#i hope this is the right guy if not send another submission

[your-fav-is-imprisioned]

The first curse? (rainbow quest + Twisted Rainbow by Favremysabre, SCU wiki has photos btw)

Reasons: Cursing people, Destroying universe, Murder, Cursing a(?) universe, imprisionment, etc

-✨🎨

THE FIRST CURSE HAS BEEN IMPRISONED

Reasons: Cursing people, Destroying universe, Murder, Cursing a(?) universe, imprisonment, etc

[pedropascallme]

Celebrity Crushes

Pairing: Damien Haas x gn!Reader

Summary: "He had never said it was for a video, though maybe at this point you should’ve been able to guess that being asked for a list of three top choices was for this series."

Warnings: Brief mention of being drunk but otherwise none :)

AN: Hi guys!! I wrote this in 20 minutes so it’s…rough around the edges….but you’ve been so sweet and patient with me while I get my shit together now that I’m back from school!! I have many many WIPs that I plan on publishing soon that will have much more substance than this, but I still hope this helps hold you over for another week or so <3

You delayed your own emergence from sleep. Your bed was comfortable, warmer than usual, maybe thanks to the open blinds that let sunlight dapple the room. It was so easy to fall back into the snug embrace of slumber as you stretched against your sheets. You rolled over, eyes still heavily lidded and blinking to avoid the light as you felt around for your phone on the nightstand.

You yawned, stretching again; you let your back arch off the bed, feet poking out from beneath your blanket as you let your ankles crack—a quiet, congenial noise, and an even more satisfying feeling.

There were several messages waiting for you when you unlocked your phone.

Ang: UM??

Ang: New games vid????

Ang: 😵‍💫😵‍💫

You: What?

Ang: Dude🫠

You: What??

You: Isn’t it a Shayne guesses

You: I just woke up

Ang: Hold on

They were not the messages you’d been anticipating on a peaceful morning off from work. Angela’s texts woke you up immediately, her words burying themselves in your head as adrenaline took hold, muscles tensing, and you felt something pull at your stomach.

Had someone said something? Had you said something? Had you been somewhere you weren’t meant to be? Did it even involve you? Was she simply acknowledging something fucked up or funny that you had played no part in?

You held your phone in a vice grip, white-knuckling it and waiting to hear how exactly the new upload pertained to you—if it pertained to you—and whether you’d still have a job or any friends by the end of the day.

You felt a soft buzz on your fingers and snapped your attention to the screen, hoping to see Angela’s name.

Court: Was the new video planned or…

You: What is happening

You: Angela texted me too

You: I literally just woke up

Court: omg🥹

You felt hot. Not in the cozy way you had been when you woke up, but in a burnt cheeks and stomachache way. This was not something you had ever woken up to before, it was not at all routine, and you worried that your time at Smosh was up based solely on the manner in which your friends were texting you.

Another buzz. Kiana this time.

Kiana: I told Spencer not to keep it in the final cut

Kiana: But it’s really cute actually

You wanted to throw up. Shakily leaning back in bed, you tried to type out a response to Kiana that would help you wrap your mind around what exactly it was that you should be worried about.

Another buzz alerted you to Angela’s late reply, and you abandoned the message you had been drafting for Kiana.

Ang: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vzUs87BMpsc

Ang: 26 minute mark & then watch to the end

Ang: 🥴🥴🫶🏻

You had been right. It was another installment of Shayne Guesses, but you had no recollection of sending in a formal submission of…

“Can I identify someone, based on their top three celebrity crushes?”

Your heart jumped to your throat.

If this was going where you thought it was, you’d send in your letter of resignation by tonight.

You found the timestamp Angela had sent you, and immediately grimaced, folding your body into itself. You wiped a hand over your face, as if rubbing your eyes hard enough would make this all go away, leaving you to wake up fresh and unabashed.

“Ok—ok, I can work with this,” Shayne’s eyes darted over the screen, shouting a laugh when he took in the options given to him. “So Pedro Pascal—expected—Cillian Murphy, and he looks younger there. Is that what he looks like now? No…”

“No, that’s from like, 2000-something,” Spencer responded off camera, “I did not choose that picture.”

“Ok, 2000s Cillian Murphy, Pedro Pascal, and Damien Haas.” Shayne paused to stifle a chuckle. “This is the second time you’ve broken your own rule!” He stared pointedly at Spencer.

“Bro, that’s Shez from Fire Emblem!” Spencer argued, still out of frame, and Shayne bit the inside of his cheek.

“I mean,” Shayne looked at the list of names in front of him, “I feel like, you know, maybe it’s not…maybe it isn’t super obvious to people watching, but I think it’s a pretty easy guess for anybody in the office.”

“So what’s your answer?” Spencer asked.

“Oh, come on, like you need to ask,” Shayne crossed his arms before triumphantly declaring your name. “Final answer, look—” He clicked to the next page, and there was your headshot.

Your headshot.

