment you decide to get up off your ass (hardly) and sit in the hot tub that was adjacent, waiting for your girlfriend.

your texts didn’t wake paige, she had already started tossing and turning a bit ago signaling the end of her nap.

however, when she did pick up the phone after realizing you were no longer lying beside her she felt her eyes go so wide that they could have bulged out of her head.

she looks at both the pictures you sent and exhales sharply, running a hand over her face in disbelief.

the blonde couldn’t help but glance outside, eyes instantly making contact with your bikini clad figure. she bit her lip as her eyes ran up and down your body.

your hair had gotten wet and began to cling to your chest and neck that was now glistening and catching a slight glow from the fluorescent lights in the hot tub. your lips were glossy, as always, and they were parted while you let out what looked like a sigh.

she lifts her phone from the bed swiping the camera icon at the bottom of the screen.

these photos were for her, but also to show you how good you really did look.

your head is slightly tilted to the side when she snaps the photo. you’re standing to adjust yourself so your hips come up to the surface of the water. she almost drools looking back at the way she had captured you before she presses the blue arrow in the text bar. 

getting up and changing out of her clothes and into her swimsuit she hurries outside. 

when you hear the sliding door your attention is on paige as she makes her way to the hot tub.

your eyes light up and you grin, pleased to see her awake. when you notice that she’s getting in the water, you have to force yourself not to stare.

her abdomen toned and flexing with each step she took. chest exposed and already showing a tan as a result of earlier time spent in the sun.

“so you missed me?” paige breaks the silence once she’s settled into the water across from you.

“don’t act shocked.” you scoff.

“oh, i’m not. it’s just…cute ‘s all.” she says, lifting her eyebrow a bit and stifling a giggle when she sees you roll your eyes.

“i sat out here for almost two hours while you slept, it got boring fast. plus i knew you’d want to watch the sunset so i hoped you’d wake up in time.”

paige’s heart swells at the confession. she had just been a threshold away from you asleep and still the only thing on your mind. it was never a secret between the two of you or to anyone else how obsessed you were with each other. but that didn’t mean it got old. 

“as great as it is to rest, i'm glad i woke up in time to catch the sunset,” paige starts. “and you in this…this bikini?”

“what do you mean? it is a bikini.” you contest, raising your own eyebrow now and anticipating how paige would admit that your bathing suit barely covering anything was causing her own skin to run hot.

her cheeks are beet red and she purses her lips together to stop herself from smiling like an idiot.

“you know exactly what i mean.” she mutters, voice suggestive. 

you do fully giggle this time, leaning your head back. when you’re done laughing you unintentionally press your entire body forward for a second when you rest your arms on the sides of the hot tub. 

you watch the blonde across from you lick her lips as her eyes travel straight to your tits, back up to your face, and then to your tits one last time before she opens her mouth once more.

“I loved the photos by the way. can’t say they compare to having you right here within my reach, but you look amazing.”

“thank you baby. wanna say it again and look me in the eyes this time?”

tonguing her cheek to hold in a laugh she shakes her head. partially because she was caught ogling and partially at how bratty you were being.

“i can show you better than i can tell you.”

“yeah?” you taunt, tilting your head.

“get over here.”

you practically pounce on her with how quickly you travel from your end of the water to her lap. she wastes no time grabbing your hips so you’re comfortably straddling her.

you let out a hiss when she presses your hips down, forcing you to sit on her completely. you had been riled up since she stepped outside, the friction on your clit from the material of your swim bottoms wasn’t helping.

paige brings a wet hand up to cradle your chin, turning your head to face her completely. she pulls you closer, not kissing you yet.

“you really are so gorgeous, you know that?” paige mutters, lips ghosting over yours.

“p, have you seen yourself? cmon now–“ 

“this isn’t about me, baby.” 

she stops you mid thought with a soft peck on the lips. although it’s feather light a smack sounds between you both at how quickly it happened.

you whine when she pulls back and you don’t miss how she smirks at your reaction.

“don’t be a brat.”

“okay, then kiss me.” you groan, bringing your arms above the water to wrap around her neck, closing the bit of distance that's between your lips.

it’s already warm in the water that’s ricocheting against the walls of the hot tub and your bodies, but the way that paige moans into your mouth when she kisses you back heats you up more.

for a while you’re just kissing like horny teenagers. it’s sloppy and wet and you pull away panting a little. 

you run your hands through paige’s hair and study her features before leaning in to kiss her again, stopping just barely before your lips meet. she closes her eyes in anticipation but opens them after she realizes you’re not gonna kiss her. 

“like i was saying,” you whisper, struggling to hold eye contact when you feel her breath hitch against your lips. 

“i could look at you all day.” you lean in, intending just to give her a peck like she did you earlier. but the moment your lips lock one of her hands is holding you by the back of the neck, it was firm but she knew you weren’t gonna pull away.

she parts your lips with her tongue and it’s your turn to moan into her mouth. you can’t help the grinding of your hips, rutting against her eager for your clit to make contact with part of her somehow. she takes note of this and takes her hand off of your neck, it disappears under the water quickly. 

she uses two fingers to push your bathing suit to the side, immediately pressing onto your clit. you pull back from the kiss to gasp, eyes heavy as you try to keep them open and on paige.

“just look? i mean, i’m flattered but there’s a lot that i’d rather do to you all day.” she trails off, now circling your clit with her fingers, watching your reaction intently.

“f-fuck, you know what i m-mean. i always want to look at you, kiss you, touch and feel you. i’m so in love with you baby. you’re so good to me.” you ramble, bucking your hips to signal that you wanted her fingers inside.

“yeah?” she was mocking you. “sure you’re not just saying that because you want something from me right now?” 

her voice was low and her eyes never left yours. hearing her say that while her hand was between your legs caused you to clench around nothing.

of course it wasn’t true, and you both knew it, before you could give her any attitude her middle and ring finger were thrusting into your cunt. 

“p, oh my god–“ you don’t even finish your sentence.

the ease in which the heel of her palm met your clit was almost embarrassing. it was like your pussy was made to take her fingers. 

your jaw goes slack, and you struggle to breathe out for a split second. since you were on top of her she was already prodding at the spongy spot you knew all too well, each thrust making you shudder and clench harder around her fingers.

“‘s so good, so deep!” you pant.

“i know pretty girl,” she pants, placing kisses your chest. her tongue is hot when it comes in contact with the same spots she pecked. she uses her free hand to move your hips until you get the idea and start riding her fingers, already close to your release from how long you'd waited to have her.

“keep it up, i can feel how close you are baby.” she says, voice muffled by the skin of your tits that she’s still burying her face in.

it doesn’t take long for your hips to begin to circle messily, your eyes are squeezed shut and your entire body is on fire. 

curling her fingers as they drilled into your hole, paige uses her thumb to fondle your clit. not letting up on her thrusts she leans forward to tongue your nipple through your bikini top and your head falls back as you let out a sound that mimics sob. you take in one sharp breath before letting out a moan that’s borderline pornographic. 

paige’s eyes are on you, watching your face and body contort with pleasure. her lips are parted, eyebrows furrowed, and she’s moaning occasionally too with the way your cunt was fluttering around her fingers. she was getting off on this just as much as you were.

“shit! p-please don’t stop, i’m so close.” you choke, hands gripping onto her shoulders like she had intentions to run away.

“you wanna cum for me?” she coos, once again in a mocking manner.

you attempt to nod but paige starts making a scissoring motion inside of you with her fingers and you’re already feeling static from head to toe. 

you do cum, literally into the palm of her hand. she can’t hide how badly she’s into this shit and you can feel her smiling against your skin as she kisses any part of you that her lips can reach, milking you through the rest of your high. 

when you’re starting to catch your breath you feel paige curl her fingers inside you again. 

choking on a mixture of a scream and a moan you have to reach down and hold her wrist to stop her from stimulating you more.

“p that’s enough, what about you?” you ask, already licking your lips at the thought of getting to have your way with her next.

“what about me?” she responds, placing another hot kiss on your neck and making zero effort to move from her current position: beneath you with her hand between your legs.

“i want to taste you. please?” you whisper the last part. it came out as more of a plea than you realized but you didn’t care. 

on wobbly legs you stand, pulling paige to her feet as well. 

she towers over you, bending down to kiss you again. you kiss back hungrily and place your hands on her hips and guide her to sit on the edge of the hot tub.

she parts her legs for you and you grip onto her thighs with gentle hands. looking up at her as you kneel and begin to pepper light kisses on her damp skin. her breathing gets harder the closer you get to where she wants to feel you the most.

“you were just begging to taste me, don’t tease me.” paige groans, placing a hand on the back of your head to guide you. 

you place an open mouthed kiss on her clit through her swim bottoms and she shudders at the feeling. using two fingers you pull them to the side and kiss the same spot, this time skin to skin.

paige gasps, the hand that was on the back of your head threading through your hair for a better grip. 

you lift your other hand and use two fingers to part her lips. as slow as you can manage you lick sloppily from her clit to her hole and your eyes roll back into your head when you feel her gush into your mouth. 

“fuck!” paige whines, throwing her head back. 

you relax your jaw and stick your tongue out again, shaking your head from side to side, intentionally making a little extra noise to add to the crudeness of the act.

paige’s chest is rising and falling rapidly as she pants, simultaneously trying to watching you pleasure her. when you both lock eyes you moan and take her clit between your lips sucking on it messily. 

this sends her into a frenzy. 

although paige was never afraid to be vocal with you, this was possibly the loudest she had ever been during oral. you’re gloating mentally as you start literally making out with her cunt. 

it’s lewd and you love it, clearly she does too. you feel her thighs start to close around your head and when you force them apart you watch her throw her head back and reach up to play with her nipples.

“you’re doing so good for me baby, it’s almost like you were made for this.” paige groans, pulling on your hair a little harder than she had intended, almost cumming from the moan you let out against her.

“i was made for you.” you pull back and pant before lowering your head again and thrusting your tongue into her, using your thumb to circle her clit.

paige is a babbling mess and you can feel her start to thrash around slightly.

“f-fuck! i’m almost there.” she manages to spit out, a yelp following as her thighs start to shake.

it doesn't take much more and as soon as you can hear her you can taste her. she cums, hot and immediately coating your lips and chin. 

paige’s back is arched as she tries to close her legs around your head. you’re pussy drunk and have no intentions of pulling back despite the way that she’s nearly sobbing every time you flick her aching clit with your tongue. 

one final harsh tug at your hair causes you to pull away from her breathing heavily and with a groan. instantly she’s pulling you to your feet and against her body. 

when you’re face to face you’re obsessed with how fucked out paige looks. her lips pink and puffy, eyes glossed over, and hair a mess.

when she pulls you in your lips make contact and you smirk into the kiss at the thought of her being so eager to taste herself.

after a few more sloppy languid kisses you drop your head to her shoulder and she leans forward,

submerging you both into the warm water once again.

“that was so sexy.” you mutter, voice hoarse. 

“you need to wear this bikini anytime we are near a body of water, for the rest of this trip.” paige says, causing a giggle to bubble in your chest that pressed against hers.

“whatever you say, p.” you reply, tone singsong like.

your back hits the wall of the other side of the hot tub and paige wraps your legs around her waist and stands again.

reaching behind you towards your towel and other belongings you grab your phone, thinking of how much you wanted to capture this moment.

when the screen lights up and you see the last text you received your mouth opens in shock and you can’t help the way that your cheeks rise. you're grinning like an idiot.

2 attachments

i need that.

“paige!” you say, looking up from behind your phone to catch her already smiling back at you, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly.

“i mean...i got it, didn’t i?”

[knixscythee]

𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃.

◉ 𝐟𝐭. 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨, 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐅𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨, 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐊𝐚𝐦𝐨, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

(Forgive me. It's my first time writing NSFW)

Tw: overstimulation, sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, crying, comfort, mention of positions (vague) and a couple of other things lol.

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨

A huge silent room was filled with the sounds of moans and the repeated smacking of the huge bed smacking the wall. "F-fuck... Baby... You're so cute when you're like this.." Followed by the repeated slamming of his hips into you. By the arch your back was making you would assume that it would just break after one more thrust. The entire bed and its frame shook intensely and the room was filled with a vague sweet smell.

At this point your legs gave out already and you were laying on the bed taking it with nothing but a few whines and an intense grip on the pillow in front of you. "T-toru w-wait. I can't-..." He followed this up with a chuckle. "Don't worry just let me take care of you..."

The speed picks up and all you can do is feel. Blinded by your watery eyes, all you can see is a blurry pillow that's drenched in tears. Your poor cervix being hit every single time and repeatedly getting abused by Satoru's huge cock as it thrusts back in you deeper and deeper until... "Limitless!"

The entire mood and atmosphere of the room goes grey as he immediately gets up and checks on you. "Baby, fuck, I'm so sorry are you okay?" You twitch uncontrollably as you keep your face in the pillow trying to recollect yourself. Satoru grabs some water and snacks before coming back to you quickly and gently putting you in his lap.

"fuck... I'm so sorry..." You sniffle and look up at him. "I-its okay.. I was just a little overstimulated" Satoru had a face disgust with himself before you kissed his neck and jawline before leaving a long kiss on his nice red lips. "'s okay baby I know you just felt good..." He looked up at you and put his self disgust aside and grabbed the snacks/candy and shot you a worried "I'm sorry" look.

"Break?"

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨

"Fuck..baby, you look so pretty under me" You squirm under him as the thrust of his cock sends shock through your entire body. You were trapped under him with thighs putting infinite secondhand pressure on your chest while your feet hung over his shoulders.

" 'guru, wait- I... mmph!" Your whines were muffled by 2 long fingers entering your mouth. "Suck" Just then you followed his orders with little hesitation. But the more and more he thrust into your abused cunt the more and more your tears and numbness caught up to you.

The build up to your third orgasm was evident and it wasn't graceful. "S-Suguru!" He responded with a grin and even rougher treatment. "Overstimulated?" He said looking down at you. It was less of a concerned face and tone more of a condescending one. You looked up at him feeling like the pressure inside you was going to burst.

"Curse!" In an instant the reality had set in a few seconds late. He pulled out which made a small 'pop' noise. When he saw you gasping for air and clenching your thighs together. His mood shifted and he left to go fetch a towel. After cleaning up he put you to bed and let you rest after stepping out of the room.

When you woke up you noticed the soreness in your legs and chest was mostly gone and the fact that Suguru wasn't there. Confused, you sent a text asking where we went. "Y/N, sorry about what happened. I didn't mean to go that far. I should've stopped sooner, I'm downstairs right now and I got you food it's on the table I just figured you would want to have time to yourself after that" you could hear the guilt in his texts and that made you feel guilty. "No Suguru it's okay, I'd feel better if I were with you :)" "alright, I'm coming 🩶"

𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

What a predicament to be in. Folded like a pretzel in the lap of your husband after a particularly rough day at work which led to the same treatment reflected in your sex life. Two large hands grip your waist and help you navigate up and down his huge shaft with subtle grunts.

"K-Kento-" "Quiet, All I need is another Hour" "that's the thing I don't think I have another hour in me-" A small pause was followed by a grunt. "Then I'll get my hours worth now" Restricting your hands and holding down your waist he thrusts up into you with intense speed.

It made you want to shatter right then and there. A growing feeling of sickness arises inside your stomach. "K-Kento... Wait... please" A giant hand silences your cries and the reoccurring hits on your cervix pushes you over the edge. Tears stream out of your eyes and your tongue sticks out of your mouth. "Overtime!"

His automatic husband mode completely overpowered his angry, tired, and needy personality. He took you off his lap and laid you down. "Honey, I'm so sorry are you alright?" You roll over to go under the covers with a shiver. "I'm fine kento, I just need some rest, please don't worry." Despite the alarm in his face he agreed. But he might use this as a reason for him to take a break from his sex life.

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐅𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨

At this point you're questioning if you're even alive or if you will be alive when you're done with this if you'll ever be done with it. Right now, being rammed into repeatedly, you lay there just thinking about your decisions which is even harder to do when you can't even focus on something as simple as speaking and breathing.

"t-toj-..." The feeling of his cock slapping your pussy over and over again, making you drool. "Heh, y'r putting on a show aren't 'cha?" In return all he got was a mumble and some broken moans. It was evident that you weren't in the right state of mind when being fucked dumb on his thick length.

"t-toji, I- I can't... 's too much..." A low groan and snicker came from toji as lifted you higher and fucked into you faster and harder. The pleasure and pain evident on your face as you both looked at yourselves in the mirror. Sure it wasn't his favorite position but having you in a full Nelson made him experience an excitement deep within him.

"Damn it, Broke Bitch!" You hiss. "Well that was just mean, doll" he looks at you with a half disappointed and confused face and puts you down. Which you immediately fell on the floor, face first because your legs gave up. "Help me, Brokie" "Nah I don't think I wanna after you called me a broke bitch and clocked out early"

"TOJI on everything I love, you not being one of them, if you don't get me off this dirty fuckin floor..." With a sigh and way too much attitude he obliged. "Fine ya big baby" He picks you up and chucks you on the bed. "Clearly you're washed up" your eyebrows furrowed. As you took sight of his boldness "And clearly your broke ass doesn't understand the fact that I pay the bills in this fucking house and if you don't get your shit together you gonna be sleeping with that fuckin cat"

"yes Ma'am" with a smirk you accept the blanket given to you and snuggle in the big velvety sheets. "Thank you, Brokie Toji"

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐊𝐚𝐦𝐨

Straddling Choso was always one of your favorite things to do and he likes it too. "F-Fuck Cho! 's so good" "fuck.... Right there, Ma..." As you continue to ride him your legs slowly started to feel more numb. As good as it felt you didn't know how much longer you could bring yourself to doing this.

"Cho' I don't know how much longer I can keep this up" "Come on mama, you're doing so well..." Choso grips your hips tightly and continues to guide you on his cock. Giving you some words of support while doing so. Tears well up in your eyes as your body starts to give out leaving you to just silently cry for release.

Your hips crash down on his cock repeatedly as a nice silky white ring forms at his base. "That's it baby, just a little more...shit.." his grip only intensifies as he speeds up and gets slightly more possessive. "Cho' please, let's take a break!" "What...?" Clearly, he took that the wrong way which caused him to be even more possessive.

