#ask to tag bc i feel like this needs more but dont know what

[haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll]

Tracklist:

40 Years Super Hot Body Ready for Party • Aries Taurus Gemini Cancer Leo Virgo Libra and Scorpio Sagittarius Capricorn Aquarius Pisces Fart Song • Butterflies Scared My Cat When I Was Burping in Your Face on Wednesday Morning • Drunk Log out with Spooky Music Settings on My Firm Tits Pictures • Grandpa Says Fuck While Grandma Screams What Repeated Several Times • Grumpy Trumpy Python Toddler Taxi with False News and Emotions • Hugging Blood Thirsty Vampires with a Transylvanian Accent and Slapped Butts • I Farted as an Official Statement Against Global Warming, Expressing My Worries! • I’m Handsome When Wearing a Bag on My Head, Said the Horny Motherfuckers Politely • Is That Cellulite or Just Your Ugly Face? • Kindergarten Farting Fanfare Discussed with Disgusting Asian Clay Warriors Terracotta Song • Leaking Ladies Xylophone Solo Learning with Lusty Lashes Song • Lisping on Penis Peyote Creaking Mirth Radio, Let’s Lisp! Song • Lowering My Filthy Boobs to the Height of Your Curly Chest Hair with Freckles • Mom’s Cleaning Closet Looks Like a Women’s Porn Stash • My Gay Expense Combination Password Gore Seeking Battle Was Sinning • My Hangover Got Hung over by a Hung Guy from Hungary • My Horoscope Sign Is Poop and Yours Is Farts • Nearly Touching Myself with Your Girlfriend’s Hands While Doing the Dishes • Peeing a Farting Swearing Shouting and Pooping in Different Languages Made Me Famous Song • Petite Girls Liked My Fat Farts in Skinny Jeans with Justice • Pooping a Masterpiece in the Little Boys Room on National TV Broadcast • Puerto Del Penis Summer Holiday with Topless Sun Bathing and Surfing Fun • Puking Girls Are Holding Each Others Hair While Selling Butter to Pregnant Vomiting Men • Real Sharks Was a Great Accessory for My Swimming Pool Party Massacre • Relaxing Music for Penis Boys and Vagina Girls, I Have Money Cash, Yes! • Rescuing My Penis from Your Vagina at the Last Minute, Whoah! • Scary Music and Naked Ladies Cemetery Collection Flickering Through Growth • Shaking Sausages in the Men’s Room and Dangling Coconuts • Short Temper Anus Removal with Lipstick on the Collar • Shouting Poopers to Girls While a Crying Man Is Pooping Poop, How Adorable Screaming Babies Are! • Silly Talking Childish Macho Man Thanking Prayers for God’s Food Yes Hello! • Skinny Bitch, Fat Bitch, Rich Bitch, Poor Bitch, All Bitches Poop! • Smelling That Pussy in the Air at the Private Night Club Farting Room • Smudging Chocolate over the Toilet, So Everyone Would Think I Pooped • Sneaking Beans into Your Butthole While U Talk to a Handsome Stranger • Snuggling in Satan’s Satin Sheets with Shattered Dreams and No Boner Song • Solitary Fighting My Big Toe with the Desolate Strangler • Spoiling Desert by Pulling Your Finger Thirteen Times in a Row • Strolling with Morning Wood in the Woods While Mourning to This Song • Stutter and Chinese Food Destroyed My Artwork in the Toilet Bowl Coffee Shop • Sunny Morning Boner at the Beach Gym Towel Rental Song • Surprisingly Soft Boobs on the Milf Statue in the Garden of Jugs, Oh It Was Your Mom Sorry! •

