#Beauty Essentials Sharing

[jusron]

【Your Pink Dream】Adored Pink Series! High Charm Pink Makeup Bag Select Recommendations

Are you a pink lover searching for a makeup bag that will make your heart flutter at first sight? Then you should not miss the high charm pink makeup bag carefully picked for you today. It’s not only adorable on the outside but also rich on the inside, fulfilling your pursuit of beauty!

#JusronMakeupBag#MakeupBagReview#BeautyEssentialsSharing#TravelMust_Haves

[nest-being]

i love art!!! i love comics!!! i love poetry!!! i love prose!! i love music!!! i love animation!!!! i love fashion!!!! i love creative expression!!! i love seeing the beauty and brutality and complexity of the world explored in so many different ways!!! i love knowing there is a human being behind every creative work- driven to create and tell stories as a form of communication and connection!!! art is life!!! art is humanity!!! art is existence!!!!!

[readymades2002]

something difficult about writing/storytelling but only in short disconnected bursts is that writing anything longform is very difficult. there isn't as much time to practice long-term character development or subtlety (implying character instead of immediately clarifying) when its not really meant to go anywhere but a notes app. its a little frustrating...i'd love to do something more longform though. i've considered maybe just doing some short writing scenes in my various original universes a lot recently mostly because i just havent had time to draw anything fancy recently </3 maybe that would be something...

[imfromsixam]

Besties: Me and my Cat (CC Pack for The Sims 4)

Introducing "Besties (Part 2): Me and My Cat" CC Pack!

I'm super excited to bring you the second part of the Besties series, now focusing on our beloved feline friends! In the first part, I shared with you guys a collection all about the beautiful bond between dogs and babies. For this second part, I thought I’d switch things up a bit. Instead of focusing on cats and babies, I wanted to highlight something just as heartwarming—the special relationship between cats and adults. Yes, you guessed it, I’m talking about the delightful world of cat ladies (and gents)!

This pack has loads of goodies for your Sim’s cats. There are two new versions of the cat tree: one with a cozy little house and another that looks like a cool cat gym on the wall. Your cats will love the new bed, scratchers, and another bed shaped like a tiny house. Of course, I’ve got the essentials like a litter box and food, but let’s be real—we all know the ultimate cat item is the cardboard box!

And because I know how much Sims love their kitties, I’ve added some fun items for a cat-obsessed Sim’s bedroom. I was going for an eclectic vibe this time. There’s a new classic bed with cute cat details on the pillows, a cat-shaped lamp for the night table, and an adorable armchair with cat accents. Plus, I’ve got new curtains and, most importantly, picture frames to show off the beauty of your Sim’s cats.

I’ve put a lot of love into this CC pack and can’t wait for you to enjoy it. Don’t forget to tag me in your social media posts—I can’t wait to see your amazing creations with your Sims and their feline besties!

Enjoy the fun and whimsy of The Sims 4 custom content, and as always, happy simming! 😊🐱📦

▶ ABOUT THE CC PACK

Build: 2 Wallpaper, 1 Floor

Comfort: Armchair, Double bed, Bench with blanket, Bench

Decorative: Cat food, Curtians (all sizes), Paitings, Rug

Lighting: Table Lamp

Pets (Requires Cats and Dogs EP): Bed (cardboard box), Food bowl, Cat tree (large), Cat tree (small), Bed with scratcher post, Cat climbing wall, Litter box, Scratch post (carrot)

Storage: Dresser, Dresser (opened)

Surface: Night table

GET EARLY ACCESS HERE

[cheeseanonioncrisps]

Stuck on the idea of vampires as a kind of reverse fae, or like someone's twisted, perverse attempt at moulding humans into fae.

They're repelled by liminal spaces.

A vampire could never enter fairyland, not just because they'd never be welcomed, but because most of the usual entry-ways are naturally barred to them.

They can't cross running water. They can't be seen in mirrors. They will wait forever at a crossroads, unable to pick a direction to go in. They can't even step over a thresh-hold unless there is absolutely no ambiguity about whether they are welcome inside.

They crave human blood, iron and salt, but are repelled by herbs and plants. They are supernaturally prevented from harming you unless the rules of hospitality have been invoked.

A fairy may replace your newborn child with something unnatural and ever-hungry. A vampire will do the same, but with your grandmother's corpse.

The fae are typically associated, even in stories where they're the bad guys, with flourishing and purity. Vampires, even in stories where they're the good guys, are typically associated with decay and corruption.

The fae turn ancient human burial mounds into fancy halls for their courts. Vampires take ancient human castles and let them grow mildewed and cobwebbed, exchanging the beds for coffins, turning them into burial places.

Fae don't tend to live among humans, but can generally pass for them with relative ease if they so choose. Vampires nearly always live among humans, but tend to find not revealing themselves a huge struggle.

I can't think of many stories I've read where fae and vampires even exist in the same universe, let alone ones where they actively interact. I feel like their enmity is almost more inevitable than that between vampires and werewolves, however.

The rivalry between vampires and werewolves is, essentially, the rivalry between two apex predator species who share a territory. (Even in stories where the werewolves aren't actually hunting humans.)

The vampires hate the werewolves because the werewolves interfere with their access to prey. The werewolves hate the vampires either because they consider themselves aligned with humans (the prey species), or because they are also predators and the vampires are competing with them.

By comparison, I think there's some story potential in the fae finding something genuinely creepy and uncanny valley about vampires.

They're immortal, like them, but also dead. They can be beautiful, like them, but that beauty is something they actively require humans to sustain. They like to inhabit beautiful and ancient ex-human dwellings, like them, but they actively work to make those places dark, damp and empty.

Fairies who are unflappable in the face of all sorts of Otherworldly monsters, can look an eldritch horror in the eye(s) without blinking, and have never been phased yet by any human, but will recoil from even the weakest vampire.

Vampires who hate fairies just as much, but in a more envious way. The way that the creature for whom immortality is a curse is bound to hate the creatures for whom immortality is an eternity of sunlight and laughter.

Maybe their touches burn each other. Maybe vampires can't stand physical contact with anything so alive and vital. Maybe immortal fairies become ill from too much exposure to the undead.

Maybe they fight over the human population when their territories overlap. The fairy need for servants and people to make deals with, competing with the vampire need for thralls and blood to drink.

Just… fairies and vampires. We need more stories about them interacting.

[midnightcitymoon]

Viv and I reconcile and are close friends again this summer

11:11 ☆MiracleMakeAWishComeTrueSpell🌙

Eleven-Eleven, This is a call to all angels in heaven, give me a miracle and make my wish come true!

🌜☄⭐🕤🕙🕦⭐🕯🕯📰🎁🎆🎈🎉🎖🔜🔝🔔🕯💰📰💳📧📭🔥🗝🔮🛡🌟☄🌛🌞🌈

Like to Charge, Reblog To Cast spell

[o-wild-west-wind]

While I’m still a bit bummed that they didn’t go with a more book-aligned POC Fiyero for the Wicked movie, I’ve been thinking (heheh) about how his being white highlights the really interesting foil relationship between him and Glinda (and, in many ways, the audience yourself).

At its core, Wicked is a cautionary tale about propaganda, (literal) scapegoating, and what it means to uphold the status quo. The audience is watching through Glinda’s eyes—it is through her, arguably the most beautifully tragic character of the show, that we learn how lonely life becomes when you forfeit your values in favor of systemic power and likability (“No One Mourns the Wicked” is, in many ways, about HER).

Now, this is where Fiyero’s whiteness can get interesting—if you consider him and Glinda to share roughly equal footing at the beginning in terms of privilege/how much they have to lose (applying our real-world lens of race and power here, where whiteness is the apex), his storyline essentially represents what could have happened if Glinda had made the brave (and arguably wise and loving, if you’re picking up what I’m putting down 👀) choice to go with Elphaba and fight the good fight (this is also why I feel like a queer reading of G&E’s relationship is almost implicit to the story, but I digress).

As the POC/marginalized allegory, Elphaba has much less of a real choice in her curtain-pulled-back turning point. But Fiyero and Glinda—both representing privilege—get to choose. So in Act II, we see the consequences of both the choice to stay (Glinda) and to go (Fiyero). In Fiyero’s case, his ultimate rejection of his own power, privilege, and even beauty leads to immense physical loss—including his own body—but that is then compared to the loss of love, community, and identity that we see Glinda left with by the end. And this brings us to the question that the audience is left grappling with: in an unjust system where loss is inevitable (a.k.a. our own world, as the Wizard himself represents), which of these things are YOU more willing to give up?

It’s important that Glinda is an empathetic character because, in reality, most people are going to be Glindas (obvi this is nuanced among us Elphabas of marginalized identities, but I’d still argue that there’s some level of Glinda in us all)—and it’s important to be rattled by the end of the show when you realize that she is the one who has the sad ending. But it’s also so important that Fiyero is empathetic (which I’m SO glad this movie leaned into)—because he’s ultimately who Glinda—and thus we, as the audience—should have been.

And especially given the state of US politics right now…this is just all more relevant than ever.

[mahasenelkhatib]

Help Mahasen, a Digital Artist from Gaza and Her Family!

Hello, I am Mahasen,a Digital Artist from North Gaza, where creativity thrives despite challenges. Verified by @90-ghost here

PLEASE DONATE HERE

In this tough situation, I am a digital artist finding solace and resilience through my art .. pixels and colors.

For over a decade, I've navigated the freelance world, weaving intricate digital tapestries that reflect the beauty and strength of my surroundings.

My father died, and I am the main provider for my family.

Before the war, I worked with international companies in motion graphics,

specializing in character design and storyboarding.

The conflict forced us into repeated evacuations, and our home suffered damage, including the theft and destruction of my essential art equipment and tablet. Each stolen piece held not just monetary value but years of dedication and creativity and hard work. We are left HOMELESS, UNSAFE, SICK with VERY LITTLE FINANCIAL SECURITY!

Our family consists of:

• My mother, 62 years old.

• My sister Mai, 35 years old, who is also visually impaired.

• Myself,Mahasen, 31 years old.

• My brother Mohammed, 28 years old, who is visually impaired.

• My brother's wife Iman, 28 years old.

• My youngest brother Amin, 21 years old.

Your support is crucial as I rebuild what was lost. Your contribution will help replace my tools and restore hope and creativity. And mainly for my family's safety, ability to survive the current situation and community.

Together, we can affirm that art is more than expression,

it is a lifeline that connects us and enlighten even the darkest moments.

Expenses Needed:

• Travel arrangements to Egypt ( $5000 per person ) for 6 family members.

• Living expenses to survive the current situation in Gaza.

• Buying art equipment and tablet to recover what I've lost and be able to work again.

• Living and transportation expenses during the initial period of travel.

• Food and medical expenses.

Every donation counts! Your support makes a real difference for my family and me.

Please consider contributing and sharing to help us.