Because Damien was one of your celebrity crushes.

One whom you worked with, and were friends with, and hung out with, and ate lunch with.

You felt your eye twitch.

You paused the video in a huff, too mortified to follow Angela’s instructions and watch it to the end.

You might’ve laughed if you weren’t so besides yourself with embarrassment. You were deeply confused as to how that list had even made it into the upload when you hadn’t sent it in.

You racked your brain, trying to remember if you’d drunkenly sent an email, or given an ok when you were only half awake.

You could recall, vaguely, a text exchange with Spencer a few weeks ago, where he had asked, out of the blue, about your top three celebrity crushes. And you gave your answers, sent a few googled pictures, all in good fun, to your friend.

He had never said it was for a video, though maybe at this point you should’ve been able to guess that being asked for a list of three top choices was for this series.

You: Charles.

You: What happened to confidentiality.

Spence: I CNA EXPLIAN

Spence: CAN

Spence: EXPLAIN

You: 🤨

Spence: LISTEN

Spence: I THOUGTH YOU KNWE

Spence: I THOIGHT IT WASSON PURPOSE

Spence: I THOUGHT HE KNEW??

Spence: BECAUSE HIS??

Spence: Please don’t kill me I have a family.

Spence: And I’ll buy you lunch.

You: You’ll buy me lunch for a month.

Spence: A week

You: Two weeks

Spence: Deal🤑

Spence: I love you❤️❤️

Spence: And I’m sorry I went over y’all’s heads

You weren’t mad.

Honestly, you couldn’t bring yourself to be genuinely angry; it was hard to be mad at one of your dearest friends over something that was so clearly a misunderstanding. Especially when it had no real bearing on your career or public image.

This just meant that people would now be fully aware that you had the hots for a coworker.

And said coworker would also be fully aware of it. You tried to push down the shame.

You: Accepted

You: I love you too❤️

You: I want Thai tomorrow

Spence: Would you settle for shirt?

You: I'll kill you.

Spence: Don’t you have another smosh man to bother🧐

You smiled at your own reassuring words, and Spencer’s acknowledgement of his fuckup was equally as helpful in improving your mood, as was his casual banter. For a moment that was enough to make you forget why your stomach was still in knots.

It could be argued that it was an open secret, it certainly seemed as though your friends were more shocked to see your list make it into the final cut of the video than they were to see the list itself. You counted on your fingers: who had you told, who figured it out like a child's simple jigsaw puzzle, who had asked point-blank after seeing you interact with Damien.

You ran out of fingers.

Still, you felt that you’d been cautious enough about it, to the point that Damien himself, at least, hadn’t seemed to figure it out, despite the amount of time you spent together, and the large portion of that time that you spent with a dopey grin on your face and a blush creeping up your cheeks.

Maybe he hadn’t seen the video. Maybe he’d never see the video. Maybe he wasn’t even planning on being online today at all.

Or maybe you could change your name and disappear for a while.

Maybe you’d be in the clear.

You took deep breaths, trying to settle your brain and your heart and the shakiness of your hands.

And then Damien’s name lit up your phone screen, and the results of your impromptu meditation were immediately gone, thrown out the window with your composure.

Damimen: Very interesting list

You: I’m so sorry

Damimen: What?

Damimen: Why?

You: I didn’t mean for you to find out this way

You: Very publicly on a Wednesday morning

Damimen: Who said I was just finding out?

You: Shut up

You: I’m good at keeping secrets

Damimen: I know

Damimen: Angela and Chanse aren’t tho

You: Oh god dammit

Damimen: Which is why I knew not to tell them anything about my list

Damimen: And I mean

Damimen: Stuff that I'd generally like to be kept under wraps

You: So the launch codes are safe?

Damimen: Are they safe if they're with me?

Damimen: 🤯

You: MR PRESIDENT!!

You: Wait

You: Joking aside

You: What are you talking about

You: Wdym “not telling them about your list”

Damimen: Did you not watch the whole video?

You: Got kinda distracted

You: Needed to make Spencer fear for his life a little

Damimen: ???

Damimen: Watch til the end

Damimen: And then come over?

Damimen: If you want?

You furrowed your brow, questions still unanswered, but pleased that he wasn’t upset with you.

You found your way back to the video, clicking forward again until you saw Damien’s headshot and then rewinding to see his list.

Pictures of you.

Three pictures of you. Pictures he had taken when you were together; at the ren faire, getting coffee, in the office.

And now the texts from everybody remarking on how cute the video was made sense. They hadn’t been referring to your list, they’d been referring to Damien’s more than forward response that worked in tandem with yours.

“Not a lot of variety to this one,” Shayne laughed into his hands, “I don’t really have to guess cause there’s only one name left on this list, but even if there wasn’t…This is Damien. Yeah, no, this is Damien. Final answer.”

“How do you know?” Spencer pushed.

