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tbaluver · 2 days ago

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Teasing Them In Public- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader, Caleb x Reader requested by: anonnie -`♡´- genre: suggestive, MDNI summary: teasing them during an event/ public a/n: hihi lovelies! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ even tho this is beta read and edited i apologize if theres any mistakes ( sometimes i accidentally post the draft instead of the final one .·°՞(¯□¯)՞°·. ) im running on two hours of sleep .·°՞(¯□¯)՞°·. hopefully this is okay and enjoy reading! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

tags: tiny mention of backshots

Xavier did not plan on coming to the Hunter Association event. He was only here for you. The room was crowded and too many people kept approaching you into conversations that didn’t deserve your time—but none of that mattered. You had asked him to come. This was your night and he wanted to be by your side for it.

However, you weren’t making it easy for him tonight.

From across the room, your eyes would find him, a hint of mischief dances behind them when you notice how his grip tightened around his glass whenever you caught him watching you. And you knew exactly what you were doing. It drove him wild in the best and worst way possible.

Just when he thought he finally had you to himself, another hunter slips into a conversation, pulling your attention away again. He tried to keep his expression composed but it was hard when you would purposely step back. Just slightly enough for your ass to brush lightly against him, making his jaw tighten. You’ve done this more than once tonight and images of your back arched and pussy swallowing his cock easily flash in his mind.

He wanted to touch you, to hold you. But not with so many eyes around. This was your night to celebrate with the association and he wouldn’t risk stealing that spotlight from you. At least that’s what he told himself.

The final crack in his restraint came when all the conversations with your colleagues ended, you finally returned to him. You lean in close, whispering something only meant for him—shattering whatever calm he had left in his body.

His breath hitches, his hand finding your waist as he draws you in. A quiet gasp slips past your lips when you feel his bulge. “I don’t think either of us is enjoying this event much,” he murmurs, his lips just inches away from yours.

“If what you’re saying is real..” His gaze trails from your lips to your eyes, his hands tightening gently at your side. “Then don’t let me wait any longer.”

Zayne:

tags: mentions of fingering

It didn’t take Zayne long for him to notice how awfully handsy you were tonight. The first time was subtle. You had reached for his hand beneath the linen-draped table, guiding his hand to the bare skin of your thigh, exposed just beneath the hem of your dress. His fingers instinctively curved around yours, giving a gentle but firm squeeze, a way of telling you to behave. His expression remains calm, eyes locked on the ongoing conversation with a group of senior surgeons gathered around your table. Tonight, he had invited you as his plus-one to a formal gathering of accomplished doctors and renowned surgeons. An event for toasting recent success or exchanging clinical anecdotes. It was sophisticated. A little too sophisticated for you. Maybe it was boredom. Or maybe it was the simple pleasure of watching him try to keep composed.

As another doctor chats, you let your fork slip from your hand, dropping your fork. With a soft murmur of apology, you dipped beneath the table to retrieve it.

You made sure to brush lightly against his pant leg, fingers trailing up and up. You felt his thigh stiffen and could hear the slight hitch in his breath as he tried to respond to a colleague. By the time you sat upright again, fork in hand and an innocent smile on your lips, he was already looking at you from the corner of his eye. His gaze narrowed towards you but yet his expression remained composed, the faint flush on his ears betraying him.

He held onto his composure for as long as he could—answering, nodding along. But beneath the table, it was a completely different story.

Your hand found him again and once more, he responded with another gentle squeeze. Another way of him telling you, not here.

Instead of withdrawing, you shift closer, your hand on top of his as you slowly guide his hand up higher and higher. His fingertips graze the bare skin then slip in between your legs. His eyes narrow back at you when he feels you bare. Your heart races as he teases your entrance with his finger. But he wasn’t going to let you get away with it so easily.

He pushes his middle finger against your heat. You gasp sharply, unable to stop the sound of your fork and knife clattering noisy against your plate, drawing every eye at the table. You mumble a flustered apology, cheeks warming under the sudden attention.

Zayne’s free hand moves to your back, pretending to be unbothered. “Are you alright?” The others are already glancing over in curiosity as Zayne straightens slightly in his seat. “She’s feeling a little off,” he explains.

“I think I should take her home.” A few murmurs of understanding ripple around the table and offer a nod. He helps you rise from your chair, his hand finding yours beneath the table.

Within moments, you’re being led swiftly out of the room, and a private lesson is underway on proper dinner etiquette.

Rafayel:

tags: tiny mentions of rafayel receiving head

Rafayel did not want to be here. He successfully managed to avoid this many times but the only way Thomas managed to convince him was to bring you.

If it were up to him, he’d be at home right now, curled up on the couch with you, sharing your favorite snacks and feeding them to each other while your favorite show played in the background. But no, he was here. In a stiff suit. At a stuffy gallery. And worse yet—you were looking way too good for his sanity and having way too much fun teasing him.

It started when you stepped in front of him to speak to the reporters, your ass accidentally grazing his bulge, making his skin burn under the fabric. This seems to happen a couple of times through the night, making it hard to believe it's unintentional. His throat tightened and he had to fight not to squirm further into you.

But that didn’t seem like the only thing on your mind. Whenever you were across the room, you took a sip of a drink, locking eyes with him and letting a small dribble escape the corner of your lips. You caught it slowly with your thumb, still staring at him with that innocent smile of yours.

It wasn’t subtle to him at all. The image of your mouth stuffed with his cock and how you would collect the leftover precum along his tip floods his mind.

Just when he thought he could snatch a moment alone with you—maybe drag you into the nearest restroom to finish what you started—a reporter stepped in. “Can I get a photo of the lovely couple?” The man beamed, gesturing toward the painting behind you two. It was a piece of artwork Rafayel did, the inspiration being you.

Rafayel huffs but moves behind you anyway, his mistake. You leaned back into him, just enough to press your ass into his bulge—clearly on purpose this time. “You-!” A flurry of camera clicks, probably catching the exact second of his restraint cracked.

“You’re mean cutie..” he muttered lowly in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. You don’t respond but continue to smile innocently at the camera. He grabs your wrist firmly but gently. “Let’s go.”

“W-wait! Can we get another picture-” the reporter stutters after you both.

But it was already too late. You two were already down a quiet hallway, hand in hand, headed somewhere far more private.

Sylus:

tags: tiny mentions of p in v

Nothing seemed to work.

The dress you’d chosen was stunning, intentional, tailored, and designed to catch his attention. And it did. You knew it but it was not enough in the way you wanted it to. The way you sipped your wine slowly, letting a drop slide from the corner of your lips before catching it with your tongue, was deliberate. So was the way your ass brushes lightly against him not once but multiple times as if it was by accident.

Nothing. No sharp inhale, no falter in his tone. Just a low chuckle and that infuriatingly smug smirk that never seemed to leave his lips. He kept his arm draped around your waist or his palm resting at the small of your back. However, that reaction was not enough to satisfy the craving he sparked in you.

What you didn’t realize was that he was thoroughly enjoying himself. Your growing frustration, the flicker of defeat every time he plays oblivious—only stirs him in this little game. He watched as you silently worked through new ways to rile him up but you didn’t even know how deeply it affected him.

What you also failed to realize was that he was already beside you again, a brow arched curiously if you'd give up your little game before the bidding event came to an end.

“You know,” he murmurs, making you jump in surprise, “I like it much better when you use your words instead.”

And you know what he’s referring to too. A breathless moan of his name was not enough for him to continue thrusting in and out of you. He needed to hear you say it. He needed to hear you say how you wanted more. How you felt so good. It’s embarrassing how easily he can make you flustered without doing anything.

“You’re going to have to do so much better than that,” he adds with a sigh, shaking his head teasingly as his large calloused hand reaches up to cup your cheek.

“Just say the words and I’m all yours.”

Caleb:

tags: tiny mentions of p in v

Just one more hour, Caleb tells himself. One more hour until the event is over. And once he can finally give his speech, he can take you home and have you all to himself.

This colonel is not the strongest soldier whenever it comes to you and you seem to be taking advantage of that tonight.

You looked ravishing tonight—your dress hugs your curves just right, and your hair is styled to perfection. And it would’ve been manageable if you weren’t actively trying to destroy him.

You’re seated beside him, resting your chin in your palm like you’re bored—but Caleb knows you better. He watches your elbows propped up on the table, your dress slipping just enough to expose your cleavage. You pretend you don’t notice how his eyes flick down before he can stop himself.

You haven’t even touched him yet and already, his self-control is on the verge of breaking down. Every time one of his comrades tries to speak to him, he hears noise but not words. All his thoughts are only about you. That’s why he’s been glued to his chair for half the event, hoping it helps. It doesn’t. What would help him, is burying his face in your tits while he slowly sinks into you.

Unfortunately, he can’t spend the entire time sitting down during this event. He’s expected to engage with high ranking officers. He brings you along which was his mistake. His breath hitches when you innocently press your ass against his bulge, making his mind go blank.

The moment the conversation ends, he doesn’t hesitate. He grabs your wrists and tugs you through the crowd. “Wha-Caleb, what about your speech?!” you ask, breathless as he leads you toward the exit.

“I’ll make Gideon do it,” he replies without a hint of guilt or worry. Only a smile on his face when he turns to you.

“Besides,” he murmurs, a brow arched playfully. “You started this, pipsqueak.” He leans in closer to your height, a teasing curl at the corner of his mouth. “Wanna help me finish it?”

ʚɞ cr. for the dividers @/ cafekitsune

ʚɞ thank you as always to my lovely beta reader @ilovemitsuya MWAHH ♡(˃͈ ˂͈ )

ʚɞ 𝘕𝘢��𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯:

ʚɞ my other works if you want to check it out! The Love And Deepspace Masterlist, Pg. 2

ʚɞ Others places you can find me:

Wattpad

Twitter ( but idk how to use it or post or interact with people .·°՞(¯□¯)՞°·. )

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intronaeternum · 3 days ago

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I got so much of this problem that I put a poll in my post just so people interact with it. My work is not interactive and will never be. Y’all are just baited into help me pick what I equally want to draw first and to show me that people actually care about my drawing

"i don't comment on ao3 because i don't wanna be annoying or weird" skill issue + you greatly underestimate the power dynamic here, writing multi paragraph comments is like feeding a bunch of deeply insane and possibly starved ducks at the park and watch them go completely mad over having received a piece of bread

#whump blog #whumblr

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ryoflix · 22 hours ago

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helloo i love how u write sukuna and is it possible for a small drabble of that mostly focuses on the reader and sukuna with js a sprinkle of the kids?

sorry if it doesn't make sense u dont have to!!

sukuna comforts you as a mother | f. reader, she/her, overthinking reader, slight angst and fluff, estb. rl, ؛ ଓ

the request begins innocently.

just one hour. one hour of hell’s kitchen before bed with their father. you even warn him.

“sukuna. they’re impressionable. they’re six.”

and he’d just grunted in return, something about them needing “taste” and how “kids these days are weak” and “gordon ramsay is just british me.”

so now it’s 7:47pm and your daughter has tears in her eyes because your spaghetti “doesn’t have that silky shine like gordren ramsees did,” and your son, bless his little brain, just whispered “it’s raw” at the meatballs like a death sentence.

you breathe through your nose. they’re not even mad. not really. just devastated. quietly and dramatically.

they slump over the table like fallen soldiers. your daughter even mumbles, “gordren ramsees would’ve never served this,” before sighing like she’s lived through the french revolution.

and you? you’re tired. bone-tired.

but still. you rush back to the stove, start boiling a fresh pot of water, throw in a generous amount of salt because “the water should taste like the sea,” apparently, and begin phase two of the spaghetti operation. “you good?” sukuna mutters, crouched on the floor with the twins, surrounded by a rainbow sea of coloring books. they’re both drawing their own “five star restaurant,” which is just a bunch of stick figures eating rainbows.