Please Help Share AND Donate

My Socials: @MahasenAlkhatib Instagram here X here Facebook here

[fandom]

Top 24 of 2024

Well, well, well, look what we have here. If it isn’t 52 weeks’ worth of data drawn from the exemplary original posts you’ve been producing day in, day out, combined with the likes, reblogs, and search data—all of it weighed, ranked, and presented here for your viewing pleasure. In news that will come as a shock to no one at all, 2024 was the year of Artists on Tumblr. But quite right, too, as just a cursory scroll through the fanart, illustrations, digital pieces, paintings, textiles, and more will attest. It’s a goldmine. But this ain’t just any goldmine, this is your goldmine, and we’ve got abundant gratitude for the wonderful work you’ve shared this last year. 

Dungeon Meshi won hearts and minds with its cozy feel, its cookery, its cast of eclectic, likable characters, and a delightfully off-center vibe. Farcille made for the sapphic love story we didn’t know we needed—and the inspiration for endless, exquisite fanart. There was much appreciation for season one, and excitement abounds for season two. But there were endings as well as beginnings, sadly, as the much-loved Jujutsu Kaisen brought six years of sublime storytelling to a close with Chapter 271. Good faced Evil, a nephew faced an uncle, and some really liked it, and others really did not. Discourse ensued, as discourse is wont to do. 

Television! And lots of it! 2024 was the year in which animation ruled supreme with an embarrassment of riches to plunder. Gravity Falls and The Book of Bill became your fall fixations and simply refused to stop trending for seemingly an age (a Good Thing). Bill Cipher and Stanford Pines both made the Top 24 in their own right as you shipped them to high hell, with Billford coming top of Ships for 2024. Speaking of Hell, Hazbin Hotel was the new kid on the block. And, after a five-year wait, the new kid charmed—it was filthier, funnier, raunchier, and more heartfelt than you could have hoped for. 

When it comes to hope, the times continue to be challenging, and the news can threaten to overwhelm. 2024 was no different. But you all painted the dash every color of the rainbow, stood loud and proud, and supported your ever-growing community online and offline in the struggle for LGBTQIA+ rights. While folks continue to voice their distress and concern for the ongoing crisis in Palestine, they also fight the good fight with activism and fundraising efforts across the dash. These may be dark days, but you all work tirelessly for the greater good as only you know how.

Looking after oneself is vital in these trying times, and you’ve all done just that in your own inimitable fashion. Cats still rule Tumblr as bears still poop in woods, and everyone has taken essential time to peruse the dashboard’s plethora of cat GIFs, cat art, boopin’ cats, cats of yore, and so on. You’re keeping things similarly wholesome with some more Tumblr mainstays: cottagecore, and its sister aesthetic, naturecore, imagine a simpler, greener, and quieter time. A time where the breeze billows softly through the long grass and gently turns the blades of the windmill; a time where we, too, might poop in woods.

The only thing more important than looking after oneself is treating oneself, and what better way to do that than gaming? Baldur’s Gate 3 made a most impressive leap from #21 last year to #7 in 2024, as the need for sexy monsters and beautiful beasties becomes ever more imperative with each passing year. Pokémon may have dropped a little from five to 11, but these games and shows still hold a dear place in your hearts—as demonstrated by your bountiful and beautiful fanart.

Here are the 24 most-mentioned things on Tumblr in 2024.

Artists on Tumblr

Palestine

Dungeon Meshi

Gravity Falls

Hazbin Hotel

Baldur's Gate 3

Cats of Tumblr

Jujutsu Kaisen

The Batman Universe

Pokémon

One Piece

Good Omens

Marcille Donato | Dungeon Meshi

Laios Touden | Dungeon Meshi

Cottagecore

Hermitcraft

LGBTQIA+

Bill Cipher | Gravity Falls

Naturecore

Doctor Who

Percy Jackson

Falin Touden | Dungeon Meshi

Stanford Pines | Gravity Falls

Jason Todd | the DC universe

Feeling inspired? Want to create a dedicated place to discuss the things you love with the other people who love them? Create a Community here on Tumblr to do just that.

[the-ellia-west]

HOW TO WRITE ROMANTIC ATTRACTION FOR DUMMIES

For anyone who wants to learn, (especially aro/ACE, aspec, ect.)

Requested by the lovely @darkandstormydolls

Alrighty! Welcome back or welcome to my blog! I'm dipping my toes back into the category of posts that gained me my exposure!

So if you're here, you want to know how to write romantic attraction/romance!

Strap in and let's begin!

(Pls spread this to people you think would benefit from seeing it, or anyone who requested it bc I forgot, ANY ASPECS)

Step one -

Your characters must admire one another at the beginning, Romantic feelings usually do not present themselves as obvious until you really think them through, meaning your characters may not notice they have a crush until it's too late

These are general statistics and light stereotypes. So feel free to not use this tip:

Male characters usually tend to notice physical things first, like body shape, hair, skin, clothing, the way their lover moves, ect

And Female Characters Generally tend to notice more small things and personality-based traits first, like their lover's humor, speaking mannerisms, shifts in expression, ways they fidget, emotion in their voice, ect.

And someone who is in love will generally show more interest in this particular person's movements, actions, words, and anything in general.

Step 2 -

The character will show more interest in sharing their love language with their lover/crush

Physical touch - People with physical touch love languages may want to hold hands, cuddle, hug, or just lean on their crush whenever they are close to them moreso than they want to with others

Gift giving - Gift givers will want to get more gifts more often for their crush, probably thinking of them whenever they see little trinkets or wanting to get them big gifts for special occasions or signs of appreciation

Acts of Service - Acts of service people will offer to do extra favors and a bunch of extra stuff they don't have to do twice as much as normal

Words of Affirmation - Flattery, they will generally flood their crush with kind words and compliments

Quality time - Quality time people will want to spend time with their crush at almost every turn, and when they want company, will turn to their crush first

Step 3 -

After a while, these urges while become very prominent and more noticeable to the person having them

They may find themselves fantasizing about their crush or having them show up in their thoughts more and more, feeling nicer and happier when they're around, or when they're thinking about them

Smiling when they think about them, cutsey little fluff thingies like that

A crush is essentially: I want to date that, I want to be near that always, I want to marry that, I want that to snuggle me (or other love languages)

Or in simpler terms: if that asked me out, I would say yes (or at least want to say yes if your character is in denial)

Step 4 -

The character's urges to be close to this person grows strong enough that they do smth about it, whether prompted by another character. Or they just don't know I how to not anymore (like when you wanna eat candy and you don't want to, but you do anyway bc I JUST NEED THE CHOCOLATE OKAY?)

(Or for Aro/Ace, garlic bread)

People who are in love are generally very prone to be all dreamy and poetic and VERY EXTREMELY BIASED towards their crush

Then Yada Yada they kiss & shit

You're welcome, BYEEEEEEEE 👋

Happy writing!

Love you! Thanks for reading, And Ghost Tumblr Mother says go drink some water and have a snack, you've earned it, and you are beautiful <333

Have a good day! :]

@blue-kyber @thisisntrocket @cosmolumine @i-do-anything-but-write @paeliae-occasionally

@supercimi @the-letterbox-archives @sunglasses-in-the-bentley @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @artsandstoriesandstuff

@corinneglass @wyked-ao3 @urnumber1star

[thecoochiefairy]

bratty. toji.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 7.8K words. blackfem!characters, drabble, toji fushiguro, drifter!toji, grumpy!toji, sweet!toji, dominant!toji, nasty sex, car sex, sweet sex, black woman, vaginal penetration, rough, lil bit of sweet talkin’, hair pulling, creaming, oral [f], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, missionary, condomless sex, fingering, bratty main character, kissing, spanking, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ my man, my man. my man. plz listen to all the songs attached within the drabble! it’ll give you the full experience. the song i chose for toji felt so him coded.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ :: slow strokes. nasty ass. you hear that, baby?

PINK METALLIC BEAMED UNDER THE STARS OF THE NIGHT, your grin from ear to ear as you watched people snap pictures of your flawlessly wrapped car. It was a 2001 Honda S2000, Hello Kitty headlights blinking rapidly in the back, magenta LED lights glowing underneath the vehicle, the inputted speakers shaking the ground as Aghora Hills fell on the next mixture within your playlist. Suki, you called her. 

You were unsure of how you’d been surviving for most of the night, the skimpy chrome heels you wore thin as a needle, shorts having your ass poke out the bottom, top clinging against your pierced nipples. Beauty was pain. You pull the dark tresses of your  curls behind your ear, pressing your brown and mauve lip combination together impatiently. 

It was the monthly car meet, a high influx of people showing up to show off their custom vehicles, motorcycles—or even to simply network, share knowledge and socialize. You had worked on your own car with your bare hands, never shying away from people complimenting it. Your father had been a mechanic for years, teaching you the ways to create your dream car. Here it was. 

But besides all that, you were irritated at the moment. Your boyfriend was supposed to show up with his car, telling him that you didn’t want to be a part of the drifting show, saying that you’d sit in the passenger seat of his and look pretty. As always, he’d reply back. 

But he was late. An hour and a half to be exact, and the only people you had accompanying you was Suguru and Satoru, here with their own cars, but also trying to lessen your irritation.  

“Want some of my churro?” Satoru asks, waving the sugary dessert in front of your face. Your arm is crossed as you lean along your vehicle, shaking your head as you say, “No. You shouldn’t be eating that shit either, it gives you gas.”

They were essentially attached at the hip, your bodyguards if your dilatory ass man wasn’t around. They were even dressed similarly tonight. Both of them were wearing long sleeve black tops clinging to their muscular frames, Satoru’s dark shades shining under the light as he leaned along his own car. Suguru was a bit grumpy at the moment because he couldn’t find a cigarette off of anyone, re-tying his hair into a low bun, trying to keep his patience with his high energy friend. 

Satoru frowned, icy blue eyes faintly blinking as he narrowed them, “You lie. That was only that one time!”

Suguru’s hand clutched around the top of the churro, snatching it from his friend. His long hair shined beneath the lights bathing along the other vehicles as he snapped to him, “Give me that. Your farts could clear a whole fuckin’ continent. You know you’re lactose.”

Satoru pouts, puffing out his bottom lip and shoving his hands into the confines of his pant pockets as he rocks back and forth on his heels. He crosses one ankle across the other as he lets out a sigh. His azure hues land back onto you, “C’mon. Cheer up. Pretty girl.”

“I’m fine,” you brush off, “He’s always late. I asked him once to be on time—the drifting show starts in less than an hour!”

Satoru rolled his eyes, “You should know by now that he just does what he wants.”

Suguru chimed in as he shoved the churro back into whatever food bag he had, “Maybe he found someone better than your hotheaded ass.”

“Awe, jealous that you can’t have me? Yeah, shut the fuck up,” you punch his arm, moving forward anyway as he tries to duck your swing. You then say, “That’s why both of y’all cars are ugly!”