“Well I mean, I, y’know, I received these pictures from Damien when they were taken,” Shayne spoke as if it should’ve been apparent, “But also. Come on. I know. See,” he clicked to the next page, where Damien’s name and picture appeared. Shayne raised his arms in triumph.

Your mouth fell open and your lips curved up into a subtle smile.

If you hadn’t been obvious, you’d certainly been oblivious.

The pictures of you that Damien had taken lined up on the screen paired with Shayne’s assurance in his answer, the knowing chuckles from off screen, it all made your heart skip. You felt it sinking from your throat and back into your chest where it belonged, thrumming contentedly.

Damien’s handle on your heart didn’t worry you. If anything, it relaxed you, made you feel safe, collected despite the rollercoaster of a morning you’d had. The discovery of a crush requited made you feel giddy; young and in love.

You: On my way

You: Gimme 20 minutes

You: And send me those pictures

You: 😘

Damimen: 🫡🥰

[gumified]

satoru being a desperate mess for you

content: dom!reader, sub!satoru, modern au, orgasm denial, praise, satoru being a cutie <3

note: tumblr still not letting me post images TT hopefully they reply to my email, pray for me !!!

//

if any one of satoru's friends could see him right now they definitely wouldn’t recognise the whining boy that’s begging to cum. according to the things that satoru gojo tells his popular jock friends, he's the dominant one in bed and you're always a moaning mess under him. emphasis on the under him. 

only a few know that satoru gojo is a submissive whimpering bundle of nerves when he's met with you. sure, he's the popular guy at university and everyone knows what's up with him but put his girlfriend in front of him and he instantly melts. you are the only thing that makes satoru turn into a stuttering boy begging for his release. and that is exactly what he is right now.

"y/n…" he whines, hands struggling against the handcuffs that bind him. you're smirking as you sit in his cock, slowly dragging your hips up and down. you've been edging him on and denying him of his orgasm for so long that he thinks he's about to go crazy. "y-y/n! fuck!"

the rhythmic slapping of skin on skin has your skin crawling with lust as you listen to the lewd sounds. satoru continues to beg and struggle. he's panting, and you drag your fingers up his chest, drawing small circles that make him shiver. his thighs quiver as you ride him, cock throbbing inside of you. he moans, throwing his head back and bucking his hips to create more friction. the handcuffs restrict him from touching your body and he just wants to feel you, wants to touch your soft skin.

"aren't you just adorable?" you coo, noticing the way his cheeks flush pink and his mouth hangs open slightly. "my pretty boy."

there's something that sparks inside you whenever you hear your boyfriend lose control and plead for you. it makes you see nothing but him. you continue to slide down on his cock, occasionally grinding your hips on his which makes satoru groan. it hurts so bad and he wants to cum. he wants to cum so bad. 

"heard your friends talking about how good you fuck me." he tenses beneath you. "baby, you didn't tell them that i'm the one doing the fucking? that you're the one that turns into a sobbing mess?" satoru gulps and shakes his head nervously. he doesn't know how you'll react and he hopes you don't do what he thinks you're going to do. a wicked grin twitches at your lips and you stop your movements which causes him to let out a desperate whimper. you give him a pout. "that's bad toru. you're not a bad boy are you?"

"n-no…"

you smirk, walls clenching around his cock as you reach over to unlock him from his handcuffs. "why don't you show me how good you are?" 

satoru's eyes widen with shock but you see the underlying desire. he looks at you, bringing his bottom lip in between his teeth. you’re so pretty and he can’t help but stare at your body, taking in every curve in front of him. his hands grip your waist, rocking you back and forth, slowly at first, before speeding up a tiny bit. you moan his name, showering him with praises. it feels so good, the warmth in his hands spreading across your body and the way his cock slides in and out of you makes you keen with pleasure. 

"shit!" he groans. "i-i…i’m so close, so so close, hnghh, y/n i’m gonna - a-ah!" 

he's at a loss for words as he babbles desperately, hands still on your waist as he guides you up and down. you grin cockily and lean in to give him a kiss, one that starts soft but quickly deepens, throwing him into an intense frenzy. your lips move against his with a passionate rhythm, tongues tangling, and the heat between you escalating. the sight of him losing control, eyes closed, breath hitching, and hands gripping you tighter, sends a thrill through your body.

"baby you're doing so well." you moan, pulling him closer to your body. another whimper escapes satoru's throat and this time it's strangled and he's desperate to cum. you feel his huge cock throb and twitch inside of you and you know he's close. you speed up your movements and allow him to moan and unwind in front of you. 

"y-y/n please let me cum, p-please!" he begs, a sob wracking his throat. his hands clutch at you with a frantic urgency, his entire body shaking with the intensity of his need.

you trace kisses up the column of his neck, whispering the words you knew he would hate to hear. "no."

[yanderemommabean]

This is my time sending a submission so hello!! I thought I’d share my thoughts on a yandere crow harpy :)

A funny lil gift giving, obsessive loving lil guy. He’s incredibly smart, but he acts dumb to make you laugh to keep you distracted from the kidnapping!!

