#regardless i guess i have to be happy that they are in this position for me to go to a playoff game at all.. right?

[cent-scratchnsniff]

hiii cool drawing person!! I uh saw that you kind of do requests? So I was wondering if I could request a little doodle of Yesod hugging Netzach.. I feel like Netzach goes through so much hell that he'd need that, and Yesod would like to give affection to someone considering his uh. . . prior need to delete a bunch of information and pretend that no one who died existed you know ? Plus snake.. haha good at squeezing. and he's chest height, how stupid <3 thank you so much for making so many people's days with your art and your thoughts oh my god your thoughts. i love how you dissect these little freaks 🥺

hi neat anonymous sender!! thank you so much for your words!!! im so glad that i can bring some sort of joy and happiness even if it is small. and that my thoughts and writings are well received still. i am still in a bit of a shock that people like and read them even with the passing time. . . i hope youre okay with these doodles! thank you for sending this in

[evntualities]

i say this as someone who believes vancouver has a good chance of winning the cup, and as someone who is positive that nashville will lose in the first round no matter who they're facing, but i would much rather see them face vancouver than dallas 😭

[mv1simp]

Earned It ♥️

Max Verstappen x Wife! Reader

cause girl you’re perfect, you’re always worth it (I see nobody, nobody but you)

PART TWO HERE ♥️

The story of how you met your husband, Max Verstappen, is a fan favourite. A classic rags to riches Cinderella story - well, in this case, a working class med student with an outrageous loan meets F1 multimillionaire. For years, you two dodge the questions of having kids, due to your busy careers. But lately, your husband can’t stop thinking about a 3rd addition to your family…and no, he didn’t mean another cat.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, fluff, humour, pregnancy, angst but happy ending, very brief description of sexual harassment (not from Max obviously), simp!Max, brat! reader, smut, size kink, breeding kink (very versatile from me for once), 5.7k WC

Guys, seriously, we’ve talked about this behaviour, you need to be tidier. You look up from your comfortable position on the couch, where you’re typing away one of your research projects, to see your darling husband gently scolding your three pets. You muffle your laughter with your hand, 20karat diamond ring glinting, admiring his toned build as he stands with his hands on his slim hips, reprimanding the two cats - Sassy and Jimmy - and labrador Arlo about the mess they’d made on the patio. Hearing your giggles as you fail to contain yourself, Max turns around, grinning at the pretty sound. All done, schat? Want to go out for some lunch?

You hmm in agreement, standing up to stretch and walking over to him with a cheeky expression. But first I need you to explain just what you’re doing here. You know they can’t understand you right, babe?

Max immediately tells your three so called “kids” to ignore your blasphemous words, making you giggle again at what a dork your husband was. No one would ever guess how sweet and domestic he was with you, compared to the ferocious lion he was when terrorising his rivals on the track. It is a very serious matter, schat, Max says indignantly. You’d let them get away with murder. I’m the only one who upholds any discipline in this household.

You stand on your tippy toes to kiss him lovingly on the cheek to appease him, batting your eyelashes innocently as you say sorry, baby, shall I make it up to you? and any annoyance Max had slips away as he pulls your petite frame against his much larger one to press a kiss to your lips instead. You two had been married for almost two years now, and dating for six before that, but you simply can’t get enough of each other - even now, as your innocent kiss deepens into a steamy make out session that has you panting and grinding against your husband’s thick thighs as he squeezes your plush ass with his large hands. You’re just about to ask him to carry you to the bedroom when your on-call phone rings, signalling an emergency at the hospital. Sorry, baby you say, apologising genuinely this time with a guilty look. I have to get this, go ahead and eat and I’ll make us some dinner when I’m back, ok?

Max reassures you that you have nothing to worry about, and that he’d make dinner of course, you’re going to be tired after sorting out an emergency. Your heart swells at how thoughtful he is of you and your busy career. You give him one last quick kiss before speeding out the door, scrubs on and barking orders over the phone already.

Admittedly, it hadn’t always been like this. When you had started dating, Max had been the considerably busier one - at the peak of his racing career and collecting multiple world championships as if it were child’s play. And the way you met was a classic dinner party story - F1 driver crashes his Ferrari into studious med student. It was hotly debated as to whether the fault lay with him for illegally going 80 in a 40 zone, or with you for walking with your nose buried in a textbook. Regardless, his insane reflexes had slammed on the brakes just in the nick of time to stop any real damage happening, but your textbook had gone flying in the air and straight on top of a passing truck, disappearing for good. You’d been devastated by the loss of it, more concerned with your upcoming final exam rather than any bodily harm, and as Max sprinted out from his car to worriedly ask if you were okay you’d whirled around angrily.

He was immediately struck with your natural beauty, with your pretty caramel skin and full lips and dark curls. Then he realized you were furiously pointing a finger at him and roasting his driving skills. Watch were you’re going! God, what is it with you boy racers speeding through the tiny side streets?

What?! Boy racer? Oh, Max was not going to let this grave insult slide, yelling back that he was a World-class driver, thank you, and you were the one who needs to watch where you’re going cause who reads and walks, that’s just dumb-

You cut him off, demanding to know who he worked for. Uber? Lyft? Monaco Taxi Incorporated? I’ll be sure to leave a scathing Google review, you said hotly.

Max had now realized you had absolutely no clue who he was, so basically he just looked like a complete dickhead - including to all the passerbys who gawked at the incriminating scene of the 6 foot Dutchman childishly arguing with a 5 foot, pouting girl. Deflating, he offers you his insurance information but you rolled your eyes and walked off, muttering about the goddamn Monaco elite in their Ferrari taxis.

He’d forgotten all about you until 6 months later, when he and Lando end up in the emergency department after a padel game gone wrong, only to find you pulling back the curtain - looking for Max, wait, Uber driver Max?! You’d narrowed your gorgeous doe eyes at him, then demanded to know if he was here cause he’d gotten in another hit and run. It was not a hit and run, that is an incredibly misleading statement, Max hissed, ignoring Lando’s goggle eyed stare, cause why on earth was his mate arguing with the pretty doctor who thought he drove for Uber and not F1 World Cup winning team Redbull-

The third time you had run into each other, at a charity ball where both your employers were sponsors, Max was convinced it was fate. Either that, or you were a crazy stalker. But he was, like, 98% sure it was fate as he felt his heart race at the sight of you in a fitted red silk dress and gold stilettos, your short frame still not even brushing his chin. This time round, you knew who he really was, and had an embarrassed flush on your pretty face as you said you know, you could have corrected me, it was a very awkward lunchbreak that day when the nurses starting asking if I’d gotten your signature.

He laughed, finding you adorable, and held out his hand for you to shake, grinning Let’s start over then, shall we? You’d easily returned the gesture, an undeniable spark running up both your arms as you touched. And a few months later, at the exact street where you first met, he pulled out a copy of your missing textbook that you excitedly took, laughing that he remembered only to gasp as you open it to see his messy scrawl - Thanks for not suing me, want to be my girlfriend instead of my victim? And the rest had been history, with you two now blissfully married years later.

Sure, you had your fair share of ups and downs, just like any couple did. Before your marriage, Max’s busy career meant that he was away more often than not, and although it helped that you had a busy life yourself, he knew you missed having him there at home after a long day or by your side at friends’ weddings where you’d have to attend solo. But you never complained, never asked for more because you understood that at this time of his life, his career would be first priority, and always supported him with diligently made meal preps, looking after his cats when he went away, and late night debriefs after arguments with his demanding father, your soothing voice helping calm down the burning anger in his chest.

And although you couldn’t attend every race like the other WAGs, you’d always do your very best to make it. He still grins when he remembers his last Monaco race, where you’d gotten held up in emergency surgery and had sprinted straight to the track, not having time to change into the Chanel outfit you’d sweetly picked out the night before (from a very large pile Max had generously insisted you fund with his black Amex). You’d made it just in time to see him cross the line in P1, and the pictures of you happily crying for his win as you jumped into his arms, still in your scrubs, long curls flying as he whirled you around went absolutely viral on social media. He was glad for it too, because you received so much online hate for not always being dressed like a model and by his side at every event - and knew that deep down, you felt guilty about it, even though it was such an unfair double standard. So he’d framed that famous shot of you and hung it in the entryway, so it would be the first thing everyone would see when they walk in, and understand why Max’s heart swelled with pure love and adoration whenever he looked at you.

So when he had gotten his fill with his eight - eight! - world championships and wanted to spend his Sunday mornings waking you up with his skilled tongue in between your soft thighs instead of on a racing track halfway across the world, he had promptly quit F1 - to the outrage of his father and thousands of fans - and stepped back to coach his own team instead. It was quite an accomplishment, you had thought amusedly when reading the headlines that year, to be known as the woman who had "seduced Max Verstappen to retire and become her trophy husband". Of course, Max stood for none of the media circus, retaining his infamous status as Mad Max when he openly shut down that storyline in a media statement that had blown up, making it clear that this had always been his plan and he would not be tolerating any slander of his beautiful wife whom he loved very much - who, by the way, was now the associate head of the emergency department, had they heard?

As time passed the fans eventually relaxed and enjoyed the new talent that came on, with your husband still a common figure on the paddock as coach. He'd had more time these past two years to look after you now - cooking your favourite meals and meeting you on the hospital rooftop for lunch and making all the nurses blush at how romantic your husband was, picking you up from a late shift in his Ferrari, taking you jewellery shopping in Paris one weekend then stiletto shopping in Milan the next with all your bags in his hands and his Amex in yours, and listening attentively in the living room as you practised your powerpoints on Intracranial Haemorrhage: Do early CAT scans change mortality rates? Your personal favourite gift, though, had to be when he'd brought home a 2 month old golden labrador as your birthday present. You'd always wanted a dog but had never had time for one on top of his two cats - but now, with Max home more often, he was able to look after all 3 of your kids, as you both affectionately referred to them.

And speaking of kids - the topic was something that had increasingly come up over the family events and meetups with friends you two went to. Of course, when it had first been asked, the two of you had dismissed it given there was simply no time with your careers. You religiously used contraception - with you on the pill and Max using condoms everytime. At one point, though, you both realised you rather enjoyed doing it raw - when the condom had broken after a particular rough session post 6th WDC win. Max still remembered your blushing face as he came down from what had been one of the most intense orgasms of his life, already addicted to the feeling of spilling inside you. You had bit your lip, shyly saying you know Maxie, the pill is 99% effective, I don't think we need to use condoms anymore-

He'd cut you off with a pleased growl, sealing his lips back onto yours for Round 2 as the thought of getting to fill you up every night sent all the blood rushing to his cock. Safe to say, there hadn't been a box of condoms in your home for a very long time. But as time passed after your marriage, Max started to feel an unfamiliar desire simmer in his gut everytime he saw you playing with his nieces and nephews, or when he would be showing Daniel's toddler how to operate a racekart, or when he’d finish inside you, watching your eyes roll back in pleasure, and wonder what would happen if you weren’t on the pill. He avoided saying anything as your answer to the kids? question at Family Xmas was still not right now.

But lately he hadn't been able to deny the aching yearn he felt any longer, and especially not when you two had been celebrating Charles' and Alex's pregnancy announcement on their yacht last weekend. You'd looked so happy for the couple, congratulating Alex on her glow and admiring the ultrasound pictures but all Max could think about was how amazing he was sure you'd look carrying his child, how he wanted to have your baby scans on the fridge door and argue over names, how he was sure you would be the most amazing mother to his kids and he couldn’t have picked a better wife. He must have been looking quite jealously at the scene because Charles comes upto him, greeting him with a Hey, mate and a knowing smirk. Max grunts, sipping his G&T, then realises he might be acting in a way you would refer to as "dickhead behaviour", so he also throws in a gruff congratulations.

Charles' is not having it though, having recognised the intensity which Max was staring you down with. You know, he starts, prompting Max out of his one-way thoughts, You could always try bringing it up directly with her instead of expecting her to read your mind, hmm? Max glanced at him side ways. Already practising your fatherly advice? He joked, diffusing the tension, before the conversation moved onto how the new young F1 drivers just didn’t appreciate a good wheel to wheel battle like back in their karting days.

Charles' words stuck with him throughout the week, and one night as you both settled down for bed, he decided it was time to ask. Schatje? he begun, watching you from his position in the bed as you brushed out your damp curls in the mirror, dressed in a cute silk nightie. You hmmed at him, slightly distracted by a tangle in your hair but prompting him to continue. You know, I was, well -whatdoyouthinkaboutgettingpregnant?

