#figured it'd be good practice

[nohj3]

The phone rings with a known number, a debt collector, trying once again to convince me to pick up the debts of my ex-spouse. I lay, listening to its ringing as it goes. Irritating. Frustrating. And I'm already so upset. Upset at... Myself... Mostly...

In a move I, at the time called stupidity, but later learned was intended as an Implicitively ignorable form of self harm, I answered the call.

"Hello?", the voice said, wavering with a tone of uncertainty, reflecting it's owner's confusion at the vacuous space that their expectations would usually assume another voice to be in.

I'm already in this now. The social conventions of answering a call clearly implicate a consent to conversation that my new temporary partner in telecommunications has done no faux pas, to allow me to safely unlock the cage that is societal expectation.

"Hello," I state. Simple and efficient. With no attempt at conveying information the greedy vultures shouldn't have. My voice, upon registering the need for polite but stern tones, slipped quickly into its work uniform. High pitched. Firm. Tight throat. The way i talk around strangers who don't need to know about my nonstandard gender. "Whom is this I'm speaking to?"

"Oh! I'm srry ma'am!" The voice continues, both more comfortable in It's locating of a designated dance partner, and less comfortable in hearing whom they didn't expect. "Srry to bother you, I'm looking for a man named [deadname]. Do you know where he might be?"

The revelation that my voice unintentionally deceitfully removed from it's oppositional voice's owner's mind the very idea I could be the one that they sought, filled me with such joy. My voice passes! That's incredible! I've worked so hard for this! The joy is quickly used as a foundation to motivate me into a mindset capable of navigating such a conversation.

"You still haven't answered me. Whom am i speaking to?" I state, with a confidence in my voice, i thought myself previously incapable.

"Oh uh... We work for [redacted], i uh... Legally Can't say anymore than that unless i know I'm speaking to [deadname]. Do you know where he is?"

"I can certainly give them a message. What would you like me to say?"

"Oh uh... I mean.. That won't be necessary.." The voice stammers as it's possessor processes the pressure prevalent in pursuing a position possessing the potential to procreate payment from the pocket of a person permeating privacy. "If you could just tell us how to reach him?"

"Oh, I'm sure they would have no qualms being the one contacting you." I state, poorly hiding my sadistic pleasure in my social domineering, a trait i, despite my growing confidence in my personal tendencies, still define as a necessary tool not to be enjoyed like a toy. "But they're not devoid of busy. I mean, if they were they'd be easier to contact. No?"

"I-i suppose bu-" they're cut off as i continue.

"So if we want them to have you in possession of a higher slot in the callback list, you simply must give me some information they would deem worthwhile to pursue. I apologize that your hands are metaphorically tied by legal rope, but, to be quite frank, that's not my problem? As it stands all [deadname] will hear is that [redacted] called, but didn't bother to say why. Now that doesn't seem very urgent now does it? Also, dare i say, lacks quite the professionalism on your part." My tone sharp but soft edged. A mix of caring and uncaring, like a sadist playfully tearing down their prey's will.

"W-well that's fair. I um... Uh... You can tell him um...." The sweet soft tones of the struggle the voice conveys fill me with a pleasure i deem too hedonistic to savor. As i push back down my instinctual self in favor of a version less hopelessly addicted to inciting such delicious sounds from those consenting to be prey, I tune back into the stammering The voice fails to hide. "You can tell him... That uh... We called... And we'll call again. Later. When he's less busy. Um... S-srry again to bother you ma'am."

"Oh no trouble at all," i speak, with an almost sultry, but certainly not lacking in control, tone. "It's been such a pleasure talking to you."

"Y-yeah? I-i mean. I'll call later. Bye!!!" They hang up quickly. Failing to hold even a crumb of professionalism by the end. Cute.

I'm still laying. The surge of confidence and self actualization must be far more affected by the unexpected method of its own arrival than i originally anticipated, as it's done nothing to affect the physicality of my body. I sit up. I'm going to be ok. A thought i, mere a few minutes prior, thought my brain to be vacant of. I'm going to be ok. My spouse is gone now. They can't hurt me. The constant chains reminding me of their presence all of a sudden feel to be made of weaker metal as i successfully evaded the vultures looking to devour my liver.

These are but threads tying me to them. They can no longer hurt me. I'm going to be ok.

[magnapanther]

drew hallownest's crown in its prime, before any stray wyrms decided to move in and create some random kingdom :3

surely the moths who built this fine statue would never turn their backs upon the being it represents, causing it to be forgotten and grow spiteful, seeding death and sickness in the interest of revenge!!

...

ANYWAYS, i know it's not super complex, but i'm pretty happy with it. been trying to figure out how to draw rock/stone and clouds in a sketchier/looser style, so here's my attempt at that, if anyone has some tips/tricks for that it'd be super greatly appreciated!! :3

also felt like i'd been drawing a lot of super gloomy dark environments and was kinda stuck in a rut/art blocked, so i wanted to step outside my comfort zone :)

seriously though imagine some beautiful sunny day with multicoloured clouds and sunbeams shining down through the crystal peaks, refracting off crystals and stuff.... i'd love to see that in-game somehow dude

[wackulart]

Belos doodles + Closeups

the jesus one is heavily inspired by gearbroth's joke in their witte-thorne doodle post

[crystalbeastsquidney]

Kinda surprised I've never seen anyone draw Jin with a Decidueye before, it fits so well with his thief outfit.

[singing-not-sleeping-beauty]

Trying to draw a spidersona, but how the fuck do you draw them web slinging without it looking like their shoulder is dislocated?

[jb-nonsense]

I cannot WAIT until I get my room is sorted sO I CAN DO THIS ANIMATION STUCK IN MY HEAD TO MONTERO FEATURING ERIK

[theheadlessgroom]

https://www.tumblr.com/beatingheart-bride/710130899552993280/theheadlessgroom-beatingheart-bride

@beatingheart-bride

Randall was seated in the more shadowy side of Box Five, unable to be seen by audience, orchestra, and cast members alike: Although he felt very confident in his ghostly guise, he didn’t want to take any risk, and so he always sat in a particular corner of the box, able to observe the goings-on from the darkness-just as he observed Thaddeus Morgan happening to look up at the box, no doubt catching sight of Emily as they talked and watched the rehearsal.

Although he maintained a pleasant, affable tone as he and Emily continued talking, Randall didn’t miss the opportunity to briefly glare down at Morgan from his vantage point, narrowing his eyes in annoyance. Focus on your music, Mr. Morgan, he mentally chastised, annoyed by the persistence of his staring. Wouldn’t want you to miss your next note on opening night, simply because you weren’t paying attention during practice...

Ah, but he wasn’t about to let Morgan ruin his time with Emily, instead happily chatting away with her, telling her of the operas he’d watched from Box Five, and how much he liked it. He’d tried sitting in other boxes, just to see how they compared, and there was really no competition, Five was the way to go, really. It offered the best view of the stage and the best quality when it came to listening to both the performers and the orchestra, and so he wouldn’t trade it for anything. There was no better seat in the opera-not even towards the front, beneath the giant chandelier...