Satoru’s eyes widen, mouth slacking open as Suguru’s arms drop to his sides—incredulous. He huffed out a scoff, “My car looks good as fuck!”

Satoru crosses his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes at you as he adds, “I agree with Suguru. Mine looks great.”

Your eyes move over to their vehicles you talk shit on, seeing Suguru’s Porsche 911 GT3 R, navy blue with black interior. It contrasts in Satoru’s shiny white Ferrari SP-8, the wheels even a stark alabaster color. You shrug, “They’ alright.”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t be mad cause you got a man that can’t be on time for you,” Suguru glances out to the crowd of people, standing in lines at the food trucks, drinking their livers away before the actual shows begin. 

You raise an eyebrow, “Want a scratch on that expensive ass car of yours? ‘Cause my fingers feel itchy.” 

Satoru let out a whistle as he took a step back, leaning back against his car. He smirked, icy eyes flickering between you two, “Aye, chill. This night is supposed to be fun. No reason to get violent. Let’s do a Baddie-Baddie Shot O’ Clock! Where’s my Cognac?!”

He dips inside the window of his car to search, your crossed arms shifting as you watch two girls begin to walk towards you. You assume it’s for them to compliment your car. 

“Hey, where’s Fushiguro? Is he bringing his truck?”

The question is followed by giggles, your eyebrow raising in between the two blondes as you say, “Excuse me?” Ignoring the way Suguru mutters, “Uh oh,” while Satoru still searches within his seats for the bottle.

They’re both dressed the exact same—which was creepy—their heels matching their short skirts and crop tops. The taller of the two pushes her blonde locks behind her shoulder as she repeats herself, “Fushiguro. The guy with the Dodge RAM truck? He’s coming, right? He’s sooo fucking hot!” 

“He is!” 

Both of the girls began to giggle again, it almost makes you want to slam their heads together, hoping they’d morph into one and disintegrate. You were known to be a crash out, uncaring of where your anger had you end up. 

Satoru’s hand finally pulls out a thick glass decanter of Cognac, the bottle making a satisfying thud against the window of his car. He glances between you and the girls, almost feeling sorry for them.

You began to giggle aggressively with them, emphasizing on your dramatization of how they sound. You then say, “My man is running late, but the groupie section is right here, actually! Did you buy a ticket?”

They both blink owlishly, the expression making them look more bimbo-like. They’re visibly confused, as if you were speaking a language they could barely understand, the shorter of the two asking, “What groupie section?” 

Satoru snickers, attempting to hold back his laughter while Suguru’s eyes narrow.

Satoru took his chance to make a comment after finally containing his amusement. He cleared his throat, taking a few steps in your direction as he raised the decanter. 

“We don’t gotta fight, me and my friend can actually escort you ladies to his section—“

Suguru waves, “I don’t even like blondes.”

“Satoru, please shut the fuck up,” you warn, “Are y’all dense? I just said my man, meaning you need to step the fuck back.”

The shorter blonde girl’s head tilts to the side, clearly still not understanding what you’re implying. Her lips pursed together as she pouts, “Who’re you?” 

“And why are you so aggressive?” the tallest of the girls asks, blonde tresses shaking as she cocks her head to the side.

Satoru was about to make another comment on it, but one look from you shuts him up and has him chugging a shot of alcohol. He swallows it, a grimace taking over his 

expression as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

“I’m the bitch who’s about to give you the brain you don’t have!” 

You’re like a wind up toy, coaxed in reaction when someone pulls you. You were too busy giving these girls the business to notice the monster truck that screeches as it parks close by, sleek black—windows tinted—Dodge Ram 3500 terrifying in comparison to the other cars. The spiked wheels, blinding headlights and LED strips along the bottom excel along the concrete. He already knows you’re somewhere cussing someone out. 

Dropping down from the truck, his leather jacket and hefty boots hit the ground as he’s already coming towards you. You’re lunging towards the women who squeal like school girls, feeling an arm tug around your hips, yanking you back, scarred lip already pressed along your ear as his deep voice transfers up to your brain.

“Knock it off.” 

The sudden gruff of his voice, so close to your ear, it makes you pause. You look up at him, his expression stern while the girls from before took the chance to scurry away before you could get to them. They were smart at least.

“I wouldn’t have done shit if you’d been here already,” you’re already glaring, finally turning your head to look up to him.

His expression doesn’t falter, if anything it hardens as his jaw clenches. He still has an arm wrapped around your middle, keeping you in place while he glances over to Satoru and Suguru, who try to not look at him, knowing your already shitty mood would only be made worse by the addition of their commentary. 

“And where the fuck were y’all at when she was about to beat up two girls, Barbie and Ken?” Toji’s glare follows Satoru and Suguru, seeing as they only watched.

Satoru frowns at that, “I’m not liking your attitude. Am I Barbie? I hope I’m Ken.”

Suguru crossed his arms over his chest, not looking guilty in the slightest as he replied, “We were just letting her get that shit out of her system. Stopping her would’ve made it worse. You know that.” 

Toji’s lips press into a thin line at that, knowing that what Suguru said was in fact true. Though, the last thing he wanted was for you to get into a physical fight in the middle of a car meet, surrounded by at least 400+ people. 

“You’ done with your temper tantrum?” he asks rather than comments, his dark eyes locking back onto yours.

“Are you?” You snarl back, ignoring as he now fully pins you against your car, your back along the pink wrap as he traps you with his large arms.

Your attempt to be bitchy didn’t affect him as much as you thought it would, only having the effect of narrowing his eyes at you. 

Toji was a tall man, especially when compared to you, even with your heels on, you still have to look up at him. He doesn’t care that you’re pissed off at the moment. 

You cross your arms, “What? Am I annoying you or something?”

“You’re being a pain in the ass is what you’re being. You knew I wasn’t gonna come on time. You just wanted to be here early.”

“Oh, so he does know why I’m mad. Good use of your comprehension skills!” You’re incredibly sarcastic, giving him a big smile. 

His fingers reach out, gripping your chin as he angles your face to look at him. You were always a mouthy thing. Especially when you get in a mood like this. It’d be cute if it wasn’t something you were capable of continuing on for hours. 

“Cut it the fuck out. I’m here now. Just say you missed me.”

You huff, but nonetheless, he was right. It was coming from a place of hoping he’d been here already, wanting to enjoy your time with him at a place you loved attending. 

You then admit with less aggression, “I just wanted you to be here with me.” 

Toji knows you. He’s heard this pouty voice from you so many times. 

He leans in, locking an arm around the back of your neck to pull your face close to his, “You’ done acting up now?”

His forehead touches yours as you then say softly, “Maybe.”

Goddamn it. You were too cute. He hated when you got in a mood like this because he was so hard-wired to respond to it with something soft in return. He then let his arm drag down to your ass, gripping the flesh in his hold, “You were smart to put this flimsy ass outfit on while you weren’t around me.”

“Can you just say I look pretty?” You ask, smacking your lips, immediate irritation crawling back in your veins, attempting to turn your face away from him when he pulls it back.

His lips twitch up at the sight of that irritated expression taking over again. The fact that you were pouting made his heart clench in an annoying way that he didn't fully understand. He loved when you were difficult, because he knew how to handle you. He pulls your chin back to him again. 

“You look pretty as fuck, baby,” he responds, his tone smooth as he gives you a smirk, “Although you don’t need the compliment. You know you look good.”

You roll your eyes, briefly pulling them back to the crowd of people. When you meet his face again, you’re immediately pulled in. Those damn grey eyes. Your lashes flutter as you lean up, accepting the kiss he was waiting for, feeling your face go warm as he sloppily tongues you down, never caring if anyone was around to do it.

It’s a bruising and possessive kiss that sends chills down your spine, his tongue dominating over yours as he pushes you back against your car. He can already feel the heat rising in you, the way your skin felt warm on his and how your body pressed against his. Your head even tilts back a bit, your hand clutching the bottom of his shirt to keep your weight steady. 

“Alright, nasty asses,” Suguru interrupts, Satoru beside him who’s dry heaving at the sight, “Y’all done fighting? Can we enjoy our night?” 

When you pull back, your cheeks are sure to be a little red, hiding your face within his chest as you hear his deep tone chuckle from that.

Toji glances at the two over your head, almost smug at the sight of them being visibly irritated at the kiss, “Shut the fuck up, dweeb.” 

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Satoru groans out, clutching the decanter in his hand, “Now, can we show everyone your pretty Suki? Let's do some shots! You hear that? Your favorite song is playing!” 

It was in fact one of your favorite songs from when you were a little girl, Move Ya’ Body by Nina Sky. Satoru begins to wave his hands above his head from side to side, causing you to shake your head with a giggle, “You’re a terrible bottle girl.”

“I’d make bank,” Satoru smacks his lips, “C’mon, Suguru. Dance with me!”

Suguru deadpans, “I’m not dancing.” 

Satoru groans, “I’m a ray of sunshine with three clouds trying to rain down on me, and that’s cool! Fuckin’ haters!”

That makes all three of you laugh, but he was right, it was time to enjoy the night. The drift show began to start— this was something that put you in your element. It was a different experience each time, especially drifting with three different men. 

You always hopped into Satoru’s Ferrari first—essentially the warm up—Satoru was entirely too safe considering his car was his precious baby. You enjoyed yourself nonetheless, hollering with him as he swerved around the parking lot with other vehicles. 

He could accelerate his car, but drifting with it was out of the question. It was better to leave it to the actual drifters like Toji and Suguru. 

Suguru was next. He was the complete opposite, reckless to be the perfect word. But it was the adrenaline you looked for within Satoru. 

You watch Toji within his truck from across the Porsche you sit in, seeing as Toji tosses a cigarette to Suguru with a warning, “Keep my girl safe as fuck, unless you want your heart to be pulled out through your ass.”

“Aye, don’t worry,” Suguru responds, giving the middle finger to Toji, one hand on the wheel while the other laid behind your seat as he grins, “I’m about to show 

Princess how to really drift a fuckin’ car.” 

Toji throws an equal finger up to him, watching as you lean over his friend's lap playfully, taking the cigarette to press in between Suguru’s lips, his smirk cocky as you light the object for him. You can feel Toji’s glare as you hear him call, “Quit being fuckin’ cute.”

That’s the last thing you hear as Suguru takes off, your head reaching out the window as you shriek in a girly manner, his one hand on the wheel twisting as music hums against the speakers, 4X4 by Don Toliver vibrating the entire car. 

Suguru was a good drifter, not as great as Toji, but enough that it had you cheering and laughing with him as he weaved through abandoned parking spots, just missing the car swiveling next to him. There was a moment when he almost lost control, causing you to scream and slap his arm.

He smirked beside you, enjoying the slap, “Oh, you liked that shit, huh?” 

You managed to smack his bicep again, “No, I did not! I’d like all four tires to stay on the ground while I’m in your car!”