“mhm,” you lie. stirring, tasting, checking.

he doesn’t buy it.

fifteen minutes later, he joins you in the kitchen. he picks up the garlic without asking. peels it and crushes it against the cutting board like it’s insulted his family name. the kitchen is warm and quiet, and the kids are giggling in the background about a dinosaur with a chef hat.

you sigh. it’s too loud. even your sigh sounds tired.

“…what.”

“what?”

“you sighed like that.” he jabs the garlic into the hot oil. “like the world’s ending. over spaghetti.”

“it’s not just spaghetti.”

“it is just spaghetti.”

“you don’t get it.”

he grunts. “i do. i just don’t do the poetic version of it.”

you glance at him. he’s chopping basil with his whole chest, shoulders hunched like he’s fighting the board.

“…i just feel like i’m constantly failing at this. they say they want something, and i try to give it to them, and it’s not good enough. and then they change their mind and then they cry and then i want to cry. and now i’m crying while salting fucking pasta water.”

he turns. you’re not crying-crying, just misty-eyed, nose pink, face pinched with frustration. still stirring, because some part of you thinks if the spaghetti turns out perfect this time, maybe it’ll fix everything else.

“hey.”

you don’t look at him.

so he puts the knife down, wipes his hands on his shirt (it’s one of his old ones, sleeves cut off, stained with god-knows-what), and nudges your shoulder with his.

“you know they’re kids, right? like, actual kids. mini ones. barely cooked.”

you let out a shaky laugh.

“i mean it,” he continues, his voice low but steady. “they change their minds like five times an hour. remember last week when our son wanted to be a space cowboy ninja firefighter? and your daughter said she wanted to be a dog when she grows up?”

“a golden retriever,” you correct, smiling faintly.

“right. purebred. high standards.” he nudges you again. “they don’t need you to be perfect. they just want you to try. and you do. like hell you do.”

you go quiet. stir. blink rapidly.

“…i just feel like i’m not enough sometimes.”

he frowns at that. full-body frown. eyes drop to the counter like he wants to punch the sauce pan.

“you are.”

you tilt your head. “you say that so easily.”

he scowls. “’cause it’s fucking true.”

“then why don’t i believe it?”

he exhales, frustrated, not at you — but at himself, maybe, because talking about feelings makes him feel like he’s got a mouth full of gravel. so he leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple awkwardly. a bit too fast. like he’s hoping it makes up for the lack of fancy words.

“you’re enough,” he says again, firmer this time. “you’re the one they run to when they’re scared. you’re the one they ask when they want a braid or a band-aid or advice on if spiderman could beat goku. you’re home.”

you blink. “what about you?”

he shrugs. “i’m like… the bouncer. the muscle. comic relief.”

you laugh again, properly this time. he likes that. you can tell.

“also,” he adds, lowering his voice, “i did start the ramsey thing. so technically this is my fault.”

“technically?”

“morally. spiritually.”

you sigh again, but it’s softer. “thanks, baby.”

he kisses your cheek this time, lingering. “anytime.”

the pasta boils and the sauce simmers. outside the kitchen, the twins are now screaming something about how their rainbow restaurant needs a real-life rat chef “like in rata-toulet,” so that’s a whole new issue waiting.

but for now? it’s just you, him, and the pot of redemption spaghetti. and maybe that’s enough.

#⌗ episodes #dad! sukuna #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk crack #jujutsu kaisen crack #sukuna crack #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #sukuna fluff #jjk x y/n #sukuna x y/n

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darkbluekies · 1 day ago

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Silas & Jerry drabbles: coloring their tattoos

Yandere!mafia oc, reader, yandere!female!mafia oc

Warnings: harmless threats, some suggestive tension because it's Silas and Jerry we're talking about afterall

Silas:

He's sitting in a black t-shirt on the bed, hoodie thrown to the side. You're straddling his lap with a pack of felt-tip pens by your knee, holding his arm in your hands. You're so careful as you color in a flower around Zeus head. He watches you with a fond smile and chuckles as you lick your thumb to rub off some color that got out of the lines.

"My pretty baby is so focused on me", he murmurs. "What did I do to deserve such a thing?"

"I'm bored", you mumble back.

"Keep telling yourself that." His calloused hand touches your arm carefully. "I think you just wanted an excuse to come close to me. I don't mind, though. Just make me pretty."

He leans his head back against the headboard, watching you. There's nothing but pure love in his black eyes, a rare sight when he often is occupied with so many other thoughts. For once he can focus on you and you only ... and that transforms him into a completely different man.

"Maybe next time you should color in the tattoo I have on my chest", Silas says.

He smirks as you blush and roll your eyes. Truth be told, he would not trade these quiet moments for the world. He cherishes them more than gold.

When you're done, he reaches for his wallet and pulls out a hundred dollar bill.

"I know money means nothing to you since you're always using mine", he says and places the paper in your hand, folding it around it. "So, see it as a principle."

Jerry:

She's lying on her stomach, shirtless, scrolling on her phone as you sit above her, straddling her waist, steading yourself with one hand on her back, the other drawing in a skull on her shoulder blade. Her short black hair has been placed in the tiniest of ponytails to keep your work space free.

"Look at this, babe", Jerry says and holds the phone towards you. "Should i get this tattoo next? Will it be fun to color this in?"

You take the phone out of her hand to take a closer look. Jerry leans forward, lying her cheek on her arms and closing her eyes. The picture on her phone is a detailed flower.

"Get a waterfall", you say suddenly.

Jerry opens an eye. "Waterfall?"

"I have never seen a tattoo of a waterfall."

"Fuck no. I'm getting a flower."

You continue to color in. Jerry smirks, eyes closed.

"It feels nice", she murmurs. "Being pampered like a little baby. Lucky me, huh? Hm ... maybe I should let you bite me and tattoo that instead."

She chuckles at your grimace. Despite her rough exterior, there's something soft about her lying on the floor beneath you with her hands under her head, eyes closed and at your mercy.

"I know what you're thinking", she says, still with her eyes closed. "Try to do something and I will rip that pen out of your hand and write my name all of your body. I've heard that it takes months for those colors to fade."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere mafia #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #yandere female

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i-set-my-autism-on-fire · 2 days ago

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I first learned how to draw traditionally with pencil and lined notebook paper, and digitally with MSPaint and a mouse. You already know how to art, you've likely seen animated movies and shows before! Just pay close attention to the details and you'll learn through observation. Drawing as frequently as you can helps build the muscle memory you need to apply what you learn visually. And if there's a day where you're just not enjoying the process/what you're creating? Take a break, and focus on consuming art instead (movies/shows - animated or live action, books - audio or visual, and games are all good sources of coal for the creative fire). You don't need to draw every day, 24-48 hours isn't gonna delete your muscle memory. I speak from personal experience: I once took a 4 month break from drawing, and when I came back my art was just as good as it had been before, even if I needed to rebuild a small bit of memory, and I was happy. The point of art is to express your thoughts and experiences in a way that no one else and nothing else can.

Back when I had been fooled into thinking AI wasn't as harmful as it is, I had attempted several times to see if it could create images similar to what was in my head. Nothing it created was even remotely close to my imagination, so I was quick to drop the image generation part due to it being useless to me. I may not be able to draw trees better than an elementary schooler, but I can bring the forests of my imagination to life in a way that AI simply couldn't (and I guarantee it still can't). All we ask is that you try, and recognize that there is very much an audience who will be more than happy to see your art journey. No story ever started with the hero being perfect at the skills they needed, the hero always has to learn and grow in some way. That takes time, and that is often the story we follow.

If you need anymore art advice, I'm more than happy to answer any questions you have! Art is a method of communication, and a tool for expression, it would be completely foolish and childish to try and gatekeep it from those who want to learn.

Can't afford art school?

After seeing post like this 👇

And this gem 👇

As well as countless of others from the AI generator community. Just talking about how "inaccessible art" is, I decided why not show how wrong these guys are while also helping anyone who actually wants to learn.

Here is the first one ART TEACHERS! There are plenty online and in places like youtube.

📺Here is my list:

Proko (Free, mostly teaches anatomy and how to draw people. But does have art talks and teaches the basics.)

Marc Brunet (Free but he does have other classes for a cheap price. Use to work for Blizzard and teaches you everything)

Aaron Rutten (free, tips about art, talks about art programs and the best products for digital art)

BoroCG (free, teaches a verity of art mediums from 3D modeling to digital painting. As well as some tips that can be used across styles)

Jesse J. Jones (free, talks about animating)

Jesus Conde (free, teaches digital painting and has classes in Spanish)

Mohammed Agbadi (free, he gives some advice in some videos and talks about art)

Ross Draws (free, he does have other classes for a good price. Mostly teaching character designs and simple backgrounds.)

SamDoesArts (free, gives good advice and critiques)

Drawfee Show (free, they do give some good advice and great inspiration)

The Art of Aaron Blaise ( useful tips for digital art and animation. Was an animator for Disney. Mostly nature art)

Bobby Chiu ( useful tips and interviews with artist who are in the industry or making a living as artist)

Sinix Design (has some tips on drawing people)

Winged canvas (art school for free on a verity of mediums)

Bob Ross (just a good time, learn how to paint, as well as how too relax when doing art. "there are no mistakes only happy accidents", this channel also provides tips from another artist)

Scott Christian Sava (Inspiration and provides tips and advice)

Pikat (art advice and critiques)

Drawbox (a suggested cheap online art school, made of a community of artist)

Skillshare (A cheap learning site that has art classes ranging from traditional to digital. As well as Animation and tutorials on art programs. All under one price, in the USA it's around $34 a month)

Human anatomy for artist (not a video or teacher but the site is full of awesome refs to practice and get better at anatomy)

Second part BOOKS, I have collected some books that have helped me and might help others.

📚Here is my list:

The "how to draw manga" series produced by Graphic-sha. These are for manga artist but they give great advice and information.

"Creating characters with personality" by Tom Bancroft. A great book that can help not just people who draw cartoons but also realistic ones. As it helps you with facial ques and how to make a character interesting.

"Albinus on anatomy" by Robert Beverly Hale and Terence Coyle. Great book to help someone learn basic anatomy.

"Artistic Anatomy" by Dr. Paul Richer and Robert Beverly Hale. A good book if you want to go further in-depth with anatomy.

"Directing the story" by Francis Glebas. A good book if you want to Story board or make comics.

"Animal Anatomy for Artists" by Eliot Goldfinger. A good book for if you want to draw animals or creatures.

"Constructive Anatomy: with almost 500 illustrations" by George B. Bridgman. A great book to help you block out shadows in your figures and see them in a more 3 diamantine way.

"Dynamic Anatomy: Revised and expand" by Burne Hogarth. A book that shows how to block out shapes and easily understand what you are looking out. When it comes to human subjects.

"An Atlas of animal anatomy for artist" by W. Ellenberger and H. Dittrich and H. Baum. This is another good one for people who want to draw animals or creatures.