[xythlia]

so uh guess who's moving

[anarkhebringer]

Trying to practice anatomy with Lalafells and figure out how fat would fall on them

[pynkfairyheart]

pairings: Onyankopon x black reader

warnings: Jean slander, smut 18+

Need you

“And then the bitch scoffed and rolled her eyes like I didn't just apologize. I need to find a new place asap cause I swear next time she try me Imma fuck her up- “

“What I tell you bout cussing?” Ony’s deep voice filled the room, dark eyes piercing into yours as a warning.

“Anywaysss” You rolled your eyes, ignoring the side eye he was giving. “You’ve been awfully quiet since I came over. What’s going on?” You put your freshly manicured feet in his face.

“Nothing you’ve just been yapping the whole time.” He smirked.

“Rude” You gasped, nudging him with your toes.

“Nah I'm just chillin’. You know I like listening to you talk.” He shrugged, placing your legs into his lap. Lighting the blunt he just rolled, a cloud of smoke surrounding him as he took a hit.

“Whatever” You smiled as he passed it to you.

You and Ony often had moments like these, a smoke sesh usually spent with you talking about your week as he massaged your feet. Your relationship with Ony was…complicated. Ever since Sasha introduced you two, y'all were inseparable, constantly getting mistaken for a couple, and who could blame them?

Most thought this because Ony always had to be touching you, whether it was holding your hand, an arm around your shoulder, or a tight grip on your waist. However, for some, it was how you two would always disappear during the function. Claiming you were only talking, but the slight sheen on Ony’s lips and your slightly ruffled clothing told otherwise.

You weren’t quite friends with benefits. At least that's what you told yourselves. The whole ordeal just kinda happened. You were stressed over your midterms and Ony of course offered to help you study. Though after hours of reading flashcards and practice tests, you were still stressed and on the verge of tears when Ony offered another way to help you. That night you ended up with your legs in the air as Ony sucked the soul out of your pussy. Ever since then any inconvenience one had, the other would do their best to help relieve the stress. Your roommate upset you? Ony fed you long deep strokes, pampering you with soft kisses while he whispered in your ear. Ony was pissed that his supplier flaked on him? Ony would have the tightest grip on your hips as he drilled into you from behind, claiming the waves of your ass hypnotized him into forgetting what he was upset about. Some days neither of you needed an excuse. Some days you just craved each other.

Despite your unique relationship, you remained friends allowing the other to do what they pleased, though neither you nor Ony slept with or saw other people. Your dynamic was good and worked for both of you. That was until you started seeing Jean.

“You n that nigga Jean still fuckin around?” He broke the silence, waiting for your answer as your eyes met his.

“Ony” You groaned, the tight grip he had on your ankles preventing you from moving.

“What? I can’t ask you questions now?” He kissed his teeth, putting out the blunt.

“No, because any time you ask about Jean we end up getting into an argument and I’m really enjoying my time with you right now. So no, you cannot ask.”

“Whatever. I’m just tryna figure out when you gon stop playing in my face nd be with me instead of his bitchass.”

“Onyankopon '' You shrieked. You never understood why Ony hated Jean till a few weeks ago when Ony drunkenly confessed his feelings. At first, you thought he was joking but the look on his face told you otherwise. For a minute, you were happy. Ony was everything you had wanted in a boyfriend and you two had practically been in a relationship just without the labels. It wasn't till Jean texted you that you got upset. Why confess his feelings when you're finally in a relationship? Deciding it'd be best to forget about it, you put Ony to bed, hoping he'd also forget about his confession. Clearly, you were wrong.

“What? I don't understand what you see in him. He's annoying as fuck, and I'm pretty sure he has 4 brain cells. Maximum.” He rolled his eyes at the thought of Jean. “Why won't you give me a chance when I'm the one for you?”

“We've talked about this Ony.” You sighed. Conversations like these were becoming frequent and they were so tiring.

“No mama you've talked nd I've listened.” You thought about it, he wasn’t exactly wrong. Silently praying this wouldn't end up in an argument you gave him a chance.

“Okay. I'm listening.” You whispered.

“C’mere,” He released your ankles.

“Ony I’m not gonna-”

“[☆]” The dominance in his tone had you clenching around nothing.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you did as he told. The moment you sat on his lap you just knew how it was going to end.

“Why you with him instead of me? And don't feed me no bullshit” His large hands were rubbing up and down your thighs getting dangerously close to your pussy that desperately ached for him.

You tried and you tried but there wasn't any good reason as to why you were Jean. Sure he was cute but he had no idea how to make you feel special and overall just couldn't please you. In multiple ways. The main reason though was that he wasn’t Ony. He just asked first.

“I don't know, Ony” You finally sighed, looking everywhere but him.

Any discipline you had when it came to Ony vanished when his hand wrapped around your throat, the slight pressure on your carotid causing your brain to go fuzzy and your panties to get damp “Look at me”

“Be real. Please” Ony released his hold on your neck to grip your thighs.

“You had the longest opportunity to ask me to be with you but you never took the chance, yet when I'm finally in a relationship you suddenly wanna give up everything and take a chance to be with me and I feel like that’s not fair to me Ony.”

He rubbed his hands down his face with a sigh. “You're right.”

"I did have that opportunity and always hesitated. I always assumed it would be just you and me, that you wouldn't pursue other relationships because of our bond. Since the day we met, I've wanted you. I know this is unfair and I'm so sorry princess, but I can't ignore my feelings any longer. Jean can't possibly be the man you want, the man you deserve. But I can. I promise to take the chance if you just give me another opportunity, and I'll do everything in my power to make you proud. You’re my best friend, my favorite person in the whole universe and I'm determined to be the person you need. I love you [☆].”

“Ony” you huffed, feeling as if all air was being vacuumed out of your lungs at his confession.

“Please. Lemme show you how much I love you.” He whispered, closing the distance that separated you. “Please” He captured your lips, his usual sweet taste with a hint of spiciness from the weed clouding your thoughts. Oh, how you missed this. Missed him. The kiss was intimate and familiar, the passion growing with each second. Ony’s hands roamed your body, gripping the soft flesh of your thighs before traveling to your ass, taking pleasure in the soft moan you let out, and using the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips. On instinct, your hips rocked down onto him.

“Fuck, baby. I missed you” He groaned, flipping you onto your back.

“Ony we can’t” You huffed, despite the wetness growing in between your thighs. God he looked so good. His muscles bulged as he took his shirt off, your eyes trailed down his torso, mouth watering at the prominent v-line peeking from his low sitting sweats.

“Do you want this? Yes, or no?” His tongue traced lazy patterns on your skin as he littered your neck with kisses.

“Ony I-”

“Yes or no [☆]?” He nipped on your earlobe, hand dipping below the waistband of your leggings.

“Fuck, Ony” his hand slipped beneath the thin fabric of your thong, fingers slipping through your folds. Gathering your arousal before circling your clit in tight circles. “Yes, please”

“Then shut up and lemme show you how much I love you” He murmured as he undressed you. Replacing his fingers with his tongue, he lapped at your folds like a starved man, his tongue repeatedly flicking your clit. “Missed you so fucking much. Don't ever give my pussy away again. You hear me?” He muttered, sliding two digits past your entrance. The action was easy with how wet you were.