He wrapped his arms around you and thrusted faster. "Mine..." Choso was more terrified of you leaving more than anything so anything that sounded remotely close to a break up just broke him. "Blood!" The gears in choso's head stopped turning. He didn't even realize what was happening for around 10 seconds before he realized you used your safe word.

"Shit, I'm so sorry! Y/N, please forgive me!" Your mind was still fuzzy but you were still conscious enough to know that Choso was 2 seconds away from freaking out. "Hey, hey it's okay! I meant let's relax and take a break." You wipe your tears and his forming tears and you two just quietly cuddle and enjoy each other's company."

𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

Even though you should be pretty used to overstimulation, this time is particularly worse because it wasn't just overstimulation. this time it was followed by teasing and it wasn't ideal because this time he didn't take it easy.

"c'mon brat, where's that pretty face gone?" Tears stroll down your face and cover your cheeks. Being fucked dumb on Sukuna wasn't knew but when he chose to be in his true form and in front of people, it was quite literally the worse experience ever.

"'Kuna... I can't.. 's too much-" like those pathetic mumbles were to do anything, the only thing happening right now that was different was the fact that he now seemed prouder in a way. Showing you off like a trophy for all of those lower than him to see.

"M-murder!" His eyes widened slightly as he came to a stop. Then they turned into one of boredom. He dismissed everyone before going back to you. "Brat what's the problem?" Trying to catch your breath while crying wasn't easy. It was even harder when he didn't pull out.

"Kuna, can we take a break, please?" You almost stumble over your words while trying to collect yourself. He takes you off his lap and places you on his throne.

"I'll tell Uraume to drop off some towels and clothes for you, when you are ready, come find me". He started to walk away leaving you with his kimono. "You know where to find me."

"thanks, Kuna..."

"...you're welcome Y/N"

✩*⢄⢁✧ ----.・。.・゜✭.・✫・゜.・。.・・.----✧⡠*☆

An: OMG ITS DONE. sorry everyone this isn't my normal writing style and I was also battling with myself about making it more graphic, I don't have a problem with that stuff but I have to get over the ick of writing it out. As for the safe words I didn't have them planned so I just spat out some bullshit. Ngl I actually felt a little weird writing it but y'know I ended up doing it so ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ good for me I guess lol.

@smionrileyswifetehe

⏤͟͟͞͞✧𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐱.

[wlwnovak]

Dating Casey Novak Headcanons

(And living with her)

She talks in her sleep.

-Once you heard her mumble “inadmissible” and roll over with a smile. You recorded it. She denies it happened. You now use it as blackmail for forehead kisses.

Super competitive about board games.

-You thought game night would be chill until Casey started making closing arguments about why she definitely didn’t cheat in Scrabble.

She blushes so easily but tries to act unfazed.

-Call her “baby” or whisper something suggestive and she’ll raise an eyebrow like she’s unaffected, but her ears go bright pink every time.

Terrible at leaving work at the office.

- Casey says she’ll be home by 7, but shows up at 10 with a tense jaw, an overstuffed bag, and a muttered apology. You learned to text “Don’t forget to eat” around 6 p.m. every day.

So, you made a deal: no case talk after 9 p.m. Casey always breaks it. And you just roll your eyes, pouring her another glass of wine.

Casey is emotionally guarded, even in love.

-It took months for her to admit when she was overwhelmed or scared, especially after tough trials or when justice didn’t feel like enough.

She’s physically affectionate in quiet, protective ways.

-A hand on your back in public. Sitting just a little too close on the couch. Wrapping her arms around you while she sleeps like she’s anchoring herself.

She HAS to write everything down or she'll forget.

-Being the busy restless person she is, she just has to have a huge color-coded calendar on your bedroom's wall. And you have fun teasing her about it.

Casey acts annoyed but secretly loves the attention, letting you write silly things in it like “Make out session at 3:00.”

She folds laundry like it’s a legal obligation.

-Perfect corners. Precise stacks. You mess with her by tossing a sock into the wrong pile and she deadpans, “You’re trying to destabilize the system, aren’t you?”. But you always end up helping her organize her clothes. She never knows when Liv or Stabler are gonna call her asking for a court order ASAP.

She does that “silent lean” when she wants affection.

-Won’t ask for a cuddle. Just sits next to you with her shoulder touching yours, arms crossed, pretending she’s watching the tv show, but if you open your arms, she melts into you immediately. Adorable.

She’s weirdly obsessed with keeping the fridge organized.

-Everything is in labeled containers. God forbid you put the strawberries in the wrong drawer. “That’s for herbs, babe. We’ve talked about this.”

She wakes up early even on weekends (and brings you coffee).

-You wake up to the smell, blurry-eyed, and there’s Casey in a robe, hair a mess, mug in hand. "Morning sleepyhead.” (it's only 8am).

She has a very serious toothbrush stance.

-One hand on hip, the other brushing furiously, glaring at the mirror like it owes her money. If you catch her and imitate it, she tries not to laugh—tries.

She pretends not to like sweets ( but stress turns her into a sugar gremlin).

-When she’s really stressed about a case, she doesn’t ask for help or reasurance. She just appears at midnight, wrapped in a blanket, searching the pantry for something sweet, pretending not to know you keep an emergency chocolate bar stash just or her (she knows).

[ghostbeam]

1.3k words Bakugou Katsuki x reader, aged up characters, Bakugou is an art student, a little angsty, he’s kind of a huge asshole in this at some point but he’s kind of just trying to get under reader’s skin, I’m so out of practice in writing him I hope it’s okay, set in the same universe as my charcoal artist!Dabi and oil painter!Tomura, sorry if this sucks and is pretentious

Bakugou’s studio is impeccable. 

Everything has a place. His tools are all lined up, hammers and chisels and rasps all hanging from nails stuck into a large board on a wall. Beneath them are three tool carts filled with various electric saws and files, all placed meticulously. Besides that is a hand truck, you assume for moving the bigger sculptures he works on. He has one corner of the room reserved for all of his statues and uncarved stones, the largest ones pushed towards the back. The smallest stones and sculptures sit on tables near by, all set—what you have to guess—an inch apart from one another. There’s a standing desk with shelves of art books and comics beneath it. The entire middle of the room is covered in a tarp that looks immaculate, like he’s never worked a day in his life on top of it, though you know that’s not true judging from the half finished giant stone sitting atop of the clean tarp, tools sitting on the last step of the stool he’s using to reach the top of the sculpture. It’s draws your eyes immediately upon walking in—the stone that looks as though something is crawling from inside of it. 

The last wall is covered in brown sketching paper, three rolls of it mounted on one side so that it can be stretched across the entirety of the wall. The paper is filled with a multitude of sketches and scribbles, notes scrawled across that you can barely read due to the obvious urgency they were written with. 

Being inside of his studio feels personal—intimate—like you’re taking a peak inside of his brain, but Bakugou doesn’t seem to mind. Tearing your eyes away from the giant in the middle of the room, you watch him bring an extra stool to the table he’s cleared for the two of you to work on. 

The project is simple. You’re both meant to agree on one artist with an emphasis on a single medium of theirs. Both a seven slide powerpoint and a six page essay are due about the topic. Bakugou was assigned to be you’re partner. Despite his obvious bad attitude and the constant frown he wears, he was surprisingly open to working with you. You let him pick the artist, but he wouldn’t let you leave without choosing the medium. So even though your interest in your major is slowly deteriorating, you chose the first one that came to mind. 

So now you sit in Bakugou’s studio (brain, heart, soul), listening to him as he explains the importance of your artist during their time period, eyes flickering between the text in your book and the stone in the middle of the room. 

“Stop.” Bakugou’s voice snaps you out of the trance you’re in, swiveling your stool between the textbook in front of you and the stone to your right. You feel his hand come down on your knee, pausing your movements so that you’re facing him. 

“Huh?” You ask, eyeing the size of his hand on your leg. 

“Moving back and forth like that. It’s distracting.” Distracting. If only he knew how distracting his giant stone with the person/monster/angel crawling up out of it has been for you. 

“What is it?” You ask him, spinning your stool again so that you’re facing the unfinished sculpture. His hand slips from your knee. 

He glances at it for a moment before shrugging, “I dunno yet.”

“What do you mean?” You ask him.

“Exactly what I said.” He sighs, already annoyed with the conversation. “I don’t know what it is yet. I have to keep going until I—”

“Free it.” You interrupt, eyes still on the stone. “Until you free whatever’s inside, right.”

He’s quiet for a moment, head turned towards you as you observe his statue. You see him nod out the corner of your eye. “Yeah. I have to free it.”

When you look back at him, there’s an unreadable expression on his face. Gone is the permanent frown across his lips, the harsh line between his eyebrows. You think maybe its curiosity, maybe suspicion. 

What it really is, though, is that Bakugou is suddenly struck with the feeling of being understood. And he didn’t have to tell you a thing. One look at his rocks and you saw it. He’s not sure how to feel.

“I used to feel like that.” You tell him. His frown returns. You recognize that feeling, like something deep inside is screaming to get out, that feeling that you have to set it free or it’ll die inside of you. You used to feel that way every time you pushed your brush into a blank canvas. 

“But you don’t anymore.” He gathers. There’s a harshness to his voice, almost angry, but not angry at you—angry for you. 

“I think I lost it. I think art school sucked the life out of me.” Whatever spark you had died inside of you like you always worried it would. 

“That’s bullshit.” He tells you. He stands from his stool and pulls you up with him. He drags you to the giant stone in the middle of the room, and up close you can see the cross hatching he’s done to it at the top where the limbs seem to start. “You can’t keep your eyes off of this. It’s making you feel something.”

“It doesn’t make me feel anything anymore. You’re just talented.” You shrug.

“I know I’m talented.” He scoffs. “That’s not what you care about. You care that she gets out. You care that I turn this cold, unforgiving piece of solid fucking rock into something beautiful.”

“Or horrifying.” 

“It’s not gonna be horrifying.” He speaks, his lips close to your ear as he keeps you turned toward the stone. 

“You said you don’t know until it’s done.” You shiver.

“No, you said that.”

“You didn’t disagree.”

“Stop fucking—” He sighs loudly from behind you. “Yes, freeing it is a part of it. But I already know what it becomes. I knew the moment I hauled that fucking stone into this room. And you know it too.”

You don’t think you do, but Bakugou says this to you with such conviction, you think you believe him. You turn around, breaking yourself from the hypnosis the rock has put you under. 

“I thought it was weird that you didn’t jump at the chance to choose our artist. I had to practically force you to choose the medium. Maybe art school sucked the life out of you, but you let it.” The truth is harsh, makes you flinch away from him, but his hand reaches out for your wrist to bring you back. 

“You don’t have to be so fucking mean.” You wrench your wrist from his grip. 

“You think this is mean?” He spits. “You paint, and you sketch, and if you fuck up, you paint over it or you erase it. If you fuck up with this—” his palm slams against the stone in a loud thud next to your head. “—that’s it. It doesn’t forgive you.”

“So what? I’m some kind of lesser artist cause I don’t chip off pieces of stone? Fuck you.” You push at his chest, but he doesn’t budge.

“No, you’re a lesser artist because you gave up.” He takes another step forward, his nose just inches from your own. “Whenever you wanna resurrect whatever the fuck died inside of you, you know where to find me.”

He’s off of you in a second, halfway across the room by the time you catch your breath. Squaring your shoulders, you march your way toward him. You hate that he’s right, even if only a little bit. His sculpture did make you feel something. They all did. You haven’t felt that excitement in such a long time, or that jealous pit in your stomach you used to get whenever someone was so good at something it made you want to be better. You envy him. How could a place that slowly ruined you build and mold a man like him?

“I didn’t give up.” You seethe. He turns towards you, towering over you with that same frown on his face, but his eyes have that familiar look in them from when you spoke about his giant.

“Prove it.”

[notsodelirious]

Could you write Grayson coming home after getting a worrying text from his s/o saying they’re struggling and have the strong urge to relapse?

yes absolutely, hope this meets your prompt <3

synopsis: you text your boyfriend when you feel yourself start to slip

notes: SFW but cw. for the topic of substace abuse and recovery—also note that the narrator is unreliable, it is not a moral failing to relapse and you deserve kindness and help

tags: recovery, mentions of drug craving, hurt/comfort, gn reader, reader gets called babe, wc: 1.3k

also additional a/n before we start: while I am around drugs (I’m a uni student, every other person does coke) nobody’s I’m close to (including myself) has ever been an addict/been in recovery, so I apologise if it doesn’t feel entirely accurate

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

You heard the gentle slide of your window opening.

Dick slipped into your apartment, looking around, blanked-out eyes immediately finding you curled into the corner between your sofa and wall.

You looked back; blunt fingernails dragging across your arm lightly, not a painful sensation in the slightest just

A sensation.

Stimulus.

Anything to keep your mind off the itch between your teeth, the termites in your bones, the hollowness in your veins.

“Hey,” he said softly as he rushed to you, pulling his mask off as he did so. He didn’t use solvent—his skin was red and irritated.

He didn’t seem bothered.

No, he was almost entirely focused on you.

Worried.

You hated it.

You knew you needed it.

Without him, his worry, his care, you’d be struggling a whole lot more. But, here he was

present.

“You did good,” he said softly as he took your hands, squeezing softly, grounding, “You did so fucking good, okay?”

“Dick,” your voice was hoarse—you hadn’t spoken all day—you hadn’t needed to. Your brain and living space had been silent and you had cherished it.

Until the sunset and it became too silent.

You tried to go about as if you hadn’t noticed. The way the darkening sky opened the space, turning all four walls into empty planes of just void, far too large,

far too isolating.

If you ignored it, if you pretended not to notice, it would go away.

It would go away, and you’d send Dick your goodnight text before turning in and you’d be *fine.*

But sat at the dinner table in front of an empty plate, drumming your fingers, filling your brain, your space with inane sounds, you knew you couldn’t.

You couldn’t pretend and it was too much and you needed Dick-

You knew it was a simple text.

Help.

Didn’t really have the wherewithal to type more, to explain beyond the words,

Scared I’m gonna relapse.

You knew he would understand.

And he did.

You were sure you got a text back.

Dick always broke Batman’s rule about phones on patrol for you. And for Roy.

It was an odd pattern of coincidences. You didn’t want to think about it.

You did think too hard about everything else.

There was nothing to distract you from the urge, from the need to *fail*-

You’d been clean for so long—half a year completely sober—and this random September evening, you wanted to ruin it all.

You craved it and just wanted to fail, just a little.

Fail a little and set yourself back months. Again.

Because that’s how you worked.

Failing again, and again and again.

You don’t know when you migrated to the living room. You must have, at some point. But there was just the smallest gap between the kitchen and the living room.

Or maybe it was huge.

You didn’t know, you hadn’t checked the time.

But then Dick was in the room and you could breathe.

And his voice was soft as he gathered you in his arms, gently rocking you.

“You’re okay,” he said softly, reassuring you of your own status as a person, a living being. He brushed his fingers against your cheeks before properly cupping your face. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Could you? Nothing had happened. The sun had set. The sun always sets. It was an inevitability.

The sunset and it got dark.

And you knew eventually it would be dawn and it would rise again, but in the meantime

it was dark.

And you needed Dick, because you knew you couldn’t be alone.

He knew you probably couldn’t pinpoint a single reason. It was probably the rude cashier and the soggy socks for stepping in a puddle and the car that honked at you for being too slow when crossing the road and the neighbour’s kid screaming about broccolis and you needed.

You needed more than Dick could give.

More than he would give.

But he was here now, holding you like you were precious.

“Just… felt the urge.”

“Craving?”

You shrugged—he squeezed you tighter.

He probably thought you were precious.

“Did you eat?”

“Umm… yeah, yeah I did.”

“Shower?”

“Umm, no? No, not today.”

“Neither have I,” he said, “Wanna come with me?”

You wrinkled your nose—that’s not what you needed right now. Your belly twisted, almost as if you were trying to wither away.

“Not for sex,” he clarified softly as if he could tell what you were thinking. “You’ll feel better when you’re clean, yeah?”

You nodded. You let him help you up.

You let him guide you down the hallway to the bathroom, flickering lights on as he went, a warm glow filling your apartment as you traversed it.

You both undressed when you reached the bathroom—it was almost second nature to help Dick strip his hero costume once you had shed your own clothes—the stupid Kevlar blend was such a stupid fucking material you hated it.

But it kept Dick safe—which is what mattered at the end of the day. The last pieces of the Nightwing suit finally fell to the floor.

Your boyfriend gently ushered you into the shower. He let you mess with the heat.

Anything to get the termites and weevils out of your bones. He scrubbed you down, taking care to go one limb at a time, kneeling to get your thighs and calves. He rose when he was done,

“Yeah?” his voice was soft as he kissed your forehead.

“Mhm,” you felt a little lighter now you were properly clean.

“Step out for me, babe?” As you switched out he helped you step out of the shower, kindly urging you to wrap yourself up in a towel and dry off so you didn’t catch a cold.

You watched him wash, as you slowly towelled yourself off.

It wasn’t long before you had both dried off and dressed to sleep.

You trailed after Dick as he went around turning the lights back off and making sure the doors were locked, then back to the bedroom.

You patiently waited for him to slip into bed before following after, curling up on his chest, turned so you were facing the window, giving out onto Gotham City.

“Thanks.” You spoke but you didn’t want to disturb the soft peace that had settled over the room—you didn’t feel at peace. It was…

hard. Just hard. For it to be so still.

“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” Dick said softly, petting your hair as he stared up at the ceiling.

Out the window, Gotham City continued to bustle with life.

“You texted me.”

“I almost didn’t.”

“Yeah, but you did. Scared the shit out of me, but I’m glad you did.”

“I scared you?”

You looked up at him and he tilted his head to meet your eye.

“I worry about you.”

“Don’t do that.”

“I care.”

You huffed, almost a laugh as you turned back to the window.

“I actually thought about it, you know.”

“Is there anything in the apartment-“

“No,” you shook your head, but Dick’s heart didn’t calm under your ear, “You’re gonna strip search the apartment, aren’t you?”

“It’s not you.”

“No, I get it.”

He sighed and kissed the top of your head, letting his lips linger for a moment before pulling away.

“Do you still feel it?”

“Always,” you admitted softly, “Sometimes, just… less. But it never really leaves.”

“Made it six months.”

“Six more and that’s a year.”

Dick snorted as he squeezed you against his chest—it didn’t help with the hollowness in your veins but you felt warm.

“Okay, smart ass.”