You frowned slightly, still distracted by the tangle in your hair. Who, Alex and Charles? I think it's great, they've wanted kids for a while now, right?

Max takes a deep breath, tells himself to stop being a pussy, and walks over to you, taking the comb away as he brushes out the tangle himself. You look at him curiously as he tilts your head up with his large palm, brushing your cheek lovingly as his ice blue eyes meet yours. No, shcat he murmurs gently. I mean us, getting pregnant, having a baby. How do you feel about that?

Your jaw drops open at his words as your brain temporarily stopped working. You feel your face blush from the thought of your husband getting you pregnant. As hot as it sounded, out of all the things, you hadn't expected him to say that. You realise your surprised silence was making Max freak out, the telltale sign of a crinkle between his brows. You scramble to come up with a response, stuttering that Oh, sorry, I hadn't really thought about it, I guess and that we'd both been busy with work for so long it kind of...slipped my mind?

But what do you think, liefje, your husband pressed, hopeful. Do you want to try? You honestly weren't sure, this was all so sudden and you needed a bit more time to process it - but when you told Max this you didn't miss the hurt look that flashes across his face as his insecurities rise up. He asked if the problem was that you didn't want to have kids with him, because how could you possibly not have thought about it, all our friends and family constantly bring it up all the time-

I don't know! you'd responded defensively, arms crossed. We'd been focusing on your racing for so long that I just stopped thinking about stuff like that. The argument had spiralled out of control quickly, Max demanding to know when you were going to stop holding that over him, and when you wanted to think about it then, you two weren't any younger, after all - prompting you to angrily accuse him of always putting his job above yours, because now that he had his fill he was ready to start a family but what about your career?!

You hadn’t been able to stop the tears that dripped down your face as the argument escalated into a full blown fight. Max had sighed seeing that, deflating and saying you should both head to bed for now. You’d lain next to him, feeling so cold without his usual warm bicep pulling you against him, trying to hold back more tears before you drifted into a fitful sleep. Max hadn’t been any better either, only falling asleep in the early hours of the morning and when he woke up, you were already gone. He’d started trying to look for you but then remembered you had a conference in London today you’d had to fly out for - you wouldn’t be back for a week, he reads on the note you’d left on the fridge.

Fuck, it had been a bad night to have such an ugly fight considering you two had left so much unresolved. Later, when he’s visiting his sister’s for dinner and watching her kids with the same burning want in his heart, his mother corners him and demands to know why he had shown up looking like a kicked puppy. Your wife’s been gone one day and you’re already so hopeless? She’d joked, but clearly had a concerned look in her eyes. He couldn’t stop himself then, opening up about the horrible fight. He feels terrible that you had ended up crying, but still can’t help feel that you were being purposely selfish, he explains, after all, we’d be raising the baby together, she can still have her career, no?

His mother had been silent for a while, taking it all in, before she gently reminded Max about how she, too, had been in the peak of her very successful karting career when Jos had gotten her pregnant. Your wife isn’t me, and you certainly are not your father, she said firmly. But she’s scared, Max, it’s not personal. She’s scared she could lose everything she’s spent years building while you get to have it all. It isn’t as easy for a mother to put her career on hold as it is for a father. Even if he’s as loving and caring as you will be, she reassures.

Max looked troubled, then, as your responses last night now started to make sense. God, he was such a terrible husband, how had he not considered that before? Sensing her son’s brain was running at 100 miles a minute, the older woman lays a soothing hand on his shoulder. Just give her some space, Max. Let her come to you. You two will work through this.

So he gives you the space, and 6 days later he’s standing at the arrivals area of the airport, stonily looking out the window at the planes landing but internally fighting a storm of emotions. You two had never had these many days of no contact in your whole marriage, and he’d said some vicious things that night, and what if in the time away you had decided you would be better off without him? His jaw clenched at the idea of losing you. God, maybe he shouldn’t have given you space but spammed your phone, begging for forgiveness. Why was marriage so much more confusing than driving a car at 200kmph?

Suddenly, he hears the click of your familiar YSL heels walking up to him and he turns frantically to see your petite figure come to a stop a few feet away. Your face looks just as troubled as his, but as soon as your eyes meet you can’t control yourself and run forward to jump into his arms. Max welcomes you eagerly, all his tension releasing as he hugs you tightly, broad arms easily lifting you up and pressing his face into your neck to breathe in your perfume. You’re rapidly saying something about how you were so sorry, you had overreacted - You don’t have to apologise for anything, liefje, Max says fiercely, God, I missed you so, so much. I shouldn’t have brought it up so suddenly. Take all the time you need, okay?

You blink back happy tears, heart so full at your understanding husband as you looked up into his blue eyes adoringly before sharing a loving kiss. Passerbys smiled at the sweet scene you two made. Max took you home, one hand carrying your luggage and the other firmly around your waist, as if he was paranoid you were going to disappear. Again, in the car, his hand stayed glued to your thigh, softly stroking it as you told him about your week in London. And then at home, you had to stop him as he got ready to climb into the shower with you, giggling and saying you were starving, baby, did he want to grab some dinner for you two?

He’d pouted, but then perked up excitedly once you promised you two could go for a swim in the pool after dinner instead. Need anything else while I’m out, schat? He asked, grabbing the Ferrari keys. You hesitated, making him turn around, as you blushed a little and said Would you mind grabbing some condoms, Maxie? I forgot to take my pill to London so I haven’t been on anything for a week…

You search his face for any hint that he’s upset you still needed time, but found none, only a gentle expression on his face as he pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek. Of course, schatje, he says lovingly before heading out. You watch him go, a devious smirk now on your face. A part of you felt bad for the game that you were planning on playing with your husband later that evening - but, oh well, you had to have some fun in a marriage, right? And your sweet, darling, perfect husband had passed the test with flying colours tonight, showing his dedication to putting your needs first.

The truth was, you’d also reflected on your marriage and its future in London. You’d thought and thought until you could think no more about whether or not it was time to have kids, if you should even have kids, not because you didn’t want them but because you were so worried about how it would derail the career you’d worked so hard to build. And then you’d remembered how Max would spend hours quizzing you for your residency exams, while you were on the toilet or in the kitchen, making sure you got every answer right and you’d passed with full marks.

Or how you knew you loved Max for the first time, when he had stood by your side and steadied you as you shakily reported to your boss about a supervisor who’d developed a nasty habit of feeling you up at work and barring you from surgeries if you said no. Max had stood by you through it all, his large, gentle hands holding your own, a contrast to the thunderous expression on his face at anyone who tried to give you a hard time when you came forward - and he didn’t ease up until the creep had been permanently stripped of his medical license. Even now, when you’d sometimes shiver at the memory, he’d pull you into his safe arms, murmuring how proud he was of you, schat, you were so brave for speaking up.

You thought about how warm you’d felt seeing Max gently rock his nephew in his strong arms, or how impressed you had been seeing how he taught the kids how to drive a kart, or how devoted he was to your marriage and your three pets, always being there to provide for you and support you however you needed him to be - mentally, physically, emotionally. Max really was the best husband to you, and he’d be the best father to your kids. And you knew you had your answer.

So now, after eating your favourite dinner of Italian pasta, expensive red wine and tiramisu for dessert, you got changed into your bikini, a skimpy pink number Max always enjoyed, and slipped on a gold choker with matching anklets, all adorned with the letter M - a custom made Cartier set he’d brought for you on his birthday, as a gift to himself. The box of condoms he’d picked up lays on the bedside table. You smirk at them as you pass by - they won’t be needed much longer. Not that your husband had any clue of that - yet, and you couldn’t wait to see the expression on his face when he figured out just how you were going to reward his devotion tonight. Picking up a second bottle of wine, you take a good swig and make your way out to the dark backyard where Max is shirtless, the pool’s neon lights reflecting the water droplets that slide down his large, muscular back. Shit, you had to stay extra focused if he was going to be looking so delectable tonight!

He turns as he hears your anklets tinkle, smirking as he takes in your dolled up appearance, all for him. Coming in, schat? He calls huskily, feeling his cock hardening at the sight of you after a whole maddening week away. Just admiring the view, you say cheekily, taking another swig from the wine and slowly stepping into the pool. You can feel your husband’s hungry gaze sliding up your curvy body, and you shiver, feeling rather like a deer caught in a lion’s trap even though you were the one playing games tonight. You come to a stop in front of him, your head barely reaching his upper chest, giving him a generous view as your tits spilled around the tiny bikini. You sultrily gaze right into his darkening blue eyes as you take yet another sip of the wine, your pink tongue darting out to circle the tip of the bottle in quite the slutty manoeuvre. Missed you, Maxie you say coyly. Especially missed having you inside me.

He growls lowly at your teasing, easily taking the bottle off you and downing the rest before discarding it to the side. You whine as he puts a stop to your antics, pouty lips and large doe eyes staring up at him invitingly. Chuckling, he places a large palm across your ass and lifts you up against him. Your thighs wrap themselves around his toned waist and your hands tangle in his soft hair, gently tugging on the strands just the way he likes it. Now face to face, you tease him further, whispering in his ear about how lonely you’d been while away, how normally you’d call him and have him talk you through an orgasm, and how your tiny fingers hadn’t been able to make you cum all week because you needed his thick ones to stretch you open.

Fuckkk, schat, Max breathes, feeling his cock grow impossibly hard, his blue eyes completely darkened by lust. I missed that filthy little mouth of yours so much. He glides his thumb along your pink lips and you part them easily, taking him in and swirling your tongue around him. He can’t hold himself back any longer, pulling you in and replacing his thumb with his tongue. You moan into the dirty kiss, running your hands along his muscular shoulders, addicted to the feeling of his strong, thick biceps caging you against him. Your bikini strings are deftly untied as he practically rips it off of you, breaking the kiss to lean you back and suck on your pretty nipples. You squeal as he gently bites down, murmuring maybe you shouldn’t have been such a cocktease, schat.

You’re now grinding your pussy against his abs, begging him for more, please, Maxie and asking him to take you to bed. He smirks at how easily you fall apart under his tongue, squeezing your ass as he carries you inside, always giving you what you wanted like the devoted husband he is. You two have no regard for the sheets as you drip water all over them, foreplay long forgotten as your bikini bottoms are yanked off, followed by his trunks. You’d honestly forgotten about the damn condoms by this point but Max hadn’t, hurriedly ripping open a packet with his teeth as you whine at him to hurry up, Maxie, I can’t take it- Oh!

You moan blissfully as he buries himself inside you. Feels like coming home everytime, schat, he breathes out as he holds his position for a few beats before he starts thrusting into you. Holy shit, that felt sooo good. You didn’t think you were going to last very long at all - putting a time limit on your plan. You let him get a few more thrusts in you before you start begging again, this time asking Maxie, wait, can-can we please take the condom off?

He looks down at you in surprise, saying you hadn’t been on the pill this week schat, it’ll be risky-

Oh, your darling husband still hadn’t caught on to your suprise, and as you whine that it’s okay, you can just pull out, right Maxie? you almost giggle from the strained expression on his face as he considers that feat of self restraint. But he wasn’t going to say no to you, not when you were below him with your lush dark curls spread around you and looking up at him so adoringly, so he reaches down and pulls the condom off and sinks back inside you.

Shit. He swears at the vice grip you have his cock in, one hand automatically going to grasp the headboard to try and maintain some control and ground himself. But you’re begging for more and it feels so good to be back inside you, raw, feeling your slick heat up on his thick cock that his thrusts start getting sloppier. He’s panting above you, both hands now gripping the headboard to hold himself back from the urge to cum inside you.

Your devilish eyes don’t miss this, and you grab his thick wrists to pull them down so his hands rest on your bouncing tits, begging him to play with them, please. Oh, shit, he feels his orgasm quickly approaching from your positively filthy demands tonight. But as he starts to pull back you wrap your legs around him tightly, keeping him in place as you make your final demand - Noo, Maxie, don’t pull out, you can come inside me, it’s ok-

Perplexed, knowing he can break your grip around him in half a second, your husband is now very confused as he points out with gritted teeth that no condom and no pill and no pulling out meant-Yes, yes, I know! You whine impatiently. I want it Maxie, I’m ready now, come inside, I want to get pregnant!

Max pauses above you, this time being the one to have his brain function temporarily suspended as he slowly figures out just what you’re saying. Are you sure, schat-

You roll your eyes, sinking yourself down onto his cock, making him moan, and hoping he gets the message. Oh, I’m definitely sure, dear husband, you say sultrily. Now, are you going to fuck a baby into me or what?