“Ony” Your thighs threatened to close around his head.

“Answer me or I'm stopping” He slowed his movements, leaving you needy.

“It's yours. I'm yours pa, I promise” Your legs shook as he continued to give you slow strokes, the addition of another finger having you seeing stars. “O-Ony wait” You panted, attempting to push his head away but he refused to let up on your pussy, never wanting to stop till he and his couch were soaked in your essence as he lapped at your clit.

“Ony I’m so-fuck I'm so close” Your words encouraged him to speed up as he repeatedly hit the spongy spot of your walls. “Ony” Your walls clenched around his fingers, leaving little room for his fingers to continue as you reached your peak.

Despite your thighs tightening around his head he continued his assault on your pussy. It wasn't until he was finally satisfied with slurping up your arousal, that he pulled away pressing gentle kisses on your throbbing clit as he pulled his soaked fingers out of your walls.

“Missed you so much” He mumbled, giving you the nastiest kiss ever, your arousal all over his lower face.

“I missed you too”

“Yeah?” He grabbed your hips, positioning you on all fours.

“Ony” You whined, pout forming on your lips as you looked back. His dick standing tall now that it was no longer confined. God, please let me have feeling in my legs tomorrow.

“I know you ain't think I was done. You played in my face and let another nigga hit and think I'm not finna put you back in your place? Nah, both you and this pussy need a reminder of who you belong to” He slid his dick through your folds, your cream acting as lube.

“Matter a fact” He lined up at your entrance just as your phone started ringing ‘Jean baby’ flashing on the bright screen.

“Lemme show this nigga too.”

first time ever writing smut nd even though it was short it took me foreverrr but i think it turned out okay. also so sorry for all my Jean girlies out there lol. anyways i hope you enjoyed nd any feedback is greatly appreciated. mwah

[moondirti]

blue collar simon x gn! reader. implied cnc.

Simon finds a journal on his lunch break.

It's inconspicuous. A5 black moleskin with an elastic holding it's contents together, bits of paper sticking out like nails on a poorly constructed house frame. He only notices it because his cooler slips off the bench when he blindly places it atop the fat book, sandwiches and packets of crisps now strewn across the dirty pedway.

The day's already been shit. A motley of blows, each made worse by the torrid sun overhead, sweat to cling to his grievances. An uptight site manager. A near loss of life after some tenderfoot got caught in between an excavation truck and the wall. Even his too-long hair, which curls around red ears – having not had a chance to buzz it off since being called in for this job. It's no wonder, then, that the tiny mishap stirs as severe of a reaction as it does; he chucks his hard hat across the road, satisfied only when it finds its fate mid-lane, an obstruction to inevitably fuck the tires on a white collar's new car.

When his rage settles as smouldering ash in his chest, he picks his food off the floor and cracks open the source of his animosity.

With no name or number, the first page holds just a chicken-scratch address. Interesting. Its owner hasn't made this easy on him, crafting it like one would a game. A skewing of traditional acquaintance. Granting nothing of their superficial identity, yet unrestricted access to their innermost thoughts. Thus he's forced to paint his own picture of the figure behind the words.

And what a picture indeed.

The first entry is brief.

13.02 – My therapist expects at least three pages a week. I'm not doing any of that, so don't get your hopes up.

It's evident that you don't stick to your guns. Though the next one is dated several months later, so he see's the attempt had been made. Written in a whole new hand, like you'd picked a dry pen off the floor and practiced your non-dominant grip:

08.05 – I broke my arm playing tennis. The umpire called a match-point in my opponent's favour and I threw the racket at his head.

I am no longer allowed to play tennis. What good is that resolution? My radius has a greenstick fracture. I'm already out of the game.

His laugh is abrasive and sudden, like it'd been pried from his chest by a pair of careless hands. Or as close to that analogy as it can get – your anger is intoxicating and only grows more potent across the pages. Inadvertently amusing. Simon chews through the tough crust of his torpedo roll as he reads, time wearing away under the stiff comb of your words.

There's hardly any variation in your cataloguing –

10.06 – The universe must need more bad people in it, because it tests my limits everyday. Can the fuck next door snore any louder? It's 2 am, goddammit. I wonder if it'd be overkill to ship nasal strips to his mailbox.

26.06 – Dad called today. Didn't pick up.

04.07 – I'm close to killing Kathleen. There's a reason the food in the fridge is labelled as MINE. GET YOUR GRUBBY PAWS OFF OF IT!

13.07 – The world is a shitty, stupid, crappy, icky, lousy, rotten, stinking, stinky, bad place. I hate my coworkers and friends and parents and landlord and etc etc. It's like everyone is out to get me.

– so it's like the honed curl of a hook. Whiplash-inducing, reeling his attention so quick that his neck strains in phantom pain. Simon stops everything, elbows settling onto his knees as he fixates on one entry in particular.

30.07 – I stand by what I said. The world is uniquely horrible. I think that's because I make it that way for myself. Whatever this exercise was meant to do for me, rage relief or introspection or whatever, it's clearly not working. I'm just as angry as I was before. Maybe burning these pages would help. I wish I could play tennis again. I don't know what to do with my hands anymore. I got fired last week. Need groceries. Eggs, spinach. Spinach always goes bad and I never make use of it. I keep buying it though. Dad keeps calling. I've got a migraine and I've run out of advil.

I just need someone to put me in my place.

And it ends there. No more entries after the fact, just a handful of blank pages before the journal wraps to a close.

He flips back over to the address at front. Looking at it a second time, he can tell the ink is still fresh.

Perhaps he misinterprets it. Perhaps it hits a little too close to home. It wouldn’t be the first time he looks for salvation in the empty lines someone leaves behind. Perhaps it’s just been a bad day, and he should go home before he does something he’ll regret. Perhaps it’s nothing at all.

Or–

Perhaps he sees it for what it is.

Here are all my colours. What you choose to do, or think, is no longer my concern.

[is-this-even-relatable]

Misfortune Teller

tldr: An older Danny, apprentice to Clockwork, does a lot of field work across dimensions, resetting the timeline, queuing future events, and who knows what else. Occasionally, he warns people about such upcoming possibilities, to set them on the right path. How, you might ask? Well in this case... as a wandering fortune teller.

Crack-fic (oh god, it's getting long and my logic brain won't let it remain as crack) where Danny becomes Clockwork's apprentice after getting his GED. Living his infinite afterlife to the fullest. Inspired by this tumblr post.

-----------------------------------------------------

Working for Clockwork had been... interesting so far. At first, Danny got frustrated by how vague and cryptic Clockwork was. He'd just shunt Danny off to some ancient time with a few words, his own time medallion (Danny carried it everywhere with him now), and then pop back into the portal, leaving Danny with only the faintest idea of where to go.

Eventually, after enough time (ha!) spent around Clockwork, Danny figured out that it just basically meant that he had free reign and to do whatever he wanted. Because if he went on the wrong path, (like that one time in Pompeii when he had almost caused the volcano to explode a few years too early), Clockwork would just pop on by, say another few cryptic words, and then it'd all be fine and dandy, or as he liked to say, "All is as it should be... Now stop practicing your wail by an active volcano."