Taming My Daughter’s Boyfriend with Booze and Fists of Agony • Teleporting My Cock to the Urinals Hurts When Peeing Penis Action • That Penis Is Not Mine, Stop Accusing Me of Curing Your Cancer! What • The Brothel Cup Cake Dispenser Had a Variety of Chocolate Brownies Too • The Giggling Killer Was Invited for Tea and Mustard with a Former Laughing Idiot • The Headache Fuckers with Migraine Were Chopping Fucking Painkillers • The Itchy Vampire Vagina Was a Gothic Curse from Medieval Times Song • The Lying Bitch Hermit Ducking Group Was Insisting on Bitch Slaps • The Penis Teens Shouting Squad Declared War on the Vagina Milfs Departure • The Pussy Cock Was Meowing and Cock-a-Doodle-Dooing with Glance • The Singing Orgy Group Remembered My Fancy Birthday Party, Super! • The Sock on My Penis Shook the Genuine Spokesman While Crying Song • The Syphilis Motown Singers Were Blowing Deranged Adultery at Me Song • The Toy Collector’s Mature Attitude Otter Raised Homeland Security Breach • The Triangle of Pussy and Clipping Smoothies Burping Smootch • Typical Asian Food Poured into the Purse of an European Hooker Prostitute Igloo • Under Water Farting Wiz Nick Y Minaj Naked Twerking Shower Saloon Barf Thong • Updating My Profile Picture While Pooping Macaroni with Japanese Subtitles • Using Mother´s Panther Underwear Because of Broken Shopping Bag to the Store • Washing Hamburgers with Dirty Sauce in Leather Pants While Howling • What Ugly Shit on Your Finger! Oh, It’s Your Wedding Ring? It’s Very Nice! • Whistling and Farting a Heavenly Polyphonic Song for Dying Virgins • Violin Licking Sounds by a Hard Baritone Dick Song Licker • Young Girls Selling Old Men´s Boxers in Thongs with Soulful Tutti-Frutti • Your Butthole Swallowed My Telephone, Will It Come out from the Mouth Then? • Your Mom´s Butt Massage Seems Innocent at First, Before Handing out Religious Leaflets

Spotify ♪ Youtube

[futuristichedge]

Sonic, the embodiment of freedom switching places with Metal Sonic and being able to realize and experience first hand how isolated and restricted Metal is. Unable to speak, limited body language and fingers unable to articulate anything outside of a clawing motion. Metal coming to and adjusting to experiencing the overstimulating experience of being a living breathing thing. Being called just Sonic and how right it feels... in a way. It feels right the way that looking at yourself through a funhouse mirror is right. It's still you, isn't it?

The tragedy of being created in the form of another. Predestined to never reach the heights of what you are capable of, chained down by the expectations of what you SHOULD be.

An embodiment of freedom made to be obedient. Bottled wind, stagnating in your containment.

You were made to usurp someone, to be superior but held back by your own programming. Held back by comparisons inherent to being a replica, gifted tunnel vision to achieve an unachievable goal.

So wrapped up in comparison that the only way you can see to break free from these expectations is to remove the person you were made in the image of. Become the ONLY 'you' there is.

What if its given to you. You are no longer the copy, you are what you were always meant to be. But the expectation is still there, and you are still falling short. What then.

[thegreatyin]

who is the scoundrel? I see you posting about them(it? Idk) all the time but I haven’t figured out who they are

my fallen london OC! i made them by accident a few months ago and as you can tell ive very quickly developed scoundrel brainrot. it's a terminal illness for which there is no cure and the symptoms are instead of brain there is scoundrel.

in terms of actual character rundowns, their full moniker is The Bandaged Scoundrel, though i tend to call them "the scoundrel" for short. their real name is D█████, but they'd sooner die permanently than respond to or even acknowledge its existence.

they are! a bastard! a rat! a son of a b___! a motherf______! they are vain beyond your wildest imagination and they think they're the most infallible perfect being in all of existence and they have the exact attitude of a saturday morning power-hungry cartoon supervillain on cocaine.

and also, perhaps most importantly, they're Really Fucking Stupid. because of course they are.

they are resplendently awful. they are inevitably going to cause their own demise in an act of pure karmic retribution. they are a speck of dust in history that desperately keeps trying to insist they're actually a tornado. i love them dearly.

in loose conclusion while also acknowledging ive explained literally nothing; my goofy silly victorian london browser game player character that deserves to get timetraveled against their will to the 21st century specifically so they can get hit by a truck

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

I've been looking for this one au where Len basically becomes a mad scientist and turns his friends into robots one by one for a while now, and I'm beginning to realize that I just read through your blog while half asleep a few months back and mixed together my memories of your flower hivemind and composite au

this is very funny to me. i'm absolutely honored this blog's posts were enough to evil-farming-game an entire vocaloid au into your memories 😂

i can give you this doodle; it's composite au but i'm sure it'd fit very well with this theoretical mad scientist len au lololl

[miscellaneous--bones]

divinity has died, and you are still here.