He finally clicks, his confused gaze now morphing into pure joy as he grins down at you, and you can’t help but grin back, the two of you finally ready to progress into the next step of your marriage together. He pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, catching you off guard. You know I love you right, schat? He murmurs, and you nod, confused where he was taking this. Good, cause I’m about to fuck you like I hate you. That was a dirty game you played, yeah? Edging me all night when you were gonna let me fuck you raw all along. Gonna have to punish you real good for that. He growls darkly, his large hand coming to squeeze your throat, making you gasp in delight.

Oh, you loved when Mad Max came out to play. Your legs are tossed over his shoulders and then pressed all the way back against your soft tummy, into a mating press. The unfamiliar position has you screaming in pleasure, your anklets dangling by your face as he thrusts his way back into you. Your husband chuckles wickedly at your reaction, pumping into you deeply and making the headboard bang against the wall each time.

And true to his word, he punishes you thoroughly, not stopping despite your overstimulated pleas as you repeatedly orgasm, instead cumming inside you over and over and over again, leaving you obscenely full with his thick load.

And when you finally pass out into blissful darkness, he meanly fucks you awake again, demanding that you take another round from him like the good little wife you are, aren’t you, so obedient for me, hmm? Gonna fuck you stupid until you’re finally pregnant with my kids, like you always should have been.

Safe to say, you didn’t get much sleep that night, or for many nights after 💖

—————————————————————————

UPDATE: PART TWO out now!!

A/N: damn this is a whole ass essay. I love simp husband max so much tho I couldn’t help it 🥺might make a part 2 about the pregnancy and protective max hehe if people like this! Lmk what you think 🫶🫶

[4rticbolt]

Bitterspicy? |Master-List|

Sanji x !Fem!Reader, fluff, crack, swearing, bubbly clumsy reader, cuteness aggression, one-shot

You check out what Sanji’s making and get a little too curious…

Like stuff like this? Check out my masterlist, there’s one much similar but a little spicier. Also please check out this amazing artist! She does awesome commissions: @salibadati

•-•-•—•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•—•

You glided down the hall, hopping down the stairs as you excitedly made your way to the kitchen. You were eager to tell the cook you’d caught a fish. Or—well, somewhat, it was a flounder of the sorts, a mixed half-seabeast that left the scaredy cat trio utterly petrified.

Regardless, it’d been a fight to reel in, but thanks to the boys it hadn’t been too much of an issue—to you at-least. Your pole had been the lucky one, and you’d gladly handed it over to Luffy who’d been happy to eat it.

The sea-beast was large, large enough to keep a steady food supply for a week—that is if the captain didn’t eat it.

Swiftly passing the kitchen doors, a heavenly smell drafted through. Something similar to curry, maybe with peppers, left a comforting sense to your nose along with the herbs. You smiled, swinging yourself around the service hatch.

“Sanji! Guess what I caught,” you pipped, hanging on the corner.

“Hm? What’d you catch love?” his tone was gentle, using something he only used for you.

Sanji’s back was turned, and you couldn’t help but notice how nice his tux carved to his shoulders. His sleeves were rolled, accentuating his fore-arms that left your mouth watering.

Gosh, he could be so clueless. Or he couldn’t. You could never tell with him, from teasing to showing off to acting oblivious and naive he was a mix of the three.

“I have no idea,” you muttered, coming up behind him. Along the counter, your attention drifted to the organized ingredients he’d aligned in black and white bowls.

“It’s big and scaly though,” you shifted a bowl to check its contents, curious to what it was. “I’ve never seen anything like it, it’s weird. It has whiskers like a cat—but it looks like a pufferfish mixed with a halibut.”

He hummed softly in response.

“Oh, and it was really snappy too. You shoulda’ seen Usopp, he was terrified,” you laughed, leaning over to smell some of them. Your nose was immediately assaulted with spice and warmth, and you careened back.

Sanji nodded, listening with a smile. Your laughter was music to his ears, and he’d wished he could replay it over and over.

“Big and scaly? Did you catch a sea king?”

“No, I don’t think so, Robin said it’s high in protein though. She even pulled out a fancy fish-log to make sure.”

“Hm, well that sounds promising, good job Love we needed that,” he praised, stirring a pot he’d only break out for stews and curries.

The acknowledgment flew over your head as you sniffed a bowl’s contents, grown oblivious to the use of his affectionate tones. He threw love and praises like a child blowing dandelion seeds, leaving fluttering white fuzzlies of positivity you’d sprout from.

“Thank you,” you chirped, popping carelessly beside him.

“Zoro’s cutting it down for us now actually, so you don’t have to. I figured you were busy making something,” you jumped, leaning into his side, creeping slowly to check the food you so craved. You always knew it’d look good, but that didn’t change the fact you still wanted to see it.

The steam hit you like a burning fog, making your eyes water.

“Finally, moss-head’s actually pulling his weight,” he snarked, hovering his hand to quickly shield your face.

“Careful it’s hot sweetheart.”

“Yeah I know, it just smells good.” you shrugged, wandering back over to the small dishes.

The mindless compliment sent his heart racing, and his eyes turned to hearts. “Why thank you my Angel, you’re too kind.” He swirled, mixing the turmeric colored dish.

“Of course,” you muttered, sniffing a spoon of something you expected to be sweet, but it stung, yet again leaving your eyes to water.

You dropped the spoon, leaning back, coughing slightly.

“Phew, the fuck is that?”

“Oh? Those are the chillies,” he laughed, adding some cloves to the pot, keeping casual in your presence. You joined often in the kitchen, appearing time and time again and it’d just become a norm between you too. He watched as you inspected, he told, and you helped. It was a sweet balance, teetering on the edge of chaos with your clumsiness. Rather blunt recklessness in his opinion. But he’d loved you the same.

He found it endearing.

Though, this time you’d inspected a bowl of something sweet. Stark contrast to chilies and cayenne peppers from before, you simply wanted to taste. And the thought had been to quick to stop.

Your eyes wandered, purely drawn to Sanji’s fluent skills. Chopping vegetables and chicken so perfectly, it put his knives to shame.

You’d ironically been mesmerized, due to the fact he was so slim and tall, manly, and the literally epitome of a gentleman. Yet he worked with knives and food like a ballerina to her shoes.

Lost in the maze of your admiration, you’d mindlessly put a bit too much on the spoon to try, and the bitterness hit hard. You hadn’t paid attention, and now you payed the price.

A muffled cough sounded throughout the kitchen, and a hand flew to cover it, but it was too late. Your eyes watered and you immedialty regretted the impulsive decision.

Poofft . . .

Sanji paused. His cutting slowed, and he’d gently placed the knife down to wipe his hands. Maybe you’d sniffed the wrong bowl again? He thought, slowly turning around. But gods was he wrong.

Oh. Oh. Okay.

There was cinnamon everywhere. A clouded dust of brown had covered the counter, and he couldn’t even see your face. Had you—?

He urgently called your name, keeping ease.

“Mon Amour? Are you—is that the cinnamon?!”

He rushed to your side, eyes filled with concern as he finally met your teary ones. You turned to him in a coughing fit, splashing cinnamon painfully after. You owlishly blinked up at him, and his heart exploded at the sight.

His instincts told him to not make fun, but a light-hearted laugh escaped him before he’d grabbed a dampened towel for you.

His arms tenderly outstretched, wiping your face, chuckling, “Sweetheart what’d you even do?” he chided, sweeping his thumb over your chin.

“I didn’t mean’thu, I thought it—pff—“ another rasp of cinnamon launched between you, and you coughed. And he only laughed more.

Which turned to contagious giggles.

Sanji gingerly held your face, bringing your hand which held a cloth—close to your face.

He was truly your savior. Because you urgently spit it out, wincing.

“____, hun, here, there you go.” he said, pushing your brown tinged hair out of your face.

“Sorry,” you finally mumbled, surrendering in complete defeat and humiliation.

“I thought it was, I don’t know, like, edible—“

“It’s okay, you were just curious…though why you thought eating a spoonful of cinnamon was a good idea? I will never know,” he mused, looking quietly down to you. His thumb caressed your cheek and he fawned again. He squeezed your cheeks, and he was gone.

You looked absolutely adorable like this, and your perfume? Now infused with the spice? Did wonders.

This had to be what cuteness aggression was. Otherwise he wouldn’t be squeezing you so tight.

“Sanji let me go,” you muttered, struggling in the tight clasp of his hug. He only mumbled something whiny and incoherent in your ear, and your face felt like the burner of the stove.

“Just let me hold you, you’re too cute.”

You blushed, grumbling. What got slipped in his breakfast this morning? You rested your head on his shoulder and he tightened his grip, twirling you around.

You relaxed, giving into his affection. But smoke caught your glimpse.

“Uh, baby—“

“No. Let me hug you.”

“No you—Sanji!” You groaned, “The foods burning!”

[suugarbabe]

Origin Stories

summary: baby first year matty arrives at hogwarts and the first person he interacts with seems to not know him at all. matty is unsure how to feel when someone treats him like just another person instead of the dark lords son

warnings: fluff, little bit o angst, sad baby matty

an: something my hubby @musingsofahufflepuff and i have been yapping about constantly, there's more where this came from, and yes...it will continue to hurt you

Knees pulled to his chest, he sat at the window watching all the happy and excited parents dropping their children off for their first time at Hogwarts. It was Mattheo’s first time too, but instead of parents dropping him off he had Feindre, his house elf.

Feindre had gotten him there early enough for Mattheo to be one of the first students on the train and stayed long enough for Mattheo to see Feindre give a gentle wave before snapping his fingers and disappearing from the platform.

That’s what he’d been doing for the last half hour; watching family after family give loving hugs and cheek kisses and bidding their children farewell. Even Mr. Nott had come with his wife to see Theo off, giving a firm squeeze to the skinny boy's shoulder and a curt nod. 

The whistle blew overhead and Mattheo leaned his head back, closing his eyes and willing himself to think of at least one positive thing that may come for him this year. He’d be away from his mother; that was a plus. As far as Mattheo was aware even she couldn’t get onto the grounds without the proper permissions; that gave Mattheo at least four months free from torture.

As the train started to pull from the station he heard the train car door slide open, an entirely too excited voice suddenly speaking to him, “D’you mind? Every other car has four or so kids in it.” Mattheo shrugged his shoulders, not even opening his eyes to look.

He knew he didn’t recognize the voice. His cousin Draco’s was a little higher pitched, whiney. Theo’s was slower, like he had to think about each word before he said it. This voice was more neutral, but seemed to be speaking quickly, like they had so many thoughts and feelings they couldn’t get them out quick enough. 

“S’kinda weird we had to walk through a wall to get on the platform, right? Magic is so cool.” Mattheo peered an eye open, chancing a glance at the person across from him. It seemed as if you were vibrating, sitting cross legged on the seat across from him, hands braced on either side as your knees held a steady bounce.

Your smile was nearly splitting your face; Mattheo couldn’t decide if your question was indicative of a muggle upbringing or just the first born for your family. “So what house do you want to get into? I was doing some light reading in one of our textbooks, Hogwarts: A History, and I think any of them will be good.” 

Definitely muggle, Mattheo thought to himself as you kept talking, “I know that Hufflepuffs are very loyal, Ravenclaws are super smart I guess, Slytherins apparently are really clever and I read that Gryffindors are supposed to be just the bravest.” The scoff leaves Mattheos throat quicker than he could control.

“Well do you think differently? I know I can talk a lot but I’m also a good listener.” Mattheo lifted his head up at this, now choosing to stare at you with a quirked brow. You continued to press regardless, “What house do you think you’ll be in?” Mattheo stared out the window once more, watching the highland mountains pass by, “I already know my house.” This statement piqued your interest, “What do you think it is?”

Mattheo used all his mental energy not to roll his eyes, “I’ll be a Slytherin, my family has only ever been Slytherins.” You seemed to sit up straighter then, your tone getting more excited, if that was even possible, “So you’re from a family of wizards then? That’s so cool, what’s it like?”

He stared at you incredulously, “You being serious?” You simply tilted your head, smile never leaving your face, “Both of my parents are normal, erm, non-wizards? I don’t know what you guys call them but that’s what they are.” 