After telling Jazz about that (it was supposed to be funny, not concerning), she just sighed and shook her head, with a forlorn "think before you act, Danny!" but hey, it'd turned out fine so far, so who cares how he does what Clockwork asks him to do, as long as it gets done, right? Even if it's with a liiiiitle more mischief than strictly required.

Besides. Danny was the one who had been doing time shenanigans across millennia, not Jazz. And he thought he'd been getting pretty good at it too! He'd actually started giving himself a different made-up background for each universe he visited. Sam and Tucker were helping him keep up with the identities on a spreadsheet, so if he had to go back to one he'd already visited, he'd remember who he'd said he was supposed to be.

---

He was on a call with them one evening while haunting Jazz's apartment, doing just that, when he felt a familiar tingle in the back of his throat, as well as a heightened awareness of the seconds passing by, that always accompanied his mentor's appearance.

Sam was talking about his past stint posing as a god of death when he cut in. "Hey- sorry to interrupt, Sam- Clocky's here, guys, I gotta dip."

"Aw, come on! We hardly talked any this past week since you passed your certifications, man," Tucker complained.

Danny rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah, yeah. Partly on you too though, you've been caught up outside of class, and Sam's schedule is nearly the opposite of yours."

Sam hummed in agreement despiter Tucker's scoff.

Danny missed hanging out with them as much as they had in high school, but hey, life goes on. Or at least, theirs did, to college. After finally flunking out of Casper High, he'd taken some time to get used to his responsibilities in the ghost zone, and when he had, he realized that he didn't really have much enthusiasm or timeleft for his human life.

And he didn't really want to go back home either.

But Jazz had made him tie up any loose ends before he noped-off to god knows where, which frankly, he had to thank her for. Getting his GED took a few years, but it was an accomplishment that could be attributed to Danny Fenton, no ghostliness required. Then he was able to let that tether go free.

Pulled out of his musings by a few more grumbles from Tucker, Danny said his goodbyes, promising to call the next time they were all available.

After hanging up, Danny swiveled around, anticipation already lighting up his eyes an ethereal green.

Clockwork, for his part, had been waiting patiently through Danny's lengthy goodbyes. Although he supposed that it tracked for the watcher of time to be patient. With his job, it'd be a nightmare if he wasn't.

"Phantom," Clockwork spoke, calm as always. "I have some tasks I need you to complete as my apprentice."

And Danny, always ready for adventure, didn't need him to explain any further. "Sure! When do you need me to be?"

Clockwork smiled at that. "I am fortunate you are eager. Follow me."

---

Danny popped into existence in this universe with a burst of cold air and static electricity. He found himself hovering by a clocktower above a sprawling, gothic city. Smog and light pollution obscured the stars above him, to his disappointment. He comforted himself with the fact that he'd probably have all the time he wanted to fly someplace less populated to see them later.

He started off by familiarizing himself with the city. As he flew, he followed the trail of power and met the resident city-spirit, a spooky- but kind underneath- woman draped in black lace, who told him her name was Gotham. He spoke in length with her about this universe, its heroes, and her knights. On that, she was very enthusiastic... or at least Danny thought she was, her projected emotions belaying much more than her gloomy exterior. She told him how her knights had been through a lot and would need some guidance fighting the darkness that pooled in her deepest corners, smiling with too much glee, filling lungs with fear, and terrorizing with cold hard bullets.

Danny could sense that the dangers she spoke of were growing in power, ever slowly. The longer they shadowed people's minds and hearts, an intangible thing grew that lent them more otherworldly pull than their physical forms had right to hold.

That must be what he was sent here for.

But... they were weak, pitifully so for him, infinite king as he was. And besides, he wasn't here in that sense. He was a messenger, a simple apprentice. And he could do this however he wanted.

Cue his talk with Lady Gotham, and subsequent idea to arm her knights. With what? Well, he figured knowledge would be a start. Flying high above the city invisibly, Danny noticed a sea of colors and lights by what appeared to be the city's pier. He flew down, noting that it appeared to be the setup spot for a travelling circus or carnival of some kind.

He considered what to do. One of Lady Gotham's troubles was a madman clown, right? Well maybe he'd be attracted to his ilk here... and with the danger came the knights. Maybe he could catch one of them here?

Danny was floating around at the entrance and beginning to formulate a plan when a flyer caught his eye. Looking for a mystic to read fortunes. URGENT!

Hadn't Clockwork said something about fortunes? And he hadn't made an identity in this universe yet...

A mischievous smile crept across Danny's face, splitting it in two with far too many teeth.

---

Half a city away, a man in all black, perched on the very same clocktower that Phantom had Appeared by, shivered as he felt an ominous premonition about his sanity in the near future...

Said man quickly opened his comms to check in with his many, many kids. Yet even after hearing back from each, he still felt apprehensive.

Somewhere even further, Clockwork laughed.

---

And that's how Danny found himself seated at a fortune teller's booth at a pier in Gotham, two days later, for the Tricksy Traveling Circus's grand opening.

[pomefioredove]

housewardens + Jamil and Floyd with a reader that plays volleyball please

I think of reader as yuu, but it's not needed to be specified, and NRC doesn't really have volleyball as one of the sports that I know of. so whether it's not a thing in their world or just not at their school, I think it'd be cool to see how the characters react to the reader playing during gym, free time, or for some outside of school club or whatever. it'd be amazing if reader could be a libero, because that's my position, but it doesn't have to be specified

but like, js imagine reader is yuu and so they taught one of the students how to play bc it's not at NRC amd now they play literally whenever they can

I don't know anything about volleyball but I tried 🫡🫡

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ volleyball player reader

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, floyd, jamil, kalim, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

am I crazy to think that Riddle would be into it? seeing as he's somewhat of an athlete himself (equestrian club), he knows the sort of discipline and dedication it takes to truly master a sport

he'll offer to help you organize an ~official~ club, but you don't seem too bothered about it. he finds it endearing that you can wake up in an entirely different world, almost die every other month, and still have the motivation to pursue what you love, anyway

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you'd better be careful around Leona, or you'll end up at morning Spelldrive practice in his place (hehe)

so, you don't have any magic. and? you know how to throw and catch, and that's good enough for him. hell, you're better than most of the magical first years. plus, you're motivated, you're responsible, and Leona Savanaclaw could use someone like you around

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

when Azul sent the tweels to dig up some dirt on you, he wasn't expecting this. like, okay, he underestimated you. he was hoping for something more... exploitable. if only he had a use for volleyball...

oh, well. you're still worth watching, currently useful or not. athletic skill is nothing to sneeze at, especially from a native land-dweller. he might need those legs of yours someday, you know

...wait, that came out wrong

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

no one really bothers looking for Floyd when he doesn't show up to basketball club. not because they don't care, but because it's not worth the time. if he really doesn't want to be found, you just won't find him

of course, the one day Jamil has to leave club early, he walks in on the two of you in the courtyard, playing volleyball

all this time, Floyd had been skipping club to watch you play another ball game just a few minutes away. he's absolutely captivated, too. like a cat with a laser pointer

as unamused as he is, Jamil knows it's absolutely useless to lecture him, so he just... sits and watches you play, too

and, well... he gets it. you're an interesting person, you know?