Etherington Brothers, they make books and have a free blog with art tips.

📝As for Supplies, I recommend starting out cheap, buying Pencils and art paper at dollar tree or 5 below. If you want to go fancy Michaels is always a good place for traditional supplies. They also get in some good sales and discounts. For digital art, I recommend not starting with a screen art drawing tablet as they are usually more expensive.

For the Best art Tablet I recommend either Xp-pen, Bamboo or Huion. Some can range from about 40$ to the thousands.

💻As for art programs here is a list of Free to pay.

Clip Studio paint ( you can choose to pay once or sub and get updates. Galaxy, Windows, macOS, iPad, iPhone, Android, or Chromebook device. )

Procreate ( pay once for $9.99 usd, IPAD & IPHONE ONLY)

Blender (for 3D modules/sculpting, animation and more. Free)

PaintTool SAI (pay but has a 31 day free trail)

Krita (Free)

mypaint (free)

FireAlpaca (free)

Aseprite ($19.99 usd but has a free trail, for pixel art Windows & macOS)

Drawpile (free and for if you want to draw with others)

IbisPaint (free, phone app ONLY)

Medibang (free, IPAD, Android and PC)

NOTE: Some of these can work on almost any computer like Clip and Sai but others will require a bit stronger computer like Blender. Please check their sites for if your computer is compatible.

So do with this information as you will but as you can tell there are ways to learn how to become an artist, without breaking the bank. The only thing that might be stopping YOU from using any of these things, is YOU.

I have made time to learn to draw and many artist have too. Either in-between working two jobs or taking care of your family and a job or regular school and chores. YOU just have to take the time or use some time management, it really doesn't take long to practice for like an hour or less. YOU also don't have to do it every day, just once or three times a week is fine.

Hope this was helpful and have a great day.

"also apologies for any spelling or grammar errors, I have Dyslexia and it makes my brain go XP when it comes to speech or writing"

#art resources #art advice #I also use Krita as my main art program- so if you need help with that then don't be afraid to ask!

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pittrabbit · 2 days ago

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content: smut, dry humping, morning night shenanigans with abbot and his controversially young gf, handjob, fingering, banter, etc etc etc.

note: wrote this in fifteen minutes without proofreading cuz i woke up thinking about waking up next to his fine ass

➽──────────────────❥

"sweetheart, come- come on."

it was a combination of a sigh and a groan, but being an expert in all things jack abbot, you knew his frustration was not aimed at you, but at his current circumstances.

"just five more minutes. please." you made sure to drag the 'e' at the end for that special effect that always had him rolling his eyes half-heartedly.

"i gotta go to work, baby, you know that." he attempted again, though making no effort to actually separate himself from you.

laid in bed, you practically held him hostage — yes, him, the man who could deadlift your entire bodyweight with no issue. the same man whose wrists you were always eyeing due to their muscular girth (something you had no idea you were even attracted to). the one and only, who had military training and could get you off him within milliseconds if he so wished.

but that was the whole point. he didn't want to. he didnt want to separate your lips from his stubbled jaw. he didnt want to get your grabby hands away from his chest. much less did he want to remove the leg you had perched over his waist, effectively holding him down on the bed.

he knew he had to go. knew that in about thirty minutes he was supposed to relieve robby of his duties and take on the role of senior attending for the night shift.

yet he stayed glued to bed, still grumbling and feigning any sort of inconvenience at your clinginess.

instead of doing what he knew he had to do, his large hand grabbed onto the meat of your thigh, pulling it higher on his waist, making sure you wrapped it tighter around him and ultimately closer. his body turned towards yours, now facing you.

with an experimental roll of his hips, he had you nibbling on the skin of his jaw with a muffled gasp.

"thought you had to go." you mumbled, furthering your touches by digging your nails into his bicep, not minding the scratch marks you'd be leaving there (not that he'd mind either).

"always got time for my girl, you know that." he huffed, pulling his face back and chasing your own. your lips were caught in a kiss moments later.

your tongue tangled with his, lazy and mellow, adhering to the comfortable vibe of the night. both pairs of hips ground into one another, uncaring of the few remaining layers of clothing between you.

even with his boxers and your panties, you could feel the perfect friction between you. you were both too sleepy to seek out more, so you opted for this instead. the more you did it, the more desperate your movements became, practically humping at each other like animals.

the clock was running, but jack knew that he wouldnt stop until you were left fully satiated. he was a provider, a giver, and his first priority ever since meeting you had been to give you everything you needed. and right now he knew you needed him, specially with the knowledge that he wouldnt be back for twelve hours (if he was lucky).

"god, sweetheart. feel so fucking good." his hand dug into your hand, running his palm up and down its length. "so soft and sweet for me."

his hand found its way under your panties then, a tight squeeze since you were tied so closely to him, but once he made it, a groan left his mouth at what he found.

"so wet this soon? what, were you dreaming about me, gorgeous?" he was teasing, but the likely answer was a yes, and that bit made him dizzy with desire for you.

what had he become? just one pretty moan from you and he was putty in your hands. one look from you and he was willing to go through a lecture from robby about being on time if it meant he could draw at least one orgasm from you before work.

you switched positions, no longer rubbing against each other but now unable to keep your hands away from one another. your hand made its way under his boxers while his remained under your panties. he was an expert in your pleasure, using the dip of his wrist to rub at your clit while two of his fingers drew in and out of you. it was hard to keep focus while you moaned into his mouth, while your own hand worked on his dick, but he could be pretty one-track minded when it came to making you feel good.

"gonna come for me? c'mon, i've got you. y'know i always got you."

your response was given in unintelligible mumbles against his tongue, interrupted by suckles of his lips and tongue as you finally came.

he enjoyed the view for as long as he could, but was unable to keep his eyes on you for long when you gave him his orgasm in return. you moaned and gasped and panted into each other's mouths, hands needy and unable to stop touching one another for the entire duration of your highs (and even after the fact).

his cum made a mess between you, but you didn't seem to mind as you licked its remnants off your fingers, all while looking him dead in the eyes with a spent yet lustful look in your eyes.

"you're gonna kill me one of these days, kid."

you cuddled into him, not minding the mess between you and tying yourself around his body like a koala once more. "that'd be no fun." you boo'd at him. "need to keep my old man around for as long as i can."

he bit your shoulder jokingly, chuckling at your yelp and giving you a light slap on your butt before beginning to get up.

"i know, i know, i'm a terrible man." he lamented jokingly as you whined at the sudden lack of warmth around you.

"can't believe you're going to go save lives instead of staying in bed with your inappropriately young girlfriend."

"say that a few more times and maybe i'll start to believe it."

from your spot on the bed, you watched him get ready, fix his hair, brush his teeth, biting your lip and making lewd comments at his bare body, occasionally booing him when he covered up the bare skin you wanted to continue scratching at.

"if anyone gives you any shit, tell them i have enough of a libido for the two of us."

he actually belly laughed at that, stopping the buckling of his belt to lean in and give you a loud kiss on your lips.

"you've revived mine, kid. fucking temptress." he kissed you twice, thrice, before finally throwing on a shirt and getting ready to leave.

"you better not send me anything dirty while i'm working." were some of his final words before stepping out, continuing to keep his eyes on you as he gathered his wallet, stethoscope, etc. from around the bedroom.

"you know i will!" you teased back.

he walked over to you one last time, landing one last kiss on your lips.

"love you, sweetheart. keep sleeping, i'll be back soon."

"love you, doctor."

one last groan was released against your lips before he finally stepped out, knowing he'd have to do this all over again as soon as he got back home. he couldn't wait.

#jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #dr jack abbot #dr jack abbot x reader #dr jack abbott #dr jack abbott smut #dr jack abbott x reader #jack abbot fanfic #jack abbot smut #jack abbot x you #jack abbott x you #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt fanfic #the pitt x reader #the pitt x you

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goorgeousz · 1 day ago

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hi hi hi♥️

it's me again, i have a new idea and it's that last night i was watching again the episode where the girl accuses Jack's teacher of liking Hotch, i think it's episode 9x22🫣

you can write the scene but where the reader and Hotch are together but maybe the boys don't know and when the girl says ' likes Jack's dad' the reader is just like '🤨' a little jealous and that leads to them calling each other 'mine' publicly maybe Jack my beautiful innocent boy exposes them with a witty comment🤓☝🏻

tbh, i had this idea more developed but i didn't know how to interpret it in words,anyway, you can ignore it if you want, i'm sending you love!♥️♥️

xoxoxo

ms. springs | aaron hotchner

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!fem!reader

summary: when yet another woman becomes interested in hotch, you start to rethink your decision of keeping your relationship a secret. jack solves your dilemma in a second.

content/tw: secret established relationship, pure fluff with a little spice, jack being adorable, the team being insufferable and supportive, hotch being a tease, jack refers to reader as ‘her’. i think that’s about it!

word count: 3.1k

a/n: heyyyyyy, my love!!!! I was so happy to see you again on my requests, I’m absolutely in love with your mind!! I loved your idea and you do such a good job in describing it, I instantly picture the story in my mind. I’m sorry it took me a long time to post this, I was drowning in WIPs but as soon as I could, I immediately started this one! it was delicious and so fun to write, it turned out longer than I expected… either way, I really hope you like it! Thank you for being so kind and for sending the request, sending much much love!!!!!!!!!

dividers by @uzmacchiato

masterlist <3

“Yeah. You like Jack’s dad.” the little girl said, smiling proudly. Your ears perked up at that, like a dog hearing its favorite words.

The other kids had already left, led by Garcia. Aside from this little girl, Jack and their teacher, only you, Hotch and Rossi were at the briefing room.

You and Rossi exchanged a surprised look, trying to hold back a laugh.

Hotch’s eyes widened a bit, and he looked at them with a tight smile, his lips pressed together like he had no idea on what to do, one hand rested on his son’s shoulder and the other shoved deep in his pocket – he had no business looking that good. IJack looked at his teacher unamused, his eyes scanning all the adults in the room. You would find the situation funny – it truly was – if it weren’t for that tingly little ugly feeling on your chest, stealing your words.

Since you had no idea what to do with your hands, you started to collect some of the materials, unable to watch the scene with a steady face like Rossi did.

“I’m not sure…” the woman chuckled, trying to turn the situation around, but the girl wasn’t having any of it.

“When you talk about your cat…” she started, cutting her teacher’s words short, proudly showing off her profiling skills “...you talk real, real fast ‘cause you really like your cat. You talked real fast today, not like with the other dads.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, not wanting to draw attention. Hotch was a mix of shyness, amusement and confusion, politely holding back a smile. The woman glanced back at him, her eyes twinkling with a mix of admiration and embarrassment, her blushed cheeks giving her out – if her student hadn’t already.

“Thanks again, Mr. Hotchner.” she said quickly. Just like the little girl said – that stubborn little voice in your head pointed. “The kids had a great time.”

“You’re welcome.” Hotch mumbled, his eyes dropping on the floor and his cheeks just as red as hers. You squeezed your eyes at the scene.

Ms. Springer hushed out the door right after, guiding the girl with her, her heels clicking so fast against the floor you were surprised she didn’t stumble.

Rossi waited less than two seconds after they left the room to sigh loudly, moving from his statue position to look at you and Hotch amused – here we go.