Mattheo wore an unimpressed look, “Shocker…never would have guessed by your raging enthusiasm.” You laughed softly, “I know, right. Mum cried for like an hour when I got my letter.” Mattheo sat up straighter then, eyes widening. He could feel his heart rate pick up slightly, a tinge of sweat beading on the back of his neck, “Why, because she was disappointed, was she mad? Where did you hide after she stopped crying?”

You looked at him with confusion, shaking your head and a small bit of concern in your tone, “What? No, because she was just so happy for me…” Mattheo shrank into himself, pulling his knees back up to his chest, “Right, yeah, a’course.” 

You fiddled with the hem of your sleeve, “So, ehm, do you know people who are coming to Hogwarts then? I don’t know anyone…well, except you now. What, erm, what was your name again?” Mattheo visibly stiffened. You could just be being polite, asking for his name like he was just any other student. Or his reputation precedes him even with muggle-born first years and you’re just too scared to tell him that you already know about him, his father, what he’s done. “Mattheo…erm, Riddle.” You nodded, “Cool name! I’m y/n y/l/n.”

Mattheo can’t help the quizzical look that takes over him at how breezily you move on and introduce yourself. How can you not be afraid of him, of his name. Not that he wants you to be, but if you’ve been reading as much as you say, surely you’ve heard of what his father has done. 

But all of it seems nonexistent as you start talking again, “Do you think we’ll have to wear those little cone hats I’ve seen in the textbook? They’re not very fashionable are they? And I’m sure you wouldn’t want to wear one either.” Mattheo took the bait, “Why would you think I wouldn’t want to wear one?”

You shrugged, smiling a little shyer than before, “Well because of your hair. If I had curls as pretty as yours I wouldn’t want to have to cover them up all the time.” The heat on Mattheo’s cheeks was nearly instantaneous, then he started to feel a bit of rage, “Are you making fun of me?”

You shook your head fiercely, “Oh no, no way! I figured you got complimented on your hair all the time.” Compliment? You were complimenting him. Why would you do that? What were you playing at? Mattheo was fighting an internal battle, not understanding why you were being so nice to him and trying desperately to understand the new feeling fluttering in his chest at your compliment. 

Thankfully the door to the train car opens and a jolly looking woman displays a trolly full of sweets and snacks in the doorway; the perfect distraction.

“Anything from the trolly, dears?” You’re excited once more, leaving your seat to get a closer look at the sweets. You turn towards Mattheo, “What’s your favorite candy? I’ve never heard of any of these before…chocolate frogs, cauldron cakes, fizzing whizzbees-” 

“The last one’s good I- erm, I think you’d like those,” Mattheo watched as you asked the trolly witch for one pack of cauldron cakes and two fizzing whizzbees. “That’ll be two galleons and a sickle, dear,” the trolly witch smiled kindly at you.

You pulled a handful of wizard coins from your pocket looking slightly confused. Mattheo cleared his throat, “Two gold ones and a silver one.” You nodded, taking the coins he described and exchanging them for your sweets. Sitting back down across from him you began opening your cauldron cakes.

You placed one on top of one of the fizzing whizzbees pack and then held it in front of you towards Mattheo. “What’re you doing?” he asked, finding your behavior rather odd, even for a muggle. You only smiled in return, “This is your half silly.” 

Mattheo hesitantly took the sweets, “Why would you share with me?” You sat back, taking a bite of the cauldron cake and humming in satisfaction, “Why wouldn’t I share with you?” you spoke around a cheek full of cake, “These are really good by the way.”

Mattheo felt a weird pang in his chest, something he didn’t recognize. It was almost like an adrenaline rush but he wasn’t in danger this time; his skin felt hot all of a sudden, his blood rushing to his ears. He pulled subtly on his curls on the side of his head, not sure exactly what he was trying to cover up. You didn’t take notice regardless, too engrossed in the foreign treat of your new world. 

The next few hours are filled with you making conversation, mostly one sided but you don’t even seem to notice. You’re the most at ease person Mattheo has ever met, finding interest in the smallest of things.

You talk about your family, and you do so with so much admiration and what Mattheo can only assume is love that he finds himself starting to get jealous. He does his best to shove that feeling down, like he does with most feelings. You’re the first person in his life that doesn’t seem to know him, his family, what that entails and he’d be damned if he let something like jealousy mess that up.

You try to ask him about his life, but he’s keeping it brief, somewhat deflective. He tells you that his father is not around, not dead but…working. He doesn’t know a good way to explain that his father has bits of his soul everywhere and your lack of knowledge on magical existence seems like that bit of information would cause your already highly wired brain to short circuit.

When you ask about his mum he stiffens involuntarily, “She’s, erm, passionate about me following in my father’s footsteps. Bit of an anger problem sometimes if I disagree about it.” You nod, a small frown on your face but seemingly understanding to not push the subject of his mothers anger further, “What’s your dad do?”

Mattheo’s eyes go wide, panic starting to spread through his body. He can feel himself starting to sweat as he looks out the window, trying to come up with an answer that’s not the truth when he sees his saving grace, “Look, Hogwarts.” 

If you’d had turned your head any faster Mattheo was sure it would have rolled off your shoulders and onto the car floor. Whatever he had anticipated Hogwarts to look like, his imagination could never have done it justice; and Mattheo hid in his imagination often at home.

Your nose was nearly pressed to the window, “Wicked.” Mattheo felt the corners of his mouth pull into a smile, half wishing the two of you never had to leave the train and could just stay here, in this bubble where you don’t know the horrible truths that come with being associated with him. 

As the train slowed to a stop, a whistle blew and the two of you noticed a flurry of students starting to clog the aisle between cars. “Guess that’s our cue,” you stood up, looking towards Mattheo and waiting for him to do the same. “You coming?” you opened the car door, looking back at him. “Erm, yeah. Yeah okay,” Mattheo pulled the hood of his cloak up and you gave him a curious look.

“Heard it’s supposed to be a bit chilly on the ride up to the castle,” he shoved his hands in his pockets, now staring down at the floor. You shrugged it off, only turning to join the plethora of students once you knew Mattheo was following behind. 

You couldn’t help but marvel at the giant man that led the pack of first years to what looked like ancient wooden boats. You looked everywhere you could, trying to drink in the whole experience; whereas Mattheo kept his head down, hood up and eyes on the bottom of the boat. If he did this long enough, maybe no one but you would know who he was until he was being sorted.

Once docked by the castle the pack of you were led through the castle by an older, stern looking witch. She had introduced herself as Professor McGonagall. As she led you through the castle you kept tugging on Mattheo’s sleeve. Every so often he would peek from the side of his hood and give you a half smile. 

Once in front of what you learned to be the Great Hall, McGonagall stopped all of you, giving a quick speech. “Once inside you will all be sorted into your houses. Once your house has been announced please make your way to your house table. Banners above will lead you to the correct one. During each breakfast and lunch you will be able to mingle with other houses. However, dinners are strictly restricted to your own house tables.” You turned to Mattheo, whispering, “This is so exciting!” Mattheo gives an undignified hum with a small nod as the doors to the great all open, he can feel his heart rate quicken as all the older students turn to watch the group of first years file in. Will people notice him? Can he hear them whispering his name? 

His automatic negative thoughts are interrupted by you gripping his arm lightly. Immediately he flinches away and you begin apologizing, “Oh, I’m sorry Matty, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Mattheo shook his head, hoping his cheeks weren't flushing at the nickname you decided to don on him, “N-no, sorry. S’just I- erm, have this thing about people grabbing me…sorry.”

You shake your head as if to dismiss his apology as unnecessary, “S’my fault, I just get so excited. Look up there, it’s the sorting hat, I read about it in the same textbook as the houses; that’s what’s gonna tell us where we go.” 

Mattheo could feel his stomach knotting. He knew he would be sorted into Slytherin; the blood in his veins guaranteed it. But, Merlin, did he hope you were sorted there too. It would be nice to have an actual friend there with him, not just his irritating cousin and the sons of his father’s loyal followers.

He was pretty sure they were only nice to him out of fear. Did you want to get sorted with him too? Did you consider him a friend? You were already far too nice to him; far too nice for your own good he thought. There’s no way you actually got sorted into Slytherin; it‘d be a bloody miracle. 

Too lost in his worries spinning over and over in his head he seemed to have missed everyone before him getting sorted, being pulled from his thoughts for the second time that evening by Professor McGonagalls booming voice speaking his name, “Mattheo Riddle.”

A hushed whisper seemed to fall over all of the students and even some of the professors at the head table. Mattheo gave you a worried glance, but you only smiled encouragingly back at him. Either you didn’t notice the whispers, or you didn’t care; Mattheo wasn’t sure which option had him feeling that same weird pang in his chest that he felt on the train. 

He needn’t push his way through the crowd of first years as they seemed to part willingly for him. He slowly climbed his way up the steps and pulled himself up onto the stool, legs dangling in front of him. The professor placed the sorting hat atop his head.

It felt two sizes too big, falling down and covering his eyes, now encasing him in darkness. It was actually much better this way, Mattheo would rather pass than watch the judgment in everyone’s eyes, especially if they came from yours. “Hmm, Riddle, eh?” the hat spoke loudly, much to Mattheo’s dismay, “Well there’s simply no question then is there. Why of course it's…SLYTHERIN!” 

The slytherin table broke out into cheers, but they seemed to be the only students to do so apart from your clapping in the first year crowd. The hat was pulled from Mattheo’s head and he searched for your face. He found you beaming, giving him a double thumbs up as he made his way down the steps and toward his house table.

He clocked his cousin Draco immediately, platinum hair sticking out like a traffic cone. His cousin tried to greet him, along with the others at the table. But Mattheo ignored them all, turning instead to face the stool you would soon be sitting at and be told your fate. 

When your name was finally called Mattheo sat up straighter, nearly leaning forward as if that would help him hear more clearly. As you made your way onto the stool you looked over at the Slytherin table. Making eye contact with Mattheo you gave a quick wave. Warmth spread throughout his body and he found himself giving a small wave back.

The whining pitch of Draco’s voice appeared on Mattheo’s right, “Who is that, cousin?” Mattheo watched as you took a deep breath in as the hat was placed on your head, full of pride he made the statement, “That’s my friend.” Draco was obviously confused, “I didn’t know you had any friends besides us.”

Mattheo turned his sights away from you briefly to stare Draco in the eyes, “You’re not my friend. You’re my cousin, I’m forced to be around you. And if you keep talking I’ll hex out your tongue so I never have to hear your annoying voice again.” Draco held his hands up in defense, scooting over slightly on the bench. 

Turning back to you Mattheo watched as your legs bounced excitedly, just as they did on the train and Mattheo found himself smiling. This smile slowly dropped as the hat began to narrate the internal battle you seemed to be having with it.

“You want to be Slytherin, is that so? Mmm…curious, curious indeed. I do sense a bit of cunning, but your loyalty is much stronger. Better be…HUFFLEPUFF!” The tables throughout the hall cheered for you as they did every other student being sorted. Your smile never faded but Mattheo felt like his whole world was collapsing. 

There was a pain in his side that felt like someone was hexing him with a stinging jinx and his breaths were becoming more shallow. Usually he only felt like this when being punished by his mother, but in that case she was likely actually cursing him.

It seemed like the massive walls of the great hall were closing in on him as he saw you being greeted by the students at your house table. Everything from the last few hours was going to be thrown away in an instant. They would all tell you who he was, what he was, why you should hate him. And surely you’ll believe them, won’t you? Then he’ll be alone once more.

As if to twist the knife that was already being pushed between his ribs, Draco’s irritating voice was coming from next to him again, “Well cousin, guess they’re not your friend any longer.”

[binniesangel]

charms and trinkets | s.reid x reader

genre: I’ll let you guess (fluff)

content warnings: none!!

content: non bau!reader, reader works at a bookstore, reader and spencer are already in a relationship, awkward!reader, they are all cuties, penelope and reader have mutual obsessions, female reader (im sorry i was gonna try and make it gn i forgot :((()

a/n: this is for my lovely anon who requested it !! i hope you enjoy it i tried to make it as close to your request. yes i made reader and penelope obsessed with calico critters because i am.