after that, he figures you may as well join the basketball club

...if only to give you a better place to practice, and to keep Floyd indoors

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

bro if you asked, Kalim would have an entire court built for you. actually, you wouldn't even have to ask. just one mention about how NRC has no volleyball club, and he'd have a team just for you by noon

if you refuse, he's still supportive. and really, really fascinated. he's not as much of an athlete as you or Jamil, which just makes it all the more impressive to him. he'll ask you to explain the game and your position over and over again, even while watching you play

he also just likes hearing your voice, so :)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

if there's anything Vil can admire, it's dedication. another thing? passion. being an athlete, or, really, having any serious hobby, demands both of those things

here's the thing; he could already tell. he didn't have to stumble across you during practice (as if he would stumble at all smh). your form, the way you carry yourself, even parts of your personality were context enough

and while he may not say it, he holds a high opinion of you. you can legit get out of VDC training by just saying you're going to practice

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you may think that Idia isn't going to go for the jock type, but, actually, one of his favorite animes is about volleyball and-

yeah, yeah. you get it. he's smitten

if he ever gets over his crushing fear of talking to you, you'll never get him to shut up. seriously. he already knows everything there is to know about the game, but that doesn't mean he's not going to ask you to explain everything all over again (he's totally fangirling over this). and sevens forbid you give him a demonstration...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

there's probably not volleyball in Briar Valley. right. I just can't picture that. so the first time Malleus observes you in practice, he's amazed, fascinated even. and he has a lot of questions. good ones!

you could probably convince him to play with you, which would be, uh. interesting? actually he's weirdly an amazing player

you could get all of Diasomnia to form a team, somehow. like I know they'd be abnormally good at it

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Go Home - Charles Leclerc

<word count - 2667>

What. A. Fucking. Day. 

You were running around the Ferrari hospitality, with practically no energy after being up all night. The fact that you had even made it into work was an absolute miracle, but you thought that doing something with yourself might help you take your mind off of how you were feeling. 

It was safe to say that it didn't. If anything, it just made it worse. Your body felt more fatigued the more you moved, and plenty of people had noticed. They all asked if you were feeling OK, and you always responded with a meek 'yeah, yeah, just feeling a little under the weather.'

One of the many people to notice this was Charles. He had seen that you weren't your usual, perky self, and that concerned him slightly. After seeing you around for a few hours, not getting noticeably better, Charles took it upon himself to approach you. 

You had just walked out of Fred's office after delivering some papers, and he was stood in the corridor, seemingly waiting to go in. "Hey Charles," you greeted, sending him a small yet weak smile. You didn't want him to be the next person to ask how you were feeling, but you could sense it coming anyway.

"Hey, you OK? You're not looking too good..." he sheepishly said, not wanting to upset you, but still wanting to show that he cared about your current condition. 

"Oh thanks, Charles," you rolled your eyes, walking away from him. Instantly, you felt bad that you had reacted like that, knowing he was just trying to be nice and knowing that your attitude was uncalled for.

But, you really weren't feeling like making kind smalltalk with someone. You weren't in any mood to turn around and apologise either, so you just figured you would say sorry to him when you were feeling better. 

Shortly after, you heard footsteps behind you in the corridor. Charles knew you didn't mean it and it was just because you were feeling shitty, so he didn't take it to heart. If anything, it made him even more worried for you and whether you should actually be at work or not. 

"Y/N, hey, no, wait," he called after you, speeding up so he could catch up to you. "You really don't look too good, are you sure you don't need anything? I've got some extra time if you want some help with some stuff." he said, hoping that you'd allow him to take some of the load off of you so that you could relax for a bit. 

"No, no," you declined, thinking that he had something better to be doing with his time. He was just as busy as you were, if not more. Plus, you didn't want to give him whatever it was you had just in case it would hinder his racing ability. 

"Are you sure? I really don't mind, it'd be-" he started, but you cut him off with a sigh. 

"Charles, I've got it, OK? I do appreciate the offer, really, but you're just as busy as I am." you interjected, turning around and walking off from him again. Charles huffed to himself, unsure of what to do. 

He was certain that you running around and working yourself to the bone wasn't what was going to help your illness, but he also knew that you were stubborn as a mule and it'd take a hell of a lot of convincing to get you to change your mind.

For the time being, he resigned himself to the fact that you were going to carry on working. He'd keep an eye on you for the rest of the day, and if you got any worse, he would simply have to force you to go home. 

An hour or so later, Charles spotted you in the cafeteria, pushing your food around your plate with your fork. His heart dropped slightly as he saw your face. You had paled in colour, your nose and cheeks contrasting against your skin as they were as red as your polo that you had on. 

He leant against the wall with his arms crossed for a short while, his eyes glued on you. Your shoulders were hunched, one of your arms wrapped around your stomach. He spotted the subconscious, self-soothing gesture, and his hard expression softened. 

You really didn't look good, not at all. Definitely not good enough to be staying at work and slaving away for the rest of the day. Slowly, Charles stepped towards your table, the other people around knowing that it'd take a miracle to convince you to chill it out. 

"Hey, can I sit?" he quietly said, gesturing to one of the chairs at your otherwise empty table. You craned your neck to look up at him, leaning back and taking your arm away from your stomach. 

"Yeah, course," you nodded, watching as he pulled out the chair next to you and sat down on it. With one elbow on the table, Charles rested his chin on his hand. 

"How are you feeling?" he asked, the question obviously leading. It was with an expectant answer, an answer consisting of you telling him how horrendous you felt and how you needed to go home. 

However, you replied with a simple, "I'm fine." Charles groaned, running a hand through his chocolate locks. 

"You're not fine, OK? Look at you, you look dead on your feet," he said, frustration seeping through his words. He never understood why you were always so stubborn, especially when it came to your own wellbeing. 

Going home was clearly the best option for you and your health, but you refused to just give up your pride and perfect work-attendance record and go home. "I'm just feeling a bit rough, it's nothing serious," you tried to reassure him, knowing he wasn't going to back down on the matter easily. 

"Nothing serious? You're pale as a ghost, you clearly have 0 energy, and it is just obvious that you feel absolutely awful!" he snapped, unable to keep his temper in check. He wasn't snapping out of anger, and you knew that. 

He was snapping out of pure consideration for you and comfort. Deep down, he knew that you were hurting and in no condition to be there, but that didn't stop his temperament from clocking out for a moment. 

He saw the dejected look on your face, the softness creeping back into his features. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." he trailed off, unsure of what to say. Getting mad at you wouldn't make you listen to him, he knew that, but he still wanted to try and convince you.

"Please, just go back to the hotel. I'm worried about you, you know?" Charles said, hoping that by revealing his feelings, it might incline you to listen to him. "I'll make sure all of your work is done, I promise. You won't have to worry about a thing."