“Probably had to go feed the cat.” he said, ironically. You huffed out a laugh, changing a fist bump with him before he left the room too. Hotch didn’t answer, only smiling back at both of you before dropping on his knees to talk to Jack. You finished tidying up the briefing room and let them talk, something about hot dogs and hamburgers – nothing about Ms Springer and her crush.

“Why don’t you go find Morgan, huh? I have some things left to finish, but you can invite them all to dinner later.” he celebrated, running out of the room, leaving only you and Hotch behind.

You pretend not to notice him approaching you from behind, proudly sticking up your chin while you organize the (already tidily organized) shelves.

“Hey.” he starts, his hands finding their way to your shoulders. Your body immediately relaxes under his touch – traitor –, not even worrying if people might walk in.

The two of you had been in a serious relationship for the past few months now, but kept it a secret. At least at work, no one on the team knew yet. At first,you just wanted to test out the waters before you let everyone know, but when the time came, you just kept pushing back.

It was just too comfortable to keep it a secret. Holding hands when no one could see it, stealing kisses behind closed doors, hidden visits to each other's hotel room during cases (until Emily almost caught you because of a lost sock), pretending to arrive at the same time when you quite literally woke up next to him… Your relationship was a little bit of sunshine in the middle of all the storm of the job. You wanted the team to know, they were your friends, your family. But it was so difficult to pop that little bubble of happiness you two fought so hard to create, that it just had to wait a little while longer.

And it was a joint decision, you both wanted this. To keep the secret. It was easier, fun and delicious.

Until things like that happened.

You weren’t a blind trust kind of person, but you hadn’t a single doubt that Hotch loved you, just like you loved him. You respected and trusted each other in more ways than one, so that sick feeling on the pit of your stomach had absolutely nothing to do with him getting with Jack’s teacher. But the fact that there was nothing you could do about it.

Aaron Hotchner was an attractive man. That wasn’t an opinion, it was a fact. Being around him as much as you did (being his coworker and his girlfriend) got you used to watching women of all kinds of ages try and get their way with him. Family of victims, paramedics, officers, firefighters, witnesses, non-witnesses, people who pretended to be witnesses just to be questioned by him. Point was: people wanted him.

They never stood a chance, though. You got used to it, but Aaron was an expert. He dodged flirting like a professional, turning them down without a beat, not being blunt about it but never leaving any room from any misinterpretation.

You didn’t have to worry about it, but there was no logical explanation that could shoo away the ache on your chest from the fact that you couldn’t even brag about being his girlfriend, not-subtly walking around with your hands wrapped around his arm, shoving on everyone’s faces how much he loved you.

Although you knew it was a completely understandable feeling, you were stubborn enough to swallow it back, trying to look cool and unbothered by it. Because in true honesty, even if you could do something about it, you wouldn’t. He handled it just fine, and Ms. Springer was in no way shape or form disrespectful – except for that longing look on her face that made you want to poke her eye out with a pen. But you were mature, really. You weren’t going to say anything about it.

“Hey, heartbreaker.” it slipped out of your tongue before you could hold yourself back. You bite your lower lip immediately, shutting your eyes close in desperation. Oh, so mature.

Hotch, on the other hand, wasn’t bothered in the slightest. Quite the opposite, you heard him chuckle behind you, his breath fanning on the nape of your neck from his position behind you. Son of a bitch.

“I knew it.” He teased, before leaving a gentle kiss on the shell of your ear, smiling so hard he barely managed to close his lips on your skin “Honey, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, I’m not worried.” it was the truth. You weren’t worried – annoyed, jealous, possessive, bitter? Sure. But not worried.

“Really?” his hands found your hips, turning you around to face him. Your eyes squinted at how amused he looked.

“You don’t have to pretend you’re not enjoying this.” you muttered and he laughed, actively throwing his head back.

“I’m sorry, honey. I really am. But it’s fun to see the tables turned.”

You grimaced at him “What are you even talking about?”

He arched an eyebrow at you “All the men I have to endure bashfully flirting with you in front of me. And having to shake their hands afterwards.” you roll your eyes “It’s nice to see a change in scenario.”

“Oh shut up. Women flirt with you all the time and I have to—” he presses his lips together to try and stifle a laugh and you realize you walked right into his trap “I’m not jealous.”

“Sure you aren’t.”

“I’m not.”

“I believe you.” he doesn’t – and he’s completely right in not doing so.

Instead of admitting it and just moving on, you just step closer to him, flashing him a smile that makes his heart beat faster.

“I’m not worried in the slightest.” you drag your fingernail against his chest, dragging it down until the hem of his pants, hooking your finger on his belt hoops “Is actually flattering when other women flirt with you. Makes me proud that they want what’s mine.” you stop mid-track, looking up at him with your best puppy eyes, your eyelashes batting in a dramatic way “Aren’t you mine, Aaron?”

He knew what you were doing, right from the start. But he felt for it, like he always did. All logical thinking flies away from his brain whenever you flirt with him like this. So he cleared his throat, nodding pathetically.

“I am. You have nothing to worry about.”

You chuckled, pushing away from his chest and walking away “You already said that. Plus, Ms. Springs have nothing on me.”

“Ms. Springer.” he corrected, making you stop on your feet, turning slowly against him. You squeeze your eyes in his direction, realizing he was teasing you.

“That’s a dangerous game, Hotchner.”

He laughed, approaching you and giving your backside a playful smack before walking out, leaving you stunned on your feet “You started it”.

Oh, it was on.

After that, there wasn’t much work to do. Apart from some reports here and there, time went by quickly, and next thing you knew the team walked out together, organizing the carpool to the dining place Jack chose. All nine of you sat up at one big round table, you finding your rightful place – not that anyone knew – by his side.

He pulled out your chair for you, just like he always did, as soon as he settled Jack down on his other side. Aaron was a gentleman, you all knew that. So that’s why no one gave you a weird look, they were used to this. But that was just the beginning.

Since Jack was there and that was a big change in scenario, he was the center of attention. The team made jokes, asked him questions and told him stories. They were so caught up with the young boy in front of him, and trying to entertain him, their profile skills didn’t notice what was going on with you.

Even though you played it cool on the briefing room, the Ms. Springer situation did bother you. And you were, in fact, being extra touchy with him. Pulling your chair closer to his, touching his arms when speaking directly to him, getting a fry from his plate without asking first. Things you usually didn’t let yourself do in front of the team.

And being the loving, respectful and enthusiastic boyfriend that he was, he just let you. Not daring to say a word about the way you lingered closer to his side, or laughed too loud at one of his jokes. Of course, the twinkle on his eyes and the smirk playing on his lips giving in that you would be hearing about it later.

In your defense, he wasn’t being any better: always making sure to fill your glass up, handing you napkins and the ketchup bottle before you could even think of asking. It got to the point where while he shared a story with Emily, who sat right by your side, he even rested his arm on the back of your chair, with the excuse to make himself be heard better by her.

Eventually they started to notice, though. Alex noticed your proximity when she asked you to reach for the mayonnaise and your arm brushed against Hotch’s because of how close you were. Then Reid and Emily exchanged wide-eyed glances when you referred to Hotch as Aaron, which none of you usually did. Rossi cleared his throat after he called your boyfriend’s name twice but he was too busy smiling at something you were saying to listen. Morgan arched an eyebrow when you left to the restroom, squeezing Hotch’s shoulder on the way. And JJ almost choked on her hamburger as he leaned his head back to watch you walk away, eyes glued to your backside in awe.

But Jack really sealed the deal for you.

“So, Jack, what did you think about career day today?” Rossi asked the boy, who (instructed by his father) finished swallowing his hot dog bite to answer.

“I loved it. My dad won.” everybody on the table laughed.

“It’s not a competition.” Hotch pointed out, despite the proud smile dancing across his lips.

“Shut up, you won.” you nudged his side, earning a laugh from both Jack and Aaron.

The two of you seemed to be so lost in your whole little bubble, neither realized the exchange of mischievous glances between the team.

“Jacky, be honest. Was my cave the best part of the tour, yes or no?” Garcia tried.

“I feel like the lab really made an impression.” Reid chimed, holding his finger up with a lopsided grin on his face. Morgan snorted.

“Right, weirdos. We all saw how their eyes lit up in the gym.”

Jack, much to everyone’s please, laughed loudly to each and every joke from the team members. They absolutely loved the kid, and it was a breath of fresh air amongst all the darkness they deal with on a daily basis to be around that kind of innocence and joy.

“Now, tell us. Do you want to be a profiler when you grow up?” Alex asked, wiggling her eyebrows expectantly. All eyes turned to him, excited and curious.

Jack pressed his lips back together, his eyes darting at each one of them, like he was calculating and weighing every pro and con of being a profiler. Stopping at his dad’s face, he nodded to himself, finally getting to a conclusion. He looked back at Alex and answered, point blank.

“No.” their reaction was priceless. Some laughed, some frowned in a fake disappointment, one of them sat back, worrying he was such a bad parent that the mere thought of being somewhat close to what his father is was unbearable for Jack.

“Mhm, agreed.” Garcia nodded, jabbing Derek’s side with her elbow like she heard the little boy say how much she was better than them. “But why’s that?”

Jack shifted on his seat, looking like he was about to give a lecture “I really like reading Harry Potter before bed. And profilers only read work. I wouldn’t like it.”

Everyone at the table laughed – even Aaron, who finally looked like he could breathe again –, and you understood immediately. Aaron, more often than not, had a file on his bedside table, the endless amount of paperwork following him home, and sometimes, when Jack asked his dad what he was reading, he just answered “Work. It’s boring, you wouldn’t like it.” and apparently he took these words way too seriously.

“Oh, sweetie. I fear that’s just your dad.” JJ explained, giving Hotch a pointed and amused look.

Much to everyone’s surprise, Jack just pressed his lips together, shaking his head in disagreement. He then, faster than you could ever think, his eyes fell on you and he pointed his chubby little fingers at your figure, like he was accusing you of first degree murder.

“She does it too, I’ve seen it. They even read together.” he explained, and your mind went blank.

It was like a bomb had dropped. A big fat juicy gossipy bomb, but still. You watched everyone’s reaction before your brain even registered what just happened. Spencer’s eyes darted between you and Hotch like he was rewatching every last interaction to see what he missed. Derek had a wolf-like smile on his face, and you already knew you were going to listen. Garcia looked like a life version of the heart eyes emoji. JJ and Alex looked like they were about to start jumping on their seats and cheering. Rossi looked proud and smug, and Emily had her mouth and eyes wide open, so much that if she tried a little harder you were sure they would pop out of her head.

All while Jack took another bite of his hot-dog, the corner of his mouth sticky with ketchup and mustard, incredibly unaware of what he just had done. On the other hand, you and Aaron stared at each other with wide eyes, not sure on how to act. There wasn’t any way you could avoid the topic now, was it? Absolutely not. And no one would believe you if you came up with a lie, even if you were creative enough to think of an explanation to why Jack saw you and his dad together in bed reviewing case files that didn’t involve the words ‘secret relationship’ in it.

“My, my.” Derek broke the silence, the weight of his smile dripping on the tone of his voice. You knew that there was no way back, but your mind just went blank.

Surprisingly, Aaron made the first move. His astonished expression melting into a wild grin, his shoulders shaking with a laugh that was almost just as surprising at Jack’s revelation. Infected by his laugh and the beautiful sigh of his dimples, you laughed too, letting your head fall down to his shoulder, your hair shielding your blushing face. You felt him connect his lips to your forehead in a long and gentle kiss. ‘I love you, we’re in this together.’