You pinched his forearm but didn’t reply, asking instead, “Could you stay with me? Tomorrow?”

Just in case.

Just in case.

“Yeah, of course,” he tilted your head up to brush his thumb along your cheekbone, “As long as you need. I’ll always be there.”

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

a/n: I’m glad I’m getting back into the rhythm of things <3 this was a tough one to tackle but artistically I really enjoyed writing it

and I know I mentioned above but struggling with a drug addiction does not make you a bad person, you deserve help and to take care of yourself, stay safe and reach out to anybody you can if you need to

my masterlist

[ghostdiva]

Jax Character Analysis

this was something I was going to turn into a video essay. I unfortunately found out the hard way that I don't have the mental capacity to turn the analysis I made into a video essay. it's just a small essay.

that said, click the read more if you want to read some walls of text.

So, as some of you might guess, I’m a huge fan of the amazing digital circus. I’ve always loved when shows break down their characters, and show how they tick, what their experiences are, and how they coped with it. Especially when these characters are antagonistic in nature. There’s nothing like thinking “man, this character is an asshole”,vaguely wondering why, then getting their lore dropped and thinking “oh…. Well yeah that’d do it”, while coping with the emotional knives the plot just stabbed you with.

And fortunately for me, this show is all about the characters. I remember seeing posts from Gooseworx, the creator of digital circus herself, stating that this show was not only about the characters, but finding meaning in a stagnant life. Which I think is an amazing and deep concept to think about.

Now, there are posts made by other people picking apart every member of the digital circus. However I feel a lot of people get Jax misunderstood, often writing him off as a one-note, one dimentional asshole. Some people even think he’s an NPC, like they can’t fathom the idea that a person would be capable of cruelty, despite the world we live in today. And with how hellish, crazy, and wild the digital world is shown to be able to be, I’m frankly not surprised that a character would be capable of cruelty.

However, I hardly think Jax is 1 dimensional. I think there’s a lot to see and explore with his character. I will also point out now, that I am not condoning, supporting, or defending Jax’s actions in the show, I’m simply trying to understand the why’s.

That said, the first thing I want to address are the emotions Jax portrays throughout the show. I’m also gonna throw in some tells I’ve noticed, along with a sprinkle of shape theory. So let’s get into it.

Like any good storyteller, I’m gonna start at the very beginning. We, as the viewer, see a lot of Jax in the pilot, aka episode 1. The first thing I wanna point out is his facial expressions. Specifically, his tell that I’m going to refer to as “mischief mode”. Whenever Jax wants to cause mischief, his face will portray the tell of “mischief mode”, which is portrayed by his eyes and mouth sharpening into crescent shapes. In "mischief mode”, Jax sports a Cheshire grin, and his eyes squint a bit, creating crescents for every facial feature. He does this when he’s teasing the circus members, or about to cause mischief, which usually involves one of the circus members. Even when Jax isn’t smiling, if the corners of his mouth look sharp or pointed, he’s likely still looking to cause mischief.

But what about when Jax isn’t trying to cause mischief? Well, in practically every other scene we see Jax in, that doesn’t involve mischief, he looks bored. Jax wears expressions that range around boredom, apathy, curiosity, annoyance, and anger. Many times, when I’ve watched Jax’s character, I’ve found myself wondering if chronic boredom was ever a reason for him to do what he does. Especially since he almost seems to chase anything that is new or exciting. He does have limits though, as he’s shown in the pilot immediately booking it when he sees the abstracted Kaufmo.

Speaking of, I do want to talk about his actions in the pilot a bit. As well as his overall attitude toward adventures. With the gather the gloinks adventure, Jax approaches it with a level of apathy. The gloinks are so uninteresting for him, that he barely cares when the gloinks basically kidnap Zooble. Although, you could argue that everyone held a bit of apathy toward Zooble’s kidnapping by gloink, except for Gangle. Afterall, literally everyone just stood there and watched it happen, and Gangle was the only one even remotely looking distressed about Zoobles predicament. If anything, Jax is the only one who calls attention to Zoobles kidnapping by saying “oh no, they killed Zooble. Anyway you guys wanna get something to eat?”

In the pilot he seems to hold a sort of “no matter what happens, they’ll be fine” mindset, which is likely due to the nature of the digital world. Afterall, it seems that the only real way to “die” in the digital world is by abstracting. We as the viewer, see the characters of the digital circus go through things that’d kill a person in the real world. Such as falling from high heights, getting run over, getting eaten, and being slammed into the walls and floor. At worst this can jumble their characters code, making them glitch. However, outside of that, it would seem that physical harm has no real lasting consequences. And Jax, who is already accustomed to the digital world, knows this. Hell, with how often the circus crew gets thrown around on adventures, it wouldn’t surprise me if he ended up finding humor in the misfortune others face and experience. In fact, I’d argue that he does find humor in it, because he does go out of his way to cause that misfortune sometimes.

Getting back on topic, Jax’s approach to the Pilot’s adventure is one of apathy, and he didn’t care about it so much that he elected himself to check on Kaufmo with Ragatha and Pomni instead of participating. The only reason Jax ends up participating in the Gloink adventure at all, is because Kaufmo abstracted. The fact he flees within moments of finding out Kaufmo abstracted, implies that abstracted members are one of the few great dangers within the digital circus. It’s only emphasized more with Ragatha getting glitched after being thrown around by the abstracted Kaufmo. The next time we see Jax in the pilot, he’s running. He checks behind himself as if to make sure he isn’t being chased, before addressing Gangle and Kinger.

How Jax goes about this interaction is interesting to me, and I think it’s what made people think he wasn’t all that bad when all we had was the pilot. When Gangle asks Jax about Kaufmo, he lies about it, saying “oh he’s doing great”. Jax says that with a lot of sarcasm though, dragging out the “great” and making exaggerating gestures. I think Jax lies here because he knows that if he drops the truth here, he’s just going to be questioned. Gangle and Kinger would likely be distressed at the news, making them less likely to move. And Kaufmo is still roaming around the tent. When Jax hears Kaufmo’s growls, he quickly forces himself into mischief mode, using the bowling ball to get both Kinger and Gangle down the “Zooble hole”. Jax then quickly joins them, not only successfully removing all of them from the tent area, but also hiding them from Kaufmo’s abstraction.

A lot of people tend to write off Jax as an asshole, yet his actions seem to show him caring at least a little bit about the people around him. Afterall, if he didn’t care about them, he wouldn’t have forced Kinger and Gangle down the “Zooble hole” with him. He would’ve just left them there, where they’d likely run into Kaufmo and end up like Ragatha, who was left glitched and distorted in the hallway of the living quarters.

Now, you might be thinking “yeah he’s an asshole, not a monster. But what about episode 2? He basically terrorized Pomni and Gangle the whole time”. To which I’d say “funny you bring up episode 2”.

In episode 2, you’re right, we do get a lot of Jax being an ass. However, I’d like to point out what the adventure was called. “Candy Carrier Chaos”. I’m gonna emphasize a very important word here. “Candy Carrier Chaos”. Now, I’m going to preface this by saying, I’m pretty sure Jax is a literal thinker. He doesn’t sugar coat anything he says, in fact, he’s sometimes brutally honest. In episode 3, when Caine told them they had to collect paranormal activity, Jax took it as having to Capture all the ghosts. So when he’s given the adventure called “Candy Carrier Chaos”, where he has to track down a bunch of bandits and take back what they stole; Jax is stoked. The title, and general premise of the adventure implies that it’ll be a high action, high stakes adventure, with fighting, death, and well, chaos. So he goes into this adventure with that expectation, which is why he looks so apathetic until princess Loolilalu brings out the modded syrup tanker. From that point “mischief mode” is on until they go over the cliff and land in the fudge below.

Now I know you’re thinking “OP, Jax literally throws Pomni out of the truck”. You're right, however I think Pomni was only targeted here because Ragatha literally offered her by saying “I’m sure there’s something you could do to help out” in reference to the adventure. Jax, who’s more on the idea of pulling a vehicle heist, and realizing he’ll need an extra set of hands to help him if he wants to do it, just takes the offer. Now, you gotta remember Jax’s mindset regarding member safety. Which is that “they can’t really die or get hurt in a way that matters (that is to say, physically disabled or restricted due to injury), so no matter what happens, they’ll be fine.”

Now, this isn’t a healthy mindset in the slightest, but there is a bit of logic there. Pomni is still new and doesn’t know this yet, so she’s understandably hurt and confused by Jax’s actions. Which is why she doesn’t see Jax as someone who would be there for her, and we see this with Jax’s hand missing in this scene.

But this isn’t about Pomni, this is about Jax.

Now, once the truck goes over the cliff, everyone is on the outside of the truck. With the fudge monster, it looks like Jax is like, scraping the bottom of the barrel for what chaos he can cause. The most he could do was yoink Ragatha’s key to the Kingdom with the promise to let the fudge monster into the kingdom if he helps them capture the gummy gators. It’s a promise he makes good on, and it ends up being the last laugh he gets for causing chaos in this episode.

Now, with episode 3, we unfortunately don’t get a lot of Jax. from what we do get, we see him follow the premise of the adventure, vacuuming up ghostly under the idea that “collecting paranormal activity” meant “capturing the ghosts”. Ragatha scolds him for it, and when they have to choose between the 2 doors, Jax uses Gangle’s mask to see if the scary door was rigged or something. It was, as the door turned into a giant mouth, consuming Gangle’s mask, never to be seen again. This kicks off the plot, where Kinger and Pomni get separated from the group. I’d like to point out that this is the second time in a row that Jax’s actions has caused Pomni to get separated from the rest of the group. However Jax had no way of knowing that Kinger and Pomni would end up getting forced down the scary door. Once again though, his apathy toward them is made clear when all he has to say after this is “oh that’s the scary door”.

The next time we see Jax, he’s tied up and struggling against the rope. And if I had to guess, he probably just wanted to get free to capture the other ghost that Ragatha and Gangle had a tea party with. As soon as they all left Martha Mildenhall’s room, Jax stopped struggling. While he was tied up though, Jax’s expression ranged from enraged, to annoyed.

I’d also like to point out another little detail I noticed. And it’s that Jax gets visibly annoyed whenever someone has an emotional moment. He gets annoyed when Kaufmo’s funeral is brought up, he gets annoyed when Pomni explains why she wants to bring Gumigoo back with her. He gets annoyed when Pomni thanks Ragatha for being concerned about her. It’s almost like he gets annoyed at emotional vulnerability. And boy do I wonder why this purple twink has such a strong reaction to emotional vulnerability. I mean, there’s only a few times that Jax is seen being emotionally vulnerable himself, and each of these instances are at most, a second or 2 long. 

This brings me to the 4th episode, which is the most recent episode as of posting this. This is also probably the most interesting episode for Jax’s character so far, as he seems to take it down a notch when it comes to the mischief he usually makes.

The episode begins with Jax, Gangle, and Ragatha chilling in the common area. Jax wielding a baseball bat, and Ragatha trying to teach Gangle how to throw a baseball. While Ragatha verbally walks Gangle through the motions of throwing the ball, Jax says “you’re wasting your time Raggy”, in a teasing manner. Keep in mind, this is the first time we’re seeing the characters engage in actual play with one another. And Jax does seem to just want to play in the moment. Hell, I’d say he’s being very patient, waiting for Ragatha to teach Gangle to throw so he can hit the ball. He’s also displaying emotions outside his usual range. During this bit he has a neutral, focused, or curious expression, which I’d say is indicative of him just wanting to play a game. The only “Mischief Mode” tell present here is his smile, but his eyes aren’t squinted in the crescent shape that indicates it. So it’s very likely that he’s just having fun here.

When Gangle finally throws the ball, Jax swings the bat, hits the ball with his eyes closed, and the ball hits Gangle in the face. Ragatha immediately scolds Jax, assuming he did it on purpose. Jax immediately defends himself saying “I actually didn’t mean to do that”, but Ragatha doesn’t seem to care that it was an accident, and only sees that Jax hurt a circus member again. So the 2 start fighting, with Ragatha stating her anger at Jax for always hurting the other members, and Jax arguing that this time was an accident, and that if it were on purpose he would’ve been proud of it. Which implies that Jax wasn’t proud of the fact that he hurt Gangle here. He probably was just trying to play a game.

Outside of that, episode 4 has a lot of Jax scenes that show similar and different sides to him. We see him still get up to some mischief when he throws Ragatha in the deep fryer, but after that we see a more chill version of Jax. His expressions also visually seem more strained or forced in some scenes, which might allude to what Gooseworx meant when she said Jax would get worse as the episodes went on. When Gooseworx said that originally, people thought that the pranks and mischief Jax would cause would get more and more extreme, to the point where he crosses a serious line. However, I think that Jax’s “Mischief Mode” is a mask in it of itself, which was meant to cover up his feelings and emotions. And we as the viewer will see that mask slip more and more, as Jax’s mental state steadily declines. You see, Kaufmo was an example of what happens when you don’t have a support group in the digital world, and no one likes Jax. So why would any of the circus members try to be there for him? He’s not once shown to have any care for them in their eyes. To them, all he’s done is tease them, bully them, and sometimes even intentionally put them in harm's way. Even in moments where it wasn’t intentional on his part. I’ll admit, this does make me nervous for his character moving forward, but while Gooseworx said he’d get worse, she didn’t say he won’t get better. I really do want to see Jax get some positive character development, or even just get some more concrete reasons behind Jax’s behaviour.

[sturniololuvz]

can u make an angsty fic where the little sister gets into a huge argument with the triplets and she like runs away and they get worried and can’t find her for hours and give up and go home but then she comes home and they get into another argument but then makeup the next morning. tyy i love your writing sm!!

thank uuuu

⸻

“You Left, and We Couldn’t Breathe”

The house had been tense all day.

Y/N had been slamming doors. The triplets had been short with her. Snarky comments. Eye rolls. All of them tired from filming and editing, and her mood wasn’t helping.

She felt it—like she was annoying them just by existing.

Chris snapped first.

“I swear to God, Y/N, can you just stop being so dramatic for five minutes?”

She froze mid-step in the hallway, eyes wide. “Excuse me?”

Matt didn’t help. “No, he’s right. You’ve been in a mood all day. What’s your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem,” she bit back. “Maybe I’m just sick of being treated like I don’t matter.”

Nick scoffed. “You’re acting like a child.”

“Because you guys treat me like one!” she shouted, voice cracking. “You only care when I’m quiet and easy to deal with! The second I’m upset or say something you don’t like, I’m ‘too much.’”

Chris opened his mouth to say something, but she shook her head, furious tears burning.

“You know what? Forget it. I’m done trying to be part of this family.”

And then she was gone.

⸻

She slammed the front door so hard the whole wall shook.

The boys stood frozen for a second.

“She’s just blowing off steam,” Nick muttered.

Matt checked his phone. “It’s getting dark…”

Chris was already reaching for his keys. “We need to go find her.”

⸻

Hours passed.

They drove down every street, checked every park, every familiar corner she used to like as a kid. They called her phone over and over—no answer. Left voicemails. Sent texts. Nothing.

Nick’s knee bounced in the passenger seat of Matt’s car. “What if something happened?”

Chris’s voice was low. “Don’t say that.”

They circled the city. Again. And again. Until the clock on the dashboard read 2:47 a.m.

They had to face it.

She was gone. And they had no idea where she went.

⸻

Back at home

They sat in silence, the house painfully still without her voice.

Matt rested his head in his hands. “We pushed her too far.”

“She said we didn’t care,” Chris whispered. “And then we proved her right.”

Nick stared at her empty bedroom door, heart aching. “What if she doesn’t come back?”

⸻

3:12 a.m.

The front door opened slowly.

Y/N stepped in, hoodie soaked from rain, shoes muddy, eyes red and tired.

They all looked up from the living room in shock.

Nick stood first. “Where were you?!”

“I just walked,” she mumbled, avoiding their eyes. “I didn’t know where to go.”

Chris stood too, his voice sharp with panic. “Do you know what time it is?! We’ve been out looking for you for hours!”

“I didn’t ask you to!” she snapped back.

“You scared the hell out of us!” Matt said, voice cracking. “Do you even care that we thought something happened to you?!”

“Do you even care that I feel invisible in this house?” she shouted. “You guys never listen to me! You talk over me, mock me, treat me like some annoying little kid! I was hurting, and all you did was yell at me!”

Chris’s chest rose and fell, fists clenched. “We were worried sick, Y/N.”

She wiped at her cheeks. “Yeah? Well, maybe you should show it before I disappear next time.”

And with that, she slammed her bedroom door and locked it behind her.

⸻

The next morning

No one slept.

Nick sat at the kitchen table with coffee he didn’t touch. Matt paced. Chris stared at the hallway.

Finally, a door creaked open.

Y/N stepped out, hoodie sleeves covering her hands, her voice small.

“…I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Chris stood immediately, eyes tired. “We didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Matt came over slowly. “We’re sorry. We were tired and stressed, and we took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

Nick nodded, stepping closer. “We love you. We always have. You’re not invisible. You’re the best part of this house.”

She broke then—tears falling, her lip trembling.

“I just felt so alone last night.”

Chris pulled her into a hug so fast she barely had time to react. “You’re not. I swear to God, you’re not.”

Matt wrapped around them too. “You’re our sister. We’ll always come find you.”

Nick pressed a kiss to her temple. “And we’ll never let it get that far again.”

She buried her face into Chris’s hoodie and cried.

They stayed like that for a long time—holding her like they were afraid she’d vanish again.

But she didn’t.

She stayed.

And this time, they listened.

⸻

[espace--positif]

When Stars Align

A Sylus x F!Reader Fic [Love and Deepspace] Written for @reilemon for the Blind Date Matchmaking collab by @unintentionalseductress!

Summary: Perhaps this is all it takes for love to bloom. A blind date, a chance encounter, an alignment of proverbial stars. Pairing: Sylus x F!Reader WC: ~2.5k Content tags: blind date, fluff, humor, romance Notes: This was so fun to write (and the word count quickly got away from me lmao), huge thank you to Ray for organizing this event, and thank you to @pmpmyread for proofreading! I really hope you enjoy the fic @reilemon 💜

Masterlist

A soft spring breeze tickles at your skin as you walk down the busy street. It’s abuzz with chatter and laughter — mainly that of couples, as the season's warming up often engenders. The butterflies in your stomach flutter incessantly in anticipation of the afternoon ahead of you. Will you end up like one of the many happy — or seemingly happy, at least — couples that surround you?