“Should’ve stayed with your man then.”

And then, there was Toji. There was only one word that came to mind—effortless. He was a professional, your giggle unable to stop itself as he aggressively picked you up to place you in his truck with his wheels being high, smacking your ass as you jumped into the large seat. You’re all riled up from previous activities, seeing his muscular frame leaned back into the seat, engine roaring as he begins revving it up. You’re already climbing halfway out of the window, your hair a little messy from the wind, a nonetheless flawless look to you.

He glances over at you, his eyes locking onto your nearly hanging body sticking out of the passenger window of his truck. He smirks at the sight of you, the way you looked like a woman who was having the time of her life. You probably were enjoying yourself, with your messy hair and flushed cheeks. 

He reaches out to smack your ass again, the force rocking your body forward, “Sit down.”

You playfully swirl your hips, the shot you’d finally accepted from Satoru beginning to kick in. Of course, you don’t listen, arching your back farther outside of the window, heels pointed towards him, showing off your back dermals. 

When he steps his foot on the gas, he grunts as he grips the back of your shorts to pull you somewhat back, brilliant with his hands as he’s already burning the tires rubber, swerving dangerously, always knowing exactly which way he wants to go.

The song ILUV by Yeat plays exactly on time. Toji was a demon behind the wheel. He was capable of spinning his truck around, leaving behind clouds of black smoke, burning through tires faster than anyone at the car meet. He was cocky, but he was good. He’d been doing this longer than anyone else at these kinds of meets, and it showed. It didn’t come as a shock when he took every sharp turn perfectly, even on two wheels for some seconds. 

He loved when you got loud. The sound of your laughs, shouts and screams fueled the adrenaline that pumped through his veins. You were a sight to behold, sitting in his passenger seat, body half-hung out the window with your hair flying around. 

When you turn back to him, your dopamine levels sky high—it riles you up even more. His dark hair, muscles flexing as he’d removed his jacket before he turned on the truck, strident jaw clenching from the cigarette between his lips. You couldn’t help it—maybe it was also that shot you’d taken—but you were horny.

 You crawl over your seat, making your way onto him. You made sure his eyes were still in sight of driving the truck as you sat on his lap, dragging your mouth along his neck, grinding yourself against him with a breathless giggle.

His head tilts back slightly as you begin to nibble on his throat, his hands gripping the steering wheel a bit more tightly, muscles tensing under your body. You were the very definition of a distraction, your giggles against his skin sending heat right to the pit in his stomach. 

One of his hands reaches out to grab the back of your shorts, gripping the material to keep your hips rolling against his. “You’re needy as fuck tonight.”

Your tongue flattens along the skin of his throat, seeing the bruise that comes from your actions, fingers clutching for his belt as you lightly moan as a response.

He groans as you lick on his neck, leaving behind a spot of saliva in the process. He feels the way your hands grip his belt, pulling at the leather material, your small fingers slipping under his shirt, pressing against his taut stomach. 

He can feel the growing bulge in his pants from your movements, the friction against the thick material only adding more sparks in the pit of his gut.

 “Quit playing, you’re gonna cause a fuckin’ car wreck if you keep it up, baby.”

Yet you continue anyway, a throb producing between your legs as you drag yourself along his bulge. You hold onto him when you feel him do a harsh swerve, not realizing it was purposeful, making you scream out in fear as you panic, “Sorry!” 

Once you realize, you punch his arm, “Fushiguro!”

“Just making sure you pay attention,” he grins, grabbing the back of your thighs, angling you sideways as you now pout.

When the drift show ends, it’s finally the moment you’d been waiting for overall—the race. You hadn’t customized this car with a supercharger and a performative exhaust system for nothing. 

You smile as you rev your engine loudly beside Suguru, Satoru and Toji’s vehicles, other cars included.

Suguru had his car next to yours, the loud revving of the engine causing him to smirk over at you. “I’m eating the fuckin’ dust!”

You had Toji and Satoru on the other side of you, Satoru’s windows rolled down, his white hair ruffling against his face from the wind of the other vehicles. “Shittt, not if I win!”

“The fuck y’all won’t—they got four grand on this shit!” Toji calls out, watching you as you sit in your seat, your foot holding down the gas.

“Stop putting money on shit, broke bitch!” Suguru raises his middle finger, the both of them flicking off each other. 

You then call out, “Y’all talking too much shit to be losers!” 

And just like that, the flag is thrown, tires screeching horrifyingly as you take off, expertly making your way through every. single. car.

You were an experienced driver and it showed, especially when you began to pick up speed, your hands gripping the wheel tightly and eyes narrowed. You had a lead over everyone, including Toji who was right behind you in his truck. He was keeping up with you, even when you passed car after car. 

Suguru and Satoru were slightly behind, but quickly catching up, just barely though. They were no match for the way you weaved through everyone, taking each turn with ease.

You were neck and neck with Toji. You watched as his engine matched your speed, the two of you excellerating as you approached the finish line. In a last ditch effort, you put more force into it, the force of the engine making your body lean back into the seat as you watched your speedometer rise higher. 

Unfortunately, your man still ended up winning. You could hear his low voice howling as he sped farther down, quickly turning the car around as all the others had begun slowing down, pulling back to where your car halted. As everyone begins to circle around one another, you lean along your car, rolling your eyes as you knew his cocky ass would never let this go. 

You turn towards Suguru and Satoru as they’re talking massive amounts of shit, ignoring Toji’s heavy steps behind you as he wraps his arm around your neck from behind, you roll your eyes as his hands immediately travel towards your ass.

Satoru was practically shouting as he approached your car, his fist reaching out to hit the top of it several times, “I want my payout! I got second place!”

“Ask your friend who was talking all that shit to pay you out! I’m taking my woman somewhere with that money!” 

That makes you suppress a giddy smile, not wanting to give him the satisfaction as you turn around, “Mmm, what else do I get, since you’re in such a good mood?” 

You giggle as he pulls your legs around his waist, grunting as you give him pecks along his mouth.

“Anything you want, baby. That smell good ass Miss Dior, a pink Telfar. Whatever your fuckin’ heart desires.”

“What about me?” Satoru says, fluttering his eyelashes.

Toji pulls back, scrunching up his face as Satoru leans into him before he says, “You get a fart, bitch.” 

As the night continues on, you’re standing around with Toji, Suguru and Satoru as they mingle and socialize with other men, the decrease of women making you want to leave. At this point, you were ready to be somewhere secluded, riding your man in the nastiest way you could. Yet he’s more occupied with his friends.

You lean your head on his shoulder, which makes him turn his head down towards you. You mumbled lowly, “I’m ready to go,” knowing that he wasn’t. 

“We’ve only been here for an hour.” He retorts, leaning down to speak into your ear, his voice low, “You can wait a little longer.”

You become drastically more horny just from him speaking in your ear, and even more impatient at his decline. You raise your hand to grip his hair, pulling him down to kiss you, sucking his lips into your mouth, uncaring if anyone watched.

That got his attention real quick, his body twisting to face yours at the kiss, his jaw clenching at your grip on his hair. When your lips move against his, his mind goes blank, a growl pulling from his mouth as he pulls back with a warning, “Chill.” 

Whatever. You fully roll your eyes, dropping your hand as you say, “I’m going to your truck. Go fuck your friends since they have your attention.” 

He can’t help but glare as he watches you stomp over to his truck, his dark eyes locked on your hips as you move further away. You hopped within the backseat, your aching feet causing you to remove your heels and fully lay your body out to scroll on your phone. He was used to your attitude, and he was extremely patient with it. But you’d worked on his nerves a couple of times tonight, and he was now weighing his options of letting it be, or knocking that shit out of your system.

His jaw clenched as he raises off of the hood of Satoru’s car, already walking away while Suguru calls, “Yo! You’ leaving, Fushiguro?”

“Nah. I’ll be back in twenty minutes,” he doesn’t turn back, hopping into his driver's seat. 

Your head sits up as you hear the door open and shut, “Are we leaving?” 

He doesn’t say anything as he pulls off. Your face pulls into a frown, sitting in between the middle part of the back seat as you frown, “Are you ignoring me?” 

Once again, nothing. You scoff, crossing your arms, “Typical.” 

He ends up going to a roof top not too far from where everyone was, the lot surprisingly empty as you make it to the top. You become more irritated, narrowing your eyes as you start again, “Fushiguro—“

He’s already climbing into the backseat with you, causing you to scoot closer to the door, thinking maybe he was fed up with your shit. You thought he was gonna rough you up just in the way you liked, or even put you in your place. Either way was in your favor. 

But instead, he clutches your face, rubbing your cheek with his thumb as he asks, “You need me, baby?” 

You blink at the question. It makes your throat go dry, and as you search his eyes, there’s no anger in them. He just needs you to answer. 

So you reply softly, “…Yes.”

His fingers dig into your cheek, forcing your head back slightly as he moves in close, his warm breath ghosting over your lips.

The softness is unexpected. It makes you a little more relaxed as he grunts,”Let me take care of you,” hovering himself above you, your back now pressing against the seats. 

“You’ comfortable?” He questions within your ear, his voice sounds concerned. Your breath hitches lightly as his gentle touch. You were unsure why this sudden moment had your spine tingle. At that, you nod your head as you pull him closer, giving him a soft peck on the lips. 

“Now you wanna be sweet and shit.”

You’re silent, your eyes fluttering shut as you feel your cheeks becoming warm. Toji brings your face a centimeter closer, gently pressing your lips together by the drag of your throat. You feel as his full lips overpowered yours, overlapping along your mouth as he sucked your tongue. It makes your breath hitch, pressing your hand along his forearm, your nails lightly digging into the skin. 

He was nasty in the best way. He kept sucking against your lips, beginning to nod his head back and forth, thrusting his own tongue in between, the erotic pleasure of it all making your eyes roll to the back of your head. You try to keep your head from spinning as you reach up to pull his hair, deepening the kiss, enjoying the feeling it gave you. It made you shy, you could admit.

He could feel your body begin to tremble as he kisses in between your shoulder and neck, the taste of your skin being sweet on his tongue.

Your eyes fluttered shut, breathing slightly heavy as you dug your nails into his hair—you hadn’t felt this good in a while. 

You shiver in between your light giggle, “I—It tickles…” 

He chuckles against your skin, his tongue licking along the sensitive spot as he gruffly says, “You’re so fuckin’ sensitive.”  

At the drop of his words, your head lightly kneels back, a light gasp coming from you. It was soft, tiny, feminine.

His hand moved further up your thigh, placing a leg over his shoulder as he sucked the skin of your ankle. His tongue tasted every inch he could, wanting to get more of you in his mouth.

With him being hovered over you, his hand was trailing along your inner thighs, the ball of your foot fidgeting along his shoulder. It made you naturally use your free hand to slow down his, knowing that wouldn’t stop him. 