[aromanticannibal]

The pattern is that people straight up do not read™. or they read a 3-5 tweet summary of what happened and treat it as if they did. or because shonen expectations based on "the classics" is bullshit and significantly rotted people's brains when deciding wether an ending is good or not.

Which could be nothing right

yeahhh. i will forever regret reading the last chapter through leaks because it was a dreadful experience, and watching everyone ever shit on it for like a week after genuinely made me want to just get off the internet forever or something because i felt like an idiot for liking the ending (all this is my fault for getting too invested in both tumblr and mha etc etc).

All the "it's rushed" and pacing complaints barely matter to me at this point because you just cannot feel the pacing of something correctly when you're reading it exclusively through leaks. you can't absorb info like that. And don't get me started on the number of complaints and criticisms I've seen of the last chapter that are just provably bullshit (I saw someone say Izuku didn't get a statue lmao. yes he did, you just read the fucking leaks and watched twitter drama unfold instead of reading the actual chapter i fear).

[shitty-kinda-doodles]

Zilla is the Flotsam and Jetsam to Velvette's Ursula lol.

Lmaooo kind of? In a song where they manipulate an innocent person she would be for sure

[raspberrysmoon]

for the Hatchetfield asks: 💙 and 🙃

favorite tgwdlm character: ALICE. I AM INSANE OVER HER I NAMED MYSELF AFTER HER I LOVE HER SHES MY BBG SHES MY EVERYTHING I ADORE HER YOULL NEVER UNDERSTAND THE JOY I FEEL WHEN I REMEMBER SHE EXISTS AND IS A CHARACTER WITH A WHOLE NMT EPISODE ABOUT HER WHERE I CAN JUST SEE HER. i have no reasoning for this. i just adore her. shes so silly. not your seed made me cry. its my favorite song from the musical. its the bane of my existence. the way mariah delivers every single line makes me scream. "yes it is. its all your fault" WHAT IF I CRY????? "im fucking seventeen" WHAT IF THATS THE THING THAT BROKE ME???? WHAT IF I AM SOBBING???? "i dont think i oughta..." BABY GIRL I WILL DESTROY EVERY ATOM OF WEED IN THE WORLD FOR YOU SAY THE WORD. ILL HUNT IT DOWN. HUNT THE PLANT TO EXTINCTION ???? DO YOY WANT ME TO KILL THAT GUY FOR YOU???? I WOULD. and i am so so so normal abouy her 👍

favorite nmt episode: if we count hey, melissa! then ueah its hey melissa, but if not provably yellow jacket or abstinence camp?

[cryptidapprentice]

literally why the hell am i always so anxious to call out of work

[purpldawne]

im gonna yell in the tags just to be safe but i am THINKING

[sugaroto]

I did it :D

I changed seats

During the 1st hour I was sjnzjdjsjd-ing again and couldn't focus and the 2nd hour the teacher was late and so I said fuck it, grabbed my bag and sat on the back

My deskmate was a lil confused and I didn't have time to explain to her why I left, sorry🥲 but I seriously cannot sit in there, especially since I sat on the back yesterday (some people were missing so it didn't seem weird that I moved) but like, in the back I could breathe, in the front it's very crowded

Also I don't think my deskmate minds at all cause the guy who sits on the front moved back with her a few times and they were playing hangman so🤷‍♀️she's doing fine

And only one teacher comment on it :)

-What are you doing in the back? Will you be sitting in there from now on?

-I focus better on the back

-you noticed a difference?

-yeah, I'd rather sit here

At first she thought I couldn't see, which is weird cause I'm wearing glasses, and the problem is that I actually can see better on the front but I focus better on the back, but we don't write that much cause most of the time the teachers are just talking (history doesn't need the board, ancient greek and Latin use it like once a month, so my problem is seeing in math, but I can see so far)

And like a friend noticed I was on the back during the last hour and she was like "Sugar what are you doing in the back?" All sad and she said it was sad or something cause I was so far away and sitting alone and my friend who was sitting in front of me (and knew how much I wanted to change seats) was like "no she likes it better here" and I was like yeah I get stressed on the front and can't focus and some girl was like really?