A young couple sitting on a bench, tenderly sharing an ice cream cone, catches your attention. You wonder if they’ve worked out those little differences that always seem to make or break connections. If they’ve ironed out the kinks in the fabled red thread that connects them. If they’d even have found their way to one another, if not for a chance encounter, an alignment of proverbial stars.

Like a blind date.

You shake the feeling as quickly as it came on. You’re getting ahead of yourself, you haven’t even met the man yet, you briefly think.

Your friend hadn’t told you much about your date, simply claiming that you wouldn’t regret meeting him, and that he’d be unlike anyone you’ve ever seen. Though you doubted her assertion, as you knew she didn’t know him all that well — she’d also claimed he was a friend of friends, two twins who you’d recognized from mutual circles on social media. Despite this, no matter how much scouring and internet sleuthing you attempted, you couldn’t find anything on this so-called ‘Sylus’. Not a profile, a mention, nothing. His replies didn’t tell you much about his character either, but to be fair, you’d only briefly texted to organize the time and place for the date.

And now, as you arrive at your destination, your doubts multiply. Your friend’s recommendation for a café is nothing short of quirky — a tiny hole-in-the-wall with a pretentious-looking chalkboard menu filled with riddle-like names for likely simple drinks. It’s clearly a place she’d enjoy, but you now slightly regret relaying her recommendation to your date without as much as a glance at their webpage.

You tighten your black jacket around your frame as the calm breeze suddenly picks up. Ignoring your racing heartbeat, you open the door and step inside. The door’s chime hasn’t even sounded yet when an impossibly cheery barista almost materializes in front of you, clad in a dizzyingly striped apron that matches the sign outside.

“Welcome to the Linkon Bean and Dream!” he blurts energetically. “Can I get you an affirmation, or just the menu?” He winks as he says the word, and you suppress a sigh. Oh great, it’s one of these places.

“Actually, I’m here to meet someone, uh…” you trail off as your eyes scan the café. A few other couples sit around the colorful tables, chairs, and booths, but a single figure stands out, drawing your attention immediately.

The man, clad in a jet-black turtleneck and carmine blazer, claims all the patrons’ attention when he stands from a booth in the back and begins walking towards you. As he approaches, you notice his most prominent features; his hair is striking silver, half swept back, leaving a few loose strands to frame his chiseled face. And when he stops right in front of you and the wide-eyed barista, you notice that he’s incredibly tall, towering over the both of you. His gaze is piercing, deep red eyes focused on you as he gives you a once-over, and for a moment, you freeze.

He can’t be…

“Sylus?” you chance, and his gaze softens slightly, though an almost imperceptible edge still remains.

He smiles as he confirms your name, his voice deep and rich, and your hand tightens around the strap of your bag. It sounds so good on his lips.

Sylus turns to the barista, whose energy has suddenly dialed down, and says, “She’s with me. And we’ll just take the menu.”

“O-Of course,” stammers the barista. He leads you both back to your booth and hands you menus printed on paper bag-like sheets, which are ironically laminated in plastic. You both agree to order the ‘Cup of Delight’, which seems like the most normal drink on the menu (some of the items don’t sound like drinks at all), and the barista finally scatters, leaving you alone with Sylus.

You make brief introductions, giving him the almost rehearsed preamble you’re used to reciting — what you do for work, where you grew up, how you enjoy reading and dancing… But Sylus is different from your usual interlocutors. He listens attentively, as though you’re the only other person in the café, his gaze never leaving yours, even when you look away as a flush creeps up your cheeks.

No longer encumbered with a menu to fidget with, your eyes sweep over his necklace, expensive-looking silver encrusted with bright rubies, contrasting with his midnight black shirt. And beneath the necklace, you can see hints of the chiseled muscles barely contained by said shirt.

“So,” you clear your throat as you refocus, realizing that as easy as it is to talk to Sylus, he hasn’t exactly shared anything about himself yet. “What do you do?”

“I’m a business owner,” Sylus replies, leaning onto his palm. But this time, you don’t look away. A small smile blooms on your lips.

“What kind of business?” you ask, spurred by the enigma before you. He’s clearly well-off, on top of exuding an air of practiced elegance. And there’s a hint of danger there, too, magnetic and intriguing.

Sylus smirks. “Imports and exports. Some trading. Fruits, and other things.”

You raise a playful eyebrow. “Other things?”

“It’s best to diversify one’s investments and ventures, don’t you think?” Sylus chuckles, matching your playfulness. You’re taken aback, but it’s not an unpleasant feeling. Still, you can tell that he’s keeping something, or some things, close to his chest. And yet the strapping mystery of a man that sits across from you is somehow effortlessly breaking the ice, softening your exterior, and making you more and more comfortable by the second. Your friend was right — he’s unlike any man you’ve ever met.

“Mhm,” you hum. “So you own a business, with diverse investments and ventures and other things. That’s not mysterious at all.”

An intensifying energy, magnetism given form, stretches between you, and you stare into the vermillion pools of his eyes, as though they’ll give you answers.

“You’re quite the mystery yourself,” he replies, instead shifting the subject back to you, and you suddenly feel like he’s staring right through to your soul.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Sylus lilts as he gesticulates at the abrasive decor lining the walls, “this doesn’t seem like the kind of place you’d enjoy. But perhaps I’m mistaken.”

You let out a small chuckle, acutely aware that Sylus isn’t the only one whose vibe is distinctly different from the quirky café — your all-black ensemble, bustier top, short skirt and thigh highs certainly stand out from the overly colorful decor. But your fashion sense has never been something you shied away from, nor has it ever stopped you from going places where you know you’ll stand out.

And though you’re surprised Sylus has noticed you’re not exactly in your element here, you take the opportunity to come clean. “It’s not,” you admit. “My friend picked this place, I’ve never been here before.”

“I see. Your friend has… eclectic tastes,” Sylus muses. A merciful euphemism.

Right on cue, the barista returns with two tall cups in hand. You can barely contain your laughter as you watch Sylus crinkle his nose at the… can you even call it a drink? that’s placed before him. Strange striped wafers that grow soggy by the second protrude from the sloshing pale liquid in the uncovered cups, and you’re suddenly glad that you un-endorsed this place before it was too late.

“Two Cups of Delight!” croons the barista before shuffling away.

At a loss for words, you simply stare at the abomination in front of you, then you look up at Sylus. His reaction, earlier amusingly dramatic, is now muted. He pulls a small, jet black card from an equally jet black card wallet tucked in his blazer pocket and stands.

“Wait, what are you doing?” you ask, though you suspect you already know the answer.

“I’m paying for these so that we can escape this place,” Sylus replies, a hint of a smile in his voice.

“That’s a tad dramatic, don’t you think?” you tease. “Don’t you feel like experiencing delight?”

“I highly doubt this…” Even he hesitates to call it a drink. “…thing… has a modicum of delight in it. Now, may I suggest a place that will actually delight you?”

Sylus offers you his hand, and the way the words dance on his tongue sends a shiver of anticipation through your body. You grasp his large hand and stand, just as eager to abandon ship. Once the drinks are paid for and you find yourselves on the sidewalk, you realize you haven’t even asked where you’re going. It’s a disarming feeling — you’d never have thought to become so comfortable with a practical stranger leading your day, yet here you are.

“Where are we headed to?” you finally ask, pulling out your phone. “I can call us a cab, or…”

A round helmet is suddenly pushed up against your arm. And that’s when you notice that Sylus has led you to a motorbike, dark as night, propped against the sidewalk. The descending sun sends glinting shimmers across its smooth chassis. You may not be a motorcycle aficionado, but you can tell it has exquisite craftsmanship. Excitement bubbles within you as you accept the helmet, and Sylus smirks at the sight.

“That won’t be necessary.”

The wind in your hair, a ghost of a feeling, still lingers as you walk into the warmly lit bar. It’s still early, so the place is nearly empty. You feel your heartbeat, already rapid from the exhilarating motorcycle ride, beginning to race. Spending time with Sylus in that café, as awful as it was, at least meant you were spared the potential awkwardness of intimacy. But here, surrounded by nothing but the suspended overhead lights and the two bartenders behind the counter, you feel a twinge of nervous energy creeping up on you.

But that energy begins to dissipate the moment you notice the menu on the wall behind the bar — in bold and cursive letters, the words ’Signature Cocktails’ greet you, and you’re once again surprised as you peruse your options.

Turning to Sylus, who greets the bartender with a practiced familiarity, you ask, “So tell me, why’d you pick this place?”

Sylus’s brow furrows in an expression of genuine concern. “Is it not to your liking?”

You quickly shake your head. “No, it’s the opposite, actually. I love a good cocktail bar. How did you know…?”

Sylus grins. “Perhaps I’m that good of a judge of character.”

You playfully tap at his shoulder as you take a seat on an expensive-feeling leather stool. “Not very humble either. And with a flair for the dramatic.”

Sylus shakes his head in mock consternation. “Ah, have I failed to meet your rigorous expectations, then?”

Just then, the bartender gingerly places two drinks in front of you. And this time, they look not only drinkable, but quite enticing — slices of jalapeño and lime are neatly arranged within the bright yellow liquid, and the cup is rimmed with what looks like a blend of salt and tajin.

“Spicy mango margaritas. On the house,” says the bartender, flashing a knowing smile at Sylus.

You take a sip, instantly savoring the spicy, sweet, and tangy symphony of flavors on your tongue. Riding the invigorating energy of the delicious drink, you return to Sylus’s question.

“Well, that depends. Can you dance?”

The open area that has become your private dance floor is alight with slowly drifting hues of warm yellow and orange. A slow, groovy tune resounds from overhead and the surrounding speakers, enveloping you in a comfortable ambiance as you sway with the beat. Well, as one of you sways with the beat and the other tries his best. You’ve quickly realized that Sylus isn’t the best at keeping up with a rhythm, but a warm smile spreads across your lips as you think about how he’s indulging your spontaneous whim. You’re certainly in your element now, and he seems to have taken notice.

“What is it?” Sylus asks, raising an inquisitive brow.

You laugh, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. “Nothing, it’s just… You could work on your rhythm.”

Whether you have the drink you’re still nursing or Sylus’s comfortable presence to thank for your nervousness disappearing, you’re not sure. But you’ve somewhat settled into this back-and-forth with a man you didn’t know existed a few hours ago, a man whose mysterious persona you’ve still yet to unravel. And that’s something to drink to.

“I’m hurt,” Sylus smiles, feigning offense. “I’ve been told my dancing is as good as my singing. Are you saying I’ve been lied to?”

You gulp down the remainder of your drink before replying, “I’m saying that maybe you should work on your singing, too.”

Sylus laughs, a low rumble that settles in your abdomen alongside the warmth of the drink. A pleasant silence settles, and it’s only you, Sylus, and the music.

Your gazes lock, and you find yourself almost lost in the deep crimson of his eyes. And that magnetic energy resurfaces again as time seems to still. Diffused light dances across his features, highlighting the sharpness of his cheekbones, the curve of his sculpted nose, the softness of his lips…

Sylus draws closer, and your heart hammers in your chest. But you don’t pull away, instead letting his magnetism pull you in. His hand rests on your waist, and your hand moves of its own accord to settle on the back of his neck. His hair is soft, so soft, you think as you trace gentle circles around the tangles at his nape. Heat creeps up your face, but you resist the urge to look away. There’s something about him…

The scent of his cologne, woody and smoky, envelops your senses as you close the distance. Your lips brush, slowly and tentatively at first, before Sylus gently pulls you in, and you tilt into him, reciprocating the gesture. You part your lips, letting out a soft gasp, before the dam that was your inhibition fully breaks. You kiss deeply, tasting all of him. And he tastes like the cocktail, spicy and sweet and tangy, like a delectable piece of fresh fruit on a sweltering day.

Then you both pull away, but not before he gives your lip the tiniest nip. You feel as though your breath has been stolen, but it’s a feeling you wouldn’t trade for the world.

Your eyes meet again, your fingers still stroking at his strands, his hand still firmly on your waist.

“You’re different, Sylus.”

“So are you,” Sylus smiles, intrigue dancing in his narrowed eyes.

And so, mere hours after having met him, you’ve begun to scratch the surface of the mystery that is Sylus. The enticing enigma that seems to pull you, as though through a taut red thread, as red as his inescapable eyes.

Perhaps this is all it takes for love to bloom. A blind date, a chance encounter, an alignment of proverbial stars.

Thanks for reading <3

[thetxtdevil]

tbh i have a really recurring fake scenario of rich gf mc , like imagine her going to korea to see kai whenever she wants (or HE wants, sometimes letting his horny and dom self take over him lol).

So i have a request with that idea but i cant decide between it being abt Kai being all gloomy bc he saw a little too much of ppl commenting abt him in social media and the boys talk to mc to quickly come and her comforting kai (i think this is more a sub!kai idea lmao) oooor Kai being so horny that he asks her to come and she pops up to her private jet almost immediately

Any of both scenarios is fine or even if ur beautiful mind comes up w something else is fine i just want to read your writing with that idea lol

Please and thank you xoxo

Went with the gloomy subby/switch kai and reader "comforting" him maybe in the future I'll fulfill your second part 😏

content: smut, restraint, a bit of spit, edging, mirror, switching roles, and no one care about protection...

word count: 1.2k

--nsfw--

Kai's rich girlfriend is Kai's sugar mommy, she's Kai's female version of Christian Grey. You absolutely adore him, when you first met the tall idol you thought you'd have to pull an intimidating front until he absolutely folded in front of you. He's so cute.

Although Kai is in a respectable K-pop group and gets paid good money, you buy him everything. You found out the boys were still sharing rooms with bunks, you bought a penthouse for them and so you can get dirty alone with him. You saw that Kai broke the screen of his phone, you bought him two new phones. one for everyday use and one to keep both yours and his nudes AND whenever he wanted to visit you, you always had expensive cars and jets take him whenever he pleases. The only condition is that Kai is to not share the relationship with the public because what would it do to your boss girl business reputation if people found out you were down bad for him.

Worst part about being an idol is that people share everything that is on their mind especially rude comments. They have the freedom to say what they want but sometimes the words were too cruel. Kai is already insecure with his looks but when the comeback photos came out his mind bolded the hate comments among the many good ones. Nitpicking every comment, he got gloomier, smaller, distant. He stopped picking up your calls, stopped texting you, and you were quick to contact Soobin asking if Kai is safe.

For the comeback there was one interview held at a conference room at a hotel. Questions upon questions finally the session came to a close. The boys were set to go back to the company's building but someone stops Kai from leaving. A man in a suit looking like a secret agent to others but Kai knew exactly who he is. "Ms. y/n requests to see you."

"She- she's here?!" Kai had different emotions going through his mind. Initially excited to see you but then he remembered that he was basically ghosting you. Breathing deep to calm his nerves Kai follows your assistant to a room on the highest level of the hotel. Kai looks at the door then looking back at the assistant who stands there with no emotion detected on his face. Twisting the handle Kai opens the door to be welcomed by darkness.

A huge hotel room with window walls looking out above the city of Seoul. He steps closer to look at the view in awe and realize a figure sitting at a lounge chair near by. There you were, your pin-striped pants exaggerated the length of your legs crossed as the matching blazer adorned your arm holding your head up. Kai's eyes meet yours noticing your annoyance, the disappointment.

"I-i'm sorr-" Kai starts but is cut off by your abrupt movement out of the chair. You walk further into the room Kai following behind. "As much as I want your explanation" you say as you halt in front of the king sized bed, "I think we should go straight to business." You turn to look back at Kai his dark bushy hair covering his wide eyes. Smirking at his gaped lips you pull him into a kiss. Kai immediately melts into your touch bending down to get closer to you.

Your hands brush through his hair on his neck, slipping down lower on his chest, grabbing onto the material of the jacket to take it off. Detaching your lips you stare deeply into Kai's chocolate orbs, "on the bed now." Kai is obedient, he lowers himself on the bed to get another surprise of a reflection of himself. "Do you like the view?" you say grinning wildly, "I've been seeing the disgraceful things people are saying on the internet, they're not true."

You coo as the man's lips turns into a frown. Leaning down connecting each others lips, each kiss was separated by reassurance and love yous. Taking his tie off along with all his clothes you take the silky material of the tie wrapping it around Kai's wrists. He whines and squirms as you restrain him. You leave him spread out for you to admire. Getting a taste, kissing, biting, from his collarbones down to his happy trail. You softly wrap your cold hands around his warm hard dick. "A-ah y/n-" you shush him as your thumb rubs the precum on his tip. "So handsome you know that right?"

Kai looks down, the darkness didn't do justice to hide his reddening face. You were fully clothed on top of his very naked restrained body. A trail of spit from your mouth goes down lubricating Kai's thick cock for you to jerk him off. You eat up every sound the man makes letting him fight the tie on his wrists and buck his hips into your hand. Just as Kai's moans get frequent and pitched you let go.

A long whine fills the room Kai pouts even harder. "Be patient, my love." Standing up from the bed Kai watches you undress. He licks his lips seeing your matching lacy white lingerie, as stark difference to your dark attire. Knowing how much Kai loves this set on you, you leave it on straddling his hips. His chest rises and falls fast as he watches your dainty fingers push the panties to the side to have Kai's tip feel how drench you are. The sight of Kai leaning his head back in pleasure is heavenly. You so badly wanted to leave possessive marks on his sculpted jaw but you can't, you shouldn't.

Finally letting your cunt swallow Kai's length whole you rock your hips. Your head then falls back, the fullness electrifying your body. Opening your eyes to see yourself fucking Kai, you huff "Kai, look up." Kai slowly opens his eyes to witness what you were seeing.

This fueled his fire, you yelped in surprise when your whole body was slammed onto the bed. Then you reflection was of you surrounded by white sheets and Kai's toned back and bottom on top of you. You watch as Kai slips out of his tie then to put his hands the sides of your head. Kai wastes no time to thrust deep and fast into you. Kissing you deeply surly bruising your lips. His hands caress your legs guiding them over his shoulders to have his dick hit a sweet spot. You couldn't help but to cling onto his broad back, scratching it until it tore skin. The disconnection from the two of you were being realized as you both tire your bodies.