Request: here!!

wc: 1.4k

you and spender met at the bookstore you work at, ten months ago. he had nervously rambled off a genius like fun fact about the author of the book you were checking out for him. and you had laughed, that’s what caught his attention. that, and, well obviously how radiant you were. the maybe five minutes he spent checking out at the bookstore were spent with his eyes trained on you, completely captivated.

soon after, spencer became a regular at the bookstore, for the selection of books or for you? he wasn’t sure, but regardless, he kept coming back. after those couple visits, checking out his books again, you wrote your number on the bottom of the receipt, handing it to him. in front of you, he was blushing and stuttering. but the spencer that called you that night? was confident, and you loved it.

now, eight months from then, you and spencer were in an extremely happy relationship. every case he came home from, especially the particularly hard ones, he would rush over to your apartment. grasping you into his arms and holding you on the couch for hours. you were all he ever thought about, and spencer, being some one who talked a lot, showed that. the team had heard countless rambles about how amazing you were. Yet none of them had ever met you. the team usually just listened, not pushing spencer on when they were going to meet this mysterious girlfriend. well, everyone except penelope.

every meet up between spencer and penelope in penelope’s lair, every call between them, penelope always asked when she was meeting you. why? because truthfully, she had never seen spencer so happy, and she wanted to thank you for making her best friend more positive than she has ever seen him.

and that’s what led to this conversation that you and spencer were having right now. you two were at spencer’s apartment, sitting on his couch. “i know your hesitant about meeting the team..” he started, his hand holding yours, his thumb gently rubbing the top of your hand. you shook your head, looking at him, “it’s not that I don’t want to meet them spence, but, what if they don’t like me?” he smiles at you softly, “love, they will, I promise.” his gentle eyes caressing over your face.

how could you say no to him? when he looked at you with such love and tenderness. But still, the anxiety that flowed through you hadn’t subsided, and spencer, being ever observant, noticed. he sighed softly, squeezing your hand. “how about this? you just meet penelope for now, maybe not being surrounded by my entire team will help.” you took his words into consideration, you had heard a lot about penelope. and from the way spencer described her, you liked her already. “okay..yeah.” you said, “yeah?” spencer responded, a small grin playing on his lips.

spencer had made a call that night to penelope, arranging a meet between you three tomorrow, on his and penelope’s off day. penelope was ecstatic, you were anxious.

that night, spencer reassured you with comforting words. reminding you that if his awkward self loved penelope, you would to. that made you laugh, and honestly a little more comfortable.

the next day, a knock sounded on spencer’s apartment door. you had stressed cleaned his already clean apartment all morning. spencer came out, pressing a small kiss to the side of your head, before going to the door. you took a couple deep breaths, before following.

when spencer opened the door, you were greeted with a beautiful woman, adorned in a mixture of colors and patterns. penelope had a large smile on her face, that somehow widened when she saw you. she rushed in the apartment, “oh my gosh!! well, aren’t you pretty? how are you sweetheart, im penelope!!” her sweet voice rang in your ears, as she engulfed you in a big and sudden hug. you heard spencer chuckle softly in the distance, but you hugged her back.

penelope’s look and the small glimpse of her personality put you at ease almost instantly. the three of you made you way to spencer’s couch, all sitting down. spencer had his hand resting loosely on top of yours, and penelope sitting across from you two. “ive heard so much about you..!!” you started, looking at her. she smiled, shaking her hand dismissively, “darling I guarantee, I’ve heard more about you!! spence can’t stop talking about you.”

you blushed at her words, flustered with the idea that spencer talks about you to his coworkers. before you could even continue your flustered thoughts, a gasp sounded in the room, penelope gently grabbing the hand spencer wasn’t holding looking at your charm bracelet. “is that charm a calico critter?” she squeaked excitedly. you nodded quickly, “yes do you like them too!!” in which penelope gushed about how much she loved them. you had become immediately less shy when the common interest was of topic.

spencer was watching you lovingly as you talked quickly about the little trinkets the two of you loved so much. you and him were alike, always going on rants about the stuff that interested you. except he went on rants about scientific stuff that most people didn’t care much about, but of course, you cared.

watching his favorite person and closest coworker be so close and enjoy each others company, warmed his heart. the way your face lit up at anything that excited you, your voice growing higher and excitement shining through.

you had ran into spencer’s room where you kept a little collection of your favorite trinkets. spencer loved them, because they reminded him of you. you showed them to penelope, calico critters, sonny angels, and little cute things that the two girls adored. the three of you sat for a while, spencer occasionally butting in.

you picked out three calico critters that remind you of each person, a little deer one for penelope, a latte cat one for yourself, a silly giraffe one for spencer that made you and penelope burst out with laughter.

after a while, penelope had to leave, but not before exchanging numbers with you. when she left, you still had a giant smile on your face, one that spencer was so glad to see. you crashed into his arms, wrapping your own around him, “I like her a lot..” you mumbled into his chest. he laughed softly, you felt it rumble in his chest. “I knew you would, wasn’t so bad, was it?” he teased lightly, in return you shook you head.

“im really happy you like her, though. and im glad i can talk about you even more now that penelope has met you.” you pulled back, looking at him, “do you actually talk about me that much?” you asked.

spencer grinned, ruffling your hair playfully, “absolutely.” he confirmed. you whined jokingly in response. in which he grabbed your hand pulling you back into his living room. “cmon, we gotta clean up all these. they’re all over my couch..” he sighed dramatically. you hit him gently in the arm, “you’re lucky, look how cute!!!” you said, picking up a koala family of calico critters.

“yeah, cute..” he said, shamelessly staring directly at you instead of the trinkets. you rolled your eyes, not seeing him come closer to you, his hands resting gently on your hips. your own arms wrapping around his neck and bringing him closer. your lips catching in a gentle and loving kiss.

spencer pulls back, looking at you with a mock serious expression. “alright, now we really have to clean up, it looks like a toddler spread all of their toys around my apartment.” you made a considering face, the idea of a mini spencer running around a thought you enjoyed. spencer noticed, raising his eyebrows, “absolutely not.”

the rest of the night was spent picking up all the trinkets you and penelope had dropped, spencer falling asleep on the couch halfway through the cleaning session. you giggled quietly as you took a picture of him, curled up in a bright pink fluffy blanket, his curly hair a mess over his face, and sent it to penelope.

spencer may have made a mistake introducing you to penelope. he had unknowingly and unintentionally created a duo bound to causing immense amounts of trouble.

[lmaowhatt]

WORLD TURNED UPSIDE DOWN

requested by: anon

hey babe hru, could u write one in wich reader finds that she's pregnant and really freaks out but tries to hide it (they're both teens) cause she doesnt wanna mess up things with jj? and in like a party or a kegger they get drunk and kinda like fight and it slips out of her?? something really angsty and maybe fluffy

tysm i love your work

pairing: lover boy!jj x gf!reader

warnings: mentions of teen pregnancy, drinking, cursing, angst→fluff.

if theres any others feel free to let me know!

lover boy!jj masterlist | main masterlist

youd been antsy for a while. it shouldve been a sign that something was wrong. and even though youd convinced yourself for nearly two weeks that you were imagining things, that there was nothing wrong with you. but that thought that it was something more lingered in the back of your head. it nagged at you until you finally listened.

your heart dropped. you were sitting on the floor in the bathroom at the chateau, your back flat against the door, a speck of chipped paint tangling itself in your hair, already messy from how many times youd ran your hand through it to make sure this wasnt a sick joke. you stared at the positive pregnancy test in your hands. two pink lines taunting you, the reality setting in that your future was about to change. forever.

you had just turned seventeen around two months ago, and jj was months from turning eighteen. he still reckless and impulsive in a way his charming, caring side barely made up for. in no world were the two of you fit to be parents. not yet at least.

jj was drunk by the time you got there with kiara, whod been the only person you told, simply because she found the box while rummaging in your bathroom counter for a spare deodorant. his shirt was slung over his shoulder, drink full of warm, stale beer in hand, the beer in the cup sloshing around as he moved around the room.

he spotted you from the corner of his eyes and immediately turned, crossing the room over to you and pressing a kiss to your lips. just the smell of the beer lingering on his lips made you want to throw up. but you wanted to hang on to that last shred of teenage recklessness you had in you, so you stayed.

despite everything in you telling you to leave because of the pure uneasiness lingering deep in your belly, you stayed. because jj looked so happy. free. you wanted to see what it was like to live like there was nothing on the line, even though nothing could change the permanence of the baby growing in your belly.

a hand moved to your stomach instinctively as you watched jj walk over to a folding table with red solo cups on it. jj grabbed a cup from it, walking back over to you with a smile that wouldve lit up an entire room. your stomach twisted, but you accepted your drink regardless, just holding it, staring down at the contents in the cup like jj had just handed you a cup of poison.

the scent wafted up to your nose and you almost gagged, turning to place the cup on the kitchen island. everything had hit you like a freight train since you found out. the morning sickness, nausea, fatigue, sensitivity to smell, mood swings, all of it.

youd been doing well with managing most of it so far, but with a cup of stale beer and standing in a room full of drunk, sweaty teenagers who had no sense of 'personal bubbles,' everything flared instantly.

jj furrowed his eyebrows, "baby, you okay?" he asked, moving closer and wrapping an arm around your waist. you puffed your cheeks with air, blowing it our slowly with a nod. "yeah, 'm just... feeling sick, i guess," you mumbled, fully acknowledging the fact that you didnt sound believable but choosing to ignore it.

"you sure?" his hand drifting lower, now resting in the small of your back, thumb pressing soothing lines down your hip. "im fine, j," you snapped. "just tired. go have fun," you turned to him with a tight lipped smile, tilting your head to gesture to the drunk crowd of sweaty teenagers gathered in the living room, most swaying offbeat to whatever song was playing.

he narrowed his eyes at you but didnt question it, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek before moving to join john b, who now had his shirt on inside out and had somehow managed to climb onto the mantle, cracking a foaming beer open and spraying it onto the crowd, earning a chorus of cheers.

you swallowed your saliva nervously, lifting your shoulder to wipe his wet lip print off your cheek. you glanced around the kitchen, eventually walking over to the cooler with drinks bathing in half melted ice, pulling out a water bottle, twisting it open, and taking as sip as you moved back to where youd been previously.

thats how youd spent most of your time at the party, people watching in between sip of your water, condesation dripping down your wrist if you didnt wipe it off on yur shorts in time, and somehow talking some girl named vanessa out of getting back together with her ex.

it felt as though an hour or two had passed before an even drunker jj approached you, shirt now wrapped around his head like a bandana and that stupid drunk, but in-love smile plastered on his face. "hi, sweet girl," he mumbled,slighty slurring his words as he wrapped an arm around your waist, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips.

he blinked when you turned your head away, kiss landing on your cheek instead. he actually blinked. "hey... whats wrong with ya?" he asked. he didnt mean it with any malicious intent, but there was something deep hidden in his tone that you hadn't expected. you shook your head.

"nothing, jj. i already told you im fine," you murmured back, barely managing to keep eye contact with the guilt swimming deep in your irises. "look at me when youre talking to me." his voice was clipped now, frustration threading itself between his eyebrows. you rubbed a hand down your face, breathing out heavily and turning to face him. "im just tired, jj. that enough for you?"

your voice was laced with a mix of both frustration and the dread that wrapped around your entire body like an invisible rope that kept on tightening no matter how much you tried willing it away. "wheres this attitude comin' from? im just askin' whats wrong," he said with furrowed eyebrows, hands now placed on the fake marble of the kitchen island, arms caging you in.

"im not giving you an attitude, im just answering your question." he cocked an eyebrow, giving you a quick updown. your crossed arms were the thing that gave it away the most. "really? 'cause that mug you got goin' on is saying something else." you huffed, rolling your eyes and droppign your arms to your sides dramatically.

jj narrowed his eyes, the drinks in his system making his actions more noticeable. "okay, the fucks wrong with you," he asked, pushing off the island and placing his hands low at his waist.

"like are you... being dramatic on purpose or some shit?"

you let out a dry laugh, pushing off the counter and heading towards the front door without another word. you heard him call after you, muttering half assed apologies to partygoers he bumped into as he ran after you.

he caught your wrist when you were halfway acorss the front lawn, fully intending to walk home because you just couldnt deal with the bullshit—his bullshit. "the fucks your problem? im trying to ask you whats wrong because that 'nothing, im fine' shit doesnt work for me." he didnt raise his voice, but his tone was firm, he wasnt asking for an answer, he needed one.

you snatched your wrist out of his grip, "because it is nothing! i just dont— i dont know, alright?" he stared blankly. blinked once. then scoffed, "yeah, alright," like he didnt fully believe you. he didnt, was barely trying to. "just be happy and enjoy the fuckin' party then," he mumbled, running a hand throguh his hair, glancing back at the house.

rolling your eyes, you shoved him back once, "im goin' home." he stumbled, just barely catching himself on a truck parked in the driveway. he stared at you, you looked so tense, almost scared, but he just scowled. "youre fuckin' overreacting over nothing, then? just tell me what the fucks' going on!" you two stared at each other, and after a couple moments, when it seemed he was going to turn and leave, you blurted it out.