He pressed his forehead against yours, your eyes coming  down to watch your legs becoming trapped on both sides of his shoulders, his fingers coming down between your hips, making you full on jump. 

“My shy, pretty ass baby.” 

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, nowhere to hide as your face felt on fire, feeling your hips tilt up from the reaction of his hand. His fingers grazed over your clit, and your hips were so warm, you almost felt cold. 

Your chest began to lightly come up and down, digging your teeth into your bottom lip as your thighs wanted to close at the feeling. Your inhales were low, hesitant, as your exhales were able to hear, shaky in your throat. 

You struggled even more with your breathing, your thighs trying to close, face scrunched up in concentration...it only turned him on more.

He applied pecks against your throat, telling you gruffly, “Spread your legs more.” 

His voice within your ear makes your eyes want to flutter shut. You attempt to listen, pulling your thighs more apart, feeling as he begins to rub at your swollen clit slowly, your opening squelching from how you had become.

He growled low in his throat as he watched you squirm and struggle to breathe. It was like a challenge, getting under your skin like this.

“Imma’ put a finger in there,” he tells you, your heart in her ears, unable to prepare as he stroked his index finger along your pussy, before slowly sinking it in between your folds. He leaned up as he kissed your ankle, pumping slowly, your walls tightening heavily around his knuckle.

Your mouth dropped open the moment he came back down to kiss you. You lightly cried along his lips, broken and whiny as you warned, “T—Toji…”

He chuckled lowly at your whimpering protest, “Relax. Imma’ add another finger.” 

You feel a stretch, aching with a burn that feels a little too good, it makes your knees weak.

“Ooh, fuck,” he grunts, your face turning away from his again as you pull his head down with another gasp, wanting to hide your face next to his ear. He talks to you, “You’re so fuckin' tight…”

He punctuated his words with a thrust of his finger, your juices dripping down his wrist as he fucked you gently with it, thumb circling your clit. 

Your head fell back, making him kiss into your neck more—which made your mouth part— trembling as you tried to grip at the back of his hair. You were always trying to keep yourself together in moments like this, not wanting to be embarrassing. You finally get a clutch at the back of his hair as you whine softly, “Don’t talk like that…”

"You're so fuckin' perfect," he ignored your plea , nipping at your pulse point, "I could play with this pretty ass pussy all night...You hear her? She keep suckin’ my fuckin’ fingers in.” 

And your pussy was. His fingers were too familiar, dragging in, coming out more soaked than before. You were practically gushing on them, your abdomen tightening each time his palm grazed your clit from how deep his knuckles went in.

A messy moan parts from your mouth, broken and struggling, quickly hushing itself as you suck in an inhale to quiet yourself. Your face is hot as you raise the back of your hand to your mouth, covering the sound you made.

"Fuck all that holding back. Imma’ make you cum on my fingers.” 

He slowly withdraws his fingers from your heat, bringing them up to your lips, smearing your arousal across them. 

"Open up," he instructs, holding his coated fingers near your mouth, "Clean them off. Taste your pussy."

His mouth is volatile, you’re never sure if you can handle it. You part your lips, feeling him slide his fingers to the back of your throat, choking lightly on them as you taste your arousal. It was sweet, tangy almost. 

When he pulls them out, he grunts, “Good fuckin’ girl,” roughly pulling you into a kiss, spreading your legs wider as he fucks his fingers back inside of you. His arm traps the back of your knees, keeping your thighs spread completely open, allowing you to feel everything. Your lids blink rapidly, clawing at the skin of his arms as you nearly fight with him, gasping out, “O—oh my god. Toji.” 

“You’ sound cute as fuck. Haven’t heard you like this in a minute,” he brings his ear closer to your lips, “Keep talking to me, pretty. Tell me how you feel.”

You can’t exactly see his face, which makes you more comfortable as you express in urgency, “Fingers feel too big…” you whimper, “…but it feels good…”

"My dick is bigger. Imma’ keep my fingers deep where you need them most," he growls lowly in your ear, twisting his hand to push deeper inside, "I’m not gonna pull them out until you cum. So take my shit like a big girl, I know you can.”

You close your eyes to shield your red face, his finger hitting a particularly good spot, which makes you nearly jump out of your skin, thighs wanting to slam shut, jolting upwards, whimpering as he tugs you back.

"Nuh uh, keep 'em wide," he demands firmly, thrusting his fingers harder against that sensitive spot, curling them to hit your g-spot directly which makes you moan out, quickly pressing your hand to your mouth again, “You’re clenching around my fingers hard as fuck. You’re about to cum.”

“Toji,” you can’t stop that pleading whimper, wishing he’d stop talking. It makes you gush even more on his fingers, tightening your hold on his arms, “Your mouth is bad…”

“You love how I’m talking to you, nasty ass.” 

He starts pumping his fingers faster, twisting and curling them to stimulate your inner walls, "Stop makin' those fuckin’ noises and cum already. Them’ little cute ass whimpers making me wanna put my mouth on you, let you gush all on my face. Don’t piss me off.”

You gasp out, “I…think I’m cumming…” you feel numb, your walls kidnapping his fingers, so much that he couldn’t move them anymore. Your hips tremble as your thighs shudder chaotically, holding onto him as you groan out a deep moan, sticking your own fingers into your mouth to hush your sounds. 

Too blinded by your own pleasure, your brain is fuzzy as Toji unbuckles the belt of his pants, pulling out the heavy weight of his dick that slaps along his abdomen, fingers cuffing his fat tip that smushes along the sensitive gush of your folds. 

The pressure in between your legs is at its peak, seeing as Toji hovers atop of you, pressing his forehead against yours as he begins nudging himself inside. You’re chest to chest. You feel like you’re being torn, an aching pleasure that always makes your eyes roll back. Your legs shudder ridiculously as you gasp, pressing your hand along his abdomen, that inexplicable pinch all the way to your chest. It’s like the deepest cramp you’ve ever experienced, if that cramp was twisted with an intense amount of pleasure. 

You whimper as you feel his arm reach down, taking your hand within his palm as he grunts, “Hold it,” listening with a pout as you intertwine your fingers together.

He slowly sinks deeper into you. His muscles flex beneath your touch, the ridges of his abdomen pressed firmly against your palm. 

With each inch he buries inside, your body clenches around him, the sensation bordering on pain yet feeling so good as your back arches beneath him. You can see the effort it takes for him to hold still, his control evident in the tautness of his jaw. 

“I'm tryna to go slow, baby. I know,” he coos to you, bottoming out, filling you completely.

Your eyes are fluttering shut at the fullness, pulling your face up to drag your mouth along his, digging your fingers into the palm of his hand as let out a long, desperate moan. You feel yourself gush in between his balls pressed along the back of your thighs, gasping deeply as the pressure builds up before finally releasing.

He groans lowly, a rumble vibrating through his chest as he feels your walls spasm around him. "Ooh, shit, baby. Cumming all on this dick. Goood fuckin’ girl,” he praises, his voice husky with desire.

Keeping your hand captive in his, he lifts it to his lips, planting a gentle kiss on your knuckles before bringing it back down to rest on his side once more. Withdrawing almost all the way, he lets you adjust to the emptiness before pushing back in, setting a steady, deep rhythm. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the car, mingling with your ragged breathing and muffled cries.

You finally find words to say, but they come out in pathetic whimpers, chest heaving up and down as you pant, “Feel so full, baby. Just n—needed you…” your eyes begin to glisten with pleasured tears, your other hand reaching around to claw at his back, “Harder. H—harder, please.*”

“Harder, baby?” He mocks your words in your tone, arrogantly chuckling as you sniffle in response, whiny, “Yeah…”

A smirk plays on his lips at your desperate pleas, his movements becoming more forceful as he pounds into you. A serenade of skin ricocheting, his dick dropping in and out, bruising your outer walls. 

One of his hands slides down to grip your hip, using it to pull you onto him harder while the other continues to hold your interlaced fingers.

You take your free hand, using it to spread yourself as you whimper pathetically, “Yeah, Daddy. Ughn, right there,” blabbering nonsense, only focusing on the way his dick sinks deeper and deeper each time.

“This how you wanna be fucked?”

He then raises arm, muscles flexing within the veins as he clutches the door handle above your head, shoving his hips down, watching as you frown, you’re being fucked too good. 

You brokenly gasp, blinking your tears away as you drag out, “Ba-by, I…” you can’t stop gasping, “Love the way you handle my pussy, baby…”

He leans closer, arm still flexing above your head as he deeply grunts, “Keep talking.” 

Your face is warm at that, and you nod, trying to make your words sensible as you say, “Been wanting you to fuck me like this all night…”

“Just like this, huh?” He gives a hard thrust, a whine coming from you as you kneel your head back, groaning as you yank his face closer to yours, spreading your legs wider, letting him go even deeper. 

“Augh—oh my fuckin’ god, baby.” 

You’re spent, crazy even, taking your free hand as you go in between your hips, grabbing for his dick that drops in and out, wrapping your fingers around the base as you help him fuck you. The wrist of your palm bounces and rubs along your clit, and you softly cry, “Justttt like that.”

He starts moving faster, the car rocking from the force of his thrusts, your moans echoing off the metal. His grey eyes narrow, fixated on your face as he watches you fall apart under him. 

With each snap of his hips, his tip hits that sweet spot inside you, making you writhe and beg for more. The wet sounds of sex fill the air, mixing with your needy whines until you're a mess of pleasure and desperation. 

"You never took dick like this. Always running from me,” he pulls his hand out of yours, raising your legs directly next to his face on each side of his head—you hated this position. You were trapped. 

“‘Can feel you milking my shit, sucking me in deeper,” he’s circling his hips, impaling himself inside, watching as your pussy becomes creamier each time he pulls out.

You’re silent at this point, unable to talk, move, anything. You try to place your hand over your mouth, or even pull him closer to scream, but he’s there, snatching your hand away, and you can’t hold yourself back anymore.

As you lose control, he wraps an arm around your waist, gripping your hip tightly as he continues to pound into you mercilessly. His other hand reaches up to cover your mouth, muffling your screams as he fucks you senseless. 

“Should let you be loud as fuck. Put the fuckin’ windows down,” he grunts, “Cum on Daddy’s dick, baby. This what you’ been crying for all night. I need it. Imma’ drink it all up.” 

Your body shakes violently, overwhelmed by the intensity of his thrusts and the stifling of your sobs. He doesn't relent, driving into you with unbridled passion, determined to claim every ounce of pleasure from your quivering form.

“Toji—” you’re clawing him at this point, another orgasm hitting you, your abdomen trembling as his tip coats white, and you’re crying like a baby.

“‘Fuck are you crying for? This is what you wanted. Spread your pussy. Open that shit up, I’m not done with you.”

You’re a sobbing mess, listening to him nonetheless, taking your shaking hands down as you spread yourself more, watching him go in and out, in and out. You’re unable to do anything else, bringing your face up to meet him as your eyes roll back, “Fuuuck.”