It seemed that Kai forgot the deal as his head buried into your neck. Teeth biting down at a spot that made you whimper. You didn't care at that moment the way he was making you feel was too good. He thrusted harder, reaching down to rub your clit getting you close. Your pussy clenches with each friction of your sensitive nub making it difficult for Kai to continue. Cumming on his cock it wasn't long until he came undone.

Kai flops down rolling to the side to not to squish you. You turn your head to look at him and he does the same. Brushing his bangs out of his eyes you say, "don't ever ignore me again." Kai nods making you smile and give him a peck on the forehead. Now you need your assistant to find the best make up team to cover up your hickey and maybe Kai's hickeys after tonight...

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling, @incogrio

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: happy regular season finale! i am first and foremost and islander girly so i’m beyond excited for the boys and ready to get the playoff craziness going 💙🧡 had to write a quick, fun, smutty fic in honor of the clinching! enjoy! ☺️

tw: unprotected sex, creampie, fingering (f receiving), thigh riding, wall sex, praise kink, dirty talk, terrible jokes, minimal editing

word count: 2.7k

summary: mat and the boys clinch a playoff berth in game 81, you celebrate with him when he gets home

It’s so late when Mat gets home from New Jersey, but the both of you are buzzing with the adrenaline of winning and clinching third in the Metro. You’d been too nervous to watch the game with any of the girls, spending the entire sixty minutes of game action jumping around and pacing the den.

Your text thread with Mat after the game was an incomprehensible string of emojis and exclamation points, too excited to form words.

When Mat’s little Find My Friends dot appears in your driveway, you yank the front door open and dance in place on the steps, waiting for him to get out of his car. You can see his huge smile even at a distance.

“Playoffs, baby!” You shout, jumping into Mat’s arms before he even has a chance to step into the house. His arms wrap automatically around your waist, your legs locking together at his lower back. The oversized shirt you’re wearing rides up around your hips, extra fabric bunching up in between your bodies. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Mat!”

You cup his face in your hands, his stubble scratching your palms, and press your mouth to his in a deep kiss. Mat grins under your lips, licking at the seam of them so he can gain entrance to your mouth. He holds you closer, carrying you as he steps inside and kicks the door shut behind him. The fabric of his suit jacket tickles at your bare thighs and you clench your muscles, practically grinding yourself over his stomach. The kiss makes you lightheaded, teeth and tongues and saliva making it messy.

“Fuck,” Mat breaks the kiss with a breathless gasp, hazel eyes blown dark from arousal. You can feel the hard heat of his erection under your ass and grin wickedly, pressing open mouthed kisses against the sharp edge of his jaw and down his neck. “Wish you came, you should’ve come! Playoffs!”

“Playoffs!” You repeat on a delighted laugh, pride swelling in your chest. It hasn’t been the easiest season, a rollercoaster of losses and wins and a new coach, injuries and quite possibly the world’s worst penalty kill, but you’re beyond proud of Mat and the boys and what they’ve accomplished. Your arms tighten around Mat’s neck and you squeeze him in a huge hug. “I am so, so beyond proud of you.”

Mat kisses the corner of your mouth, resting his forehead against yours. His hips twitch up into yours.

“I never had a doubt,” you whisper the praise, enjoying the way Mat’s grip tightens on your hips, the way his chest starts to rise and fall rapidly against yours. Your fingers card through his hair, tugging gently. “My Mat, fighting for every point. You guys accomplished something and now you’re going to have some fun.”

“Better get working on those fancy jackets,” Mat teases, walking forward until your back hits the wall. You grin, intimately familiar with the sly curve of his smirk and the twinkle in his eyes.

“Better get working on that playoff beard,” you tease back, gasping when Mat thrusts his hips up into yours, your panties immediately soaked from the hard press of his cock against your core. You whine and dig your nails into his scalp.

Mat nips at your jaw. “Yeah? You like the beard?” He keeps you pinned against the wall, his pelvis pressed into yours, hands gripping tightly to your ass.

You whine again, nodding. “Wanna feel it between my thighs again,” you gasp, his teeth sharp against your pulse point. “C’mon, Mat, fuck me against the wall.”

He laughs, the sound vibrating against your chest, and hikes his leg up so his thigh is pressed solidly against your cunt, thick muscle the prefect spot for you to rub your aching, throbbing clit against. Your head thunks back against the wall as you grind over him as best you can while being held up by one of Mat’s hands and his leg.

“There you go, baby,” Mat murmurs, using his other hand to make quick work of his belt buckle. The mental clinks together and you hear the zipper of his slacks slide down. “Soak my pants, come on. Look so pretty trying to make yourself come.”

The fabric of his pants and the thin, soaked cotton of your panties create a delicious friction against your clit. Your stomach tightens and your thighs tremble.

Mat bounces his leg a little and you gasp, grabbing onto his shoulders for support. He grins and you look down to see him fist his cock out of his boxer-briefs, the swollen tip of him leaking pre-cum all over his fingers. Your cunt clenches around nothing, a rush of arousal slicking down your thighs.

“Mat, please, oh my god,” you babble, desperate for him. You need something, anything, to relieve the pressure building between your legs.

“Be patient, Squeaks,” Mat smirks, his hand gliding easily up and down his length. His knuckles press against your lower stomach on each upstroke, pre-cum staining the hem of your shirt. “Had to wait eighty one games to clinch, you can wait a few more minutes.”

He hoists you a little higher on the wall, his forearm braced under your ass, both feet back on the floor, and you whimper at the loss of his thigh between your legs.

“Just wanna feel you,” you drop your head to the join of his neck and shoulder, brushing your lips over the exposed skin of his collarbone. You’re glad he ditched his tie, a whore for the sight of his collarbone through the unbuttoned oxford shirt.

“Reach down and hold your panties to the side,” Mat orders and you comply quickly, reaching a shaky hand down to pull the soaked fabric away from your cunt. The elastic bites into your skin and the tip of Mat’s cock is pressed against your damp skin. You jolt in his grip, a choked gasp working past your lips. “There we go,” he coos, “good girl.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, your entire body growing hot at his praise, the tip of Mat’s cock circling your clit and sending electric shocks down your spine. “Please, please, oh my god,” you babble, chanting his name until Mat sucks a mark against your neck, lining the head of his cock up at your soaked entrance.

His hand keeps a tight grip on the base of his cock and you’re barely ready when he pushes into you, feeding his cock into your cunt inch by inch. “There we go, come on, baby,” he mutters, breathless. “Can take all of me, my good girl. My best girl.”

You slide your fingers over to play with your clit, rubbing the sensitive bundle until arousal is dripping down Mat’s cock. He grunts in your ear, bottoming out, his hips locked against yours. The zipper on his slacks rubs painfully against your inner thighs, his belt buckle smacking against your hip.

“Oh my god,” you exhale harshly, clenching experimentally around Mat, savoring the ground out curse and groan that he can’t hold back. “Mat, baby, please move. Please,” you beg, panting just from the feeling of him filling you up and stretching you out. The burn of the stretch borders right on painful pleasure and you suck in a shaky breath.

He’s got both hands gripping your ass now, fingers digging bruises into your skin. “Gonna move, gotta move, so fucking tight for me,” Mat groans, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. There’s barely any room between your bodies, heat pouring off of the both of you. Mat pumps his hips, bucking them slowly at first, enough to get a whine clawing out of your throat, enough to get the coil of pleasure tightening in your stomach.

His hips slap against yours with his thrusts, short, sharp bursts that keep his cock bumping up against your g-spot. Your clit rubs against the hair at the base of his cock and tears roll down your cheeks from the stimulation.

You chant Mat’s name, murmuring broken praise for his game play, begging him to fuck you harder. “Wanna feel you come in me,” you wail, one hand grasping his shoulder and the other buried deep in his hair.

Mat bites little marks against your neck and collarbone, sliding your body up the wall with the force of his thrusts. “Gonna give you everything, baby, promise. Every drop, deserve it, earned it,” he says, barely coherent. “Love you, supported me all season, fuck, baby, come on my cock.”

He thrusts up into you and you clench around him, clit throbbing and cunt squeezing him until the coil snaps in your stomach, your orgasm hitting like a freight train. You moan wildly, too far gone to worry about how pathetically loud you’re being. Mat grunts in your ear, fingers squeezing your ass painfully. He keeps you on his cock, buried as deep into you as he can be, still trying to get deeper by pulling your ass closer.

Mat keeps thrusting up into you as you’re coming down from your orgasm, grunting against your collarbone, and you stroke his hair, encouraging him to come inside of you. “Come on, Mat, finish in me, please. Want you to fill me, so proud of you,” you’re barely aware of what you’re saying, but Mat seems to hear you and if isn’t long before he’s groaning into your skin, filling you with ropes of cum, keeping you held in place on his cock.

He shivers when he’s finished, cock softening inside of you, and you let one leg fall to the ground, keeping the other hooked over his hip. “Jesus,” you giggle, thighs shaking and core burning from helping to keep yourself upright. “Good thing you’re off tomorrow,” your smile, tired as it is, turns a little wicked, “because I really do not want to leave you or the bed.”

Mat rewards you with a sleepy smile and a sweet kiss to your forehead. You wince as his cock slips out of your cunt, smearing cum all over your inner thighs. “Tomorrow’s definitely a day for naked celebrations,” he laughs quietly. You can see that the adrenaline of the game and the sex is wearing off and his eyelids are starting to look heavy. He gives the underside of your thigh a gentle squeeze.

“Why don’t you go shower and change,” you suggest, smoothing your hands over the crumpled fabric of his suit jacket. “I’ll bring you up a snack and we can get some sleep.”

“Rather shower with you and eat you out,” Mat mumbles, letting your other leg fall to the floor but keeping you pinned to the wall. He rolls his hips lazily against your thigh. You can feel every inch of him and you’re not sure if he’s hardening again or if he’s still coming down from his orgasm. “We clinched, I should get to decide what we do.”

You burrow your face against his chest, the warmth of Mat’s body surrounding you while your arms snake around his waist, under his jacket. “If you’re this demanding when you clinch, I can’t wait to see how bossy you’ll be when you win,” you say cheekily.

Mat’s hand slips between your bodies to tuck his cock back into his pants and you press closer to him, trapping his hand between your stomach and his, making him laugh a little. He wiggles his fingers against your stomach playfully. “When we win the Cup,” he says, quietly but sincerely, “I’m going to fuck you until neither one of us can walk.”

Arousal pools low in your stomach again, your thighs clenching together. “Oh,” you murmur, “I’ll start manifesting from now then.”

Mat’s hand, still trapped between your bodies, works its way down over your stomach, fingertips close to where you want them. But not close enough.

You let out a soft little whine, poking your lower lip out in a pout that makes Mat laugh and duck his head to kiss you. He sucks your lower lip into his mouth and brushes his fingers even lower, your hips pushing up to try and slide his hand down.

You’re not quite tired anymore, frissions of lust sparking in your veins.

“You’re adorable,” he says, nipping gently at your lower lip. You wriggle against him, getting worked up again just from Mat’s proximity. The heel of his palm rubs against your lower stomach, the wide span of his hand stoking heat between your thighs.

“Imagine,” you breathe, “how adorable I could be on my back, moaning your name.”

A gasp punches out of your lungs when Mat’s fingers finally slide home, curling up into your cunt with a wet squelch, his cum leaking out of you and around his fingers into your panties. You clench around his fingers and let your head fall back against the wall while Mat’s fingers work you over.

“I love when you dirty talk me,” Mat props his free hand on the wall next you your head, his suit jacket opening and forming a curtain next to you. His head falls forward and he watches his hand disappear under the hem of your oversized shirt. “Pull your shirt up, baby, I want to see how you’re dripping down my hand.”

Your hand shakes a little as you lift the hem of your shirt up and hold it just at your belly button, Mat’s hand is down the front of your panties, stretching the fabric as he moves his wrist and fingers. Arousal drips down your thighs and your knees are threatening to give out as your second orgasm builds quickly. His name falls from your lips like a prayer and Mat’s pace never wavers, his gaze trained on the way his hand disappears between your legs.

With a twist of his wrist and a curl of his fingers, Mat presses the pads of his middle and ring fingers against your g-spot and the coil snaps again, your entire body going taut with the force of your orgasm and then boneless as you soak his hand and your thighs. Your knees buckle and Mat catches you, kissing your neck softly as he guides you through the aftershocks.

“You are aggressively good with those fingers,” you murmur, breathless.

“Gotta keep them warm for the playoffs,” he teases, pulling his hand away from you slowly. You wince at the sudden emptiness, cunt fluttering around nothing.

A smile plays at your lips and you fight it, trying to resist the urge to make the innuendo. A little puff of air escapes your nose as you try not to laugh and Mat pulls back, squinting at you, “what’s with the look?”

You shake your head, rolling your lips together to smother the worst of your laughter. “Nothing, I just…can we go upstairs so you can practice your stick handling?” The laugh you’d been holding back is finally released and you can’t stop your giggles.

Mat stares at you for a heartbeat, your laughter filling the silence, before his face cracks into a smile and his laughter joins yours. “Shit, you’re the worst,” he grins, shaking his head with an affectionate look on his face.

“I couldn’t help it!” You defend yourself, holding up your hands in surrender, your shirt falling back into place.

Still laughing, Mat leans in and kisses each of your palms. You curl your hands around his cheeks and squish them a little, forcing his lips into a pout for you to kiss. When you do, Mat pokes his tongue out, licking your upper lip.

“So….” you drag out the syllable, giggling and looking up at Mat with wide eyes, “is that a yes?”

Mat hoists you up into the air, hands under your thighs, and your squeal, legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. His smile is hungry and you know it’s not just for you, with the clinching fresh Mat’s mind is going a mile a minute thinking about the cup run.

“If you’re good, Squeaks,” Mat says, heading for the stairs, bouncing you a little in his grip, “I’ll let you do your own stick handling.”

You laugh until Mat makes you moan his name again.

[cchloset]

buster and eddie headcanons

still struggling to draw and i feel really lazy but i have to say. buster and eddie together, just the concept alone, has me giggling and kicking my legs. theyre so silly. and yes i DO think theyre boyfriends. sorry if this is hard to read its late and im not giving much attention to legibility rn. big walls of text sorryguys - i kinda flipflop between if they met in very late high school or during college because buster says to nana "we met at eddie's graduation". i think it fits better canonically if buster was already maybe halfway through/almost done with his courses and then met a freshman eddie. buster graduated first, then eddie followed. - eddie did not take college seriously at all. guy failed everything. but he locked in the last year, because from the Eddie's Life Coach short film he's shown to know how to get his act together – even if it means immediately forgetting it afterwards - eddie majored in sound design. he wanted to make sound effects for video games - these guys are HUGE morons. oh my god. dumb and dumber over here. average intelligence decreases by 20% whenever they walked into a room - buster was a lot more hyperactive and scattered back then but has mellowed out with age and got his adhd medicated - eddie comes from a spanish-speaking family. he understands spanish but can't speak a word (me with afrikaans lol) - no one at the theatre really knows who eddie is beside his name, the fact that he helps out from time to time, and that he sometimes brings in mcdonalds and coffee for mr moon - eddie smokes pot. not as much now but always used to back then - did he share with buster? obviously - buster CANNOT cook. his father always made the food when he was alive, or miss crawley would make him things, or he'd just buy microwavable stuff you slap in for a few minutes and its ready to eat. do not trust this man around a stove - the kitchen in his loft apartment is seldom used because he eats microwavable lasagna or something every single day - one time he tried making something and set the place on fire - also i think buster's dad's name is David because the Dave and Buster's pun cracks me up n makes me hysterical - as a housewarming gift, eddie gave buster his old xbox. it still works fine but he has a newer one and doesnt want the old one collecting dust. well it collects dust anyway because buster has not played any. hes too busy - buster cant see far away. hes always squinting and getting headaches. refuses to get glasses because 'theyre such a hassle' and opts for contact lenses - eddie has given buster his own keys to the pool house because he visits so often - eddie's parents don't like buster so much. the constant mooching and borrowing money (which he still hasnt paid back btw) doesnt leave a good impression. buster doesnt mind and hops the fence when they lock him out

its 3am ill write more if i think of them. and maybe draw soon. sob sob

[bnhaficsforthesoul]

headcanons for toga as a gf? Both sfw and nsfw please?! thankssss

she can't help but be completely obsessed with you, like actually obsessed, you're the first person to ever return her crush and not find her weird

she follows you around constantly, you're always together, and if you're not together you're texting or calling

it doesn't matter how long you've been together, seeing your post fight appearance will always make her heart beat faster. she wants to worry about your safety, and for the most part she does, but she can't help but think how beautiful you look like this

she's very physically affectionate, she will literally throw her body over yours if she feels she's not being given a lot of attention

she quickly knows she wants to be with you forever, and she figures if you're already with her she doesn't have too much to worry about. so she never really worries that you'll leave

she does get jealous easily though regardless, she doesn't like your attention being on other people

she loves being spoiled, she now has a huge collection of plushies that you've gotten her

at first, she'd try and keep her bubbly personality the only part of her that you saw, but times where you told her how genuinely cute and beautiful she was she couldn't help but go a little quiet

hearing you praise her so much always makes her feel weird in a good way, she's so used to being called such scary and ugly things, she definitely ran off to cry the first time she heard you say such wonderful things about her

she loves clothes. she doesn't have a ton, but after getting with you she wants to look cute for you all the time so she actively goes to steal more - which means tons of little fashion shows

she always makes sure to bring you back at least 1 thing as well, you have so many clothes or random trinkets or things that you like that she found while out.