"im pregnant."

he sobered instantly.

his eyes widened, head jerking forward like he didnt hear you correctly. he rubbed his eyes with his thump and pointer finger, blinking a couple times before a, "excuse me?" slipped out of his mouth. tears pooled in your waterline and you blinked them away before speaking more clearly, "im pregnant." jj nodded slowly, still trying to understand the situation while not looking completely incompetent.

he raised a finger into the air before putting it down, "um... how exactly?" jj asked before quickly adding with a tiny, barely there smirk, "well i know how, but like... when did you uhm," you furrowed your eyebrows, watching how he snapped his fingers, fishing for the right word. "find out?"

his head snapped up towards you, snapping his fingers towards you and nodding, "yeah, yeah. when did ya find out?" you shrugged, wrappign your arms around yourself trying to ease the chills on your skin from the sudden breeze. "around a week ago? i just— i guess i didnt want you thinking i was trapping your or whatever... its stupid really-"

"hey, hey," he mumbled, shaking his head as he stepped towards you, placing his hands on your shoulders in the most comforting manner he could pull off at the moment. "dont do that. its my fault, alright? i fucked up, i overreacted. im sorry. im so fuckin' sorry baby, seriously." he wrapped his arms around you tight, kissing the top of your head repeatedly. "you didnt deserve that at all, im sorry."

you nuzzled your head into his neck, breathing him in and arms wrapping tight around his torso like he might disappear if you let go. "i didnt want to ruin things with you and i thought this did it," your words were muffled against his neck but he heard them loud and clear. pulling away, his hands moved to your cheeks, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

"you could never ruin things with me, baby. never. im pretty surprised i havent," you laughed at that, it was slightly watery, but it was real. and thats all jj cared about in the moment. he slowly descended onto his knees, right there on the pavement in some strandgers driveway.

he pressed one hand pressed against your still-normal belly, the other resting at the back of your thigh. "as for this little munchkin," he mumbled, leaning in to press a gentle kiss just below your belly button. "when do you like know what they are?" you huffed out a tiny laugh, pressing a hand over his on your belly.

"in like three to four months, jj," you smiled down at him because even in his stupididty, you loved him with everything you had in you. he just shrugged, pressing one last kiss to your belly before pushing off the pavement and standing back up, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

the two of you began the short walk back to the chateau. "well whatever it is, im gonna love them with everything ive got." he sighed, throwing his head back to watch the starry sky, content. "hey, youre gonna be a milf. ha." your smile dropped, turning your head to catch him already looking at you with wiggling eyebrows.

you shoved him off with a roll of your eyes, a laugh escaping your lips despite yourself. he laughed, a full belly laugh as he caught up to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders again, pressing a kiss to your hairine.

"youre gonna be the best milf ever dont worry, baby."

[no-144444]

all grown up!- a.leclerc

Day 23 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: you're back in monaco a a dog-sitter. the doorbell rings. oops.

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Back in Monaco for the first time in over a decade. Boarding school was funny, right? English boarding school, supposedly the best in the world, and you’d spent your time there, then you’d gone on to Oxford to study law, you were starting your trainee position in litigation, next week. But this week? You were a dog sitter. 

You and Arthur had been best friends as children, and when you were sent away, he’d sobbed and begged you not to go. You had to, sadly being given no choice. But, for the first 6 years, Arthur and you had kept in contact, but he got a particularly shitty girlfriend who made you two drift and you hadn’t seen him since that Christmas, where he told you to stop texting him. 

“Y/n!” Charles cheered as you entered his apartment. “We are so happy to have you here!” 

You smiled as Leo jumped up on you. “Hi Leo!” You beamed, picking up the small dog. 

“No hello for me?” Charles pouted.

“Hello Charles,” you smiled. “It’s good to see you again.”

Charles stared at you for a second. “You’re so beautiful,” he grinned. You felt your cheeks heat. Charles had always been the older brother you never had, the same goes for Lorenzo. He didn’t get to watch you grow up into the beautiful young woman who now stood in front of him. He always regretted that. He also regretted ever letting Arthur cut ties with you, but that’s what this week was for. “Come here!” He beckoned you for a hug, which you gave him immediately. You’d missed him too. 

“So I’ll show you where Leo’s stuff is, and then I’ll go to the airport, alright?” 

You nodded. 

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You sat on his large couch, Pissaladière in hand, ready to watch a movie, when the doorbell rang. You groaned but got up regardless, opening the door without a second thought to look through the peephole. 

You should’ve looked. 

In front of you stood a very confused Arthur LeClerc. 

“Sorry, this is my brother's apartment… who are you?” 

There’s no way you’d changed that much, right? 

“Umm, no one, Charles is in Spain right now, is everything alright?” 

“I was sent to look after his dog?”

“I’m the dog sitter,” you told him. 

“Y/n?” Lorenzo gasped, coming up behind him. “My girl, you are so beautiful, all grown up!”

You internally face-planted. “Hi Lorenzo,” you sighed. 

Arthur looked even more confused, if that was possible. “Y/n?” 

“Hi,” you smiled crookedly. 

Lorenzo pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, Arthur staring at the two of you. “How are you?” Lorenzo asked. 

“I’m good thanks,” you nodded, pulling back. “How are you?”

“I’m very good, very happy to see you!” He smiled. “I just have some of Charles' headphones, I’ll give them to you,” he handed them to you. “We should get lunch tomorrow, I’ll text you,” he smiled behind hugging you again. “I missed you so much, see you tomorrow!”

Off he went down the hall. 

“I have Pissaladière if you want some,” you offered to Arthur. “Girlfriend- permitting,” you added with a teasing smile. 

He scoffed, a smirk landing on his lips. “ma parole, est-ce que je vais un jour oublier ça ?” (My word, will I ever live that down?)

“Nope.” 

He followed you inside and joined you on the couch as you both sat to watch whatever film you’d picked. You could feel his eyes on you as you ate. You kept yours glued to the screen, trying to ignore his presence to the best of your abilities. 

“I do not have a girlfriend,” he explained. 

“Good for you,” you shot back.

He was silent again for another few minutes, then spoke again. “Do you?”

“I’m single,” you nodded, pausing the show. “Is this your weird way of trying to catch up?”

He smiled bashfully. “I guess?” 

“How far back are we catching up to? We haven’t spoken in… 8 years?”

He exhaled. “Long time.”

You nodded. “Yeah.” 

There was this awkward silence, and he felt his heart strings pull. It had never been awkward with you. He had never been awkward with you. You were never awkward with him. 

You two were supposed to be two peas in a pod, the best of friends, always. Bullshit. 

“We should start with the basics, eh?” he suggested. 

“Blue, Pissaladière, Redbull, Charles, and probably teleportation,” you answered quickly. He stared at you in confusion. “Favourite colour, food, F1 team, driver, and what superpower you’d want to have the most.” 

“You support Redbull?” he gasped. 

“I don't have a great track record with Ferrari guys.”

Another jab at him. He understood your frustration, and he’d known from the moment he asked you to stop texting him that it was the wrong thing to do, but he did it anyway. 

 “Not just you, I promise,” you smiled, trying to combat the hurt expression on his face. His hurt expression turned, once again, to one of confusion. “I dated a Ferrari guy a few years back. Kind of a dick.”

Now his face turned to a mix of anger, confusion, annoyance, and… something else. You didn’t care enough to figure him out, and unpaused the show. 

Who the fuck had gone out with you? He’d told everyone for the past 8 years who you were to him, which was… complicated. Was it one of his friends? Had they all lied to him? How did he let this happen? 

“Who was it?” he asked after a few minutes, pausing the show again.  

“None of your business,” you scoffed. “You can’t just walk back into my life demanding things Arthur, earn my trust again.” 

“I am asking you to trust me and tell me,” he spoke calmly, but you didn’t fail to notice the tension in his voice. 

“I’m telling you ‘no’.”

He sighed. “You don't have to be so difficult!” 

“You didn’t need to come in!” you shot back, your voice raising to his level. 

“I was supposed to say no?!”

“You’re an adult, you make your own choices!”

“I choose you!” he shouted. “I always choose you! I will always choose you! I race for you, I live for you, I fucking breathe for you! Y/n, do you know how much of my life has felt meaningless without you to tell? I love you! Is that hard to believe?!”

You were taken aback. No one had ever been so blunt with you, let alone Arthur. It was overwhelming. You hadn’t spoken to each other in 8 whole years, yet he thought about you the whole time, the same way you thought about him? What were the fucking chances? “Arthur, what is your fucking problem?” you shouted. “How can you just drop that one someone? Are you expecting an answer now-?”

“No! No, not at all-”

“You wouldn’t get one either. This is a lot to take in. Like, a lot, alright? We haven't spoken in 8 years Arth, I don’t know what to say, I-”

He smiled. “You called me ‘Arth’.” 

You rolled your eyes with an exasperated sigh. “Of course that’s what you got from that.”

He shrugged. “I did a very difficult thing there, I confessed first!” he defended. 

“What makes you think I’m going to confess?” you smirked. 

“Your childhood diary,” he smirked. Your mouth dropped open. 

“YOU DID FUCKING READ IT YOU LIAR!” you shouted, throwing a pillow at him.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen @yootvi

[xoxochb]

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

“you’re an angel, perseus.”

in one entire swift movement, you take the blue-colored cookie from percy’s hand, pecking his cheek whilst he settles back beside you.

he mirrors your own seating position, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the fire escape as his hands grasp the bars to steady himself.

“I like to think so.”

you finish the cookie in three bites before wiping your hands together to discard of crumbs. “don’t let it get to your head.” you poke at his skull.

yet, percy takes your wrist, kissing your palm and fingertips before entwining your hands. “too late. tell me I’m the sexiest man you’ve ever met.”

“what about: you’re the most arrogant man I’ve ever met? the most insatiable? the neediest? the—”

“I get it, sweet girl, if you hate me just say that.”

you don’t try to fight your growing smile. “oh yeah, you’re my eternal enemy. we hate each other, remember?”

“careful,” percy warns playfully, thumb grazing your engagement ring. “that’s how you ended up with this.”

“seems hatred will get you far in life.” you nod. “and a husband. nice!”

percy untangles your hands to wrap his arm around your shoulder, tugging you flush against him with a messy kiss to the top of your head.

the sun begins to set slowly across the horizon and tall buildings. you’d waited here for a half an hour, awaiting the sun’s dismissal. percy had opted to join you with eagerness.

“eight-thirty tonight,” he refers to the sunset. each day later than the last as summer approaches.

percy had begun a nightly tradition regarding the sunset’s time, he proposed the idea that each day it got later, would be a day closer to your wedding in the summer.

you had told him that it would be a day closer regardless how late the sun set but he denied your nonsense, claiming that the sun would set the latest on your wedding day because fate.

it was one in the morning and you were too tired to argue further so you agreed with his plan and went along with it to keep him happy.

“what’s your guess for tomorrow?” you reach and kiss his cheek again.

“eight-thirty-five. I bet ten bucks on it.”

you giggle. “well don’t get upset when your ten dollar-less tomorrow night.”

“I love that you have faith in my fortune telling abilities, sweet girl.”

“of course. because your obviously a psychic.”

“exactly!” happily, he places a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “ask me what we’ll be doing at exactly ten-forty-five tonight.”

you grimace sarcastically. “I’ve got a guess but I’m choosing to ignore it, instead reminding you that your mother is sleeping just across the apartment.”

“is that supposed to stop me…?”

“okay—” you stand up, attempting to hide a laugh. “okay.”

“okay to what? my advances? or my carelessness? or both?”

percy stands quickly, following you inside through the living room, closing the door behind him. “okay, you’re a fucking weirdo.”

“that’s just mean, sweet girl.”

you roll your eyes and continue on your way, greeting sally on your way to percy’s bedroom. he doesn’t like that brief pit-stop very much.

but it also turns out he doesn’t like your deliberate turn-downs to his advances. he does enjoy, however, your returning to camp two days later to a very private cabin.