Yes really, I'm finally breathing again 🥲💘

Now the only teacher who didn't saw I moved was the history teacher and when I moved yesterday she gasped so I'm worried she'll say something

Also, there are two boys in my class who were originally on the back but now both sit on the front and one was kinda forced cause he's sleeping on the back so the history teacher made him move and I think the only reason the Latin teacher didn't continue the subject is bc she understands I'm not trying to sleep on the back bc I'm actually giving Panhellenic exams unlike the guy

And bc the teachers had made both boys move I thought they wouldn't agree with me sitting back but it's fine :)

The math teacher probably doesn't care cause she knows none of us actually cares about math, and also I participate to her class so🤷‍♀️ and the ancient greek teacher was also my teacher last year and I was sitting on the back and I don't think he gives a shit about where someone is sitting cause he knows how to do his job

3 teachers let me be 1 to go

[omanu]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

[celestialmancer]

⛈️ //

[toytulini]

lightly defending Toshiro while also fully understanding Laois frustrations. as a bitch who let teachers call me the wrong name all through high school cos it was kinda funny

[fardf150]

ig my problem is that when ppl who ive never spoken to who dont and will never have a reason to refer to me ask my pronouns it feels too much like the "are you a boy or girl" question. like im cool when theyre asking everybody bc they plan on knowing and talking to all of us. but when they approach me and only me and i dont know them it's like Oh youre just uncomfortable with the fact that i confuse you and you need to be able to classify me

[parfaitblogs]

(totally not based on my day) but a simple request for spencer helping reader out with a bunch of chores bc she's overwhelmed with life and she decides to thank him with like the quote "best head of his life" and he's like "its okay you dont have to do that" and she's responds "but i am anyways"

it will come back ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid helps you when you're (very) overwhelmed, and you might need to return the favour.  pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: comfort & smut (18+ mdni) tags: oral (m receiving). praise. established relationship. reader's overwhelmed overstimulated overworked... very enthusiastic head giver!reader. use of honey and angel. they love each other a lot. i love them a lot. i don’t think there’s d/s dynamics but if there are it’s soft dom spencer (nobody’s shocked). word count: 3.1k a/n: thank u sooo much for reading my brain ily i need to give spencer reid head asap. new format/layout for requests sort of its the same as my normal post layout... do we like... i sure freaking hope so. as always lmk if u liked this or even if u didn't but preferably if u did!!

You were exhausted. For three weeks straight, you had been working nonstop, with a wondrous total of eight hours in between shifts. You were hardly sleeping, you had hardly had a social life, hell, you never even had time to enjoy the simple pleasures of an everything shower. You felt groggy, and cramped, and everyday felt like an awful repeat of the last. A nightmare that never ended. 

Never mind the fact that you hadn't seen your boyfriend.

Always home too late to be with him in the evenings, and up too early to get coffee with him before your days started. Spencer was so patient with you, regardless. He knew it would end eventually, and he would get his girlfriend back. It was just for the month, was what you would text each other whenever the other began feeling particularly lonely. He didn't even like texting, but the time for a simple phone call wasn't available to you anymore. 

And your apartment. Every time you stepped into it you swore a new dirty dish materialised in your sink, or a new pile of clothes sat themselves in your bedroom floor. Which was odd, because you had rotated between the same two outfits for the last eighteen days — your work uniform, or your pyjamas. 

You were overwhelmed with it all. Even as your hectic work life came to an end, and you were waking up to the sunlight pouring into your room, instead of an alarm clock while the moon was still up. You were acutely aware of the mess of your apartment, and just the thought of it all left you lying motionless in your bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

Tears stung your vision as you felt the seconds tick into minutes, and nothing happened. Attempting to will yourself to get up, and yet you simply couldn't. Exhausted beyond belief, with limbs sinking into the mattress and melding to the sheets. 

You faintly heard the click of your front door lock, and if you had any more motivation in you, you'd probably get up to double check it was the only other person who had a key to your apartment, and not a burglar. Thankfully, you didn't have to, for Spencer was calling out your name, gently.

Too exhausted to even reply and alert him of where you were, you lay still until he had found you in your bedroom, his bad dropping by the doorway, feet shuffling against the rug. 

"Good afternoon," he said, finding a seat on the edge of your bed, hand resting atop your thigh, gentle circles being rubbed into the skin. 