Your little bubble was finally popped by Garcia’s cooing, instantly followed by the rest of the team’s reactions. There were laughs, amused accusations, heavy (not too heavy, there was a kid there after all) teasing, bribery (Emily and Morgan offered desserts to Jack in order to get more answers), threats of dismissal (Hotch’s reaction to that. He wasn’t serious, though. At least not too serious) and mainly, love. They showed you and him so much support, love and genuine happiness, you started to wonder why you didn’t say anything sooner.

Until later, while all of you walked back to your cars, Morgan and Garcia pulled you to the side, followed by two very eager JJ and Prentiss. He clapped his hands together in front of his torso, and looked at you with a smirk.

“You don’t have to say anything, just tell me when to stop.” and started to slowly pull his hands apart, his eyebrows wiggling at you teasingly.

And then, you remembered.

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ohnoitstbskyen · 4 hours ago

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You’ve probably been asked this before, but do you have a specific view on ai-generated art. I’m doing a school project on artificial intelligence and if it’s okay, i would like to cite you

I mean, you're welcome to cite me if you like. I recently wrote a post under a reblog about AI, and I did a video about it a while back, before the full scale of AI hype had really started rolling over the Internet - I don't 100% agree with all my arguments from that video anymore, but you can cite it if you please.

In short, I think generative AI art

Is art, real art, and it's silly to argue otherwise, the question is what KIND of art it is and what that art DOES in the world. Generally, it is boring and bland art which makes the world a more stressful, unpleasant and miserable place to be.

AI generated art is structurally and inherently limited by its nature. It is by necessity averages generated from data-sets, and so it inherits EVERY bias of its training data and EVERY bias of its training data validators and creators. It naturally tends towards the lowest common denominator in all areas, and it is structurally biased towards reinforcing and reaffirming the status quo of everything it is turned to.

It tends to be all surface, no substance. As in, it carries the superficial aesthetic of very high-quality rendering, but only insofar as it reproduces whatever signifiers of "quality" are most prized in its weighted training data. It cannot understand the structures and principles of what it is creating. Ask it for a horse and it does not know what a "horse" is, all it knows is what parts of it training data are tagged as "horse" and which general data patterns are likely to lead an observer to identify its output also as "horse." People sometimes describe this limitation as "a lack of soul" but it's perhaps more useful to think of it as a lack of comprehension.

Due to this lack of comprehension, AI art cannot communicate anything - or rather, the output tends to attempt to communicate everything, at random, all at once, and it's the visual equivalent of a kind of white noise. It lacks focus.

Human operators of AI generative tools can imbue communicative meaning into the outputs, and whip the models towards some sort of focus, because humans can do that with literally anything they turn their directed attention towards. Human beings can make art with paint spatters and bits of gum stuck under tennis shoes, of course a dedicated human putting tons of time into a process of trial and error can produce something meaningful with genAI tools.

The nature of genAI as a tool of creation is uniquely limited and uniquely constrained, a genAI tool can only ever output some mixture of whatever is in its training data (and what's in its training data is biased by the data that its creators valued enough to include), and it can only ever output that mixture according to the weights and biases of its programming and data set, which is fully within the control of whoever created the tool in the first place. Consequently, genAI is a tool whose full creative capacity is always, always, always going to be owned by corporations, the only entities with the resources and capacity to produce the most powerful models. And those models, thus, will always only create according to corporate interest. An individual human can use a pencil to draw whatever the hell they want, but an individual human can never use Midjourney to create anything except that which Midjourney allows them to create. GenAI art is thus limited not only by its mathematical tendency to bias the lowest common denominator, but also by an ideological bias inherited from whoever holds the leash on its creation. The necessary decision of which data gets included in a training set vs which data gets left out will, always and forever, impose de facto censorship on what a model is capable of expressing, and the power to make that decision is never in the hands of the artist attempting to use the tool.

tl;dr genAI art has a tendency to produce ideologically limited and intrinsically censored outputs, while defaulting to lowest common denominators that reproduce and reinforce status quos.

... on top of which its promulgation is an explicit plot by oligarchic industry to drive millions of people deeper into poverty and collapse wages in order to further concentrate wealth in the hands of the 0.01%. But that's just a bonus reason to dislike it.

#tb answers #kialikesalpacas #generative AI #gen ai

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cameronsbabydoll · 1 day ago

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pls ignore this if it’s too much!!

puppy reader all snotty and heaving from sobbing bc rafes punishing her and he keeps asking her ‘what are you’ and she says ‘a good puppy’ but she’s being punished for something super big (like peeing on rafe while sitting in his lap in public, maybe biting a girl she was jealous of bc the girl was flirting with rafe :( or disrespecting his dad and rose) and he keeps slapping her and saying ‘no ur a bad puppy say it’ but she won’t bc she’s not and she’s so innocent and wants to be a good pup so bad but it’s just not the answer rafe wants to hear atm :( and he’s just being mean to her :(

- 🥥🥥🥥

a puppy’s punishment

dark!mean!rafe x puppy!reader

warnings: emotional distress, punishments, physical discipline (slapping) puppy play dynamics, public humiliation, jealousy, power imbalance, intense emotional manipulation, mean!rafe, dddne

authors note: i love this request. when i say dark fics this is what i mean!!!

tears stream down your face, snot bubbling from your nose as you heave through sobs, your body trembling on the floor of rafe’s room. your knees dig into the carpet, your hands clutching at your collar, the little bell jingling faintly with each shudder. you’re trying so hard to be good, to be his good puppy, but rafe’s looming over you, his face hard and unyielding, his voice sharp like a whip.

“what are you?” he demands again, his tone biting, his blue eyes boring into yours. you can feel the weight of his disappointment, the sting of his anger, and it makes your chest ache. you sniffle, your lip quivering as you try to answer through the tears.

“i-i’m a good puppy,” you whimper, voice small and broken, your eyes pleading with him to understand. you are good. you always try so hard to please him, to wag your imaginary tail and make him smile with your boundless energy, your eager affection. but today, you messed up—bad. you can still see the way his jaw clenched in the park earlier, the humiliation in his eyes when you, overwhelmed with jealousy, nipped at that girl who wouldn’t stop giggling and touching his arm. you didn’t mean to bite hard, just a warning snap, but it was enough to make her shriek and draw everyone’s attention. and then, when you were still reeling from the embarrassment, you’d squirmed in his lap and—oh, god—the warm, wet stain that spread across his jeans. you didn’t even realize you were so nervous you’d let go like that, not until he froze and hissed your name under his breath.

now, his hand comes down sharp across your cheek, not hard enough to bruise but enough to make your head snap to the side, a fresh wave of tears spilling over. “no,” he growls, grabbing your chin to force your gaze back to him. “you’re a bad puppy. say it.”

your heart twists, and you start to shake your head, “n-no, rafe, please, i’m good, i’m your good puppy, i didn’t mean to! i swear—” your voice cracks, and you hiccup, snot dripping as you try to catch your breath. you hate disappointing him. you live for his praise, for the way he scratches behind your ears and calls you his sweet girl when you curl up in his lap, all warm and safe. but now he’s so angry, and you can’t stand it.

rafe’s hand strikes again, a quick slap that stings more than the last, and you yelp, your body jerking. “say it,” he snaps, his voice low and dangerous. “say you’re a bad puppy, or i’ll keep going until you do.”

you choke on a sob, your hands scrabbling at the carpet, wanting to crawl to him, to nuzzle against his legs and beg for forgiveness, but he’s not letting you. you’re too scared to move, too scared to make it worse. “i’m not bad,” you whisper, barely audible, your voice trembling with defiance and desperation. “i’m not, rafe, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to pee on you, i didn’t mean to bite her, i just—i just love you so much, and she was—” you cut off, choking on another sob, your cheeks burning with shame.

his eyes narrow, and he crouches down, his hand gripping your collar to yank you closer, the bell chiming sharply. “you disrespected me,” he says, his voice cold, each word cutting into you. “you embarrassed me in front of everyone. you think you’re a good puppy after that? after pissing on me like some untrained mutt? after biting someone because you couldn’t control yourself?”

you whimper, shaking your head again, your hands reaching for him, fingers brushing his wrist before he pulls away. “i didn’t mean it,” you cry, your voice raw. “i was scared, rafe, i was jealous, i just wanted to protect you, i wanted to be good for you—”

“good puppies don’t act like that,” he cuts you off, standing up and towering over you again. “good puppies don’t make a mess in public. good puppies don’t bite. you’re not good right now. you’re bad. say it.”

you curl in on yourself, your shoulders shaking as you sob into your hands, your collar feeling too tight, your chest too heavy. you want to be his good girl so badly it hurts, but he’s not letting you. he’s punishing you, and it’s breaking your heart. “i’m sorry,” you whisper, over and over, hoping it’ll be enough, but he doesn’t budge.

another slap lands, lighter this time, but it still makes you flinch, your cheek hot and stinging. “say it,” he repeats, relentless. “say you’re a bad puppy.”

you can’t. you won’t. you’re not bad, not in your heart, not when all you want is to love him and be loved back. you shake your head one last time, tears and snot mixing as you collapse onto the floor, curling up like a kicked pup, your bell jingling pathetically. “m’your good puppy,” you sob, barely a whisper now, clinging to the words like a lifeline. “please, rafe, i’m good, i promise…”

he stares down at you, his jaw tight, his breath heavy. for a moment, you think he might hit you again, but he doesn’t. instead, he steps back, running a hand through his hair, his eyes flickering with something—anger, maybe, but also something softer, something conflicted. “you’re gonna stay there,” he says finally, his voice quieter but still firm. “you’re gonna stay on the floor and think about what you did until i decide you’ve learned your lesson.”

you nod weakly, too exhausted to fight, too heartbroken to argue. you just want him to love you again, to pet you and tell you you’re his good girl. but for now, you stay there, sniffling and trembling, your collar a heavy reminder of the puppy you’re trying so hard to be.

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puffein · 2 days ago

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there, beneath

pairings: wanda maximoff x reader summary: fame hit fast for Wanda Maximoff and so did the mistakes. One night of recklessness and a single phone call shattered everything she had with you. warnings: this story contains sensitive themes including alcohol poisoning, death, and implied cheating. reader discretion is advised. word count: 7472 a/n: if you are struggling, please know you are not alone, reach out to a trusted person or a mental health professional. my dms are always open, your well-being matters <3

general masterlist

When the night has come

And the land is dark

And the moon is the only light we'll see

No, I won't be afraid

Oh, I won't be afraid

"Just as long as you stand, stand by me."

Every breathing person's piercing eyes are situated at Wanda Maximoff.

The lights illuminate every curve of her face, the rose-colored lights and hues of blue made its way into her face, casting a mystical light on her beautiful features and despite the dim lights of the bar, she glows splendidly.

She looks magical underneath all the stage lights, with her fingers wrapped tightly upon the mic, her mouth forms easily as she sang the lyrics of your favorite song. You watch her closely, watch how her chest moves slowly, intakes of breaths, the bobbing of her throat, the low tunes of her voice.

Owing to the fact that while everyone is looking at her, Wanda Maximoff has her eyes set on you.

Her green eyes are settled on you as she sang the song you deeply love, the low baritone of her voice comes out breathy and feathery, her voice sways alongside the harmonious sound of the song, tunes of soft notes consolidate with her angelic tone making everything magical.