So many things to say about crow harpy, not enough time 😔

❤️Brings you shiny things when he sees you

❤️Likes to squawk and chirp when you're around and loves to tell you about his days adventuring and finding said shiny items

❤️Doesn't like when other harpy's get too close...pecks at them aggressively and definitely insults their mothers in his native tongue

❤️He's just so happy and enamored with you. Loves everything about you and learning more each chance he can, and loves watching you do your day to day life even if you consider it boring. He could watch paint dry with you and have a wonderful time!

❤️When he eventually does take you to his nest, he swears you two are going to see the river or the woods during the full moon, and you let him carry you. Once you're in his nest however, he knows you're too scared to try and get down considering its one of those larger hundreds of feet tall tree's. Good luck looking down and not getting vertigo!

❤️Now he can show his true self. More mature, intelligent, and carries himself with a lot of confidence. You'll stay up here, in this nest, until you accept his courting. Try any tricks, act out too much, and well...the ground is right there, he can always help you greet it. (Not that he'd ever do that! He would just keep you up there longer, maybe even without blankets! Oh but would that be too cruel? He doesn't want to hurt you! he just wants your love!)

❤️Loves to scent you, give you his feathers in your hair to mark you as his, to have his teeth marks on your shoulder and neck, any sign that you're his is cherished.

❤️Loves to feed you too. Loves hand feeding you little treats and giving you small snacks, likes knowing he's providing for you, it soothes his more animalistic side!

❤️Puffs his feathers when threatened or angry, and even when embarrassed, and you have a hard time telling which is which when you say he's so cute you could eat him up

❤️Nonstop breeding sessions when in heat and I'm not sorry. Those talons cling onto you and you're going to take every drop he gives you, and you're going to do it while moaning his name.

❤️Loves to demand you cum when he cunts down, tells you that for every time you can't, it's another orgasm he's going to force out of you. Cum before then and he's tempted to be mean and say that it doesn't count, that you should learn to be on time! (He just loves to overstimulate and drain you darling! You're so pretty when fucked dumb and unable to fight him off!)

❤️You'll be lucky to not be bitten and bleeding by the time this rut has passed. During these periods, his kind are more protective, possessive, territorial and easy to anger. Playing with his feathers soothes him sometimes but others, well...It can get messy between you two, for sure.

(Hhhiiii! I loved this idea bean! Hope I didn't stray too far lol, I hope you like it too! -Mommabean)

[lehguru]

GYM (STAFF) CRUSH + RORONOA ZORO

getting a part-time job at your local gym during the summer sounded like a good idea. the guy you've been eyeing for months thought the same thing.

info: my submission to the help wanted! collab hosted by the @interstellar-inn!! its been sum time since i last wrote sum this big sob. wc 1.5k — warnings: gym talk, a gym goer is a bit of an weirdo towards reader, swearing || ko-fi

if you focused enough, you could see the heat waves coming from the asphalt outside. the sun seemed unbearable—you felt bad for the people that left their cars in the parking lot—, but the air conditioner hitting you right in the back of your neck ensured you were comfortable. as you were typing away in the reception computer, pretending to do the spreadsheet the manager asked you to fill (before she simply left, the surfboard on top of her car a good clue to where she went), you lost yourself in the song playing on the loud speakers.

fortunately, you managed to put your playlist on that day. All the songs playing not only were the ones you listened to while working out, but also were your favorites to daydream with too. while you were softly dancing and shaking your head to the beats, you didn’t notice one of your coworkers approaching you.

the burly man rested his forearms against the counter, his gray eyes started to watch your movements and one of his eyebrows raised. you finally turned around, you wanted to get some documents to actually submit something to the spreadsheet, and jumped back, one of your hands coming to rest against your chest. your eyes locked into his cold ones, your cheeks immediately heating up. his eyes narrowed for a split second; if you weren’t staring at his face, that would’ve escaped you.

“dude! you scared me!” you took a deep breath, trying to ignore the heavy gaze staring at you.

“sorry,” he muttered, his deep voice making it sound almost like a growl. he placed a clipboard in front of you, the title ‘storage’ making you hum softly. “the inventory and stuff we need to buy.”

you nodded, thanking him quietly and smiling at him. the man didn’t smile back. he never did, anyway. he nodded and turned around, walking back inside the gym and leaving you with your inner turmoil. as you sighed loudly and turned to the computer again, you tried to focus on the work.

getting a summer job wasn’t a bad idea. as a college student, you could use some extra money for emergencies—even if you knew you would end up spending it anyway, it was still extra money. your local gym had some job openings and you, someone who went there everyday, thought it was a good idea to send an application. it was indeed a good idea, the job was easy, you could stay in a cool environment while the heat outside seemed to cook you alive, plus it paid you enough. the only problem was that he had the same idea.