she loves painting your nails or doing your hair

she can't sleep without you there anymore. she cuddles so closely to you even without realizing it, so even if you have to get up to go to the bathroom she's immediately awake

which means sleepless nights if you can't be there, her really hoping that you're not somewhere where you can't be on the phone because otherwise she'll sit up all night anxious

she loves to play wrestle, she'll 'attack' you (jump on you) and loves when you fight back. she doesn't care too much if you slightly hurt her as long as you're not going overboard, and she isn't too afraid to hurt you either. it's part of the fun

her phone is full of pictures of you, or you both together. she takes amazing candid photos

she bites you a lot, not always to make you bleed (although to her that is a bonus), it's just showing affection for her

she kisses you so gently always, even if you're making out it's so soft and sweet, she isn't really all that rough ever

she loves pet names, she loves when you call her by her first name, but she loves being called baby, pretty, beautiful, sweetheart, almost anything cute she's okay with

shell more so use your name with you, but part of it is because she adores your name. it's the most perfect name on earth to her. but when she does use pet names, it's usually baby, sweetie, or honey/hun

she does ask if you love her a lot. it's not that she doesn't believe you really, if you didn't she trusts that you'd be long gone already, but it's an easy way to make you say it without her saying it first. even if you say it often, she always wants to hear it and be reminded that yes, you do love her

she loves love letters. she hopes you write her some, and she writes you tons. you'll sometimes be handed a like 13 page essay just about how much she loves you, and you adore it every time because she always finds new things to talk about

she probably decorates her walls with you, as well as other things she likes, but she likes having her room being a direct representation of the things she loves. so there's pictures printed of you or you both everywhere

if you're artistic, or even just attempt to be, any art you make her goes in her room as well

nsfw

she's more on the submissive side, but she likes to make you fight for it

she wants you to basically have to pin her to the bed and fuck her, she doesn't make it easy either

if you have to use a strap, 90% of the time it'd be you using it on her. she's kind of nervous to use it on you because she's not entirely sure how to fuck you like that or if you'd enjoy it. but eventually with some patience from you she'd give it a try

and also, unless you specifically don't want her to, she's always gonna try to make you cum before you even start fucking

she gets horniest when you're dirty and bloody, so if you're not already, she wants to help you get there

shell bite you all over, hard enough to make you bleed. it's a bonus having you be covered in marks that are so clearly from her

she doesnt want to be hit (like spanked or anything), she doesn't like super kinky sex, honestly beyond the fighting for dominance and you bleeding, she can be fairly vanilla

but she doesn't mind if you're being rough with her. like grabbing at her aggressively, groping her everywhere and heaving slight bruises, fucking her so hard she can't walk straight after - that's all good to her. she doesn't mind pain, it's just how you go about it

shell experiment here and there if you'd like her to, but too kinky sex can kind of make her feel disconnected from it

she doesn't like being degraded, she absolutely adores praise. telling her how beautiful she looks like this, how well she's taking it, how good her pussy feels, and she'll be cumming in no time

she does love seeing you in some pain though. again, she's constantly biting at you, she'll yank your hair hard, she'll scratch at you till you bleed

she loves having more soft sex though. she usually isn't at her horniest these times, she can't help that she kind of needs the bloody aspect to fully get her going, but the soft times are her favorite

she loves having you so physically close to her, doing something only people in love (in her mind) do

her favorite positions are any where you can look at each other. she likes riding, or some form of missionary

she's not super loud during sex, no matter how good it is, she mostly let's out quiet moans or mewls, lots of heavy breathing

she needs you to make noise as well, if you're quiet she'll think you're lying about enjoying it

she loves foreplay especially, especially simultaneous foreplay where you're both playing with each other's bodies at the same time

she's definitely more so a boob person if you have them, but even if you don't shell still probably grab at your chest and grope whatever is there even if it's just muscle

she likes teasing you in public. sending you dirty pictures or texts while you're out on a mission, or rubbing her body against yours in ways that turn you on, using every little kink and turn on that you have against you

if you have a dick, she'll poke fun at you when she sees the tent growing in your pants as you try to shift your clothes around to hide it, and if you have a pussy she'll teasingly ask you if you're wet and might reach a hand down there to check herself, before running away so you can't do anything about it

she loves if you chase her though

[zaebucca]

About scale, process, palette and canvas: a few considerations on pixel art as a medium

User moredogproblems answered an interesting and legitimate question by another, DiscountEarly125, regarding my work and canvas size. He also perfectly isolated two central concepts of pixel art, which are scale and process. Canvas size, which was the theme of DiscountEarly125's specific request, is more of a dependent variable to those two aforementioned concepts, rather than a starting point. I hope the following considerations I shared may help or prompt some other ideas, but this is what I could come up with 15-ish years of experience with pixel art (and a few more years of art and media studies). I was quite in the mood of writing down these few thoughts that have been floating for a while. I apologize as this may also result in a confusing wall of text, but it is all part of a my work and research, and I would love to polish all the material, hopefully with some thoughts, insights from other colleagues, as well as pictures and materials!

A. Scale and canvas size It is true that the bigger the canvas, the more distance one may visually create from pixel art, but I personally think this is to be possibly considered a matter of perceiving pixels, rather than a fundative problem of the medium. In fact I concur with the idea of "process makes the medium" rather than identifying pixel art as how (evidently) pixeled the result feels. The general picture, or the sum of pixels, though, is a really important matter to the medium nonetheless! Pixels themselves work in relation one with another, so it's their overall result that gives context and makes the subject recognizable. This relationship between pixels links back to all the art fundamentals that each artist is taught, from color theory to shape and composition - and so on. So, the canvas size debate usually boils down to a matter of scale or necessity of your subjects. As long as the dimension (canvas) of your subject (as in: a drawing of an apple, a character sprite, a mockup environment) allows you to operate, control and keep an eye on the quantity (number/area of pixels together) and quality (color, shaping of multiple pixels, texturing obtained through color and shapes) of isolated single pixels or pixeled areas, you're in the pixel art universe. The other way around to define the matter of scaling: in order to be operating pixel art fundamentals and techniques, your subject has to be on a scale that allows you to apply principles of pixel art within the space of your canvas and your personal style. These very same principles, or basics, can be applied with different results and extent to bigger and smaller canvases alike, each with their own specific difficulties and variables. It is important to adapt your scale when learning, and trying classic canvases per subject like "16x16px" (standard tile or character sprite unit, tied to older consoles and screen ratios, it's a bit complicated there) is always a nice idea - they also tend to be industry benchmarks and necessities so in case you'd like to consider a professional output, that's very useful.

Scale also applies to the array of colors, and there lies the concept of palette: a number of single hexadecimal hues we are using for each single pixel. Any single pixel can have one hexadecimal color only.

Consequentially it is absolutely true that either a huge canvas or a palette too broad may prevent a viewer from perceiving immediately the "nature" of your medium, namely seeing square pixels, recognizing a certain amount of color - or more thoroughly recognizing that you made some choices for each subject on a pixel level. What could possibly happen on a huge canvas (without zooming in) is that you can't really grasp the pixels, but just the "overall picture" - and that may not differ too much from digital, raster art, which is of course also based on pixels. Therein appearently lies a sort of threshold that is really hard to pin down for us pixel artists, as it depends on screen size, visualization methods, distance, filters and lots of other inherently subjective parts.

This kinda is my case sometimes: I make big environments (possibly too big, and too detailed in each part I tell myself) that are a sum of many lesser parts: both tilesets and sprites that relate (but not strictly adhere) to a basic space unit that is 16x16pixels. You can indeed consider scale in a broader sense as a subdivision or magnification issue, much alike squinting your eyes to focus on a picture's overall contrast or, conversely, analyzing its fundamental parts with a magnifying glass, and then a microscope - an analogy as follows:

a. the picture as a whole is like a colorful rock that you can analyze by magnifying its grain. b. the characters, geographical elements and textures, works like the different substances that compose the rock and give its visible characteristics grain and complexity, c. single pixels constitute the very atoms of those previously recognized substances.

I mean "atom" in the traditional, classical meaning of indivisible, fundative object. That's a "quantized" part of information, which for pixel art is ultimately color (or a binary value, like yes/no black/white). If you were, for example, to crop some parts of my work - let's say 160x144 pixels (a gameboy screen resolution in pixels) you would see the substances that are characters and elements of nature, and when you zoom in again, every atom becomes visible as a single entity of color. There are 29 different type of "atoms" in Ruin Valley as in different, singularly hexadecimal colors that work together in different combinations and shapes to create different substances and characters. 18 of them are used for the different qualities of the environment, and 11 more for extra hues for characters and other elements to pop out a bit.

It's really interesting to see how many pixel artists push this "threshold" of pixel art canvases to the extremely small or the extremely big, whereas, notably, palettes are less open to growth: it is indeed my opinion that pixel art tends to quantize color (quality) over than dimension (quantity). Palettes, notably, do not grow exponentially, but tend to a lower, fixed, controlled amount of individual values instead. This usually gives the artist the true possibility and toolkit through which is possible to think about/with pixels. In other words: color (or its absence) is the founding unit and identity of pixel art as a digital medium.

B. Pixels as process or pixels as objective? Pixels themselves (as strange as that may sound!) are not to be considered an objective of pixel art, I think, but the founding matter of its research as a medium instead. I think that making pixel art is not just devoting oneself to show those jagged, squarey areas or blunt edges that we all know and love: this is just one of the possible aesthetics that pixel art conveys or adopts - especially on small canvases. Pixel art is not about denouncing itself as pixels, but, rather, embracing the square, atomic unit to build an ensemble that conveys a content or a style. That's the important part of the discourse that emancipated pixel art into being a medium, and not just an aesthetic choice or style of representation. Again: process makes this medium. Speaking of that, I consider pixel art as part of a broader family of "quantized art", namely media that operate on/with "indivisible, founding bricks and unities" that can assume a certain quality (color, mainly) within a certain quantity (palette, canvas size) and in relation to its surroundings to describe something. This puts pixel art, with its specifics and with a certain degree of semplification, among other mediums such as cross-stitch, bead art, construction sets, textile art (on a warp and weft basis), (micro-)mosaics and others.

A classic threshold example of process vs objective: oekaki art. Oekaki art - which I love and also happen to make from time to time - doesn't really work or "think" specifically on a pixel base: it doesn't place pixels per se, but uses pixel-based areas and textures on bigger canvases with a certain degree of freedom, like one would normally do with brushes on raster digital art programs (adobe ps, gimp, clip studio and so on) in order to convey an aesthetic with fewer colors and a certain line style and texturing. That way, oekaki uses and knows pixels in a deep way, but doesn't see them primarily in a quantized way. As a result the "overall picture" shows pixels to a certain extent, and it's possible to recognize distinct pixels for each part, but the objective is not an analysis and use of pixel and quantized information, but the use of an aesthetic based upon accessibility of resources, their control and a certain rendering style.

A huge part of pixel art is its absolute accessibility: everyone with a fairly outdated computer or screen and a basic drawing program can study the medium. To be fair, it's indeed considering accessiblity that I highly support an inclusive approach to the term "pixel art" and I think traditional oekaki is a close, beautiful relative that builds upon the rules and techniques of pixel art and pixel rendering, yet keeping its identity as its very own medium - somehow like a dress may be built around/upon textile design. Anyway, boundaries are meant to be crossed and I think there definitely are lots of oekaki and pixel-based art that meet traditional pixel art mid-way - or further. I also think the "is it pixel art?" discourse possibly ensuing - and generally speaking any media belonging purist ontology - is a treacherous, slippery terrain leading to excesses, and this is not my focus today, neither am I able to tackle that subject extensively at the moment.

C. Conclusions and a few good exercises Everything above may be farfetched or too complicated as a starting point. I tried to write all down as orderly as possible. The point of this (possibly discouraging) analysis and the reasoning between scale and process is that (pixel) art is about trying different canvases, and reasoning on one's subject and objective, rather than limiting oneself to presets sizes or styles. It's important to choose something that resonates with us and, in doing so, thinking about other, more interesting limitations: that's the discourse about quantity of space and quality in color. Limiting is the best possible exercise and one I wholeheartedly encourage: by doing so we are progressively delving deeper on the basics, as we learn the fundamental relationships between shapes and colors that we can achieve through pixels. A few good exercises that I too implemented in my own workflow come to mind: 1. Trying different canvases (or sizes) for the same subject (sprite, character art, illustration or so on). This helps a lot finding a comfortable size to apply pixel techniques, as well as getting a hold over fundamentals such as aliasing, linework, conventional representation and so on. 2. Trying different palettes for the same subject, both by varying colors themselves (therefore learning about values and contrast and readability, as well as atmosphere and mood!) or singular hues and their components, in order to discover possible relationship between them. Have fun! 3. Reducing the width of the palette progressively for the same subject: reducing the number of singular colors forces a reasoning on shapes, rapresentation. You may go from 1-bit art (just black/white) to 3 colors, 4, 8 and so on. We'll not talk about transparency as a singular color there, but if you happen to be interested in retro art, transparency counts to the palette size. This exercise is very useful in rendering, and possibly tricky. And definitely fun. :') 4. Choosing an objective and usage of our work: for example trying to learn about old pixel art limitations for games, in order to reason within specifics. Get inspired by traditional games (spriters-resource is your best friend here, in case you have a specific retrogame you're thinking of)! I will probably talk about limitations and style on another post. 5. Four eyes (and other multiples) are better than two: try to talk with people and friends and other artists you trust and feel comfortable with to get their point of view. This can be scary, I know, especially at the beginning. You're not forced to, of course, but if you do (in a safespace) there's lots you can learn about concepts such as readability, subject recognition, rendering and composition. Our eyes and brains get accustomed to something, and pixel art being a rather analytic medium made of synergies, subtle changes, limitations and conventions is especially tricky on the artist's eyes on the long term. Either way, the important thing about pixel art is understanding that this medium is about recognizing and enjoying the process rather than the eventual aesthetic and in order to do so the best choice is to start simple, small, with few colors and techniques at a time! Have fun and hit me up with your progress and considerations. :')

[lokisprettygirl]

First I just want to say that I absolutely love how you write Loki! If you are taking requests, I would love to request something with sweet subby soft Loki feeling anxious or overwhelmed by something the Avengers are doing in the tower, and needs a safe quiet place to get away from it all. Que best friend of Loki who happens to be a domme stepping in and helping him relax (in more ways than one *wink*). Bonus request for mommy k!nk, sensory play, and lots of good old fashioned cuddles. Thanks!

Thank you for requesting dear, it's been a while that something else other than my own series inspired me. I gave it my own take as usual but I hope you'll enjoy nonetheless. Thank you for enjoying my writing ❤️

Sub Loki x Best friend Female reader (Friends with benefits with a happy ending)

Warning: 18+, Smut, unprotected sex, sub Loki, mommy kink, praise kink, blindfold, other kinks, feelings of anxiety and panic state, a mild angst between characters

Being an Avenger wasn't easy, no, Loki wanted to retract that thought, being an Avenger sucked at times

While as a prince when he was on the battlefield at the least he knew that the war would come to an end someday but this job? This journey to redemption that he had put himself on was never ending road and sometimes it got him. It also didn't help that ever since Thanos had taken him he had developed this huge Anxiety that prodded him over any trivial things.

"Once I get the view I'll signal Loki to teleport at the sight" Captain said at the meeting and Loki just nodded at the response.

"Loki you'll walk to the safe and we don't have access to the passcode just yet so you'll have to take the safe and hide it" Natasha said and he nodded again.

"Once we are in the facility, Perhaps Loki can do his mind tinkering thing, I mean I don't see why we have to go through all that trouble if we have him? Are you listening to us?" Tony asked him and he nodded again even though he was close to hurling his guts out. The voices were starting to fade in the background. As soon as the meeting was over he scurried out of the conference room and braced himself against the nearest wall he could find, he felt as if his heart would explode and he would cease to exist any moment.

And then he thought of you, the girl he had been in love with hopelessly since he saw her, but also the girl who always reduced him to being just her best friend. Sure they had their thing on the side, a little arrangement that pleased them both from time to time when the tension between them got too much but as soon as the act was done he always found himself craving for more, he needed you, he wanted everything with you. He wanted you.

You were almost done with your day when you received a message from Loki so you picked up your phone "Can we meet?"

A smile crept on your face as you got the text, you saw him almost everyday but these were the type of texts that you knew will push you two in the little arrangement you both had on the side. It wasn't easy though, being friends with benefits with God of mischief himself wasn't something you desired, if you weren't so terrified of having your heart broken and lose a dear person again you would have taken this further and deeper with him, you would have put your heart on your sleeve again for him but you were terrified.

If someone like Loki was to break your heart, you knew you wouldn't survive and come out sane on the other side.

"Pepper, can I go?" You asked your boss so she smiled and allowed you to leave for the day. Instead of going into your room you went to Loki's instead and knocked twice. As he opened you were hoping for him to grab you and kiss you like he normally did whenever he had all that pent up sexual energy that he needed to let out but instead you were met with his sullen little face,

"Something wrong?" You asked him as you entered and closed the door behind you, your arms wrapped around his waist and he immediately placed his head down on your shoulder. You then brought your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to comfort him, he seemed stressed, you had seen him like this whenever he used to get a nightmare and would come to your door so you'd talk to him but this was different.

"I can't do this, I am not fit to be an Avenger darling" he said softly as he pulled his head up to look at you, his eyes were teary and lips so close to yours, he cupped your cheeks but he didn't kiss you, he never made the effort until he knew you had the same thing on mind, he never wanted to cross a line with you in the moment even though you both had no silver of decency left between you.

So you kissed him indeed, it was soft and romantic, a lover's kiss even though you both were anything but that, you were not lovers.

"Why would you say that, my sweet boy? You're doing so good" you whispered softly and the nickname immediately made him want to curl up against you, the voice you used on him melted every inch of him, in every possible way. Your fingers curled around his neck as you kissed him again, your tongue swiped over his lower lip and he lunged to take you in his mouth but you denied him the pleasure,

"You're thinking too much aren't you?" You whispered softly but your tone was authoritative and he knew where this was going. That's exactly what he needed at the moment.

"I can't stop ..it's too much, i uhh–" the words caught up in his throat as your hands caressed the bulge in his pants, he was hard the moment you had him in your arms.

"Shhhh calm down for me alright? I'm here baby I'll take care of you okay?" You walked with him until he had hit the edge of the bed and made him sit down,

"Blindfold?" You looked him in the eye and the look of worry was now replaced with desire, he always made you feel as if you were the only woman in the universe who could ever bring out that look in his eyes. Only if you weren't so broken yourself you might have taken the leap of faith. He conjured a piece of cloth that was made of the finest silk so you tied it around his eyes, as soon as his vision was gone he held onto your waist as if to find something familiar to hold on to in the darkness. You still had your work suit on and that always made you look bossy, which was perfect for moments like this.

Grabbing the hem of his t-shirt you pulled it over his head, the sight of his gorgeous ripped physique made you bite on your lip involuntarily.

"You're so pretty, have I ever told you that?" You asked him softly as you laid him down on the bed. You had indeed told him that, a millions of times, that was one of the first things that made him want to be submissive with you, the way you praised him always made him feel so weak for you.

"Mommmy please..I need you" he whined desperately and you felt the instant twitch in your cunt as the heat started to build up. As said before, the lines of decency were crossed a while ago.