He smirks, pleased with your submission as he claims your lips in a dominating kiss, swallowing your cries of ecstasy. His tongue invades your mouth, mimicking the deep, hard thrusts of his dick.

“You’ cumming again?” He questions, only messing with you, knowing you were.

His face is shoved into your cheek as he cockily laughs, your teary eyes rolling back as you grunt out, “I’m cumming again.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeahhh.”

“Who’re you doing all that for?”

“You, baby. Fu-ck,”  your last curse is as if you’re mad at him, your cum dripping onto the seats, spreading all along his abdomen as you spurt out again.

You’re about to black out, your fuzzy state of mind begging him in a whine, “Cum in me. Cum in meee, baby.” 

But he’s already pulling out, leaning down as he shakes his head chaotically, running his heavy and long tongue all around your pussy, cleaning you up as your legs shake as if you’d been tased. He can see you’re finally coming back down, toes curling as you hold your legs, almost covering your face with them as you put your knees to your chest. Now you’re realizing everything you’ve said.

He smacks his lips, “Don’t do that,” pulling your legs open to look at you, “You okay, baby?" His voice is calm, almost tender, a stark contrast to the brutal fucking he just gave you. 

He gently strokes your thigh, waiting for you to come back to yourself. "You’ good now?”

You blink a couple of times, searching his face in almost disbelief. You nod your head, wiping your eyes as you ask, “…Can I have a kiss?”

He smiles, tilting his head to the side, “Cute ass," leaning in, capturing your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. His warmth envelops you, soothing the aftermath of your intense climax. You feel him gently rub his tip in between your folds again, whimpering against his mouth as he chuckles against yours, spanking you harshly as he then says, “We need to head back.”

“You love me? You’re not mad at me?” You ask softly, keeping his face hovered along your mouth.

He pulls back, looking at you seriously, “Never mad at you, baby. Just frustrated when you act up. You’ ready to go?” 

You blink, tilting your head as you then say, “Maybe I wanna act up a little more.” 

“That’s cool. Imma’ fuck you outside this car next.” 

“Fushiguro!” 

“Fushiguro!” he mocks back in a girly squeal, ignoring your groan as he sucks your mouth into a kiss. He was gonna love you in any mood you were in. 

“Yeah, okay. Shut that shit up. Get dressed.”

[luvsupa]

thinking of sukuna with long hair that was always kept neatly done by you. he always had you, his wife, take care of his luscious locks, convinced that your hands held a special magic—each stroke a soothing spell that kept his hair fresh and hydrated. you step into your shared estate after being busy the entire day as you saw him in the pool. the warm steam from the pool enveloped the room like a comforting embrace. sukuna lounges in the steaming pool, his long, beautiful pink hair cascading like a shimmering waterfall around him.

“my little dove, i’ve been missing you all day,” he purred, his voice low and inviting. water droplets glistened on his sculpted chest, accentuating his striking features. the damp strands of his hair, darker at the roots and slicked back, framed his face perfectly. you stood at the doorway, essential oils and combs in hand, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you admired his needy expression.

“i bet you have, handsome. i was busy helping the new children in the village,” you replied, stepping closer. with every movement, his gaze followed you, filled with admiration and longing. as you placed the hair products beside him, excitement sparked in his eyes. he loved how you cared for him; your touch alone could coax soft purrs from deep within him.

the bubbling water created a soothing backdrop as you opened the oils and cream, their fragrant scents filling the air. you gently gathered his long, silky hair, running your fingers through the soft strands, feeling their warmth against your skin. as you began brushing from the roots down to the ends, he leaned back into your touch, a needy moan escaping his lips.

“mmm, you’d be an amazing mother—how do two little brats sound?” he hummed, eyes fluttering shut, surrendering to the bliss of your magic hands. each stroke of the brush glided effortlessly through his hair, releasing the tension coiled in his body, while you worked your fingers through his locs with loving precision. his purring grew louder with every gentle tug, a deep rumble that reverberated in his chest, echoing his desire for more.

“i would love that suku,”your heart swelled with affection as you realized how deeply he cherished these moments. switching to the oils, you rose onto your knees, positioning yourself for a better angle. you began massaging the warm oil into his scalp, your fingers working in slow, deliberate circles. the moment your fingers made contact, he let out a low, needy purr that made your heart race.

“more,” he whispered, his voice thick with longing, eyes still closed as he leaned into your touch, craving your warmth. the soft sound of his neediness made you smile, fueling your desire to pamper him even more.

after thoroughly working the oils into his hair, you applied the moisturizing cream, your fingers gliding through his strands with expert care. he let out soft whines as you brushed through the final strands, and you could feel his reluctance to let go of this intimate connection.

“don’t stop,” he murmured, desperation creeping into his tone.

“keep playing with my hair until i sleep, my love.”

[malusokay]

5 Classics for girly girls 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Emily of New Moon

The bittersweet process of growing up and finding where you truly belong... The perfect read for the start of a new school year. After her father’s death, Emily Starr is sent to live with her snobbish relatives at New Moon farm. Thrust into an unfamiliar and often cold environment, Emily faces numerous challenges. However, as time passes, she begins to adapt and discovers the beauty in her surroundings. With the support of her new friends—Teddy, Perry, and Ilse—Emily not only finds solace but also discovers her own creative talents, helping her carve out a place for herself in this new chapter of her life.

“If it's IN you to climb you must -- there are those who MUST lift their eyes to the hills -- they can't breathe properly in the valleys.”

Jane Eyre

A true classic for all my fellow gothic-lit enthusiasts, Jane Eyre, reminds us that everyone deserves a love that consumes, challenges, and transforms the very core of your being, offering both profound joy and deep heartache (we love a good situationsship). Following Jane Eyre, an orphaned and mistreated girl who endures a harsh upbringing but grows into a strong, independent woman. As she takes a position as a governess at Thornfield Hall, she encounters the enigmatic Mr. Rochester, sparking a profound and tumultuous romance. Their intense connection is marred by secrets and personal demons, revealing the complexities of their relationship.

“Jane, be still; don't struggle so like a wild, frantic bird, that is rending its own plumage in its desperation." "I am no bird, and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being, with an independent will; which I now exert to leave you.”

The Secret Garden

Mary Lennox, a spoiled and neglected girl, is sent to live with her uncle after the death of her parents. Initially ill-tempered and withdrawn, Mary’s curiosity is sparked by rumours of a hidden, abandoned garden on the estate. As she explores and begins to restore this secret garden, she experiences a beautiful shift (glow-up era). The once gloomy and sickly Mary starts to bloom alongside the garden, rediscovering happiness, vibrancy, and a sense of belonging, making the story a heartwarming tale of growth and recovery.

“At first, people refuse to believe that a strange new thing can be done, then they begin to hope it can be done, then they see it can be done--then it is done, and all the world wonders why it was not done centuries ago.”

Pride and Prejudice

Truly a classic that has shaped my romantic expectations hahah... Elizabeth Bennet battles societal expectations and her own misjudgments in 19th-century England. When the aloof Mr Darcy (he'd totally be a ghoster in the 21st century just saying...) first crosses her path, their initial encounters are fraught with tension and misunderstanding. However, as Elizabeth delves deeper, she uncovers the complexities of Darcy’s character and her own heart.

“I could no longer help saying that I loved him. I loved him not only for his sake but for his own sake. I loved him because he was the only person who had ever really loved me for myself. I loved him because he had made me feel that I was worthy of being loved.”

The Little Prince

A young, otherworldly prince from a tiny planet travels across the universe, meeting various inhabitants and learning profound life lessons. His journey brings him to Earth, where he encounters a stranded pilot and shares his reflections on love, loss, and the essence of human connections. Through whimsical adventures and encounters, The Little Prince explores the importance of seeing with the heart rather than the eyes and reminds us of the value of friendship and innocence.

“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye. The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched; they are felt with the heart.”

you guys asked for more academia/book stuff so I thought this might be a nice start, especially since I know that many of you are just getting into classics; these are all very much suitable for beginners!! <3

love ya ･:*₊‧✩

[esote-rika]

lose some, win some | Spencer Reid Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Waldorf!Reader Category: Hurt/Comfort, Smut 18+, MDNI Summary: COLLEGE AU! When your debate team loses the national championship, you and Spencer return to your shared room and find a productive way to take out your frustrations. Content: Waldorf!Reader is a sore loser, lots of dialogue in the beginning, Sassy!Spencer, some talk of misogyny, Spencer makes up for it by being a munch (so f receiving oral), virgin!Spencer but he’s also a little shit, they are both little shits but it’s cute I swear, handjob, raw p in v but reader mentions she is on the pill, creampies, multiple orgasms for both of them (they’re frustrated and horny give them a break) Word count: 4.8k (it's porn with a plot for once) A/N: Not really frenemies or rivals, they’re just really angry young adults. Idk what Spencer’s actual age was in college, but he studied several times so for this fic, he’s on his third degree and is 21. If the debate stuff is incorrect, I'm sorry. I did do some research but there's so many different rules and styles lmfao. My friend who competes says it’s fine and understandable so :) also massive thanks to @just-call-me-by-yn @mggslover and @notlongtolove for helping me brainstorm and @wheresmacoffee because she was there JK  ILY ANDY their banter during the filthy part is for you <3.

Spencer Reid doesn’t particularly care about the prestige that comes with winning. Most people crave it for the validation, or because it’s another impressive thing they can slap onto their resumes, but being a genius his entire life allows him not to worry about that. His academics speak for themselves. He doesn’t need to pad it with extracurriculars. Instead, he enjoys the skills that are honed from debate—learning to listen to arguments, finding the perfect way to rebut, memorization and reviewing with like minded individuals. The university team is a well oiled machine composed of four people— him on his third degree, two other male juniors, and you, the only woman.

Over the span of two semesters, he’s memorized the quirks of his teammates. It’s essential to building rapport, after all, and he’s eager to get something good out of this. Something less academic, and more social. Friends, perhaps. While he’s formed a bond with the other members, you have always been an enigma. Stoic and ambitious, you remind him of a statue. Cold and oh so beautiful. You’ve often kept to yourself. And after several rejected attempts at friendship, he’s learned to just observe from afar.

He knows from experience that observing allows you deep insight into people, and so he knows after two semesters that you’re perhaps the most competitive out of the entire team, the most hungry for a win. This drive, he suspects, comes from a deeply rooted desire to prove yourself, though he’s unsure why. What else do you have to prove? You have everything, as far as he’s concerned. Keenly intelligent, beautiful, with a circle of friends that adore you. You aren’t like him, who has to sink his claws deep into this debate team in order to get a dose of social interaction. No, you have a life, no matter how marblesque you may seem.

And yet, somehow it’s still not enough for you.

He thinks it’s utterly ridiculous, and absolutely fascinating.