Your heart flutters as you watch her sing, her eyes stayed on to your figure, tucked in the corner of the room, you can clearly understand what she wants to say as her voice occupies all the spaces of the dim lit room.

When the song ended, her voice fading out of the room, Wanda quickly gets off the stage and briskly walked towards you. The corners of her mouth twitched up as she quickly jogs and wraps her arms around your figure.

You giggle, "That was the best performance ever."

Wanda blows out the stray of hair dangling in front of her face, "That's weird, I am the only one who performed in this bar."

You give her a sheepish smile, bumping your shoulders playful at hers, "Why? Can't I compliment my girlfriend?"

Wanda blinks then smiles widely, she pats your waist, her arms tightening around your body, she mutters quietly, "Of course you can, baby."

Then she leans in, capturing your lips as she tries to memorize every inch of your mouth. The hands wrapped around your body easily moves towards your cheeks, caressing it tenderly, her thumbs drawing soothing movements around your skin making you sigh against her lips.

You fisted the jacket she wore tightly, eyes closed as you taste her flavored cherry mint balm, you heard her sigh, comes next is the feeling of her nose brushing softly against yours.

"God, I love you." she mutters, kissing your forehead as she leans back to look fully at your face.

You shy away from her stare, "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I hung the moon and stars." you uttered.

"You did hung the moon and stars for me." she casually declares, her warm hand clasp around your cold ones, intertwining your fingers with hers as she pulls you towards her.

"Come, I want you to meet someone." she gives you a reassuring smile, squeezing your hand firmly.

Wanda easily navigates you through the crowd, stopping each time someone recognises her, saying she did a good job, words of compliments for her as you watch how her face lights up in every word a stranger shares.

You love her, too much.

She's a woman born to be a star, born to let the world hear her angelic voice, she's destined for greatness and watching her slowly progress to a place she deserves with you made your heart thump too merrily. She had always promised to be with you in every milestone she takes and you grasp her promise tightly closed in your chest, giving all your trust to her oaths and promises because you knew Wanda would always hang onto her words especially if it's the words stated for you.

"If it isn't the star of the night!" A booming voice resonates prominently around the bar, making your eyes settle onto a man in a suit with bold tailoring, glasses placed coolly on his face.

Just by his aura, you know he's rich, arrogant, maybe sassy.

"Mr. Stark, pleasure to see you here." Wanda replied, her smile plastered calmly on her gorgeous face. Your figure hides behind her, trying to not let your presence be known to an intimidating man.

"I had to be here, right? Newly signed artist in my company, it is just right to see you perform in a well-known bar." the Stark man declares, his eyes flickering over yours for a second then shrugs off your presence as he settles on Wanda's figure.

You froze on his words. Signed. Artist. Of course. But why would she never share this good news to you? didn't she promise to bring you to every milestone she had reached?

Wanda notices your stiff posture, she winces at the words. Squeezing your hand once again, she pulls you beside her, "Mr. Stark, I want you to meet Y/N, my girlfriend."

Stark's grin widens, "Oh! The inspiration to all your lovely songs, that's great. Pleasure to meet you. Keep doing your job as her girlfriend, you bring her too good music." his voice sounded practised, fake, phoney but your heart still fluttered on his words.

You let out a tight smile, watching as Stark says his goodbye to Wanda and moves on to a blonde woman. You are left alone with Wanda in a place too crowded, their voices combined with your loud thoughts as your breathing slowly fastens as each seconds passes by.

Mindful of your sudden change in breathing, Wanda instantly wraps her arms around your shoulders leading you out of the bar, she mutters soothing words, kisses your temple, her eyes flickering over every second all while steering you away from the crowd.

Outside, the chilly air of the night splashes into you instantly, making you intake a breath so cold and icy. You blink under the light of the moon, aware of Wanda's silence as she lets you take in the change of surroundings.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Wanda sighs, "I'm sorry, I didn't know he would mention it. I was supposed to say it tonight, i had dinner planned for the both of us, I also brought this promise ring to give you but now you're upset with me so I don't really know—"

"Hey, hey," your body turns instantly, gripping her hands as you kiss it gingerly, "I'm listening, no need to rush."

Wanda's eyes blazed with affection, her chest constricts painfully at your understanding eyes, thinking how did she end up with someone like you — so magnificent, deserving of all the universe.

She nods, "Sorry, I– um– I love you,"

You smiled.

"I just– I want everything to be perfect with you, I didn't mean to keep this as a secret, Stark signed my contract yesterday and I immediately wanted to tell you this good news but then I want it to be special for you, for the both of us." Wanda's voice wavers and she deeply regrets the stumbling of her words, she wants it to be strong, firm, she doesn't want you to doubt the words she had said.

Your hand grips her cheek, she nuzzles into it immediately making the corners of your mouth turn heavenwards. "You don't have to make it special for me, it's your good news. Do it for yourself."

Her head shakes, her auburn hair weaving gorgeously along her shoulders, "No. It's for the both of us, it's for you. Every milestone with you, remember?"

"With me?"

"Yes, with you." leaning in, Wanda takes your lips tenderly, kissing you under the moonlight as the chilly air surrounds the both of you, fighting with the warmth your chest is blossoming with.

"Always with you, detka."

Always with her. Absolutely, you would always be with her, no questions asked, no doubts. Even if it means waking up in the early mornings of the day just to accompany her in a studio, listening to her sing the songs she had written for you, watching her record it, eyes glazing as you finally see her dreams finally come into life.

She would always grin whenever both of your eyes meet, the glass only the barrier in between you two. You would always see her eyes closing as she let out the tunes she had made, her voice soulful with the lyrics she had delicately written. You would never get tired hearing her voice especially if it's with a song sung for you.

And as days passed by with you in the studios, the songs she needed to record slowly dwindled down to zero, and you are left to face a painful farewell for your significant other.

"I will be calling you 24/7, even if I'm tired of all the promotions they want from me, I will make time for you," she firmly said, her eyes settling on your shiny ones as her thumbs softened the skin under your eyes. "You can come with me, detka. You know that."

"I know."

"And yet you refused to be with me."

Your eyes snap at her green eyes swarmed with dejection and hurt.

"I can't — I can't take a gap year in college, Wan. You know that. Even if I'll start late in college, the time spent with you in exchange for my studies would never suffice the time I want to spend with you."

Wanda's eyes soften at your words, she musters up a smile, nuzzling her nose into yours as she kisses you slowly, "I'm sorry for asking too much."

"You are not. It just that, I want to spend time with you forever, it's just better to settle your dreams first, our dreams. And then we could be physically together." Resting your forehead into hers, you peck her lips, "I will visit you, you will visit me. Everything will be fine."

Sighing, she repeats your soothing words, "Everything will be fine."

Everything was fine.

Wanda clutches the promise she had made with you, she had called in the time she would always promise, sending you pictures in every place she had visited in New York, making you wish you're not stuck in a small town with small dreams. Life was blissful despite the distance in between you and Wanda.

"I miss you." she declared on the other side of the line, you could hear her slow breathing and the rustle of her blankets.

"I wish you were here." you replied, eyes glazing over the night sky.

"New York would be so much better with you here, this sucks. I miss you too much, I wish I could just snuck inside my phone and kiss you." she rambles, you could see the furrowing of her brows as her mouth forms a pout.

You chuckle, "Me too, me too."

Silence ensues, only the faint white noises of her room surround your ears. Then she suddenly mumbles, "I love you, you do know that right?"

Your heart jumps, "I know, I always know."

"Thank you for being with me, detka. I really love you."

Everything was fine.

Until it wasn't.

"Baby, hi." Wanda's voice muffled over the loud blaring of music in her background. Your face grimaces at sound, wanting it to just be your girlfriend's voice.

"Can't hear you, Wan." you replied, eyes blinking as you tried to make out the background noises.

"Sorry, I'm at a club right now. Stark wanted me to meet someone." Wanda shouts over the line, her timbre of voice swaying slightly as you hear her laugh over something.

"Having fun?" you ask quietly.

"Absolutely — Hey, I have to go. I'll call you later?"

Later never came.

I miss you, Wan. Can I call? you asked her over the text.

Her reply came two days after. Sorry, super busy. I'll make it up to you, promise.

That too didn't come. She never tried to call, completely forgetting the promise she had made.

Her fame gradually increased as her songs were publicly released along with the demanding promotions she had faced, the frequent calls she made with you became nonexistent, the pictures with long paragraphs of her adventures turned into just pictures and then to nothing.

I hope you're doing well, Wan. I saw the charts! Congrats! I love you : ) Call me if you have time?

The last message you have sent remains unread.

It was a month of radio silence from her and you completely understand. You watch her life through the photographs circulating online, how she looks just like your Wanda but completely different. Her eyes are sunken, her cheekbones are more prominent now than before, her red eyes say it all. So, you understand her busy life. It was her dream to be known to the world, you let her break the only promise she had made because it's her, it is Wanda.

This is for her, she's doing this for her dream. So, you let her break your heart.

When she finally called, it was in a different number. Her voice was hoarse, she was crying, weeping, her hiccups swallowed the words she's trying to say. You tried to comprehend her blurry words, your chest constricting painfully at the sound of her sobs.

It has been months since you had heard from her and when you finally heard her, it was painful.

"I'm sorry, please. F–forgive me, baby, please." she hiccups, then her sobs resonate in your ears, making you close your eyes tightly.

"What happened, Wan. I'm here, tell me what's wrong." your voice was soft, calming a raging wave of sadness from your partner.

"I'm sorry, please forgive me." she pleaded again and again. You let her say it a thousand times, asking for forgiveness for something you had not thought of, maybe it was the radio silence of hers. But you have forgiven her the minute it happened.

You let her repeat the words of forgiveness, letting her take out all the emotions she had bottled. Oblivious to what is coming next.

"I was drunk." she finally says.

Your heart dropped.

"I was intoxicated," a hiccup comes next, her breathings are swallowed and heavy, "I woke up with someone and—"

"Stop, can you please stop." You pleaded.

A minute ago she was the one pleading, begging. Now, you were the one telling her to stop. Begging her to take back what she had just spurted out.

"No– no, you have to listen–"

"Fuck you, you left me alone, Wanda. With no calls and texts and now you're calling me crying because you fucking fucked with someone when I'm miles away?" your voice glowered heavily, "Fuck you."

"Baby, it was a mistake. I was drunk, she was a mistake, she is a mistake. I was not thinking, I was not–"

"You are my fucking mistake." you let your words settle heavily on your phone, the angry timbres of your tone sounds dangerous and then it just sounds pathetic and sad.

You had let her break your heart again but this time much more painful.

Pain was an understatement of what you are feeling. Is there a word worse than pain? If so, that's what you are right now.

You ignored her calls, her texts, the packages she had sent. Your living room fills up with different sizes of boxes from her, you ignored it, donating it to the ones who would benefit from it. How could she just kiss another woman, much more make love to another?

Are you not enough?

Maybe distance plays a role in this too. Of course, she would feel lonely. You never visited her and when she asked to visit, you would always decline due to conflicting schedules. It was like fate mocking you, screaming at you that this has not been working for months. You are just turning a blind eye to it.

Maybe you were at fault too.

If you had just been enough for her, she wouldn't do this. She wouldn't find another woman, she wouldn't even think of doing this. Drunk or not, it was still painful. She still did it, she had asked forgiveness through a fucking phone call.