Perhaps it was the need he had to be coddled by a feminine woman, perhaps it was his own mother who never ever showed him such motherly love, or maybe it was just purely sexual, the forbidden nature of the kink that made him want to address you like that or it was all of it, you didn't care really, you enjoyed it when he got so whiny and desperate for you, when he got so sensitive that only you could take care of that itch he had. You knew enough about the god of mischief to know that he wasn't the type of man to do this with just anyone.

He trusted you. He relied on you take care of him in his most vulnerable state.

"I'm here sweet baby boy, I'm right here..okay?" And you trusted him to show this side of yours too. Before you met him you never had this urge to dominate a pretty little boy like him but as soon as you had your eyes laid upon him, something had awakened in you, this incessant need to ruin him drove you crazy.

You took his shoes off and then the pants followed, the sight of him all naked with just a blindfold on was almost too much to bear, you wanted to go crazy on him but that's not what he needed tonight, he needed love making, even though you weren't sure if you were supposed to use that word with him. He wasn't your lover.

You took your skirt off, the sound of your zipper being pulled down perked up his ears, he was imagining it all in his head, he had sensitive senses due to his heritage even in his normal state so when one of the senses was deliberately deprived, the other ones heightened even more so. He heard the sound of your skirt dropping on the floor and as soon as you took your underwear off he smelt your arousal in the air and he wanted to bask in your sweet scent.

You crawled on the bed and on top of him before you sat down on his thighs, your wet lips drenched his muscles instantly. As soon as your fist wrapped around his cock he couldn't help but thrust his hips forward, he must have looked obscene but he didn't care, he never cared how vulnerable he was being when he was with you.

"Mommy can I touch please..please i need you" he mumbled and then he bit on his lower lip in anticipation so you grabbed his hands and placed it on your bare thighs so he ran them up and down slowly, the moan that escaped his throat as soon as you allowed him to touch you was sinful, he treated you like a goddess that he was blessed to merely put his hands on.

You gave him a slow stroke and every time you did he thrusted his hips into your fist, fucking himself slowly and intimately, his abs flexed and relaxed with every thrust, that v line defined with every move, his mouth remained open as the sensations began to build in the pit of his stomach. He was a beautiful beautiful man, truly a god in his true form.

You loved him so much it was unreal. And that's exactly why you couldn't have him, he was unreal, he was too good for you. Or that's what you thought.

You let go of his cock and pulled him up by his hands so he was in a sitting position, lifting your hips up you sunk down on him slowly, his head lulled back as he found himself surrounded by your warmth, you were always so tight, so constrictive and he loved being suffocated this way.

"Tell me how does this feel my pretty boy?" You asked him while unbuttoning your shirt, his hands sneaked inside the shirt and unclasped your bra, once you were all naked he placed his head down on your breasts and breathed in deeply. A small growl emitted from deep with in his chest.

"Feels so good mommy, so good, I have missed you, don't ever leave me untouched for this long again" he mumbled incoherently and your eyes teared up at the intensity of his words. .

"You deserve to feel good baby, you're an Avenger and you're the strongest of them all–" you mumbled to comfort him, you hadn't forgotten about his anxiety and the reason why he was so tensed.

"Someday I'm going to ruin it I know, like I ruin everything..I'll ruin it"

"No you won't..you won't, you never ruin anything my precious little boy, you're perfect, absolutely perfect" you pressed your finger on his lips as you rode him back and forth, the sweet whimpers that escaped his mouth was delight to your ears. You took the blindfold off and as soon as his eyes met with yours he kissed you. His lips trailed down and sucked on your neck, making sure his lips would leave an imprint for days to come.

"You won't fail Loki, you're doing so good baby, i know it feels too much at times but you just have to stop thinking about everything at once and focus on what's important and what's the first thing that you have to tackle the next day, you hear me?" He nodded as you said that before his lips latched onto your nipples and he sucked on it.

"You like that?" You asked him as you picked your pace but his mouth never unlatched from your nipple, he focused his attention from left to right and then vice versa but he didn't want to stop.

"Yes mommy, I love… you"

He whispered almost inaudibly and your heartbeat raised, well even more than it should have while you were having this mind numbing sex.

"I love you pretty baby…cum for me now, fill me up, mommy needs your cum inside her" he exploded as soon as those filthy words infiltrated his ears, the way you clenched so tightly around him as you rode your own high was milking every little drop of release out of him. If he could choose to never leave this room, if he could choose to stay buried in you forever he would but you never wanted it, you never wanted to change the arrangement. He placed his head back down on your bosom again and you leaned your head on his own to calm down your own breaths.

"We need a shower" he chuckled as you said that and in a moment he was off the bed, with his cock still in you as he took you to the bathroom. As he pulled out of you under the running water, you both watched his cum seep out of your cunt and run down your thighs.

These are the things best friends shouldn't do, not at all.

"Are you feeling better?" You asked him softly so he leaned into you to kiss you but you pulled away and he sighed.

"Yes thank you darling" you smiled and walked past him to grab a towel then you wrapped it around your body before you moved back to the room, you wanted to get dressed and leave, once the night had ended you both will go back to being friends like you always did, it was never awkward with him because none of you made it that way.

He followed soon after and you already had borrowed a tshirt from his closet to put it on, it reached your thighs and your room was just a few steps away from his so you didn't want to put on your work clothes again just to walk into your room where you'll have to change it again.

"I'll give it back tomorrow" you said to him as he pulled a brief over his long legs and he hummed in response.

"Hey champ, you'll do good tomorrow okay, you'll be just fine and I'll be seeing everyone going crazy after you once you're back from this mission" you walked towards him and hugged him to wish him luck for tomorrow but he didn't say anything, he was just staring at you "Good night" you tried to leave but he grabbed your arm and pulled you closer to his chest.

"Did you hear what I said to you? Did you hear me telling you that I love you?" He said to you, his eyes bored deeply into you and you couldn't escape this time even if you wanted to, he had never been this assertive before.

"Did you hear me responding that I love you? You're my best friend, we both love each other and care for each other, that's what it is Loki"

"Is that all I'll ever be to you? Are you telling me you just see me as your friend?" He asked you softly, his voice sounded so sad so you sighed.

"It's not going to work lo"

"How do you know?"

"Because I don't expect a man like you to stay loyal to me, too many temptations around you and I don't want to ruin our friendship, do you want to do that? Do you want to lose me as a friend?" You asked him and tried to walk away but he grabbed you by the shoulders to pull you closer again, he might be a submissive baby in bed but you knew how he was outside of the bedroom and you loved that side of him too.

"Our friendship was ruined the moment you decided to bed me sweetheart, I'm tired of running away from this, from our feelings for each other"

"Loki–"

"I haven't touched another woman since you came into my life, even though you weren't to claim as mine i did give myself to you completely the first night i buried my cock inside you" you looked at him a bit shocked and a bit pleased as he said that but your fears remained.

"What if someday you're bored of me and done with me?" You asked him , the nervousness evident in your voice, he had never seen you so vulnerable before, atleast not when it comes to your feelings towards him. He held your cheeks and kissed you softly, his thumb brushed over your lips and then he kissed you again, it was tender and romantic, it was the most romantic kiss you have ever had with anyone really.

"What if I was to ask you the same?"

He mumbled against your mouth and you shook your head..

"The fear of what will happen in the future shouldn't stop us or ruin our present my darling, perhaps we will talk about this in the morning? Stay the night with me please" he spoke softly, he just wanted you to stay for once, he didn't want you to leave after blessing him with such pleasures, he wanted to hold you and be held by you all night long.

"Sleep with me" he mumbled again as you didn't respond so you got on your tiptoes and kissed him deeply, he picked you up in his arms and laid you down on the bed before he snuggled you like a baby.

"What if this is a mistake loki? I don't want to lose you too, you're the only person in my life I can be myself with, you're my only friend lo" he held onto you tightly as you voiced your fears to him. He wished there was a magic word he could have said that would have eased your nerves somehow but he didn't have anything, he just had thousands of years ahead of him to prove to you that he'd never hurt you like that.

"And you're my one and only girl, my only woman that I feel safe with, you think I'd ever want to lose you? Perhaps you should think again" a smile formed on your lips as he said that. You allowed your fears to backtrack for the night, maybe you just needed to take a final leap of faith.

And deep down in your heart you knew that this time around you won't fall on your face, this time your man will be on the other side to catch you.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[the-californicationist]

Guile & Guilt (Ch. 06)

Johnny texts you while he's deployed, but when he calls you one night, you are forced to face your consequences.

MDNI/18+

Link to AO3

OCTOBER, MONDAY MORNING, TWO WEEKS LATER

Your apartment was bathed in the cold gray light of a foggy morning, and you curled your duvet closer around you trying to stave off the dawn’s chill. You’d been awake for a while, which was very uncharacteristic of you. Usually more of a late riser, the only reason for your early bird behavior was Johnny MacTavish. 

He was three hours ahead of you, and every morning, when the sun came up in the Urzikstani hillside, you were sent an image of Johnny’s hand, clutching whatever his breakfast was that day. Sometimes it was a tin cup of black coffee, other times you’d get a banana or a protein bar. But, it was always his giant hand and a sherbet orange sky. This morning, it was cloudy and dark, and his breakfast of choice was a slab of toast, smeared with butter and jam. 

MoChroi: sunrise_sand.jpg

You: wow. quite the delicacy today. cant believe you found actual jam out there

Mo Chroi: bit suspicious. when the food gets better the missions get worse

You: uh oh

Mo Chroi: dinnae fash thief xx

Mo Chroi: writing today?

You: yep. and meeting with my prof

Mo Chroi: what ya got on then

Mo Chroi: give us a show bonnie

Mo Chroi: is it naughty?? lol

You: nope

You: rangers_tee.jpg

You sent a photo of your torso, cutting out your head, wearing his own tee shirt. His typing bubbles percolated along the bottom of the screen immediately. Then, an indignant response:

Mo Chroi: thief!! xx

You: youre the one who stole my hair tie

Mo Chroi: hairtie.jpg

Mo Chroi: needed a hostage

Mo Chroi: your bad habits are rubbin off. stole cap’s clothes out of the shower this morning

Mo Chroi: price_hat.jpg

You: you learn quick mo chroi

His typing bubbles appeared, and then they disappeared. You watched them pop up in the chat and then vanish three more times until finally all you got was silence. This was a common occurrence, so you tried not to overthink it. Over the past two weeks of texting with him, you knew he disappeared sometimes. He’d get a call to go into the field, or there would be some crisis. You wondered if his captain had discovered his prank. 

The room was still cold, and you were reluctant to leave your cocoon of warmth, but you needed to write. You had promised yourself that you’d go into the office early today before your meeting with your major professor. After a deep sigh and some very challenging mental gymnastics, you stuck a leg out and onto the frigid concrete floor.

Your apartment was very modern. So modern, in fact, that it had been a challenge to make it feel homey. There was very little room inside for anything more than a queen bed, a short futon, and your desk. Your bathroom was sleek and full of brutalist, functional, concrete stylings, but the kitchen was barely big enough for a sink and a toaster oven. You had kept the futon for guests, not that you had many (any) visitors, but aside from the stacks of books in the corners of each room, your entire studio was practical to a fault. 

But, it was enough for you and your rescue cat, Marlowe, so you didn’t complain.

On the wall opposite the front door, a huge plexiglass window overlooked the River Kelvin, conveniently situated right across from some student housing so you could access the bus. Not having a car went against your Floridian roots, but you’d fallen in love with the ease of public transportation. 

After throwing on an oversized sweater and a pair of fleece-lined leggings, you slipped on your wellies and headed to the bus stop. You’d brought a big thermos of coffee, ready to face the day. 

Your phone buzzed again.

Pidge: I’m so excited to see you this weekend!! :D

You: me too! is hammie picking me up after all or no

Pidge: Yes, I told him to be at the platform at 4.

You: cool 

Pidge: Have you spoken with my brother?

You paused for a moment, riding the elevator and staring at your phone. You didn’t want to lie to her, but you probably shouldn’t tell her the truth. The truth was that you’d been texting her brother every day since he left for leave. You went with a half-truth instead:

You: yeah a few times why

She did not respond. You waited for the other shoe to drop like a blindfolded prisoner waits for their firing squad. The bus came to your stop, and you climbed on, sitting on the carpeted seat closest to the door, knowing your stop was only three away. 

When you got to your office, your phone buzzed again. You set your bag and your coffee down before you even looked at it, avoiding touching your cell as if it had thorns. 

You flipped over the screen.

Mo Chroi: make it to the office?

You: office.jpg

Mo Chroi: have a good day today thief

Mo Chroi: helicopter1.jpg

Mo Chroi: going on a wee trip. afk xx

You: promise xx

Mo Chroi: promise xx

Promise. Promise. It was you and Johnny’s little code. You hadn’t liked hearing about his “little trips” in the beginning, especially after he had shown you a photo of his truck, riddled with bullet holes. You used to say “good luck”, but you didn’t like that sound of that. You hoped luck had nothing to do with it. So, you just asked him to promise to text you back or to promise to be safe. And he always replied that he promised he would. Now, it had shortened to your one-word ritual. You always said it and he always said it back. 

Another buzz:

Pidge: No reason. He has my phone charge the little nugget.

You: omg lol 

You were not laughing out loud. If anything, you were sighing in relief. 

It took most of the morning, but you fell into a routine. You had your meeting, came back, and wrote some more. Lunch was a pre-packaged lunch box from the student center and a refill on your coffee. You missed dinner. The sun set on you as you finished a critical section of your thesis, looking it over for flow and mistakes. 

Worn out, and finally feeling hungry again, you checked your phone on your way back to the bus stop. No new messages. You waited for the bus, flipping through his photos again as if you would have forgotten them from when you looked at them from last night. Or the night before last. 

You stopped looking at them, challenging yourself to have a non-Johnny thought in your head for once.

Maybe you would make a ramen with eggs in it tonight. 

Maybe he’ll text you back. 

You could watch another episode of that K-drama you liked. 

Maybe he’ll send you a picture of him shirtless.

You could go for a run.

Maybe he will run his tongue back over your —

The bus came. You blocked out your thoughts from your mind, desperate to regain some semblance of control. 

THURSDAY NIGHT

It had been three days, and you still hadn’t heard from him. You tried not to think about all of the terrible reasons why that might be the case. But, you did. You thought about them all the time. Every time you checked your phone or read an email or scrolled through your feeds; it was the only thing you thought about. 

You had his shirt on again, eating leftover Chinese on your futon. You were thinking about all of the things you needed to take care of before tomorrow. It was Pidge’s bridal shower weekend and you were trying to wrangle all the final touches together. You’d rented out Ettrick’s, at Pidge’s request, and you had sent the invites two weeks ago. Almost everyone had RSVP’d yes, so you were looking at nearly 45 people to host. The custom bridal cookies were set for pick up when Hamish took you into town tomorrow afternoon, and the champagne was paid for. And you were dreading it. 

You were excited to be there for Brigette. She had always been there for you. When you first moved to Scotland, you were well and truly alone. But, she met you for lunch almost every day after class, claiming to need her caffeine fix. But, as time went on, you realized she wanted to be friends. Having no one and being in a new country was so tough, but she had made it feel so easy. So, even though you hated the prim and proper social situation of a shower, you resolved to tough it out. 

You put the half-eaten Chinese back in the fridge and climbed into bed. Your phone buzzed as you went to put it on the charger.

Mo Chroi: you up?

Your heart stopped for a moment, making your breath hitch in your chest. You fumbled with your phone, rushing to open his message.

Mo Chroi: camels.jpg

You: omg! are those REAL

You: shes not a camel but ill trade you one critter pic for a Marlowe pic

You: marlowethecat.jpg

Mo Chroi: her cheeks are brilliant lol so big

You: so your mission went okay?

Mo Chroi: lol yeah. and we got the guy who owned the camels to take a cool pic of us. can you tell which one’s me?

Mo Chroi: group_pic.jpg

You: gotta be number 3

Mo Chroi: how’d you know

You: your wide shoulders. and you always stand like that

Mo Chroi: like my shoulders do you

You: yep 

You: you should send me a selfie

There was a long pause. You were a little afraid that you’d overstepped a boundary. Sure, his long, hungry tongue had been buried between your legs three weeks ago, eating you like he was starving, but people were cagey about their online privacy. You backtracked:

You: if you want to. nbd if not

Mo Chroi: selfie.jpg

You checked the image, and your heart sank like a stone. Johnny wore a green and yellow bruise over his eye, and his head had been shaved.

You: you okay? bruise looks nasty

Mo Chroi: you should see the other lad

You: and they shaved you?

Mo Chroi: got a nasty wee cut on the back of my head and doc sheared me like a damn sheep

He sent you a series of frowny faces and sheep emojis, and you felt a wave of calm settle in your chest. The latent fear was still there, and would be until you saw him again, but it was good to know he was alright. 

FRIDAY MORNING

You were back on the bus, toting around your overnight bag, planning on heading to the train straight after your colloquium lecture this afternoon. Your phone had been beeping at you all morning. Johnny was begging for you to record your talk, asking you to let him sit in on your “class”. 

You: johnny its not a class! its just a lecture. we have to give them every now and then to show what we’ve been doing with our research. its not fun. you’d be bored.

Mo Chroi: meirleach! i dinnae care how fun it is. let me see!!

You: campus.jpg

You: look. its all stuffy and campusy. you wouldnt like it

Mo Chroi: youre breaking my heart lass xx

You smiled. He was so bright, and he made you feel like you were so very special. It was no wonder he was such a danger to single women everywhere. Your confidence was soaring.

When you made it to your office, you sent him another picture of your current work. You were writing a short paper on German poems, not really related to your thesis, for a conference coming up in the spring.

You: look. you dont even speak german! it would be like torture

You: german_poem.jpg   

Mo Chroi: so cool. im beggin you. let me watch you. i won’t say a word. 

You: maybe if you come back a little early from leave next time, you can sneak into one

Mo Chroi: if i survive this training, i will. 

Mo Chroi: thinking about seeing you up there teaching. got me all turned on

You sent him an emoji with a shocked look on its face, feigning coy shyness. He was relentless.

Mo Chroi: think youd let me be teachers pet?

You: more like class clown

Mo Chroi: you did seem fond of all of my tricks. wanna see what else i can do?