The weekend of nationals is taxing. You’ve been fighting for the opener role since the semis, but it would require too much adjustment, which no one is willing to risk so close to nationals. Not only does he not want to give up his spot, he also knows how ruthless you can be as a rebuttal speaker. He's meek, and you have a tendency to be aggressive, it's why the original roles go so well. 

Your adviser agreed, and there’s been tension ever since. 

To make matters worse, hotel arrangements somehow have placed both of you in the same room. The force of your resentment is palpable even to a normally clueless guy like him. Distracting. Pages being turned in your exaggerated annoyance. He’d complain of dramatics, but he doesn’t want to start anything. 

The fact that you’re rooming together also doesn’t help him. Sure, there are different beds, small twin mattresses on either side of the room, but still. Proximity to a woman his age has him anxious for reasons entirely unrelated to nationals. 

So when you lose the championship, his concern for your reaction behind doors overwhelms the regret of losing. 

No one is happy with the results. It is obvious from the set of his jaw, the tenseness of your shoulders. Spencer tries to calm down, accept defeat with a modicum of grace, at least in front of other people. He can tell the rest of the team is trying too, but quite unconvincingly. Onstage, accepting the medals for second place—mockingly silver, and no trophies—the team’s smiles are forced, plastic. 

Back to the hotel rooms are a different story. When you slam the hotel door shut, it echoes down the hall and makes even your debate adviser flinch. It would have made Spencer flinch too, if he hadn't already expected it. He's grown accustomed to how bad of a loser you can be. Like a tornado, your anger spares no one from its destruction. It is in these moments that your stoic resolve crumbles, no longer unfeeling, but rather fully human. Hurtful. Ruthless Unfortunately for him, he's directly in your line of fire.

He catches bits and pieces of your muttered diatribes. He’s used to those too. Normally, he would have ignored them. Losing sucks the energy out of a person, regardless of how uncompetitive he is. Besides, your ranting is mostly harmless, until one sentence snags his attention.

“— knew I should have been the opening speaker —”

He is clawing at his tie, trying desperately to get it off, but the words make him stop immediately. He whirls around, brows furrowed, “What?”

You pause as well, “What?”

“What did you say about being the opening speaker?” He watches you roll your eyes. It does nothing to calm the bitterness in the back of his throat. The normal song and dance goes like this: he’d say a string of words in an attempt to soothe the fire burning in your nerves, and you'd say something so vitriolic he'd refuse to speak to you for the rest of your time together. 

But today, having just lost the biggest championship after working so hard, he's a short fuse and your words are incendiary.

“I said I should have done it, like I asked—”

“Ah, as usual, you're mad that you didn't get what you wanted.” 

An offended scoff. He's almost proud he managed to pull that out of you. “You take too long—”

“Nationals isn't the time to suddenly alter the roles,” he tells you, shaking his head. He manages to loosen the tie, finally, tossing it on his bed with so much aggression it misses the mattress and lands limply on the floor, “I've always been the opening speaker.”

“Yes, and one would think that after going through so many debate competitions,  you would learn to be more succinct,” you snap, shoes making harsh clacks against the tiled floor, “The goal isn't to let us know you're the smartest person in the room, Spencer, it's to set up the tone and groundwork of—”

“I don't need you to lecture me about being the opening,” he interrupts, “I know what my role requires of me.”

“Do you?” Eyes flashing, you walk to him until you're almost chest to chest, “Because we still lost.”

“And you blaming me?” he hisses, leaning down. He hates doing this, stooping to your level of pettiness. Normally, he would choose to be the bigger person, refusing your verbal sparring; he likes to focus his energy on the actual debate, the opposing team, not his own teammates. But your words cut deeper than normal; it isn't the fault the team lost, that's just a flat out lie, “We advised you multiple times to memorize the statistics—”

“Something you're better at!” You look physically pained to admit his superiority, but the words spill anyway, “You'd be so much better to do the rebuttals since you have your stupid photographic memory, and I can set the tone better, but nobody on this little boys club ever listens to me!”

He's surprised at the choked tone your voice has taken. In his mind, you're a complete equal—you made it to the team through hard work and impeccable skills, like the rest of them did, after all. It didn't matter that you are a woman to him, so of course his instinct is to deny. “That’s not true.” but even his voice sounds weak. 

How would he know if it’s not true? He’s never been in your shoes before, never had to reckon with what comes with being the only woman in a team of men.

“Isn’t it?” he flinches at the venom in your voice, “You all act like I'm an afterthought—I get the shittiest positions even when I know I can be more effective in a different one, no one ever asks me for strategy, hell, you never invite me to your stupid chess games.”

His mouth opens and closes foolishly, latching on to the one thing he has a full response to, “I thought you hate chess.”

A sharp laugh, petulant and bitter, “I do, but it would have been nice to be included.”

He doesn’t know what to say. You’ve turned around, yanking off your pristine maroon blazer so roughly he’s afraid it might rip. The silence that grows makes him itch, hands balling into fists as he tries to think of what to do. Social dynamics have always been a thing of mystery to him. 

He wonders if he is part of this problem. He’s no stranger to feeling different and on the outs, and it pains him to think that he inadvertently caused someone else to feel that same, unpleasant exclusion.

But, no. Quickly, he recalls every single time he’s tried to include you—a museum trip that you’d declined because you had a party you wanted to attend. His extra tickets to the Nutcracker.

“That’s not true,” his voice is firm now, following you until he’s standing right behind. Lavender hits his nose and his brain registers the scent of your shampoo. Definitely too close if he can smell that, but he refuses to back away, intent on getting his point across, “That’s not true, I’ve tried to— you were always too busy.”

“What, I’m a liar now?” you spin around, pretty features twisted to somehow express both anger and hurt. He almost falters. Almost. 

But he’s too worked up, even though he knows he should back off, to not trivialize your experiences in order to defend himself. He should know better than this, but the sting of your accusation spurs him on. So he pushes, eyes narrowing, “Last year, September 14, 21, and 29, I invited you to come with us for several casual chess tournaments, you declined all invitations because you claimed you hated chess. October 29th, I told you about the new exhibit they were displaying—”

“It was Halloween weekend, I already had plans—”

“December 19th, I offered you Nutcracker tickets and you said you’d already seen it—”

“I have,” your voice has grown quiet now, and if he stops speaking for a single moment to look, your features have relaxed into something gentler. But he’s on a roll, and you have always been right about things; his inability to be succinct is one of them.

“Even this year, I invited you to study multiple times, but you’ve always had prior plans,” the words are spoken with neutrality. He isn’t even angry anymore, just eager to list everything down and let you know how hard he’s tried with you. Even after the numerous rejections, he’s made an effort, but of course, you have other friends, other plans outside your nerdy debate team. He’s never held that against you, but if you wanted to point fingers, he has the means to defend himself. And sure, he wants to prove you wrong on some level too, but that’s the lesser point. “Maybe if you stopped acting like you’re better than me, and just accepted, you wouldn’t be feeling so excluded.”

“I don’t act like I’m better than you.”

“You just said you would have made a better opening speaker.”

You scoff, “Oh my god, you’re infuriating, I can’t believe I’m stuck with you!”

Spencer bristles at that, “I’m giving you the facts, it’s not my fault you can’t handle them.” he says, leaning closer, trying to make her see his point, “You’re always so closed off and the other guys have just given up trying. Maybe if you—”

“What? If I smiled more? Acted less like a bitch?” you sneer, eyes narrowed dangerously, “I thought a genius like you would know better than to use misogynistic language like that.”

“Wha— no! Don’t put words in my mouth.” Spencer replies, shaking his head. The conversation is devolving into something dangerous, the air crackling with something electric. He assumes it’s anger. They will never get anywhere, so he sighs, softening slightly, “I never said that. I’m just pointing out that you weren’t blameless in this, you know?”

You’re silent. He watches you, takes in how the resentment in your eyes have been dulled by something more contemplative.

He continues, “Listen, I’m sorry if we’ve made you feel like you were on the outs. I’m sure we have to do so much reflection as a team and as individuals about how we treat each other, but it’s unfair to say that we never include you when I have actively been making efforts to—”

Your lips are upon him. 

That’s inaccurate. 

You are upon him, arms flung around his neck, body pressed flush against his. He feels the entire world tilt, and he’s unsure if it’s because you’re pulling him down or because your lips are so pillowy he’s instantly eager for more. Wants it like a man starved. Needs it, needs more, but his body betrays him. Whether it’s his inexperience or surprise or a combination of both. He freezes, blinking rapidly at the sight of you. Eyes shut, and face so close to him; so, so close he can count each individual eyelash, see the tiny freckle on your eyelid that gets hidden if your eyes are open.

And then you're gone. The freckle disappears as you look at him with wide eyed mortification. 

“Shit, Spencer, I—”

It’s his lips that cut you off this time, seeking out the velvety warmth of your mouth. Your lips part under his, and he registers a sound, soft and whining. It takes him a moment to realize it came from him, from the back of his throat and muffled by your lips and tongue and oh you’re both falling.

Literally. He must have leaned too far into you; you’re suddenly collapsing, forcing him down because your arms have him in a vice grip and he’s too busy chasing after your lips. The next thing he knows is he’s on top of you and you’re sprawled on the bed beneath him. Time stands still; he’s painfully aware of how cliche that is, but every sense of eloquence seems to have been expelled from his brain as he takes you in; lips swollen and wet from his kisses, pupils blown wide. Every breath you take pushes your chest up against his, and he can feel your heart thrumming against his body. 

“Well, that was one way of shutting you up,” you chuckle with a cockiness that makes his heart speed up, though it isn’t borne out of embarrassment. Every single physiological effect of your body is evidence that you’re enjoying this, telling him you’re just as worked up as he is. The breathiness in your voice, the quickness of your heartbeat. 

The fact that you’re pulling him down again, legs hooking around his hips. He surrenders to it, lips meeting yours once again, deeper and more desperate this time.

He closes his eyes, relishing this, kissing you, touching you, an act he had believed is reserved for attractive jocks and charismatic art nerds. Not him, quiet and lanky, shifting to avoid his angular bones from digging into you, and to place himself more comfortably on the bed. Inexperienced, ungainly, and yet here he is, his tongue pushing into your mouth in his first forays into something that his peers have experienced years ago.

Spencer Reid isn’t used to being the one behind, doing the catching up. Child prodigy, genius, the words aren’t meaningless. He’s been ahead academically—which, up until this point, has been his whole life. But feeling warm lips beneath his own has him reconsidering some of his life choices. 

The kiss is messy. Sloppy from his clumsy attempts to keep up with your eagerness. You’re tugging at something, and he realizes it’s to untuck the rest of the crisp shirt you’ve donned for the debate tournament out from your skirt. His hands settle on your waist, finding smooth, heated skin from where your shirt has ridden up. Careful fingers help push it up, burying under the fabric until his palms are mapping out the slopes of your body. 

Soft. So damn soft. 