"But I've got so much to do, and I don't want to force someone else to work that I can-" 

"No, don't tell me you can do it. You can't do it. And I won't let you," Charles cut you off, squeezing your hand. "I'll take you back, make sure you're comfy, and I will have it all taken care of." he repeated.

For once, you were actually considering doing what he said. Your body was crying out for you just to retire to your bed for the remainder of the day and just rest. Sleep off the sickness and come back to work your usual self. 

There was the problem of your work, but you truly did trust that Charles would have it taken care of. He wasn't the kind of guy to make promises that he couldn't keep, and he would make sure your work got done on time and as it was supposed to be done. 

He took your silence as a yes, since you'd usually give him attitude if you were refusing his requests. He hated seeing you like this: tired, sick and downright dejected. A small part of him was screaming at him to just wrap you up in his arms and take care of you until you were back to your usual self.

In some ways, you being like this hurt him too. He didn't like it when you pushed yourself this far and risked your own health and wellbeing just for the sake of a job. Yes, he did admire it, but his dislike for it heavily out-weighed his recognition of the trait. 

"When was the last time you ate something? And don't bother lying to me," he sternly asked, and you knew it wasn't time to try and fool him with a clearly false answer.

"Yesterday. Well, more specifically, last night." you quietly told him, his eyes searching your face for any hint of deception. Yet, he found nothing but sincerity, and the pointed look in his eyes mellowed out once again. 

"And what did you have?"

"Just some soup and crackers from room service," you told him, and the sigh he let out was audible and slightly disappointed. 

"Jesus Christ... you're running on fumes," he mumbled, "How much did you sleep last night?" Charles asked, even though he could tell it wasn't much from your sluggish posture and dark under eye circles. 

"I can't tell you how much exactly but it wasn't much at all," you told him, now actually looking forward to going to bed for the rest of the day. 

"Come on, we're going. I will sort everything," he reassured, standing from his seat and offering a hand out to you. You took his hand, letting him help you up. Charles felt a small pang of satisfaction ripple through him when you allowed him to assist you. 

Silently, he led you out of the paddock and to the parking lot, where he navigated you over to his car and sat you down in it. You were slightly worried about getting fired for just randomly leaving, but if Charles asked Fred, pretty much anything was possible. 

The car ride was wordless while he manoeuvred through the streets, until he pulled up in a spare parking space near the hotel. Charles helped you out of the car and all the way up to your room. 

Now that he was close up to you, he saw how gaunt your expression was. He really didn't want to just leave you here to fend for yourself, since he didn't think you had the strength or energy to do so properly. 

"Can I come in with you?" he asked once you had reached the door to your room. You nodded, unlocking the door and gesturing him inside. To say that you had been in such a state, the room was in fairly good order. 

You hadn't made the bed, which was understandable given how bad your morning must have been, but the rest of the room was relatively clean. "You sit, I'll get you something to change into," he told you, walking up to the wardrobe. 

Opening it, it was mostly just your teamwear since you were only there for work and wouldn't have the time for much tourism. Rifling through your clothes, he found a soft pair of shorts and one of your Ferrari hoodies that he thought looked comfy enough. 

Turning around, he saw you already shuffled under the covers and sinking into the pillows. "You comfy?" he smiled, the sight of you lead there making his heart beat a little quicker. He really didn't want to leave you here - he wanted to stay by your side where he could make sure you were OK.

"Arms up," he softly said, helping you to sit up. "Can I?" he requested, asking for your permission as his hands hovered over the buttons of your polo. You nodded, and he quickly unbuttoned them and pulled the shirt off over your head.

If he wasn't focused on how sick you were, he would be practically salivating at how stunning you were, but now wasn't the time for that, and he understood. You were vulnerable, and he would be pretty damn pissed with himself if he allowed himself to think like that.

Pulling the hoodie on over your body, he reached a hand around your neck to pull your ponytail out. "I'll let you do those yourself," he gently chuckled, placing the shorts next to you and facing away from you around to give you some privacy. 

Charles heard the sound of a zipper and the rustling of fabric, finally followed by the sound of you shimmying back under the covers. "Do you need anything else?" he asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed next to you. 

"No, no, I should be good," you told him, and Charles wasn't buying it for a second. It was at that point where the part of him that was compelling him to stay by your side and take care of you, protect you, love you won out. 

"You do realise that I'm not going anywhere?" 

"Charles, no, you're busy and-"

"Sweetheart, no. You need me, they'll be able to do it, I'm sure," he told you, and when you didn't argue back, he really grew concerned. Even when you were sick, you were normally able to bite back and give him some sass back. 

The fact that you had just accepted your fate worried him, even if he was relieved that he wouldn't have to try and convince you again. "I'll get you a water and some medicine, and then I'll sit here for the rest of the day or until you get better. Whichever happens first," he told you. 

Charles didn't miss the small smile that tugged at the corners of your lips, and he was glad that he could bring a bit of brightness to your day. Disappearing into the bathroom, he filled up a glass with water and rummaged around in the cabinets for some paracetamol. 

"Now you're going to take these, and then you're going to sit back and rest and let me dote on you."  he said with a slightly teasing tone, handing you the two small, white pills and watched as you popped them into your mouth before lifting the glass of water to your lips and encouraging you to take a sip. 

Once you had drank around half of the glass, Charles left it on the bedside table. "I want you to try and get some sleep, OK?" he said.

"Yeah, sure," you agreed, snuggling down into the covers. He hated having you just lie there when he felt that you needed his physical support as well as his emotional support. Just getting to hold you would surely make you feel better, and him too.

"Hey sweetheart?"

"Yeah? You OK?" you asked, and he couldn't help but grin. Even when you were feeling horrendous, you were still making sure he was OK. 

"I'm fine, yeah. Can I just... can I hold you? Or hug you? Or anything? I just feel so useless," he mumbled, instantly feeling like an idiot. But, before he could get ahead of himself, you responded. 

"Be my guest," you told him. Charles moved under the covers and then next to you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, gently tugging you towards him to that you could rest your head on his chest. 

You could hear the steady pound of his heartbeat, and it was a very soothing sound. Charles let out a sigh of contentment, glad that he was able to provide some semblance of comfort. He felt your weight against him as you relaxed, meaning he was doing his job right. 

Despite you feeling no where near 100%, he was glad that he could be the person who you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with and the person that would take care of you. You trusted him, and that was more than enough.

Plus, he'd be happy with cuddles anyday, whether you were sick or not.  

A/N - Hey loves! Hoping you're all doing well! I do have a little thing for the 5 year anniversary of Charles' 2019 Monza win, but it is nothing special. It is just a lil ol' something that I whipped up. Not really a story, but hey. It'll do. Have a wonderful day/night!💖

|masterlist|

[lufyuu]

Protagonist's wants

Tws: fucking in someone else's house, semi public.

Description: a drabble showing why River is one of 2 freaky ocs of mine

River quite literally doesn't give a fuck where the two of you are. If he's horny, he'll fuck you. This is almost common knowledge for you at this point even if it's only been a couple months since the two of you got together. He takes 'anytime, anywhere' seriously. The only drawback from this is that he's quite the childish fellow. If he wants it, he better get it! This became quite obvious one starry night.