roronoa zoro was your gym crush for a while. you were convinced he was everyone’s gym crush, though. throughout the couple of months since the first time you saw him—you still remember how your eyes widened seeing his broad back flexing during pull ups—, you noticed that you both went to the gym at the same time and, fortunately, sometimes your workout would match his. the longest interaction you two had, before starting to work together, was him asking if you were done with using a specific bench. you murmured a quick and embarrassed ‘yes’, almost tripping over your own feet in the process, and he just nodded, taking your place in the bench as you walked to your next exercise.

you thought that having to see you almost everyday would make him open up, but the green haired man always kept you at arms length, never letting you past the ‘we are coworkers’ wall. you sighed once again, frowning slightly and erasing another random line of letters you typed to look busy. a small cough and an ‘excuse me’ took your attention from the screen, from your thoughts as well, and you turned around, hoping to see zoro standing there. unfortunately, it was one of the guys that always caused some kind of trouble around the gym—your manager didn’t really care enough to kick him out or even give him a warning.

you put on your best customer service smile and blinked sweetly at him. “yes, sir? how may i help you?” you said, trying to not sound like you wanted him gone… which you did.

“can you change the music or something?” he said, placing his hands on the counter and leaning towards you, almost as if he was trying to intimidate you. you raised your eyebrows at his behavior and he carried on, not caring about your reaction. “i forgot my headphones, so i have to listen to what you guys play.”

the smile on your face faltered for a second. the urge to just tell him off, say that him forgetting his headphone wasn't your problem, overwhelmed you quickly; biting your tongue, you answered:

“unfortunately, there's nothing we can do. the playlist is selected by the staff and—”

“you're staff, you can change it then.” he cut you off and smirked, making you almost roll your eyes. “c'mon, this playlist fucking sucks. anything will be better.”

before any other word could escape his crusty lips, a voice you grew used to interjected into the conversation. “i like this playlist.”

you both turned to look at zoro and you bit your lower lip to hide a smile. your coworker was looking terrifying; his arms were crossed, his biceps and shoulders seemed like they were about to burst open the black sleeve of his shirt, and the absolute angry gaze he shot at the man—who was now cowering a little—made you almost feel bad for him.

“is there any problem, sir?” you placed a hand over your mouth, trying to hide your giggle in a subtle way. if you looked at zoro, you would see how the corner of his lips curve up for a moment.

the guy shook his head and put his hands up, slowly backing away from the counter and leaving through the front door. as soon as he left, you allowed a soft chuckle to escape your lips. before you could thank zoro, or call the other guy an asshole, the man in front of you murmured loud enough for you to hear:

“fuckin’ asshole.” he turned to look at you. a deep breath made his chest wave up and down, your eyes flicking from that movement back to his eyes. “you good?”

you nodded. the muscles on his jaw flexed and roronoa opened his lips slightly, as if he was about to say something, but he closed them again. you wish you could be inside his mind, the curiosity of what he wanted to say made you lean forward; you hoped it would make him want to say.

instead, he uncrossed his arms and rubbed the back of his head. “i will be in the back.”

you felt a little bit…disappointed. you hoped he would stay there and talk to you a little more. the situation you just went through was shitty, but it made him stand up for you. you wanted him to stay there, to use the situation as an excuse to be with you for the rest of your shift, but you just nodded.

“i— your buzz cut looks nice.” you blurted out of nowhere, making you want to slap yourself in the face. you prayed he wouldn't notice your embarrassment.

if he did, he didn't mention it. he just chuckled, a deep and husky sound that almost made you giggle again, and growled a ‘thanks’.

as you tried to settle back into your work, you couldn't shake off the small feeling that settled in the pit of your stomach. it wasn't necessarily bad, it just…annoyed you. having the man as your gym crush was already annoying, how would you work with him if you had a real crush? you felt your face heating up even more, but you were pulled away from your thoughts by zoro himself; not even five minutes after he left, he came back to the reception.

“actually…” he started, his eyebrows furrowing. “do you want to work out with me tomorrow?”

the way your eyes widened gave out your surprise, but you quickly answered. “su— sure!” you licked your lips—you were obvious to the way he followed the movement with his eyes and licked his own lips—and sighed. “but the manager did say that thing about ‘no workplace relationships’... not that this would be a relationship, i mean—”

“fuck the manager.” he growled, shutting you instantly. you smiled with joy at his audacity, you wanted to say the same out loud for a while. “see you at the same hour tomorrow, then?”

you nodded. “yeah. same hour.”

he nodded too and walked away, this time a big smirk—it was your first time seeing anything like that—stamped on his face. you scoffed. did you seriously let him defend you and be the one to take the first step?

well…at least that gave you a push to be the one to initiate a kiss.