[batty4vamps]

Marko (The Lost Boys) Nsfw Alphabet

I finally started writing these for the rest of the boys, Marko’s been hitting different lately so he gets to be first lol

These weirdly take a long time bc I second guess myself so much, apologies 💀

Includes: obviously nsfw under the cut, gn reader

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s just laying down next to you and whispering about how stunning you are. He’s whipped and he needs you to know that. If you want anything specific just ask and it’s yours before you even realize he got out of bed

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his lower abdomen/v-line/happy trail, hence the crop top. Nipping around there and teasing him is the surest way to get him ready to rail you.

On his partner, he’s an ass man. Regardless of size he just lovessss your ass. Constantly smacking, groping, staring, etc.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

His favorite spots to cum are your ass and your face. You’re ass because he just loves looking at it, regardless of the situation. Your face because he loves seeing your pretty face all covered in him.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’d never ask but he’d be incredibly into a threesome with you and Star.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

All the boys have lots of experience, so he absolutely knows what he’s doing. However, he’s never been emotionally invested like this before. So, he’s extra excitable and eager when it comes to trying things out with you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy, 100% doggy. He wants to watch your ass bounce as he fucks you. Plus being able to grab your hips or your hair? Absolutely

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

With you he just finds himself smiling a lot. No matter how serious he intends on being, y’all are grinning like it’s your first time at least once.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Generally indifferent. Pretty blonde curls everywhere.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Starts off fairly similar to a hook up, tons of dirty talk, but he surprises both of you with how romantic he can get once you’re fully in the swing of it. Once you’re get down to it he remembers that this isn’t just a hook up, like holy shit he really loves you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Fairly often. He only does it when he’s really desperate and you aren’t interested or aren’t around.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Overstimulation. Both on you and himself. With you he likes being a little mean and finds it cute when he can get you to shake and buck. For him he likes riding that edge between pleasure and pain, especially if it’s when you’re sucking him off.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He kind of likes seeing how much you two can get away with in public. Not necessarily quickies in alleyways (though he’s down for that too), but like how much touching and grinding can you do sitting on the boardwalk or in the crowd at a concert before getting looks.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

The biggest turn on for him is you being turned on. When you start teasing him back he’s immediately ready and waiting until one of you breaks.

Short shorts are also very much a turn on for him, like his eyes don’t leave your rear all night.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Not into roleplay. The connection you guys have is so real to him, he wants your intimacy to be grounded in that, not fiction.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’ll do both but he lovessss receiving. The first time you get on your knees for him he thinks he might bust on the spot. When he’s giving though he is both skilled and a massive tease. He’ll get very filthy with drooling and spitting and while making full eye contact.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

More often than not he’s fast paced and rough. He can help it, he just wants you too bad. Plus, when you guys get down to it it’s usually after ages of teasing or foreplay, so his patience only goes so far.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Loves ‘em, usually happens when you’ve had enough of his constant teasing and just drag him away.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Very down. He loves seeing how you react to different things you haven’t tried before. Risk only makes the whole situation more exciting to him.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

At the beginning of your relationship he finds himself lasting way shorter than usual. Being with you makes him overexcited. Because of this, he really drags out the teasing and foreplay and will try to have the willpower to get you off before his cock is involved. Will go for as many rounds as you can, bounces back hella quick.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He buys a vibe after you guys get together for overstim, he’s interested in trying more out for sure.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh he’s the biggest tease. Running his hands up and down your body, pulling your hips to his, whispering shit to you, all of it. He plays it off like it’s absolutely nothing, even when he’s very clearly hard.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Let’s out moans and.. perhaps a whimper or two as a treat when you’ve got him good. Also as previously mentioned, tons of dirty talk.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Once, while sitting at the boardwalk, you made him cum just palming him through his jeans and made him wait like that until you were ready to leave. He was glaring at you the rest of the night, but really it was one of the hottest experiences of his life and he still gets hard at the thought of it.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Average length, on the slimmer side.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Higher than average. He’s very easily motivated, but he’ll only explicitly say it when he’s really needy. He prefers teasing you until you initiate.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If you’re in his arms he’s def falling asleep pretty fast no matter what, especially after sex.

[m1zisu4]

on sua and appearance

sua is shown to be sensitive about her appearance regardless of the intention or content of the comments directed at her. in official material, she becomes depressed and self-conscious when a classmate compliments her on her small face

the way the compliment is phrased bothers sua, because its intended effect occurs by way of comparison. generosity to the recipient depends on the speaker's self-criticism. the compliment elevates sua while sinking the speaker's status, which reminds sua of her relationship with her sisters—in a competitive environment where nigeh's favor was currency used to purchase social standing and to avoid punishment, positive feedback incurred their jealousy. sua apologizes to her classmate and takes responsibility for her perceived negative feelings about her own failure (having a large face), which echoes the ways she was made responsible for her sisters' "shortcomings" and resultant anger. sua's success threatened their standing, and they made her the subject of abuse in both anticipation and retaliation of their displacement.

i took sua's classmate's comment "i was trying to cheer you up" as her predicting that sua would be upset by the photo due to her sensitivty about her appearance. her compliment is an attempt to accommodate sua's emotional needs. however, it falls short because sua is tight-lipped about her relationships with her sisters and with nigeh and the breadth of the damage it does to her psyche. even positive comments dredge up memories of her sisters' harsh criticisms. there is no way for her to anticipate sua's true needs because she doesn't share them. this is a pattern seen also in her relationship with mizi; even when she's jealous over till and ivan taking mizi's attention, she refuses to admit it, and mizi has to guess what she's done to upset her. while it's almost certain sua never explicitly divulged her sensitivity (especially to someone outside the main group), i do find it plausible that it was readily observed by her classmates in a school wherein everyone is constantly together.

sua's older sister implements her knowledge of sua's sensitivty as a tool to foster her dependence on her (sua says, "back then, you were all i had. and that's why you scared me"). i won't get into it now but i really believe that it was, in some part, because she wanted to protect her sister from the horrors of the garden (though this love is complicated by jealousy, possessiveness, and deep resentment). she understand that sua relies on her, and specifically remarks on her appearance and physical habits when she mentions mizi to remind sua of that reliance. she comments that sua is "stupid" and "unkempt," disorderly and poorly groomed. she points out one of sua's nervous habits and implies that it diminishes her value—that her truest, most natural self is a blight to be masked or erased. sua becomes aware of herself here, and further constructs her persona by carefully regulating her self-expression. by forcing an association between hope (sua's aspiration to meet mizi, her view of their mother as "happy" or pleased) and fear (criticism of her appearance, reminders of death), sua's sister sets the groundwork for sua's habits of being closed-off, withholding, and possessive of her few joys

by the comic's end, sua insists that anakt garden wasn't the hell her sister proposed it was, because mizi loved her there. sua pities her sister because she never experienced the warmth real love gave her, even if sua herself met a violent demise. tamsyn muir's "it's finished, it's done. you can't take loved away," etc etc

shoutout to the GOAT whatafruit for translation!

[alllgator-blood]

My Kall has a gift

Also I just wanna say that I absolutly ADORE your work, each time you comment on any of my posts I go like "OMG???" because I consider you a popular cotl artist and kind of my inspiration for comics because you are COOKING each time. I get jumpscare in a positive way when you leave a comment, I just most of the time don't know how to answer 💔

Your work just scratches my brain because its so shapy and colorful, I just ADORE IT, I show your work sometimes to my friend which also loves your art-style

I'm probably repeating myself but like, you are awsome and make awsome sauce stuff, you yap so much on your posts and I like when someone yaps, espiecally because you yap good stuff

Alright that's all I wanted to say 😎 I expressed myself, now I'll dissapear

I FINISHED THIS THE DAY YOU SENT IT, I JUST DIDN'T GET A CHANCE TO POST IT I'M SORRY- It's so funny that you drew him specifically offering my kallamar a therapy book, because I have a near-finished comic for an ask about them actually going to therapy....it goes about as successfully as this interaction did

THIS IS SUCH A NICE ASK THOUGH- I'm happy to hear you get that excited when I comment, I very rarely comment on anything because tbh I am horrified of speaking unless I'm spoken to, but hearing that makes it feel a little easier to reach out more! THE POPULAR COTL ARTIST THING IS WILD THOUGH, I would not have thought of myself that way so it's definitely cool to hear- I think of myself as like...an oddball artist whose comics are an acquired taste lmaooo, I'll make what I make regardless of how many or how few people see it so I'm always just thankful people DO like my stuff!

I am also very honored my comics could inspire you, I remember when you were building up to your comic where heket joins the cult, I was spam-refreshing my dashboard every day to see if the new parts had dropped yet. I was even telling my sister about it as it was coming out (YOUR KALL IS HER FAVE BTW I show her your art sometimes, I think she even commented on the last crossover post) and we were trying to guess which sibling was dismembered in the bag :') I love bishop angst/horror stuff so I was just really hyped to see another artist who does comics about that kinda thing, and has a fuckin BALLER art style to go with it.

I'M RAMBLING BUT- I'm just really glad we're on the same wavelength when it comes to each other's art!! I love the hyper-stylization you utilize, the influences from media I've never even seen before because of the continent difference, and how you're always trying new things, just keep doing what you're doing and I'll be there to gaze from afar and periodically chime in :'))))

[librarycards]

pls ignore this is its too weird or too much labor, but i was wondering if you maybe had any tips or resources for ppl who have creative desires like writing but brain fog and fatigue tends to get in the way?

i do! it may not work for you bc people have very random/unexpected ways of dealing with this, but it's *very* common and there is hope :) [i think a lot of this is applicable across form, but i'm using "writing" here because it's what i'm familiar with]

one way is to be strategic about timing: this includes thinking about when you're least foggy/have the most energy, and/or the most "downtime" where there isn't anything in particular you need to do. many people wake up early so that they have alone time before their responsibilities. some people stay up late to write. i tend to do my daily writing (which I elucidate on below) in the evenings, around 7-10pm. whatever works, works!

relatedly: scheduling/routine is, for me, critical. i think it is for a lot of creative ppl. I write every day, in multiple ways: i keep a journal - i've done this since i was like 12, so it's as ingrained as brushing my teeth and i don't really think about it - and also work on some aspect of my current longest project [so, for the last 4 years, it's been the aforementioned second novel; for the 4ish years before that, it was Failure to Comply. i write other stuff during the daytime, of course, because writing is also my job(s). but if you're looking to establish a consistent creative practice, you don't need to be aiming for a certain hour or word count.

Instead: Aim for consistency and progress. Not perfection, not a "muse," not magic. There is no shame in making something that doesn't seem good, or that you end up deleting. in this particular instance, "perfect is the enemy of good" is 10000% true, and i think especially applicable to people who already experience external + internalized ableist ideologies on a daily basis. your art, regardless of what it is, should be a space where you get to make mistakes, change your mind, and learn new things. it should be something you can come to when you're tired, unsure, confused, scared, etc, even if it means just keysmashing and then closing your notes app for the day.

for me, having a daily practice, regardless of anything, means embracing the days where i write only one word and then despair, as well as the days i write pages. when i feel most depressed, in a very clinicized sense, i try to move from "everything i make now is going to be shitty :(" to "everything i make now is going to be shitty :)", not because i'm happy about it, but because....that's simply part of creating. everything is a bodily function. if you're not feeling good, maybe your poop will look weird. so too with writing. but you still do it. it can be mechanical. but it'll happen, and by doing it consistently, you give yourself the *opportunity* to locate insight hitherto buried, to have an idea creep up on your tiredself.

i guess in sum I'd say that the healthiest thing i ever did for my writing is something tantamount to body neutrality, which has also been an immensely positive addition to my set of frameworks for physical embodimindment. creative neutrality, i guess. this doesn't mean i don't tie my ego and personhood to work/productivity/quality. i mean, i totally do, and it sucks, but there we are. but it also means that i place that in a corner that does not touch my desire to chip away at something big, regularly. i make time every day to summon the urgency of whatever i'm working on, not because i'm proud of it at that moment, but because i want to give it another opportunity to give me something cool.

tl:dr: give yourself the gift of consistency and time, and don't be scared of making stuff that isn't good, or gets deleted, or doesn't make sense. write from wherever you want, physically, mentally, spiritually. give it the opportunity & even the expectation to happen and then work from there.