Not cold marble after all. He theorizes you must be soft everywhere, and he decides to test it out with his lips, laving kisses along your jaw, down the sweet, musky skin of your neck where your perfume still lingers. Instincts take over and he allows himself a taste, tongue darting out. You shudder, so he does it again, greedy for your pretty moans and gasps. 

He can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips, “Thought you were mad at me?” he mumbles, trailing his kisses down the column of your throat. 

You’re all mhms and ohhhs right now, so far from the usual image you present to the world, a preppy, manicured woman who wrestles for control over everything. You must hate this, he thinks, being beneath him physically, caged within his arms which are deceptively strong for how fragile he looks. 

“Shut up,” you grumble.

“Make me.” His grin is dopey when he lifts his head to meet her gaze.

Something brushes against his crotch, and now he’s the one gasping, jerking in surprise at the friction. You’ve slotted your thigh between his, and his traitorous body responds by grinding down on it shamelessly. The look on your face is smug, triumphant.

“Huh,” saccharine and mocking, you blink up at him innocently, “That was easier than I thought.”

His head drops to your neck again, but he isn’t kissing you anymore. Just open mouthed breathing as he rubs himself on your thigh, hands tightening on your sides, “Mhm.”

“Are you gonna come? Spencer, I haven’t even touched you yet.”

He sinks his teeth into your flesh to fight the needy whines because yes, he’s so embarrassingly close and you’re both still fully dressed. He hears a hiss, and he backs off immediately, murmuring apologies, “Didn’t mean to—”

“‘S okay,” you tilt your head back, give him more access to your neck, “Just don’t leave marks.”

Permission to bite. He gulps, heart beating wildly, before ducking back down. Chapped lips run over your neck, finding a soft spot to bite, forcing himself to soften the way his teeth sink into your skin. All the while rubbing himself on your thigh because it’s probably the closest thing to heaven a man such as him will ever experience. 

He hears your laughter, your mocking cooes of, “You’re so fucking needy” but he can’t bring himself to care.

You’re correct, he decides, as you usually are. He’s needy, desperately so, eagerly chasing the delicious pleasure of dry humping your thigh. 

“Hold on, Spencer.”

You push him back gently. A whine rips from his throat, “Mhm—why?”

He gets his answer soon enough. Your hands undo his belt and he swears this sets his whole body on fire. Nobody’s ever seen him like this. Never has another person touched him so intimately, seen him so out of control, so brainless. He’s babbling incoherently as your hand strokes up and down his length, his hips rutting into your hand. It’s out of sync. Two dancers on entirely different rhythms.

Your laughter rings in his ears, one hand tangled in his hair as the other does unspeakable, tantalizing things to his aching cock. 

“Mhm, can’t— I’m gonna—” and he’s spilling into your hand, hot, viscous liquid overflowing from your hand and staining your skirt, “Ah, shit.”

He collapses against you, head on the crook of your shoulder as he tries to catch his breath. “‘M sorry, I’ll– I’ll pay for your dry cleaning.”

Your chest shakes as you laugh, “Would you? I think you owe me more than that.” The heat in your voice makes his breath catch in his throat.

Soft kisses press upon your neck as he gathers his thoughts, willing his brain to work again. Anatomy, female anatomy. Female pleasure. What does he know about this? A lot, surprisingly, though mostly from books. Mostly in theory, but that’s a start. He can put them to practice right now. His hands drag down your sides until they catch the waistband of your skirt. “May I?”

“Okay.”

He pulls gently, exposing the rest of your thighs and legs. Honey brown eyes devour the expanse of your skin, hands clutching at the softness. He marvels at the way your flesh accepts his own, bright red splotches imprinted from his fingertips.   

He thinks of poetry, the uncountable amount of words and phrases written to immortalize women and love and sex, and he finds himself wishing he has the skill to compose something as beautiful, something worthy of you right now, radiant and half naked and somehow all his. 

But he is no poet, so he touches his lips upon your body instead. Pretty words will escape him, but his lips can speak even without them, he’ll make sure of it. He kisses down your abdomen, making sure to pay attention to every hidden freckle and birthmark he comes across. Your reactions make him feel drunk, to the point of affecting him physically. Messier kisses. Hands tugging and nearly ripping the lace of your panties because he’s unaware of his own strength. 

“So pretty,” he mumbles, “So pretty.” It’s all he can repeat, but then his tongue lands on your slick heat and suddenly words are forgotten in favor of vague groaning. Because how can he accurately describe the sensation of this? Tasting you. God how has he gone so long without this? Your nails scraping his scalp, his fingers sinking into your thighs as he keeps you still. He’s halfway off the bed, legs dangling off the edge, your thighs squeezing his face. 

There’s nowhere else he would rather be. 

He laps at your folds like a mad man, tongue pressed flat and dragging up slowly to get as much of you in his mouth as possible. His feet find the floor, allowing himself more stability to once again rub his growing erection against a solid object. The poor mattress is going to be ruined once they’re done.

“Faster,” you gasp, jerking your hips into his face, “Spencer— oh, yeah like that!”

Spencer Reid is a quick study, and when he hears the positive reactions, he doubles down until he feels you convulse against his tongue. You jerk so violently he has to hold you down. He pushes his tongue past your entrance experimentally, and feels you tug roughly on his hair in response, gasping his name and God’s name in slurred phrases as you ride out your high.

It’s the hottest damn thing he’s ever experienced.

 “Jesus Christ,” you gasp, and he has to repeat that ridiculous sentence again, because it’s true and he feels you deserve it.

“You’re so pretty.” He fears you might be some kind of magnet, because his lips keep getting drawn back to your skin. He lets his kisses travel up your hip bone, before grinning up at you, “Even when you’re being insufferable, you’re still so beautiful.”

“Gee thanks,” you huff, pulling at his arm, “How romantic, I’m swooning.”

“Might not be swooning, but you did just come on my face.” brilliant rows of teeth flash at you as he smiles smugly.

“Asshole.”

“Is that how you say thank you?” he drags his body up lazily, draping himself over you.

“I’m not— wait, are you hard again?”

“Uh…”

“Needy, needy boy.” you pull him down to you, and he almost protests, his chin and mouth still covered with your slick. But you don’t seem to care, so he follows your lead, God at this point he would follow you anywhere at all. You’re shifting beneath him, and the next thing he knows is your legs are wrapped around his waist again, your heat completely exposed and pressing against his cock.

“Mhm,” he pulls back, eyes wide, “I—”

“What?” you whisper, lifting your head to continue giving him kisses, teeth playfully nipping at his jaw, “It’s fine, I’m on birth control.”

“It’s not that,” he can’t deny you, his body relaxing back down over you. His lips catch yours for a moment, slow and achingly tender, “I’ve just never really done this before.”

He waits for the inevitable laughter. Here he is, at 21, and somehow still the same person he had been when he first entered college at 14. But you continue to look at him with heavy lids, breathless and flushed. 

“Okay,” your voice is kind, sweet, “Take it slow then.” your hand wraps around his length again, the movement slower this time, as you align him to your entrance. He hisses as the sensitive tip grazes against your folds, as he feels your entrance slowly give way to him and envelop his cock. 

“Oh,” he sighs. With your help, he sinks halfway into you, one hand gripping your hip, the other bracing himself on his elbow. Eyes squeezed shut, he stills and manages to ask, “Are you okay?”

You don’t speak, and so he forces his eyes to focus and look at you. The sight has him twitching inside you. Mouth agape and eyes hazy, you’re nodding up at him wordlessly as your hips rock up into his. “More.”

It’s exhilarating. He’s known you for the past year, worked alongside you but respected your need for distance. And now, here you are, not merely close, but one. Spencer sighs, and thrusts shallowly, eyes zeroed in on you and your reactions. He doesn’t want to hurt you, doesn’t want it to end too soon, so he moves slowly, dragging out his cock until only the tip rests inside you, then sliding into the hilt.

It elicits the most mellifluous sounds from you, making him smile in relief. He lets his forehead rest against yours, thrusts growing more confident, but still in that slow, almost dreamy pace. He memorizes every detail of this moment, from the way your eyes flutter closed, to the quiver of your legs as they wrap tighter around his thighs. 

“So good,” he hears himself say, “God, you feel so good.”

“Mhm,” you nod, nails digging into his back, even through his clothes. In the heat of the moment, you’re both still half dressed, only getting rid of your bottom clothes in order to get what you need from each other, “More, Spencer, I need more.”

He nods, letting his thrusts grow faster, rougher. It’s an awkward angle, he’s afraid his knees will start cramping, but the feeling of being surrounded by your warmth, drowning in your moans has him reckless. “There?” he grunts, angling just so, and he can’t help the smirk on his face when he feels your walls clenching around him.

“There, there, yes!”

He’s not sure how he manages to last as long as he does. Maybe it’s the sheer desire to feel you fall apart, for his cock to be drenched in your slick that keeps his release at bay. Maybe he has too much pent up sexual energy that’s just been dying to come out. Whatever it is, he’s thankful for it, because it means he’s spending more time inside you, hips moving with so much impact he’s pushing you forward with each thrust. 

“Yes, just like that.” you’re shuddering beneath him, and he moves his arm to the top of your head, creating a barrier between you and the headboard so you don’t hit it. He could stop, readjust your positions, but he doesn’t have it in him. 

No, he wants to stay inside you, forever if there’s an anatomically feasible way to do it. But unless he invents it, he’ll settle for right now, settle for the heat between your bodies, and how you’re practically melting into the mattress, arching so prettily against him.

“You close?” he murmurs, one hand finding your clit, drawing gentle circles with his fingertips.

“No fair,” you whine, bucking into him, “That’s cheat— Spencer!” 

You come undone in the most enthralling way, eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip bitten by your own lips. You squeeze and flutter around him, and he’s helpless to stop his own release, spilling deep inside you with a broken cry from his own mouth. Your name is whispered, over and over again, until he stills, his vision blurry as he collapses against you.

He curls around you, trying to get as close, “You—that was—wow.” 

You giggle, still breathless and glassy eyed, “Are you sure that was your first time?”

“Yes,” he gives you a series of kisses along your temple, “Yes, it was. You—wow.” he carefully pulls out of you, hissing quietly when the cool air conditioned air hits his sensitive flesh. “Was that enough of an apology for not including you to our chess nights?”

“You’re making jokes now?”

“No,” he smiles, leaning away to look at you, all starry eyed and boneless, “Not a joke. Because if it’s not enough, I can do it again.” a kiss to your cheek, “And again.” one on the tip of your nose, “And again.”

When you laugh in response, he cups your cheek, “I mean it.” he says with all the seriousness he can muster.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Does this mean you’ll accept my invitations now?” he lights up, a large smile splitting his face.

“Only if it’s a date.”

"Then it's a date."

[unamused-kookaburra]

Me: *getting anxious about money again and telling myself I need to stop spending*

Me: oh wow! New phone only $599! What a deal!