"Is it already afternoon?" you asked him, voice quiet. 

"Yeah. How long have you been awake in bed?" 

"I don't know," you answered, voice awfully small as you felt the thick weight of frustration with yourself blanket over you. "I need to get up. The apartment's a mess."

"It's allowed to be," he said. "You've been doing sixteen hour days."

"Yeah, but I'm not today. I have the day off."

"Your first day off in weeks. I'd be concerned if you'd spent it productively."

You stared at him, unsure if the irritation that settled in your bones was because of his insistence that you not doing a thing was okay, or your exhaustion. Logically, it would be the latter. You did know that, deep down. 

Upon seeing your eyes delve into something a little more desperate, he sighed, hand sliding up to your own, gently tugging you up into a seated position. His eyebrows knitted together at your exhausted look, and you could see his brain ticking behind his eyes.

"Do you want to split the tasks?" he finally asked.

"You don't have to," you shrugged your shoulders. "It's my mess."

"Honey, you're already overwhelmed, and all you've done is wake up," he answered, thumb drawing circles on the top of your hand that he still seemed to have clasped within his own. "Let me help."

"It's really gross."

"I've seen mutilated dead bodies."

"I'd argue my kitchen sink is worse."

"Oh would you?" his eyebrows shot up, lips twitching in amusement, that you found solace in, distracting you slightly from your overstimulated mind. "Do you want to have a shower?"

"Yes," you nodded your head, brain ticking over all the personal hygiene tasks you had been neglecting over the past few weeks. 

"How about you go shower, I'll start cleaning up, and you come join me when you're feeling better?"

Despite your aversion to anybody but yourself tackling the mess of your apartment, you knew better than to deny Spencer any further — he had set his mind on helping you. 

Sighing, you nodded your head in defeat. He had coaxed you up off the bed, gotten you to the bathroom, even found you a fresh set of clothes to wear, and waited with you for the water to warm up. It was really only once he was absolutely sure you had gotten into the shower, did he leave you be, and disappeared from the bathroom. 

Eventually, the apartment had been cleaned, with efforts from the both of you getting it to where it now was. 

You were a lot less exhausted, and your brain was a lot less fried now that you didn't have a million tasks catalogued within it to get done. 

You were lying in your freshly made bed — courtesy of Spencer. Your head on his chest, fidgeting with one of his hands as he used the other to wave around as he rambled about something you were no longer following. It had started as a simple explanation for why you had been so overwhelmed in the first place. Which you had asked as a rhetoric, but didn't have the heart to stop him when he began explaining. 

"You're not listening, are you?" he asked, free hand poking your side and emitting an involuntary laugh from you at the feeling. 

"I am, I am! I'm just not following anymore."

"Sorry."

"It's okay," you replied, turning and poking your head up to be level with his. "I like hearing you speak, anyways. Doesn't matter if I don't understand."

He only hummed as a response, and the two of you stared at each other for a beat, before you were breaking out into a smile. 

"Hi," you chirped. 

"Hello," he answered, perhaps a little too amused by your sudden energy. "Would you like something?"

"A kiss?"

"After all that labour I just put in for you?" he mused, but he was already lifting his head to brush his lips against yours, and was most certainly not pulling away when you eagerly connected them properly. 

You pulled back after a few moments, searching his face. "Do you want something for all that labour?"

His hand trailed up your spine, fingertips triggering a shiver to run up your back. "What do you have in mind?"

"I could give you the best head of your life."

He was clearly not expecting that as an offer, perhaps because you never had offered such a thing before. It wasn't even something you had talked about, which was bizarre (in your mind), considering he was quite enthusiastic about using his mouth on you. 

"You don't need to do that," he shook his head, but with how close your faces were, you could see the instant dilation in his pupils. 

"What if I want to?" 

"Then that's very nice of you, but my point still stands," he replied.

"Spencer, let me do something in return," your voice was nothing short of a whine, and if he was any less turned on, maybe it wouldn't have made his firm footed denial falter. Maybe you knew that.

"You could do anything but that."

"So a handjob?"

"Or that."

"You're such an awful liar," you huffed. "I can see your pupils dilating. I know you're turned on by the thought of it."

"It could just be because I'm looking at you," he answered, voice hoarse, no doubt from the arousal he was attempting to deny was there. "Romantic attraction triggers the same response in our hormones."