2024 © content belongs to lehguru, do not repost, translate or feed it into ai without permission

[incognit0slut]

You got me lookin through my music like a mad man! But I wanted to send in a request and say congrats on 3k!!🥳 the song I was hoping to get was “Girls Need Love” by Summer Walker, I was thinkin along the lines of BAU reader just been stressedddd and she just needs to relax and simply let Spencer be a munch🤭

Regardless if you do the request or not, you are an amazing writer and all your works SLAY! Thank you for writing for us!🫶🏾

thank you for the request lovely🤍

Song: girls need love - Summer walker warnings: cunnilingus, semi-public

“…submission, domination, arched back, deep stroke…”

You had never been this stressed before. You could sense the weight of deadlines pressing down on you, the tension mounting with each passing moment, especially when you started to feel that dull ache behind your eyes. You winced at the pain, instinctively reaching up to rub at your temples.

"Hey," a worried voice called beside you. "You okay?"

The concerned voice cut through the haze of your stressed thoughts, and you turned to see Spencer—your coworker, friend, and teammate—walking up to you. Although outside the confines of the office, he was more than just a professional ally. He was your sweet, caring boyfriend who always had a way of observing you even when you both were busy with your assignments.

A small, involuntary smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you met his concerned gaze. "Hi," you replied, your voice betraying a hint of fatigue. "Just a bit of a headache."

His expression remained skeptical, and he placed a hand on your shoulder. "You sure? You don't look so good."

"It's just work stress, you know how it is." Then your eyes settled on the documents stacked on your desk. "Why is it more stressful doing all these paperworks than actually catching the bad guys?"

He studied you for a moment. As your boyfriend, he had a keen awareness of the subtle shifts in your mood, even amidst the chaos of work. "Let me guess," he said with a frown. "You've been at it for hours."

A sheepish smile played on your lips. "Guilty as charged."

He shook his head disapprovingly but remained silent. The hand on your shoulder pressed your tensed muscle gently and you relaxed into his touch, sighing out a relief. "That... that feels good."

He continued to massage you, his fingers gliding up your shoulder blades. You relished the pressure of his hand on you and you let out another sigh, but this time, it sounded more breathless than you intended to.

You didn't mean to. Maybe it was the way his big hand moved gracefully along your shoulders, kneading into your sore muscles with the right amount of pressure. Maybe it was the way his fingers gently eased out those tough knots twisted on your back, relieving your throbbing headache. Whatever it was, it managed to make you sigh in a satisfaction; a soft, breathless moan slipping out between your parted lips.

It was quiet for a moment between you as the noise hung in the air, your face suddenly going a bright red as you realized how inappropriate it sounded. You shouldn't be making bedroom noises at your workplace with your boyfriend's hands on you, even if the touch was innocent. You quickly shook your head.

"Sorry, I—"

"You know what else would make you feel good?" He suddenly asked. "Make you feel better?"

Your breath hitched as you stared at him, noticing the way he was looking down at you. You knew that look. It was all too familiar. It was the same expression he had whenever you were pressed against him, very much naked, all sweaty and desperate as you begged for him to please you.

"Spence," you pressed, eyes going around the room. Thankfully everyone seemed to be too busy to notice the subtle innuendo. "We're at work."

You felt his thumb gently graze the exposed skin of your neck. "Come on," he muttered, his voice loud enough for you to hear but low enough not to gain attention from others. "You need a break."

Your skin prickled at the weight of his stare. Heat quickly traveled along your body as he assessed you, and you instinctively squeezed your thighs together, feeling that familiar coil between your legs. It was so wrong, and highly inappropriate to even imagine doing something intimate in public, but it was hard to ignore the waves of desire washing over you.

That was how you found yourself nodding your head involuntarily as if you were under a spell.

"Meet me at that unused room down the hallway. Third door to your right," he said, nodding his head toward the secluded area away from the bullpen. "You know where that is, right?"

You silently nodded again and watched as he stepped back, turned on his heel, and disappeared out of the room. Adrenaline rushed into your system as you waited for another five minutes before rising from your seat, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. 

You casually greeted people as you passed by. You even weaved yourself from a frantic Penelope trying to find her glasses, escaped from Hotch who wanted to know how your report was going, and freed yourself from Rossi who suggested another cookout at his place this weekend.

You quickened your steps when you finally stepped into the hallway, your eyes piercing on a specific door. You looked around to check if the coast was clear before pushing it, taking a hesitant step forward—only for an arm to circle your waist, pulling you inside as you heard the door clicking softly behind you.

"Spence, we shouldn't—"

"Shh," he whispered. "Let me help you relax."

You looked up at him looming over you. In a haze of uncertainty, you found yourself drawn in by the glimmer in his eyes, the reassuring smile on his lips, and the unwavering focus of his gaze. The familiar scent of his soap enveloped you, pulling you closer to him. Close enough to feel the warmth of his breath, close enough to lose yourself in the depth of his gaze. And then, almost like an instinct, your lips finally met his.

As you tasted him, you felt your worries start to fade away, leaving only the sensation of his hands gripping your waist. He held you in place as he explored your mouth with his tongue, and you melted right in his arms, giving everything he asked for.