Almost everyone's been invited to Kevin's party. The popular jock everyone knew and loved. Well, maybe not the second part but still! His parties are known to be lively and fun, who would want to miss it? Apparently River does.

"I'm not going", he states while paying little attention to what you just said. Just like any other normal person, you shrug it off. If he isn't going, then you'll just have to go with your friends. "Alright", was all you answered as you made yourself toast as a light snack. With the party starting in just an hour or two, you figured it'd be best to eat a bit now, get ready, and then call up your friends to pick you up. The toaster clicks, indicating your toast is ready. While being careful, you grab it out of the toaster and take a bite. It crunches as you do. River who has been focused on his phone while sitting on the couch, turns around to look at you. Or rather, the piece of toast. "Let me have a bite", you take a few more bites before giving him what's left of it. More like you shove it into his open mouth. Either way, he chews and swallows it. As he's still on his phone, he doesnt notice you going to his bedroom to "borrow" an outfit. He's a pretty stylish guy so nothing can go wrong. You open his closet and immediately spot one that catches your eye. Of course, you take it out and change into it. He wouldn't mind his boyfriend borrowing his clothes, would he?

You admire yourself in the mirror. His outfit fits and suits you like a glove! Practically made just for you. You can't help but take a picture! You finish getting ready and exit the room looking as good as ever. Probably even better. This time, River notices you and puts his phone to the side. "Are those my clothes?", he recognizes it to which you just nod, paying no mind. River, still confused, asks "are you going to the party??", as if it's the most confusing thing he's ever heard. "Well yeah, my friends will pick me up", you grab whatever you need and are about to head out when River stops you in your tracks. "Tell them you don't need them to pick you up, I'm going", he gets up from the couch and strolls over to his room.

Moments later, he comes out looking fresh. His hair isnt a mess anymore, his outfit makes him look expensive. He strides over to the counter and grabs his keys. "Get in the car", he walks towards the car and grabs your wrist, dragging you with him. You don't even have a say in the whole arrangement. Before you even knew it, the two of you arrive at the party.

The partying crowd notices River's car and Kevin immediately goes up to the window. River doesn't bother to roll it down, he's not a big fan of his Jock personality. Even though it's muffled, you can hear Kevin's voice from outside the vehicle, "hey Riverrr, I'm glad you finally showed up! It's the first time you've ever came", he's all giddy about the fact River Sterling came to his party. He'd always invited the latter but River had always declined or just a no show. It's quite rare to see him at a party. Kevin has you to thank. If it werent for you coming, River would have stayed home doing God knows what.

When the two of you step into the large house, it was clear nobody's going to leave the place sober. "[Name]? There you are!", one of your friends comes up to you, followed by the others, "y'know, we were really confused when you suddenly told us to not pick you up", he sighs, "we thought you'd abandoned us! But turns out you're here with your boyfriend", your other friend, Erie, looks at River up and down, jokingly rolling her eyes at him. "Well, we'll be stealing your boyfriend away now!", she says before grabbing your wrist and running deeper into the house with the whole friendgroup following not too far behind, leaving River dumbfounded. Though, it's not long that he's snapped out of his trance as a group of people gather around him seeing as his boyfriend's gone to have some fun. "River, let's have a few drinks", someone says, holding a shot a bit too close to his lips. Gosh, it reminds River why he hates parties.

You, on the other hand, are having lots of fun. It's the first time in a while since you've last felt so free. It really doesnt hurt to let loose a little sometimes. Gossiping like there's no tomorrow while munching on some fries. There's no crowd gathering around you, only a handful of your close friends. "Literally I saw our Chemistry professor being lovey dovey with Ms Miller", "the Biology teacher!?", "isn't he with the dance teacher??", everyone takes their turn in sharing their knowledge of the situation. You only sit back and enjoy hearing the things being said.

After an hour or two, Evie heads to get to know a few underclassmen and upperclassmen while the others head to get some more snacks. You're the only one on the couch, enjoying some fruit punch. Despite the loud music, you find yourself relaxing a bit, to the point you close your eyes. Through the loud music, you can hear an even noiser sound coming from behind. When you turn around, you see a crowd. They're almost tripping one another just to get the attention of someone. 'He can deal with it', you think to yourself, already knowing who's in the middle of all this. He must be used to all this attention. "Agh! Please let me through!", it's not very often you see River struggling in the middle of a crowd. The last time you saw him in one, he looked relaxed and was frankly enjoying the attention. Look at him now, struggling to get through. You can't help but let out a small laugh before turning back around to enjoy the rest of your beverage.

[Love Quest!]

Even though you've seen this window a lot, it still baffles you whenever you see it. Especially when you're out no less! There's no way to complete the quest, this is crazy! "River you jerk!", you turn to curse at him but he's no longer there, instead, you feel a hand grabbing your wrist. "Hey, let's get out of here", you hear a whisper as you get pulled roughly. Obviously it's River but it really is a wonder how fast it took him to get to you. You almost trip while trying to keep up with River's pace, it's as if he's in a rush to find something. Fortunately for the two of you, nobody follows behind.

The two of you arrive in an empty, dark and somewhat quiet room where he pins you to the wall, "River! What are you even thinking!", you yell at him, looking up to face him eye to eye, "fucking hell, I thought I was going to go crazy", he continues, "this is why I hate parties", he's most likely referring to the fact he was being surrounded and chased down almost the whole time he's been at the party. In hindsight it was definitely not something to laugh about. "Then let's leave okay? I'm sorry for making you come here", you suggest, trying to get out of his grip but he doesnt let go, "an apology wont do it, didn't you see that window?", he points at the window that is on your right, gosh you almost forgot about if it werent for him pointing that out, "we can complete it at home–", "no, since we're in an empty room now, I say we finish it right now", his tone leaves no room for retaliation. The protagonist will always get what he wants, even if it's a good fucking in someone else's hallway.

With your hands being pinned to the wall and your ass left completely exposed to River, he has an easy time thrusting into you. You face the wall, trying to hold in your moans in order not to be discovered by the people partying away downstairs by biting your lip. Rivers thrusts are relentless in their attack. He groans and even lets out a few quiet moans, completely shameless. Usually you wouldnt be this worried about being discovered as River puts an invisible barrier between the two of you and the rest but this time he decided to not do that and risk the chance of the two of you being caught fucking while there's a party going on. "R-River please.. I cant keep holding in my— aH!", you involuntarily let out quite a loud moan, prompting a few people to look around for the source of the noise. Your eyes widen at the noise you just made, turning around to try and glare at River. He doesnt even stop thrusting into you, infact, he does it even harder and faster now that he's heard you moan.