"But it's not."

He fell silent for a few moments, before he allowed his resolve to slip, shaking his head in agreement with you. "No. It's not."

"See! It's okay if you want it. I'm quite literally offering myself to you," you spouted. 

His eyes fluttered shut, and he exhaled through his nose, words coming out through almost gritted teeth. "That's not a sentence you should be saying."

"Why not?"

His only response was to say your name chidingly, and when he reopened his eyes, he was met with the shit-eating grin on your face. 

"Brat," he mumbled, lips seeking yours once again.

"Who gives really good head," you hummed against his mouth. "And would really love to show you."

"If you're insisting—"

"Which I am," you quickly interjected, staring back at him as yet another amused smile stretched across his lips. Then, he was nodding his head, and you were quite cheerfully kissing him all over again.

It wasn't that you kissed him with much fever at all — in fact, you were melting into his lips with a gentle hum. It was simply that he was kissing you back with a desperation you should be accustomed to. You weren't. 

Every kiss you received from him always felt like he was chipping away at your soul, claiming a piece of it. Maybe he was.

You mewled when his teeth nipped at your lower lip, and he was quick to take the opportunity of slipping his tongue into your mouth. Though, alerted by his sudden control over the situation between you two, you reluctantly pulled your face away from his before it could go much further. 

"Excuse me," he breathed out, scoldingly, only to be met with your hundredth grin of the day as you descended down his body. He'd take it — you smiling, albeit cockily, was much more rewarding than the concerned look you had been sporting for the majority of the afternoon. 

"I don't do this very often," you told him as you lifted your gaze to his, absentmindedly tugging his pants down his legs. 

"I hope not. You've never done it for me, and we've been together for quite a while."

"You know what I mean," you grumbled, and he was forced to poke his tongue into the inside of his cheek to keep the smile off his face. 

"Is this comfortable for you?" he then asked, having noticed your constant adjustments of your positioning between his legs. From nerves or comfortability, he didn't know. 

"Um. I guess so," you replied. "I've never done it lying down."

"We can do it however you prefer to do it, angel."

"Oh. Okay. Cool," you mumbled, sitting up straight and grabbing his hands within your own, tugging him over towards the edge of the bed. 

You sank to your knees on the rug, tapping his knees with your hands to part them so you could situate yourself comfortably between them. 

You were a vision if he'd ever seen one, and you weren't even doing anything. Perhaps you had noticed the effect you had on him, or maybe you were just largely enthusiastic about doing something for him, and only him. 

Your tongue darted out to lick your lips, eyes flickering up to meet his face, and if this was the last sight he saw before he died, he would have no complaints. 

"Have you ever gotten head before?" you mumbled, eyes fixated on him as your hands trailed up the sides of his thighs, resting at the waistband of his boxers. 

"Yes."

"Okay," you whispered, quietly, tapping his hips so he could lift them, and you rolled his boxers down his skin.

"Okay?" he parroted. 

"Okay," you confirmed with a nod of your head. "I just wanted to know if this is going to be completely new for you or not."

As you spoke, your fingertips dragged along his inner thighs, lips following soon after, kissing up the skin. 

"I don't think that's going to matter, honey," he answered, voice breathless. 

You smiled, not needing to ask what he meant. You lifted your head back up, studying his face. He gave you a nod, a silent confirmation to allow you to go further, and you took a beat to compose yourself. It's not like he would be mad at you if it sucked, but you had had a far too awful day to not do something good. 

You hadn't done this in a while, it was true. So your hesitance came more from your brain figuring out what it actually needed to do, than your insecurities (they were there too). 

Insecurities that melted away within an instant, for Spencer's thighs tensed beneath your hands that were now holding them apart the second your lips made contact with his cock, and through your lashes you could see his head tipping back. 

Your cheeks warmed at how easy it was to get him to respond, and you wondered if the satisfaction settled in your chest was anything similar to how he felt when he did this to you. 

You started hesitant. Gentle kitten licks at his tip that probably shouldn't have been garnering such a large reaction from him. But it was, and you had to preoccupy your mouth to keep the smug smile off of it. 

Wrapping your lips around the head, he lets out the breathiest moan you think you've ever heard come from him, and your mind goes hazy. Newfound blind confidence wills you to take more of him in your mouth, and it's a quiet 'Fuck' that compels you even further. 