A whimper escaped your lips as his kisses descended from your mouth, tracing a path along your jaw until they rested against the delicate skin of your neck.

Your body froze for a while. There was a split-second realization of the risk of being caught, but it was swiftly drowned out by the overwhelming ache of desire coursing through your body. Fingers trembling, you tightened your grip on him, and your heart quickened its pace.

"Come here," he urged you, grabbing you by the hand before placing you at the center of the room. Your senses finally came together as your eyes scanned the place. An empty, unoccupied room with nothing but empty boxes and a worn-out desk shoved against the wall. You focused your attention back to him when you felt his fingers move over your pants, sliding them down your legs along with your panties.

"I can't believe we're doing this," you murmured, your mind turning hazy when you felt the cold air hit your skin. "Did you lock the door?"

A low chuckle escaped him. "Yes," he assured you before pressing his lips on yours again. "Now stop thinking so much."

His hands grabbed onto your waist before he lifted you, placing you on the desk almost forcefully, earning a squeal from you.

"Slow down!" You half whispered, half screamed.

"Can't," he began, fingers gripping your thighs. "I can't leave my girlfriend all stressed out."

The fear of getting caught still weighed on your mind, but with your throbbing pussy dripping in anticipation, the worries diminished faster than they could build. You clutched onto his shoulders when you felt him pushing your legs apart. 

“Spread your legs, baby.” His deep, needy voice sent a surge of warmth straight between your thighs. An ache settled in your core, feeling his lips back on your body once again for a moment between words. “Let me taste you.”

Another surge of heat made you tremble from the dark desire in his voice. You finally caved in, following his instructions with an eager whimper. You part your thighs, putting your dripping cunt on display for him as he gently laid you across the desk. 

His eyes couldn’t help but rest on the sight before him, taking note of your swollen, aroused lips and how wet you already were. It didn't take long for him to sink on his knees, settling between the warmth between your legs.

The minute his tongue touched you, you were already a whining mess. Your head began to spin, pleasure taking over your body as he teased up and down your slit, dipping inside of your dripping entrance for a moment before returning to tease your swollen, aching clit. 

His hands wrapped around your thighs while his tongue continued to explore you. You bucked your hips closer to him, your hands frantically searching for something to anchor yourself before you buried them in his thick hair. When he sucked onto your clit hungrily, you tugged on the strands, receiving a deep, rough yet excited groan from him.

The sensation filled your body until you were whimpering for more. “Please...”

The urgency in your tone mixed with the breathless way you begged him earned a hand between your thighs, positioning a finger at your entrance. Then he slowly pushed his finger, sending your head tilting back with a gasp, legs tightening around him. You exhaled his name, not being able to find the words as he pushed another finger into you, and you tugged on his hair with desperation.

Spencer smiled across your wet skin. He loved the way you reacted to his touch. He loved the taste of you, your juices against his tongue, painting his skin with your pleasure. He loved getting to finally please you. He loved hearing the sinful sound you make, the breathless moans coming out of your lips caused by him.

He loved the way your legs shook around his head, your hips bucking closer towards his mouth as you sought for more. He also loved how tight you held the strands of his hair between your fingers.

He loved it all, making it clear as his tongue sped up, circling your clit even faster as he thrust his two fingers deeper inside your soaked, clenched walls. 

“Please,” you cried out. "I-I'm so close."

All he could do was groan against your flesh. With a few more thrusts of his fingers and a few more laps around your clit, you were finally reaching your high, feeling the warmth form between your legs.

Your back arched off the desk while you gripped his hair even tighter. You called out his name, again and again between desperate moans and whimpers, legs tightening around his head as you rode out the bliss until the wave of pleasure washed over you, causing you to grow weak. 

But he didn’t pull away, continuing to gather up every drop of your slick essence, overwhelming you further as he curled his fingers deeper inside you. You wailed, moaning him to stop as he kept on pushing your limits.

His touches persisted until the sensations became almost overwhelmingly intense, leaving you far too sensitive for any further stimulation. You were out of breath. Your body felt weak. You also felt a heady mixture of euphoria and exhaustion as you gently pushed him away. 

You gasped, slowly breathing in and out as you finally peeked over at him, noticing him standing at his full height as he wiped away the remnants of your orgasm on his mouth. 

“Do you feel better now?” He chuckled in a hushed tone, leaning forward to pull into a sitting position. All you could do was grin happily and nod your head. 

"Yeah," you admitted with a soft laugh. "Thanks to you."

But as you got off the desk, attempting to stand on weak legs, you stumbled forward, and his hand shot up instinctively to steady you. You let out a groan. "I might not have a migraine anymore but apparently you lost my ability to walk."

His eyes sparkled with amusement. "Do you want me to carry you?"

"And create a commotion?" You considered the suggestion with a mock-serious expression. "I think I'll pass."