[dumbgoondog]

Sukuna NSFW Alphabet

MDNI +18 NSFW

Cw/Tw - cannibalism, blood, pregnancy

(A)ftercare - Your brains are mush, you’re covered in bruises, tears stain your face, wrists sore, bleeding in places from nails and biting, voice hoarse and dry. Then here he is, the disgraced one, the fallen, the king of curses, the man who fucked you like he hated you! Here he is gently scooping you up, massaging you, purring, his stomach mouth affectionately licking at any wounds. Carrying you to the bath, holding you to himself in the water, washing you gently, your body and hair. Using RCT output to ease any pain and aches. Praising you and treasuring you. PLEASE remember that your dom needs aftercare too. He needs to know you love him, that he wasn’t too rough, that he isn’t a monster to you. Please let him be gentle with you and you acknowledge it.

(B)ody Part - your hands. Not because it’s sexual but because if he goes blind he’ll know the gentle touch of your hands, he’ll know how you feel. How your hands don’t shy away from him, how you don’t hesitate to hold his hands. But also yes, he loves your hands grabbing at him, holding his face, stroking him, pinned beneath one of his hands.

(C)um - inside. Bella that your mouth or your hole(s). There’s a LOT so it will spill out and get every where. He likes watching it overflow

(D)irty Secret - this man has no dirty secrets. He tells it to you like it is and how he wants it… there is one thing tho. He wants to eat you. Like a religious act of worship and devotion to himself. You thought I was gonna say you yeah? Nah, that bitch has an ego. He will heal you after tho so no worries!

(E)xperience - None. Ryomen No Bitches Sukuna. I do not think he took any concubines, or consorts or anything of the sort. Pleasures of the mortal flesh… you think anyone could find pleasure in his visage without being batshit or forced? (Yorozu.) he would never force anyone too and would rather not be aware that they’re doing it for power but think he’s repulsive. that is until you.

(F)avorite Position - riding, facing him, on his throne. He likes watching you, and his stomach mouth likes licking you. This giant grabs you with all four arms and is using you like a fleshlight.

(G)oofy - He’s goofy. I see to many people make him so deadpan and stoic and “ooo I’m such a cool and sadistic top”. Bro bffr, this bitch incarnated and came out kicking his feet giggling goin “Women and children!!! Maggots for the slaughter!!!” And ripped. Off. His. Shirt. He was dancing dodging Fushiguro in their first fight. He took a bow when fighting Maharaga. He’s so silly. He praises and encourages his opponents in battle even! If something dumb happens or there’s a funny noise he’s gonna laugh. He wants you to laugh at him if he does something stupid too!

(H)air - thick messy pink hair, happy trail, and a trail down his balls too. Washed, semi groomed, smells pretty okay tbh. Light metallic undertone tho. It’s the blood of his foes.

(I)ntimacy - he fucks you like a wild beast. Growling, snarling, no words, biting, grunting. The moment you use a safe word? The moment somethings wrong? He’s stopping to make sure he hasn’t gone too far.

He’s also secretly a romantic. He knows flower language very well, and gets you flowers often(regardless of gender.) flower language and symbolism was big in the heian era, so was poetry. Sometimes he writes you poems never show anyone tho. They’re just for you.

(J)ack off - sometimes. Great stress reliever, passes time, helps when he’s bored, thinks it’s funny when he does it on his throne and there are his servants just having to stand on standby. What a power move.

(K)ink - blood, obviously. Biting and marking, duh. But hear me out on this. Primal. I’m talking hunt chase, both of you acting feral, like prey and predator. ABO that shit I guess. Submit to baser instincts, no talking just raw noises. Yeah I’m so right y’all don’t even know it(now you do tho)

(L)ocation - the throne is to obvious, the bed is a classic…and honestly I think it’s the bed. I got no reasons, just is how it is.

(M)otivation - working out, sparring, or after eating a big meal. Something about those activities puts him in the mood.

(N)o - He will not involve Uraume, he found them when they were a young kid and has helped raise them. Even if not related he was a late teen/young adult and he raised them from bein little

(O)ral - No, he HATES putting you in his mouth cause you taste baaaaddd. Fuck he loves eating, sucking, licking, he’s a hungry man. A big hungry man. Any position, anytime, let him use his stomach mouth. He knows it’s big and his teeth are sharp but god he loves having you ride his tongue and kiss you, watch you squirm.

(P)ace - he’s rough, hard, and a medium pace. Fast isn’t always good, especially when he likes being precise with every thrust. Feeling you squeeze and his tip bullying into you.

(Q)uicky - sometimes, it only if he’s getting to eat or suck you off. Quickys don’t work when you’re as big as him, you need prepping! He wishes though. He’s kinda a perv cuz he wants you smell like him and full of his cum often.

(R)isk - he’s up to try new things! There are some things he doesn’t understand and might make fun of tho. Like feet. He feels like a guy who mocks feet lovers. He doesn’t want to try it, he doesn’t care he “might” like it, he thinks it’s stupid.(his loss tbh)

(S)tamina - Much to the horror of everyone, like Kenjaku, he hasn’t tapped out ever. Despite his sweating and panting he isn’t done. Tbh he might have more stamina than Kenjaku. I need Sukuna bitching Kenjaku…

(T)oys - he fucking loves watching you use toys on yourself, not much on himself tho. He’s a freak fr fr cuz he got you plugs so after he’s cum in you he’ll plug you up. You better believe they’re custom too, it’s his blood as a jewel on the end. He’s so smug about it.

(U)nfair - as much as he loved teasing or you being a brat, he’s pretty patient but once he’s ready to go it all stops. He does like teasing you in public and some light humiliation in front of friends!

(V)olume - Growls. Grunts. Groans. Feral noises. He’s not loud loud, but he ain’t quiet. For any passing by it sounds like an animal is fighting someone in there.

(W)ild Card - he doesn’t have a pregnancy kink. Let me make that very clear. However. If he can get you pregnant expect his hands on you constantly. He’s super protective and clingy, always needs to be touching your belly. It will get annoying, cause he won’t let you piss alone. He’s also stealing titty milk. He says it’s to help you and the baby but you know he’s just a little freak. Back to the baby tho. He genuinely might start hiding the bad that he does because for once he’s like “I’m not destroying or cursing, I’m creating life, something precious.” He does have some outbursts tho and might go on rampages cuz he’s so stressed, scared, and full of emotions. He NEVER takes it out on you tho.

(X)-ray - it’s that ancient Japanese thong. He refused anything else. It’s comfortable, breathable, and one of the one things that doesn’t squeeze the life out of his dicks.

(Y)es - Worship roleplay, sacrifice roleplay, he likes it! Him being THE Ryomen Sukuna, and getting to play into that is fun! He’d be up for a “captured the king of curses and having your way with him” roleplay too.

(Z)zz - Cuddle up after a bath, eat a bit, and then he’s snoring. Or is he practicing his bear impression? Either way get comfy, if you’re not sleeping, you sure as hell aren’t leaving.

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

I already regret making this post, but I think this needs to be a real discussion.

** Please note: I 100% do NOT want goyische opinions on this post. I am not interested, they are not helpful, and I will block you without hesitation even if we've been mutuals forever **

I think we have reached the level of Holocaust inversion on the left that we actually need to recalibrate the entire way we engage with an alarming amount of leftist goyim, because they have decided that their twisted understanding of Zionism as a form of 'apartheid genocidal ethnonationalist fascism' is on the same level as the Nazis.

Now regardless of how that makes you, as a Jew feel, that is how a lot of them are viewing this, period.

That means that you should assume that every single "we punch Nazis, not debate them" anti-fascist principle out there can be applied in full force to Zionists [with the understanding that their definition of Zionist usually means every Jew they don't like or agree with or who doesn't perform their brand of politics to the level they are asking]

Remember that video of an actual, real elderly Nazi that just croaks in the middle of his hateful yelling that went viral? Remember how happy people were when Richard Spencer got punched? Remember the whole "the only good Nazi is a dead Nazi" slogan? That whole idea that you cannot debate white supremacists and fascists because that inherently means debating your humanity and makes their position seem valid enough to debate?

Yeah. For these people, all of that applies to Zionists [and whoever they decide to label as such]

So yeah, an older guy protesting got killed? Same reaction as yelling Nazi dude above. Shrug.

A brutal massacre of Israelis and their neighbors that wiped out 1400 men, women and children? Imagine that some group managed to do that to 1400 Nazi families. We might find the sadistic nature of the deaths distasteful, but really: how many tears are you shedding?

Civilian population centers of primarily Jews are under constant missile shelling and bomb threats? Imagine that we were talking about Nazi Germany instead. Sucks for them I guess, right? 🤷‍♀️

Their reactions to recent events ranging from silent apathy to outright glee all make sense once you play a Mad Libs game of filling in "Zionist" or "Israeli" in place of "Nazi" or "fascist" in every "punch Nazis!!!1!" slogan.

The fact that Jews are and have been frequently the targets of these fascist groups throughout history and were the primary targets of the Nazis is irrelevant. The fact that we are human people who just want to practice our ancient religion and culture in peace is irrelevant. The bottom line is that the far goyische left has now figured out a way to fully de-person Jews in a social justice approved way, without even the ability to point out how utterly unhinged and counterfactual that take is because "we don't debate Nazis."

I don't know how to fix this.

Genuinely, I don't.

It's like the spirits of their pogrom-loving ancestors have gripped them and instead of whispering "the Jews killed Jesus, poison wells, and thirst for the blood of children," they just substitute out Jesus for Palestine.

[icycoldninja]

Unexpected Visitor (Higgs x Reader)

You awoke to the sound of an electric guitar being tuned, a sharp discordant note ringing in the darkness like the aftermath of a banshee's shriek, only to dissipate silently into the night.

You rolled over and glanced at your alarm clock with the one eye that you could peel open. 3:30 AM, it read, and you groaned after seeing it.

Then you shrugged, rolling back over and drawing the covers up tighter around yourself, convinced it was just a musically inclined neighbor who'd suddenly decided to perform some maintenance in the middle of the night. You closed your eyes, ready to drift back off into dreamland, when they abruptly shot open again, and you remembered that you didn't have any neighbors to begin with.

You lived in a shelter a few miles away from the nearest city. No noisy neighbor's activity, regardless of the quality of their amps, could reach you here.

There was that sound again, that horrible screechy screech, reverberating throughout your shelter, practically screaming "intruder!", "intruder!", which was something that your alarm system should have done.

Since you didn't have anything that could be used as a weapon in your bedroom, you slowly slid out of bed and pulled as much of your gear as you could find in the dark, and made your way out of your room and through the halls, where you seized a nice 10lb dumbbell that you bought a while back after having a nightmare where something incredibly similar happened.

After groping your way through the darkness of your makeshift living room, you spotted a figure sitting in one of your armchairs, its legs crossed over one another, a guitar in its lap. It saw you as easily as you saw it, and in one swift motion, managed to leap up out of the seat, the headstock of its guitar pointed directly at your face.

Deciding that the only direction left to go was forward, you lunged at the creature, the dumbbell raised high above your head, before a firm hand closed around your wrist, locking it in place. The headstock pressed against your neck and had you stumbling backwards until you were pressed against the wall, with the unknown intruder panting in front of you. One of its hands fumbled with the light switch you had forgotten was nearby, and in a few seconds, you were blinded by yellow.

After wincing and snapping your eyes shut, you slowly opened them again, taking in the unusual appearance of the being in front of you. His gold lips and patchy white foundation were so foreign and strange, but at the same time, the way he smiled at you was so eerily familiar. You knew this man. But from where? And how?

"Hey, calm down," He said in a deceptively soothing tone, when you struggled against him, the heavy weight in your hand beginning to make your arm tired. "I'm not going to hurt you. Shhh..."

He raised a gloved hand to cup your cheek, his fingers brushing gently over your skin, towards and across your lips, before falling back down at his side. This one gesture, simple as it was, was what made everything click.

"Oh my God," You gasped, finally managing to wrench your hand free and drop the dumbbell onto the floor beside you. "Higgs, is that you?!"

"In the flesh," He laughed, happy you finally recognized him. "Did you miss me?"

"What happened to you?" You cried, ignoring his question. "What's with the guitar? When did you become...this?"

"It's a long story," He said, with a sly smirk, "But now that you're awake and damn excited, well, I guess you wouldn't mind me telling you all about it, would you?"

"Goddamn it," You sighed, shaking your head and freeing yourself from the space between the wall and your unexpected visitor. "Can any of this wait until morning?"

"Not a chance, darlin'," Higgs replied, already getting comfortable in the armchair he had clearly claimed as his own.

As he assumed that casual position, as if he were but a family friend dropping by for tea and a chat, you couldn't help but crack a smile yourself and join him, exhausted, but also eager to hear all about whatever disaster that had to have taken place for him to become this...ghost mech...thing.