Was that what you deserve?

Being cheated on and then getting her apologies from a call?

Wanda knew you deserve more than a phone call, she booked a flight, a week after you had ignored her. She had given you time, time to grieve, time to think. And in those times, Wanda was scared and fright engulfs her whole being at letting you be alone with your thoughts, with no clear explanation from her.

She knew it was unfair to ask for a chance to speak her side. Nothing really happened, she didn't remember anything. But that was not enough, was it? She had given you damage, too big of a damage to hope for things to be better.

A knock comes at your door, it was faint, hesitant. The warm early lights of the sun trickle heavily on your open windows, cascading a balmy air into your apartment.

Despite the balmy weather of the day, you can't help but feel a chill run down your spine as your eyes settle onto a familiar green eyes. Wanda stood outside your door, flowers in hand, her eyes were red and puffy, the mascara she had worn was smudged and there's a tight smile plastered around her face.

"Y/N, can I please—" Before she could finish whatever words she had practiced, your hand works fast as it tries to shut your door in her face but significantly fails as Wanda manages to get a hold of it. "Y/N, please."

"What do you want, Wanda?" you asks, your voice wavering slightly at the sight of her pleading eyes.

"I want to explain."

"Do I even need an explanation, Wanda? You cheated, what's there to explain?"

Stumbling to catch her fleeing words, Wanda sputtered aimlessly as she tries to explain, "That's the thing, I didn't cheat. I swear, nothing happ–"

"Nothing happened and yet you called sobbing. What? Are you trying to be an actress now, is being a popstar not enough for you?" the harshness of your voice cuts deep into Wanda's scarred heart, her face falling as she glazes with dejection and regret.

"That's not it," she whispers, you see the tight clutching of her fist. "I– we were celebrating at a club. Tony got drunk so Happy needed to take him home. I was left alone and this–this woman kept on making me drink and I can't refuse because she–she, Tony said I needed to be on her good side."

Your jaw ticked, "You're using your body now in exchange for fame?"

Surprise dawns on Wanda's fatigued face, she blinks, registering the words you have just said and then sadness looms over her features.

"Y/N, I wouldn't —"

"Go home, Wanda. Take some microphone and sing your heart out, that's what you're good at, right?"

Silence ensues, "That's not fair." she mutters.

"What is not fair?" At this point you're just tired of hearing her voice, tired of trying to comprehend what went wrong and why did this have to happen.

"You can't just throw our relationship away just like that—"

"Are you kidding me?" your voice raises. "You're the one who threw our relationship away, Wanda. You're the one who cheat–"

"I didn't cheat, we just slept together in one bed. Y/N, baby, pl–"

"Get out. I don't want to hear any of it," you fired back, tight and leaden. "I don't want to see you, get out."

Wanda stumbles on her feet as you harshly pushes her back, her hands manage to swiftly wrap your wrist tightly, pulling you close to her, arms snaking around your body. You thrash from her tight grip, trying to unlatched her arms chained into your whole being, unwilling to let go.

You felt her shoulders shake as her sobs ring out your surroundings, your arms fell slack hearing her cries as she tightens her hold on you, "Please, please. I didn't do it. You have to believe me."

Sympathy blooms in your chest despite the betrayal she had made, hearing Wanda cry always has a strong grip on your heart. It's like putting alcohol in a gaping wound, it breaks your heart to hear her plead endlessly even though it's something out of hurting you.

"Okay, okay. I'll believe you, you have to let me go." your voice is quiet, the edge of it wavering slightly.

"No. No, I won't."

"You have to let me go." your voice wavers, hands fisted on your sides as you feel her hands on your head. Caressing it gently, her lips on your temple as she whispers her love and devotion to you.

"Do you believe me?" Her voice was whisper-like, strained.

"I do believe you," you stated, feeling the slow untangling of her arms. You quickly move back, watching her wipe her tears as she gazes over you, the shaking of her hands making its way into your sights, you darted your eyes away. "I believe you. You didn't cheat, okay. I forgive you but whatever we have is over—"

"No, that's not–"

"It's over." your voice hardens, staring directly at Wanda's green eyes. Her face fell, contorting into regret and confusion. You step back, hands gripping into your door as you watch her, blinking away the tears, you turn your back and slam the door shut.

Signifying the end of yours and Wanda's story.

It was not easy. Moving on from a relationship you had thought that would last longer, you watch her on the television. Her life is moving forward while yours seems to be stuck in a loop.

That's not fair.

Everything is not fair.

"You have to get out of your room, Y/N. You've been here lurking, when was the last time you had seen the sun?" Carol's voice echoes throughout your room, you shrug her off.

Bottles of alcohols spreads throughout your room, a clear reminder of how you cope.

Closing your eyes shut as you fade out the voices in your head and the lingering sound of your television, you body felt the coldness of your surroundings.

"Hey!" you scream, eyes furrowing as Carol raises her eyebrows at you, holding your blanket tightly away from your body. "Give it back, Carol."

"Stop being pathetic and get your shit together. Wanda cheated on you and she's out there partying her life out in every tabloids while you're here rotting. Do better." she snaps, glaring at you.

"I'm trying." your voice is low and quiet.

"Well, try harder. Do it for yourself, jesus." Carol moves away, her soft footsteps reaches out into your ears as you dart your eyes away.

"Wanda Maximoff, the rising popstar, has been—"

"I'm gonna throw your television away, I swear to god." Carol groans, reaching towards your television to shut it off.

You quickly get off your bed, stumbling hard as you yell, "Stop, stop. Wait—"

"..hospitalized just this morning. Her management has not yet given any updates but has confirmed the critical condition of the singer."

Everything seems to stop, Carol's breathing seems to be louder now and more prominent. Your eyes searches for Carol's wide ones, seeking balance in a world crumbling so fast. The blonde woman curses under her breath as she jogs towards you, panic rising as she sees how your breathing stumbles painfully, hands wrapping around your shoulders, "Breathe, she's fine. She's okay, Y/N."

"No, she's— something happened. I have to be there."

"You can't, stay here. You are no longer in her life—" you yank your figure away from her, figure frantic as you throw clothes after clothes in a bag. "—stop, what the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm gonna go, Carol. I–I have to. Wanda, I have to–" Carol clutches your shoulders tightly, her face etched with worry.

She mutters, "Okay, okay. We are gonna go but I want you to calm down first. Breath, darling, please."

"Please." You begged the nurse, "I'm her girlfriend, I have to see her."

Jetlags don't exist when all you could think about is Wanda. Pictures of her spreading around the internet, news of the sudden downfall of the rising singer. Begging at the nurse to let you visit Wanda was the very first thing you did upon arriving at New York.

The nurse gave you a tight shake of her head, "I'm sorry, miss. We have been getting different people claiming they're family, it's just for security measures."

"But I am her family, I can show you pictures," you hands quickly searches inside your pouch, hands flailing everywhere as you search for a specific polaroid picture, "I— I have pictures, sorry. I have many in my phone, look—"

"Y/N?"

Whipping your head around, your chest heaves out a sigh at the sight of Tony Stark, "Tony, is she okay?"

Tony manages to flick his eyes over the nurse to give a nod of approval, his ears bombarded by your desperate voice as you asks many questions in a quick span of minutes, "Calm down, she's stable now."

"What happened?" you asks quietly.

"Alcohol poisoning. She has been drinking all the time." Then his eyes hardens at you, "It's you, right? The reason for her constant drinking."

Your feet stumbles back, "We broke up."

"Clearly, she stopped writing songs." Tony tilts his head, tongue clicking inside of his cheek, "Fix this, Y/N. I invested everything for an unknown girl in a small town. Don't waste my efforts and her efforts to achieve the dream she wanted just because you can't suck up a simple fight."

"It's not a simple fight, Stark. She–"

"Doesn't matter. If you love her, fix this. She's throwing her whole life away because of you. Get your conscience working and fix this."

Fixing. You're good at fixing things that have been broken by others. That's your specialty, to disregard your needs and settle to fix the needs of others. This should be easy, right? To forget she cheated in exchange for her to stop harming herself. It would do you good, to fix her, to fix things, to fix everything but your broken heart.

Caressing her cold hands as your mind drifts off to her actions, her betrayal, restraining yourself to wince or even possibly shudder at tenderly touching her hands, your eyes scans her tranquil face. Eyes deeply shut, the rising and falling of her chest gave you the relief you never knew you needed. Despite the disgust looming at the corners of your chest, she is still the woman you have deeply fell in love with.

Wanda stirs, the beeping of the monitor reaches into your ears as you watch her carefully. Her eyelashes fluttering, green eyes staring right back at you.

You let her ingest the image you projected, surprise settling on her face as she tries to sit up but winces at the sudden pang of ache on her head.

"Lay still, you need to rest." your cold voice echoes at her empty hospital room.

"Why–" Wanda gulps, staring at you deeply, her eyes eyeing down the grip you have on her hands, a tinge of pink spreads at her face. "Y/N, why?"

"You poisoned yourself. What were you thinking? You'd think I'll forgive you if you die? Never, Wanda. Keep that in mind."

Your words hurt but it soothes her to see you with her, holding her hands like you're afraid she'll vanish into thin air. Let it be selfishness to feel happy you're concerned despite the betrayal she had done but she would gladly grasp that selfishness if it means to be with you again.

"I'm sorry." her voice came out hoarse, it scratched in her throat painfully.

You nod at her, standing up as you lean down, collecting your things. Wanda sits up swiftly, ignoring the throbbing pain of her head, panicking at your actions of fleeing.

"Y/N, wait." she uttered, holding your wrist tightly.

"I need to go home." you replied.

"Can you please stay?" Wanda pleaded, her eyes on the verge of tears as she tightened her hold on you.

"Why?"

"Let's talk, please."

You sigh, "There's nothing to talk about."

"Y/N, I'm sorry. I can call Val right now, she could tell you nothing happened between us. She just let me sleep in her room, nothing really happened. I was just so scared when I called you, I had to tell you. I can't do anything without you, Y/N. Please."

You dart your eyes away, unable to look at her broken face, "You said she was a mistake. You're lying, I just know it."

"She was, I was not supposed to sleep in the same—"

"Wanda, you can't pull shit like this. You can't cheat and then poison yourself. It's unfair to me. I still love you and you knew I would come running back to you if you got yourself harmed." your chest heaves out. Wanda's heart sinks as she lets herself drown with your words. She can't think of any excuses to let you stay with her, she's running out of ideas and it's making the panic inside her rise.

"Then run back to me. I'll be better, I'll do better. I love you." she begs, her face leaning in your chest as she wraps her arms around you, pulling you closer to her.

Your arms lay slack beside you, "You should've thought of that before touching others. Let go of me."

"Please, don't make me do this."

Your chest staggers, "Do what?"

"Be with me then I'll stop drinking."

Your face fell. She can't possibly say this, right?

"Fuck you." your voice hardens, yanking your figure away as you glowered at her. "Fuck you."

"You… are you okay?" Carol greets you, taking your pouch out of your hand as she leads you swiftly into the couch. Her eyes scans your tear-stained face, the quivering of your lips makes her want to rip out the one who caused you this much pain.

"Y/N, talk to me. Did something happen?" she asked once again, kneeling in front of you as she grabbed your hands laying steadily on your lap.

"She — Wanda, maybe it was a mistake, Car." you started, eyes welling up.

Carol leans back, anger pooling down her face.