You: lecture_hall.jpg

You: i have to prep for this talk. keep your naughty thoughts to yourself soldier

Mo Chroi: yes maam 

Mo Chroi: wait!

You: what

Mo Chroi: before you go. what color knickers are you in

Mo Chroi: just trying to imagine your lecture 

Mo Chroi: with accuracy

Mo Chroi: cmon lass. for extra credit

You smiled down at your phone again, knowing your answer was going to win this little back and forth game he was playing.

You: im not wearing any this morning. gonna do my washing at your place.

Mo Chroi: jesus mary and joseph

You: and all the saints?

Mo Chroi: every one of them xx

Your lecture went off without a hitch. You earned yourself a few crowd questions and a round of polite applause. Stopping back by your office on the way out, you grabbed your laptop and headed for the bus stop. You’d forgotten your phone was on silent, and it wasn’t until you made it to the train station that you realized it. Two missed calls from Pidge and three texts from her brother.

You checked the texts as you returned her call, unable to hold yourself back from seeing what he wrote to you.

She answered quickly,

“Hey! Are you on your way?”

“Yep,” you replied, “I’ll be there around three forty-five, I think.”

“Okay, perfect. I just wanted to tell you that we’re adding two more to the list. Anjali invited Steph and Tiff. Is that alright, babes?”

You tried not to groan directly into the mouthpiece,

“Yes! The more the merrier.”

What were you going to do about the seating chart? You’d figure it out later. 

“Fantastic! You’re amazing, hen. You know that?”

“Anything for you, bestie.”

She kissed you over the phone and hung up. You let out that sigh you’d been holding. As much as you loved her, you were ready for your friend’s wedding to be over with..

You checked the messages from Johnny, looking to escape from your thoughts again. He was the perfect distraction.

Mo Chroi: oh fuck no

Mo Chroi: its dog day for training

Mo Chroi: army_dog.jpg

You: you dont like dogs?

Mo Chroi: not these

Mo Chroi: had a bad time with attack dogs in russia a few tours back

The train arrived and you got settled. You weren’t sure how to respond. It was back again, that funny feeling in your chest about him being in constant danger. You didn’t know how to handle it. It wasn’t like you could ask him to stop. That was his job, and he was one of the best. He’d been enlisted on this elite task force, and even though you barely understood what that meant, you knew it was special. What right did you have to stand in the way of his greatness? The world needed Sergeant Johnny MacTavish, and you were just a distraction. 

You waited for him to text again, a distraction for you and you for him. A two-way street. That’s all it was, right? How could it be anything more? 

You thought about his sister. She’d been so painfully clear about her boundaries. You imagined telling her you liked him, telling her you wanted to date him. She’d explode. There’d be Scottish yelling, and Scottish fighting, and Scottish siblings rowing at each other all over the house. You couldn’t do that to her, especially not now. So, you just went back to distracting him.

You: did you get bitten?

Mo Chroi: yeah, right on the belly. those bastards. can you see it 

Mo Chroi: shirtless.jpg

You gasped audibly, hoping no one had heard you on the train. You’d already seen him naked, but having a picture of his bare, muscled torso on your phone was another thing entirely. You glanced around, checking behind you and clutching your screen to your chest, holding it to you shamefully, praying no one saw it. 

You typed a message, then deleted it. You tried again, and then deleted it. You knew he could see your text bubbles popping up, and it embarrassed you to no end. Eventually, you decided to just be honest.

You: youre so damn hot

The wait was going to kill you. Seconds became minutes, which became hours, which became eons. You stared at the bottom of your message like it would disappear if you looked away. You opened the picture of his bare torso again, unable to stop yourself from indulging in his huge body. You knew how those muscles felt, and you wanted to feel them again.

He didn’t respond. Your heart sank like a rock. You felt the train screech to a halt at the station, and it took everything in you to pocket your phone and leave the car.

You marched down to meet Hamish, trying to control the look on your face. 

“Hey! Over here!” he called to you from the carpark.

You saw his smiling face and tried to match his energy,

“Hey! Thanks for coming.”

“You bet,” he said as he took your bags. 

“Can we stop by the bakery around the corner? They’ve got all the cookies and pastries we ordered for tomorrow.”

“Of course, lass. No problem. Hop in.”

Hamish drove you around, the perfect gentleman, carrying box after box of dessert for his fiance’s shower, storing them carefully in the boot of the car. 

“Wow, these smell incredible, don’t they,” he crooned, “Wish I could crash your wee party.”

“No boys allowed,” you said wryly, smiling at him, eliciting a genuine laugh.

The rest of the drive passed in companionable silence. He talked a little about his research, and you shared a bit about yours, mentioning your latest lecture. Otherwise, you checked your phone constantly. 

Then, just as you pulled into the driveway of the MacTavish house, you got a text.

Unknown: Hello this is Captain John Price. Sergeant MacTavish’s phone is dead, and he is making me text you the word: promise. 

You: oh thank you. can you tell him promise back?

Captain: Roger

Your stomach twisted for a different reason now. He wasn’t upset with you, which was a relief, but he had just shipped out on another mission. It was so sudden, it seemed like an emergency. You saved the captain’s number in your phone, just in case. 

After hugging Pidge and helping Hamish with the boxes, you unpacked your bags and started the laundry. You met Pidge in the living room, watching her put the finishing touches on some gift bags.

“These are cute,” you commented, feeling the soft ripple of the ribbons tied around the bags in your fingers. 

“Thanks,” she said as she fixed one of the bows, “Hope I made enough.” 

“They’ll live,” you smiled. 

“Hey, did you hear from Johnny again?”

“Uh…no, why?” You panicked.

“He said he doesn’t have my charger but now that muppet is not answerin’ me. Gonna pop him when he’s down for Christmas, I swear.”

“He’s coming back for the holidays?” You asked, a little too enthusiastically. 

Pidge cut her eyes up at you briefly, responding in a measured voice,

“Yeah, just a week. Why?”

You wracked your brain for a reason, pretending to look at the calendar on your phone. Finally, you said,

“Think he’d drive me up from Glasgow? The train is awful at Christmas.”

“Oh,” she sighed, “God, he’s so irresponsible, babes. Not sure I trust him to get you here on time. But, I’ll threaten him. He’ll do it for me. He’s been so accommodating lately. Johnny boy is like a new man.”

“Oh, really?” You weren’t sure where this conversation was going, but you pried anyway.

“Did you know he paid for the rehearsal dinner? The whole damn thing! Having it at the wee distillery and everything. Right proper party we’ll be havin’. Cannae believe it.”

The Auchentoshan Distillery was Old Kilpatrick’s pride and joy. He’d spent a pretty penny if he’d booked it out for her.

“He loves you,” you confessed softly.  

“He tries to,” she said a little bitterly.

You watched her pack up the bags, and you began to wonder about their relationship with each other. It was clear to you that there was some immovable object that was being pressed upon by some unstoppable force. They were at a quiet, bubbling impasse, ready to boil over at any moment. Yes, they loved each other. But, Johnny and Pidge had diverged somewhere, and it was a rift that needed to be mended. 

The washer buzzed. You went to move over the clothes. 

“I’m heading over to grab the girls. Wanna come?” Pidge asked you, her keys in hand. 

“No room,” you observed, realizing they wouldn’t all fit in the car.

“Ugh, guess you’re right, hen. No worry, we’ll be right back. I’m excited to have a girls’ night.”

“Me, too,” you lied. 

Well, it was a half-lie. You didn’t mind a girls’ night. It was more the fact that you’d have to hide your phone from view as you waited for Johnny to report he was back safe and sound. 

After Pidge left, you crawled into his sheets. The memories of you and your soldier came flooding back again, but this time they swirled together with all of the complexities that you were facing. The simplicity of that brief night you shared had become warped by reality, and you realized you needed to come to terms with your emotions before you got hurt. 

FRIDAY EVENING

Your phone buzzed in your hand, waking you. It was warm from being on the charger and covered up by your body. You hoped that didn’t break anything. Sleep had taken you over like a surging wave. You didn’t realize how exhausted you were from your week. 

Unknown: heyyyyy this is soaps mate kyle. he wanted to let you know we’re back. 

You: thanks for letting me know

Kyle: you bet

You were kicking yourself. You should have asked if he was okay. Just when you were about to ask Kyle to check on him, you heard the keys jingle in the door. Swinging your feet to the wooden floor, you got out of bed and met the gaggle of ladies in the foyer.

Cheek kisses, bright hellos and how-are-yous filled the once-quiet house, and you pocketed your phone, trying to distance yourself from the pang of concern. 

You tried to keep up with the fast-paced conversation, but you weren’t the social butterfly that Pidge was. Anjali, Bekah, and Cherise were all gushing about their own lives, and you had very little to share. They were polite enough, asking you about your studies and pretending to care when you answered them.

“Oh, cool,” Cherise said, sipping on wine out of one of Pidge’s nicer glasses, “Poems are cool.”

“Yeah, I was Juliet in that one play,” Bekah said, proudly. 

“And she’ll never let us forget it either,” Anjali rolled her eyes, and everyone laughed.

They were quick to forget you again, turning back to their recent Tinder date disasters and successes. 

“And this bloke - the one with the beard thing - he ask me and this other girl to the same restaurant, on the same night! I thought she was gonna kill him right there in front of the maître de!” Anjali lamented.

Cherise smiled like a Cheshire cat, 

“Lachlan is taking me on his boat next weekend.”

“We know! Shut up about the boat, you slag,” Bekah clipped. 

Cherise shot back quickly, 

“You’re just mad ‘cause Soap hasn’t texted you today.”

You gave the girls your full attention now. You darted your eyes to Pidge who rolled them, but looked otherwise unbothered. Bekah turned her phone around and you saw the image she was eager to display,

“He’s on bloody thin ice. I asked for a pic of him in his uniform, and all he sent me was a picture of some nasty sand!”

Your chest clenched tight enough that you couldnt breathe. It was your picture. Your morning photo from a few days ago. He was holding his breakfast, outstretched, and you could even see your hair tie on his wrist, the rolling dunes of the desert stretching out before him into infinity. 

“Men, am I right?” Anjali finished her wine. 

Maybe she was right. 

SATURDAY MORNING

You’d slept beside Anjali that night, sharing the bed willingly but not enthusiastically. She had snored through most of it, and you’d barely gotten any sleep. It wasn’t just her snoring that kept you up. In fact, you were using her as a scapegoat. You had been thinking about Johnny. 

It was like you were having a war in your mind. On one hand, it was just a picture of some sand, but on the other, you had no idea how many texts they had shared before or after that. Your heart broke easily, shattering melodramatically, whining about how you weren’t special and that if you didnt control yourself, you’d be sorry for it. He was just a playboy, just like everyone said.

Your brain, however, begged you to see reason. He sent her a picture of sand, not his naked torso, and he had forced his teammates to text you your passcode when he went on his mission. Surely that was enough proof that he cared about you and not Bekah.

It wasn’t enough, said the heart. 

It has to be enough, said the head. 

It shouldn’t even be happening, said the soul. 

You watched the sun peek through the blinds just as they had when you’d been wrapped in Johnny’s arms, naked and warm against his pink skin. 

You sighed and got up to shower. 

The party was at two, so you had plenty of time. You made it over to Ettrick’s early to help set up, walking alone since you knew the others would be in heels and wouldn’t all fit in the car. You’d brought flats, sensible but stylish, and a comfortable, albeit sparkly, maxi dress. You felt like shit. Sleep would have been nice, you thought. 

Hamish had delivered all of the boxes for you this morning, and the wait staff at Ettrick’s was setting it out for you. You rearranged it as artfully as you could, and you were just about finished when your phone buzzed.

Mo Chroi: phone’s alive! sorry i disappeared on you thief. forgive me?

You: glad youre ok

You: party starts soon

You: cookies.jpg

You: dessert_table.jpg

Mo Chroi: wow! did you do all that? pigeon is gonna be chuffed

Mo Chroi: heading out to the next spot

Mo Chroi: helicopter2.jpg

You: want me to tell Bekah hi? she was waiting on you to text her back last night

Mo Chroi: ?? no 

Mo Chroi: why 

Mo Chroi: what did she say

Mo Chroi: thief? 

You: just that she was hoping you would text her back. idk

You thought about it for a little while before sending a final text.

You: i think she wanted more than just a sunrise. 

SATURDAY NIGHT

You had three missed calls from Johnny, but you were too busy trying to deal with gift unwrapping, keeping the peace at the over-crowded tables, and rushing out appetizer trays when the wait staff became too overwhelmed. It was chilly tonight, but you were sweating under your long dress. 

You thought about what you’d said to Johnny, and you were mad at yourself for trying to get a rise out of him. You didn’t want to be the one playing games, and you needed to curb your jealousy. He was allowed to text whoever he wanted, just like you were.

You: sorry. cant pick up. busy with your sister

You: champagne.jpg

Mo Chroi: answer my calls thief

Mo Chroi: i have to drive the rig but im calling you as soon as we get to our site

Mo Chroi: trucks.jpg

Mo Chroi: at least tell me when you get back. promise

You: promise

SUNDAY, 0200

You: i made it back to my apartment. hamish drove me. train was down for maintenance.

You: marlowe-in-a-bag.jpg

You: marlowe is mad that i was gone

Mo Chroi: im glad youre alright.

Mo Chroi: gaz took this at our training today

Mo Chroi: group_pic2.jpg

You: yall look tough

You: whos the one in the middle

Mo Chroi: thats the captain and ghost has the dog

Mo Chroi: go to bed thief. its late 

Mo Chroi: sunrise2.jpg

Mo Chroi: can i call you later? its important

You: ok

SUNDAY, NOON

You woke to the sound of rain. A loud peal of thunder pulled you from the darkness of your sleep. You would have stayed with Pidge, but you just couldn’t face his bed again. Hamish was happy to be your chauffeur, even after you learned that the train was out of service. You tried to buy him some gas, but he adamantly refused. 

A headache stung behind your eyes, drilling into you, punishing you for the champagne. You hadn’t been drunk, but it had been sweet, and now you were paying the price for your sugar rush. You checked your phone.

Pidge: hHad such a great night!!. Thanku for everytingf i lov youuuu!!

Pidge: omg Anji just boked inthe sink

You didn’t reply. She was probably still asleep, along with the rest of the household. There was nothing from Johnny, yet. It wasn’t unusual. He was busy with terrorism, you figured. He would text you if he wanted to text you. 

Digging in your freezer, you found some leftover soup and put it on to reheat. Your phone rang.

The selfie of you and Johnny at Glencoe flashed onto your screen. You let it ring again before you picked up.

“Hey,” you said softly, your voice still hoarse from sleep.

“You still asleep, thief. I’m sorry to wake you,” he didn’t sound sorry. 

“It’s okay,” you sighed, “Just making some soup. Rainy here. Cold.”

You: rainy_window.jpg

He groaned, and you could hear the creak of a mattress in the background,

“Mm. Spent the whole day on my belly doing target practice. I miss home.”

Mo Chroi: sniperpractice.jpg

“Yeah? Looks sandy and hot. Too bad there’s no beach,” you stirred the soup.

“I miss you, mo mèirleach.”

You stopped stirring the soup. 

“I miss you, too.”

“Do you? Or are you cross about my texting Beks?”

“Both,” you went back to stirring the soup.

“Sent it to Hamish, too. You cross about tha’?”

You sent back silence. 

“And if I told you Bekah’s an old friend from grammar school, and that’s all she’ll ever be, would you believe me, lass?”

Silence was all you had to give, apparently. Finally, you poured the soup into a big bowl and set it down on your coffee table, shoving your papers and books aside, and said, 

“This soup looks amazing. Wanna see it?”

You: soup.jpg

“Thief. She’s just a friend.”

“I think there’s a song about this actually…”

“I think I’m fallin’ for you, and I need to know if you’re fallin’ for me, too.”

The bite of soup you were about to take hovered in your spoon, frozen in time. You could hear him breathing in your ear, waiting on your response. You could feel your heart shudder in your chest. 

“Johnny. We can’t…”

“Don’t. Don’t start with tha’ mess, thief. Tell me you aren’t fallin’ for me, and I’ll stop. No more texts. I’ll leave it alone.”

“She’ll never forgive me, Johnny. I don’t have anybody else, don’t you get that? I’m not even from here. I’m spending Christmas with her because I don’t have anywhere else to go. You have a whole town who loves you, and she’s your sister. She’ll forgive you in a heartbeat.”

“You have me, don’t you, thief?”

“Do I?”

It was his turn to push silence out through time and space, sending it up to the cellular satellites and mirroring it back down to you. Firing frustrated breathing noises across cables and wires and whatever other stupid fucking technology was happening to you right now. 

“Alright, lass.”

The phone beeped at you to inform you that the call had ended, but you kept it pinned on the shell of your ear, desperate for even a moment of that silence again. You regretted your honor the moment you’d held it up, and you were angry at yourself for keeping a promise you’d promised to keep. 

The phone clattered to the coffee table. The soup went cold. 

MONDAY MORNING

There was no sunrise text for you this time. Your phone didn’t have any notifications at all, in fact.  You made it all the way to the bus before you caved.

You: bus.jpg

You waited. Then, you waited some more. Nothing happened. You tried not to cry, and you failed. Luckily, the bus was empty, and the driver didn’t care about you enough to ask what was wrong.

WEDNESDAY MORNING

You: stuck in the library today. office is being cleaned.

You: library.jpg

Again, you were met with the cold emptiness of staring at your own responses at the bottom of your messages. You tried not to feel the sting of it, but you failed at that, too.

THURSDAY MORNING

You: giving a lecture today. kinda nervous about this one.

You: lectureroom2.jpg

You: hope youre okay

FRIDAY MORNING

Your phone buzzed three times, waking you up with a jolt. It was still dark outside. You fumbled with your phone, rushing to see the messages. 

Kyle: Hey this is Kyle, Soap’s mate. We’re heading back to the black site, so it’ll be a few weeks until you hear from him. 

Kyle: airplane_loading.jpg

You: thanks for telling me

Kyle: Soap asked me to tell you he promises??  I think thats what he said.

You: tell him i promise

You: and can you tell him that i made a mistake? he was right. about everything.

You: and im sorry.

Kyle: Will do!

You stared out of the window until the deep purples of night gave way to a cool pink morning glow, and you watched as the sun stretched its gentle arms up and over the river.

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Chapter 07