In hindsight, he knew he'd enjoy it. It was you after all. He knew from the world shattering arousal that the simple sight of you on your knees was. He had, in a few short seconds, mentally prepared to enjoy this.

But not this much, and certainly not this quickly. 

"I've been too selfless," he muttered as you lifted your head back up, tongue licking a stripe up the underside of him as you did. When you met his gaze in question, he added, "I mean never asking you for this. I should've."

You hummed as a response (it was all you really could do), and the gentle vibrations shot heat throughout his body. A shuddering moan rocked through his body, and if not for your quick response time in pushing his hips down, they would've knocked against your face when he bucked them up.

You hollowed your cheeks, lowering your head back down, and emitting the loveliest of moans from Spencer, whose hand found its way to your hair. Upon the lack of your protests, he made a loose ponytail with his fist, gently tugging on it upwards so you could lift your head. 

You flattened your tongue on your ascend, successfully making his already weak grip on your hair go slack, within only seconds of him having grabbed it. Swirling your tongue around the tip of his cock, his hips bucked up again, and you flinched. 

"Jesus—fuck, sorry, honey," he rasped, though his guilt was quick to dissipate as he saw your thumbs up against his thigh. Your movements weren't hesitant, anymore. Just slow. Tortuously slow. "Can I..." he trailed off, seemingly becoming unsure of what it was he was asking of you within seconds, but the retightening of his hand in your hair gave you all you needed to know. 

You nodded your head the best you could, and he mumbled a quiet 'thank you', allowing you to set a base pace, before taking over. 

"So good. Jesus Christ, angel. Where did you learn this? Don't answer that. Don't tell me. Shit." 

His rambling was sharp sentences, that didn't really sound like they belonged together, and certainly didn't sound like they should be coming out of his mouth. They weren't the most articulately structured phrases he's ever come up with. A thought that comforted you, because you were doing that to him. 

"Fuck," he breathed out, once more, and you came to the mental conclusion you've never heard him swear so much in his life. The thought made your stomach flip.

Fingers dug into your scalp, though not too harshly to hurt. In fact, you were letting out a quiet moan of your own at the feeling, hips wiggling. Even in his state, Spencer noticed, and he smiled.

"You—ah—okay, angel?" he asked you, and you relished in the fact that he couldn't get out sentences without moaning. 

Your response was yet another hum, and he was bucking his hips. Again.

You knew he was close for a multitude of reasons; the fact that he had quickened his gentle-turned-firm guidance of your head, his fingers tugging on your hair a little harsher than before, and the ever so lovely, "Jesus Christ—please—oh," leaving his lips, breathlessly.

It was a few more moments of that, before the fingers in your hair went impossibly tight, and the muscles in his thighs locked beneath your hands. 

The fact you had never discussed doing this, meant neither of you knew the other's stance on what to do. Thankfully, Spencer was rendered so frenzied that he couldn't do anything. 

It was a sickeningly lovely sight; you pulling back and swallowing, some of his come painting your bottom lip. His fingers twitched, before they dropped back to the mattress on either side of his body, his chest heaving just as much as your own. 

Lightheaded, you slowly brought yourself back up to your feet, and Spencer's arms were quick to wrap around the backs of your thighs, pulling you into him. 

"Best head of your life?" you asked, lowering your lips to brush against his. 

"By a mile," he replied. 

"Just one mile?" 

"Maybe two."

Shooting him a glare, you huffed, and he laughed. "You're never getting head again, then."

He nipped your lower lip. "Okay."

"I'm putting my foot down," you retorted, disliking his lack of belief in your words. "Never again."

"I believe that."

"You should."

"Oh, I do," he hummed, sarcasm in his words making you frown. "Are your knees okay?" 

If his goal was to distract you, he succeeded, for your eyes were instantly dropping to your knees, indents from the threads of the rug evident. 

"They're okay," you confirmed, squirming as his thumbs rubbed circles into the skin on your thighs. 

"Tell me if they're not," he instructed, and you nodded. He stood up, hands sliding up to your waist. "Shower?"

"Shower," you confirmed with a nod, despite the fact that you had showered only a few hours prior. "Can we watch a movie after?"

"Yes."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