"Mistake? Do you think cheaters make mistakes?" she snaps. "What did she say, Y/N?"

"Nothing." you quickly answered, eyes flickering away as your hands shook lightly.

Carol's face darkens, standing straight up, she asked in a dangerous tone, "What hospital is she in, again?"

You gaped at her, eyes wide as you clenched her wrist tightly, "No, she— she said she'll stop drinking if I take her back."

Carol's mouth sets in a hard line, a muscle in her jaw twitches as she tries to calm down the leaden feeling of anger bubbling in her chest. "She's threatening you? What the fuck is wrong with her."

"Maybe, maybe, it was a mistake. She told me they just slept in the same bed."

"Are you hearing yourself right now?" Carol scowled, "Do you really believe her? She just threatened you, Y/N. Wake the fuck up. Pack your things, we're going back home."

When silence ensues, Carol whips her head to look right back at your unmoving state. Frozen, time stopping as you watch unmovingly in a wall settled in front of you, no sign of following Carol's actions.

The blonde woman's jaw went slack, "Are you serious? you're running back to her? Y/N, are you serious?"

"I had to, she– She'll drink again, she will do it, Carol."

"Then let her do it. Let her ruin the life she have, let her fucking do it." Carol took a step, grabbing your hand, forcing you to come with her but your body remains unmoved, unpaced.

"Y/N, why would you… why?" Carol resigns, her eyebrows furrowing so deep.

"I'd rather have her than nothing at all." you uttered quietly.

Quiet surrounds Wanda's hospital room, its white walls and cold temperature didn't help the loneliness she had felt, it runs deep in her veins along with it are guilt and regret. She hadn't meant to say those words to you, watching the downfall of your face, the crestfallen expression you have given her were enough in wanting to take back the words she had muttered.

She didn't mean any of it, the desire to have you, to be able to be with you, was just too heavy for her to handle. She just wants you back, the weight of it latches into her being driving her to say those words, to make up anything to make you stay.

She hadn't meant to be this… bad.

She just wants you, she will do anything to have you back. She'll villainize herself if she had to.

"You're up early." Wanda looks up to stare at Natasha's half-smile.

"Yeah, can't sleep." she replied, sighing as her mind drifted back to you. "Nat, have you– have you contacted Val?"

The redheaded woman sat beside Wanda's bed, her expression solemn as she shook her head, "Got blocked. She's pissed at you, by the way. Good thing she signed the contract that night so she really can't back out now."

Natasha has been Wanda's right-hand woman, trusted by Tony, a loyal worker at his company for so long, it's not gonna be a surprise if months from now she's gonna take a much higher position in the company but that would be up to Wanda's popularity. If Wanda succeeded, Natasha would be too.

Then Natasha gazes at her, eyes curious, "Why do you even need to contact her?"

Guessing Wanda's expression was not hard for the redhead in fact it was so easy that her eyes widened at the thought, "You have a girlfriend, you're guilty."

She continues on, "You fucked Val? Is that why she's pissed? I thought you just ran your mouth dirty at her. What the hell, Maximoff."

Wanda groans, "We did not do that. I did not remember anything at all."

"Doesn't mean nothing happened. She's pissed, you two clearly did something." Natasha then leans her back, her eyebrows scrunched up, "You cheated with your girlfriend. The media would eat this up, cheating scandal always outrages the public. Who's the girlfriend so I could contact her, asap."

Wanda's head throbs at Natasha's reverberating voice, "She's from my hometown."

Wanda could see how the redhead visibly relaxes at her words, "Oh, thank god. So, she's a nobody."

"She's not—"

The knock cuts deep into Wanda's blossoming tensed energy, her eyes lingers on the door as Natasha walks up and greets the woman outside Wanda's room.

Green eyes stare at yours, blown and wide, you awkwardly stare at the redhead before you. Doubt claws its way out of your chest as insecurities dangle within it. Natasha, ever the bright woman, notices the shift of atmosphere, she excused herself, leaving you and a green eyed woman alone.

Wanda wants to run towards you, to meet you halfway, to fall in her knees and beg but she remains unmoved, her eyes following the hesitant steps you took towards her. Then, her eyes settled on your face, guilt engulfed her, seeing your eyebags prominent, no lightness casted upon your features, it was just dark and sad.

"Y/N, I'm sorry." she started, voice whisper-like. "I didn't mean to say those words."

"What are you trying to do, Wanda?" you asks.

There was no exasperation evident on your voice, no tiredness, no sharp edges, it was just a genuine question for her to answer.

"I–"

"What are you trying to do?" you asked once again.

Wanda lets out a shaky breath, her eyes welling up with tears, "I just want you back."

"Okay."

Wanda whips her head up, pupils dilated as her chest thumps wildly, "Okay?"

"You'll have me back," you declare, voice hardened, eyes piercing right at Wanda's. "You'll have me back after a year."

"Baby, I can't do that."

"I don't care. Do it. I want to see your songs doing well, I want you to continue writing, to stop drinking, to be better. I will forget what you had done if you'll do this."

A year. It's too long for Wanda, she'll be back again chugging drinks after drinks just by missing you. She can't do this, months without you was enough for her to be hospitalized what more for a year?

Will she be dead by then?

"Your wants will not be followed here, Wanda. You betrayed me, you can't possibly think I'll take you back just like that?" you uttered, the look on Wanda's face made your heart sink, it's doubt, hesitation. "You have my word. We will be together after a year, I just don't want to lose you."

"Is that a promise? Only a year and then we'll be together, here?" Wanda finally muttered, she reaches out for your hand, caressing it softly.

You nod, "Every milestone with me, right?"

Wanda's chest staggers, her heart beating wildly as she nods quickly, pulling you close, her arms wrapping instantly around your body.

You remain slack, of course she wouldn't notice the bitterness in your words.

Anything could happen within a year and Wanda achieved all of it quickly. Sweeping awards everywhere, charts all on top, her songs coming in like a big wave crashing through the crowds.

Her only motivation was you.

It was torture, no contact from you, the only thing she's holding on was your words, your promise to be with her. She remembers it clearly, the conversation in the hospital, the joy she felt after finally having the assurance of being with you.

"We'll meet at the bar, the one where you sang my favourite song. Do you remember?" Wanda remembers clearly that bar, the song, the notes of it, everything. So, she nodded, leaning in as she kisses your cheeks, sighing at the contact.

That was the last of it, the last of your words before you flew back to North Carolina, leaving her alone, her heart clenching on your promise. She never touched another drink again, never took a sip of it, even looked at it. She avoided it all, focused on becoming better for you. She behaved, became the most beautiful version of herself, just because of you.

The weight of the guitar hanging low on her body snapped her out of the trance, she eyed the crowd in front of her, a faint smile playing in her mouth as she grabs the mic and lean towards it.

"This song is a favorite of the most important person in my life. She loved this so much that she would beg me to sing it every single time and I never got tired of it." she started on, her eyes shining with tears as the longing for your being starts to pool down her chest. "This song has been engraved rightfully in my heart and soul."

Then her eyes settled in front, "I love you, you know that, right?"

And then tunes of melodies surrounds the place.

When the night has come

And the land is dark

And the moon is the only light we'll see

No, I won't be afraid

Oh, I won't be afraid

"Just as long as you stand, stand by me."

Wanda's voice trembled with the words slipping out from her lips, quiet and uncertain. Her eyes remained pinned on the crowd before her, shining stage lights dulled low for once—nearly like they understood this wasn't a show, not exactly. The guitar lay against her, her fingertips touching the strings with more trepidation than sound.

Her fingertips trembles under the strings of her guitar, the longing, the heartbreak, the painful thrumming of her chest reverbates throughout her whole being, just as she was about to continue singing, a painful sob broke out of her.

Wanda takes a deep breath, her eyes settled onto the crowds in front of her, her voice trembling as she once again continued forming her mouth to let out melodious tunes of the song, of your favorite song.

She dared not glance to her left.

She couldn't.

If she did, the dam would break.

The heaviness in her chest had been building for weeks, crushing and relentless, but she pushed on. She owed it to you, to the promises she'd promised and broke and the ones she never got the chance to keep.

Her fingers stuttered along the frets. She drew a quick breath, straining to force past the constriction in her throat, to continue the melody. But it wasn't a song anymore, it was a memory of stolen nights, whispered words, your voice humming the chorus against her skin.

The first tear escaped before she realized it.

Wanda still didn't glance to her left.

She attempted to play again, but her hands were shaking too hard now, each chord becoming brittle under her fingers. Then, finally, her eyes betrayed her, pulled, like gravity, to the center of the room.

To the white flowers.

To the candlelit photo frame.

And only then, softly, like a last note in a dying song, the truth came home, you weren't in the crowd at all.

Sadness clouded in Wanda's features. She sets her eyes out for the crowds, never at you, never at the open casket settled in the middle of the premises.

Anything could happen.

Anything.

Anything means breaking the promise you had forged in her heart.

She should've been the one to promise you not to drink, it must be her karma. Fate must be laughing at her right now.

Minutes from now you're gonna be there, beneath her, beneath in the ground, away from her, out of reach from her.

It was in the tenth month, october. A single phonecall was enough to crumble Wanda's world.

"She's gone." It was Carol's voice that greeted her.

Confused, Wanda asks, "Y/N? Is she going somewhere?"

"She's dead, Wanda."

She could clearly remember the painful blaring of her ears, the ringing of it as her mind stops midway, her heart beating out fast and painful. She remembers not breathing fine and then muffling Carol's voice.

"She must've gotten the idea from you." Carol's voice reverberates throughout Wanda's ringing ears.

"She must've thought she could understand the thing you have done if she had done it herself."

Wanda stepped back, clutching the phone so hard it was going to shatter in her fingers. Her legs buckled beneath her, but she braced herself on the kitchen counter's edge, a harsh breath rippling between her lips like a shattered sob.

"No," she whispered, the sound shuddering out of her lips as if it could reverse reality. "No, she—she wouldn't—”

"She did," Carol broke in, her tone harsh, thick with controlled anger. "She stepped into the line of fire, Wanda. Just vanished, just like you did once."

Wanda's eyes flashed, the burden behind them tugging at tears she could not yet let free. Everything seemed distant like she had been yanked underwater and everyone else stayed behind at the surface. She felt her lungs filled with water, every breath she took felt like a fire, burning, sizzling in every corner of her chest.

“She told me," Carol went on, voice shattering under the pressure of unexpressed sorrow, "—that if she could see your pain, perhaps she'd know why you left, why you cheated, why you broke her."

Wanda's breath hitched like something like a glass is stuck in her throat.

"I didn't mean to," she murmured, barely childlike. "I am better, if she— if— I’m sorry."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, again and again.

It was pathetic, really. Fragile. Helpless against the snowbank of quiet that lay in wait for her. But it was all she could do. Two words, quivering on her lips like a surrender flag held far too late.

Because what else was she supposed to say?

I loved you but broke you.

I was better, but not in time.

I thought there would be time.

But none of that mattered anymore.

So she said it again, quieter this time like if she spoke it gently enough, maybe it would travel across the wind, down through the earth, and reach whatever corner of the universe you now called home.

“I’m sorry.”

Because that was all that was left of her now—regret in a red coat, a voice without a stage, a promise she kept too late.

And even if the stars wouldn't reply, even if the grave wouldn't answer, she would still say it.

Until only a memory was left of her voice.

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