You can feel yourself getting close to your climax, some tears well up. River shows no sign of stopping. The sound of skin against skin is not too loud but loud enough that if someone went up the stairs, they'd be able to hear everything. "Isn't this exciting..", he stops to whisper in your ear. You turn to look at him with pleading eyes, "p-please...I want to cuM...!", your begging words drove something in him. "Whatever you want, angel", he teases and starts to pump into you again. This time, chasing his own climax too. It's almost as if all the self control you had just dissappeared, "gosh, you're tighter now", you can barely hear him say while you're a moaning mess, not caring if they heard you anymore. "A-ahh River ngh", you close your eyes, the pleasure getting to you. The two of you are in yout own little world, River fucking you roughly as you take it like you always do. "That's it, let out your pretty little voice", he seems very satisfied in making you almost yell out his name in pleasure. Eventually, you couldn't hold it anymore, "c-cUmMinG...gH", you splurt all over Kevin's wall. His hallway wall. Though in this very moment, you don't even think about it. Why should you anyways, you're too busy being pounded. With you cumming, your hole becomes tighter which brings even more pleasure to the man abusing your hole. It doesn't take long for him to thrust deep inside of you and unload his cum inside. Your legs give out and you almost fall but River catches you before that happens.

You're barely conscious when the two of you descend the stairs, face to face with the party goers. "What were you guys doing up there?", Kevin goes up to River with a curious look. River only smiles eerily, "curiosity killed the cat", and exits the party with you in hand. You're too tired to even comprehend anything. When you get into the passenger seat, it's almost as if an off button was pressed as you fall into a deep sleep until the two of you arrive to River's place.

The next day, you're laying on the couch with your boyfriend sitting next to you. You're mindlessly scrolling on your phone. Not thinking much about what happened last night. It's quite common for River to fuck you anywhere and everywhere, you were a bit shocked at first but got over it after the whole thing blew over. You don't pay much attention on River until you hear him chuckle a bit. A half smirk emerges on his face as he looks at his phone, "what are you smirking about?", you question which he dismisses, "nothing, just a very cute picture", he puts his phone into his pocket. Maybe he should go to parties more often, he'll get to see more of that adorable nervous face of yours!

══════════════════════════════

I'm back! As promised, here is a freaky drabble of River, but I went a bit overboard, and it turned into a short fic instead😅

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓: Dry Humping w/ Spencer Reid

a/n: HEY HEY HEY!! so i am fully aware that spencer was a child during college, so this is an alternative universe where he's of the college age 💀 this is basically season one spencer cause i wanna eat him!!

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

You didn't like how the other girls in the circle were looking at him. Their lustful eyes eating up a very nervous Spencer, the man playing with his fingers anxiously.

It was obvious that he wasn't used to being in places like this; where everyone was drunk, high or both, couples and randoms making out and practically fucking in every dark corner of the room. You never thought that you'd see The Spencer Reid, your college campus' genius, sitting in a spin the bottle circle in a random frat house.

You had no idea who convinced the poor boy that doing this was a good idea, but you would be damned if any other one of these girls were to get their hands on him. You liked him first — not just liked him — you claimed him. Everyone in your group knew that you liked him, so the fact that they had the fucking gall to look at him that way knowing you were there pissed you off.

"Alright, everybody!" A random bro shouted from on top of one of the dining room tables. "We were going to play Spin The Bottle, but I figured it'd be better if we play Seven Minutes in Heaven, seeing as though we have a special guest here with us tonight."

You knew exactly who he was talking about, and as your eyes lifted to look at Spencer, his gaze was already settled on you, but once he saw you were looking at him, he looked away bashfully. His face flushed a pretty red and so did his ears, and you could practically see the blood threatening to spill from his cuticles as he picked at them.

Your eyes narrowed at the jock angrily, every part of your body yelling at you to tend to Spencer.

But you swallowed it down.

A large group of people gathered around, and then the first spin of the night began. People were gleefully coming and going from the closet, a few of the couples manipulating the bottle so that it landed on them.

"Oh, shit!" One of the frat bros called out loudly. You looked curiously to see all eyes locked on you and Spencer, the tip pointing at you and the end pointing at him.

You must admit, you were a bit… known… around school. You wouldn't say you were popular, now that was a bit childish, but you definitely had connections in a couple different places.

The poor man looked almost frantic, looking at you then looking back down, almost as if saying you didn't have to. Oh, but you did.

"Seven minutes, pretty boy. C'mon." You said as you got up. His eyes were as big as saucers, his mouth gaping akin to like a fish would. You straightened your tight dress, reaching out a well manicured hand.

"If you want this to be over sooner then get up." You whispered sternly. He scrambled to interlock your fingers, and you lead him to the closet that was already significantly hot from the amount of bodies that had been in there already.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want to." You reassured. "No, no… I-I want to, it's just…" He babbled, wringing his hands. "It's just what?" You pushed, stepping closer to him. He gulped, backing up slightly and knocking into the shelves behind him.

"I just don't know how." He didn't know how to make you feel good, how to pleasure you. He was embarrassed to admit to the girl that he liked, who was also totally out of his league, that he was a virgin.

"Why did you come here, then?" You questioned with a slight smirk. "Because… because you were here and I wanted to uh- maybe- I don't know-" You cupped his face, stroking his cheeks.

"Kiss me then, Spence."

"Wh- what?!" He stuttered.

"I said," You spoke, your lips brushing against his, "Kiss me." He gulped, looking down at your lips back up to your eyes, then back down to your lips again.

"Okay." He breathed.

He leaned forward, albeit hesitantly, and pressed your lips together. It started out slow, but with a lot of coaxing from you, he got comfortable. Your lips moved in tandem as the room heated up. You had no idea what had come over you when you placed both of his hands on your ass.

"Touch me." You breathed heavily. Your breasts pressed tauntingly into his chest, his cock hardening embarrassingly fast. "Are you sure?" You nodded. "Please."

He tested the waters with a light squeeze before shoving your hips together. His body stuttered as a loud whine fell from his mouth. You could feel his bulge against your plush body and Spencer wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole.

"Sorry, sorry." His apologies were frantic, but your nerves burned with need. "I'm fine with you grinding on me, baby." You reassured. "In fact, I like it." Normally, you wouldn't say you carried a dominating energy with you, but it was like you wanted to swallow the poor boy whole.

"Oh, God." He whimpered, but nonetheless joined your lips back together. You slipped your plush thigh through his legs, pressing it on his cock.

His hips jutted out, and you swallowed his cry. His grips on your ass turned deathly as he humped your leg like a bitch in heat.

"That feel good?" You cooed, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

He nodded fastly, his lips pressed together and his eyes closed. He was lost in the feeling of the friction, perspiration beading on his hairline. You practially eat the sight of his deep red face up.

"You're mine. Alright, pretty boy?" You asked ferociously. You wrentched his head back, sinking your teeth into the sensitive skin of his neck. He nodded. "Say it." He yelped when you nipped at his adams apple.

"I'm yours, fuck- all yours!"

Your stomach twisted with a pleasant warm feeling, which only increased rapidly which you felt his thrusts grow sloppy.

"You gonna cum, honey?" You asked through your marking. "Yes, yes, yes…" He babbled. "Good. Cum all over me." He let out one last loud moan before you felt the warmth of spend seep out and onto the hem of your dress.

There was a knock on the door.

"Okay, lovebirds. Time's up!"

You smirked at the fact that Spencer was shaking like a leaf in your hold.

"After this, we are so going to my dorm." You claimed. "Yes! Yeah, yeah… yes, please." He all but shouted.

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