But as you both came back into the bullpen, your face flushed and his hair sticking out in different directions, it was inevitable that a commotion would take place. Especially when Morgan watched the two of you with clear amusement while Emily wrinkled her nose, assessing you both with judgmental eyes. "This place needs to be sterilized now."

You feigned innocence, rushing back to your desk as heat crept up your face, hoping your unit chief wouldn't hear anything about your reckless rendezvous.

*

a/n: I don't think I'll be tagging people in these answers unless it's a longer fic like my usual one-shots.

[alphajocklover]

I'm 23 and have been obsessed with body-building for years. I'm nowhere near big though. I'd love to be blown up into an absolutely massive freak. I wanna struggle to fit through door ways, I want furniture to bend under me. I want most guys I hit on to think I'm too big.

Please can you blow me up and grow me into the biggest bodybuilder possible.

It’s finally time for another one of my personal transformations. It’s been a little bit since I helped turn that guy into a bodybuilder jock with a supernova charged battery, but last time was so much fun I knew I had to do it again when the chance came up. I guess the only real question is what transformation method is right for you. I could always use the supernova battery again, or one of the other transformation methods I mentioned in my first personal transformation, but if I’m being honest part of the fun last time was sharing all the ways I could transform people. So how about we take a look at some of my newer transformation methods.

Your first choice is a CD. It’s a special video made for me by a local football coach who has recently introduced the Jock Studies program to his school. I reached out in the hope of getting an interview with him, and just got this in return. Not even a proper response. It’s… kind of an obvious trap too. I mean, I ask a bunch of people who are famous for turning people into submissive jocks to give me an interview, and they send me an unmarked CD? I mean, you can’t report on this kind of stuff like I do without someone trying to transform you eventually. I was actually kind of honored that they considered me enough trouble to target me… but not enough to actually watch the video. You can have the CD if you want. I’m absolutely certain you’d turn into a massive jock. Although you’d also be incredibly submissive to the coaches who made this, which might not be your jam. Let’s look at the others before you decide at least.

Your next option is a bit complicated. It’s a time machine, recently stolen from a group named the SAD (society against douchebags) by the Douchebag Revolution. I did a favor for them recently so they gave me this. Said they could trust me to use it responsibly. Well, sort of. The way they said it included a lot more ‘bros’ and ‘fuck yeahs’ but that was basically the gist. Anyways, we could use it to change you by changing your past. A little manipulation of your life and you could end up a bodybuilder. The thing is that time travel is… risky. Ever heard of the butterfly effect? That’s why I try to avoid time travel as much as possible. Too much can go wrong. Let’s move onto something else, since this one is so… unpredictable.

How about this one? It’s water from a familiar little town called Maxford, the one that turns anyone who enters it into a straight, conservative jock or bimbo. Turns out drinking water that’s bottled inside the town has similar effects. Turns you into your Maxford self for 24 hours. You wouldn’t believe what I had to go through to get this. Entering Maxford was an… interesting experience. Um, anyways, it might not be the best choice for you. It’s temporary, and it will turn you straight the entire time you’re a hunk. That can be fun to try, but I get the feeling you want something more permanent. Let’s look at something else

Finally is a specially made necklace, a gold chain with a miniature dumbbell pendant. It’s made by a jewelry store chain that might sound familiar to you if you’ve read some of my earlier stories: EB Jewelry. Normally these are pretty expensive, and you’d have to buy them directly from EB Jewelry, but there was a mistake with manufacturing and they ended up with a surplus of these things. I bought a ton of them and wouldn’t mind parting with one. Put it on and you’ll transform into a total bodybuilder jock. More than that, I can give you more than one. You can share them with your friends, make an entire group of bodybuilder jocks that barely fit through doors. Yeah, that one is definitely the best choice. Go ahead, try it on.

Fuck you look good. You seem quite a bit dimmer now, which is to be expected, but god you look like walking sex. Make sure to share those necklaces with your friends. Using more than one might have… side effects. Plus, the more huge jocks, the better.

[blackdollette]

"fuck it, gonna give a show." | charlie walker

peppers - lana del rey

summary: having sex with charlie after years of liking eachother.

female!reader x submissive!charlie

contents: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), creampie

not proofread.

you'd always had a suspicion that the rumour was true. your underwear would always go missing whenever charlie came over with your group of friends, you always caught him staring at you for longer than necessary, and he always seemed a little red whenever you wore those short skirts and lacy tops. but you had never thought anything of it. to you, he was just some shy, cute guy that you had been friends with for a few years.

until you hear through the grapevine that charlie has liked you since freshman year. its always been his dirty little secret.

one day in class, you got paired with charlie for an assignment that would be a breeze for the both of you.

you'd invited him to your house. both of you went to your bedroom and got straight to work. you occasionally caught charlie staring at you with needy eyes.

you found it quite fun to tease him, especially when you would purposefully press your thigh into his, causing him to instantly get a raging boner.

one thing led to another and before you knew it, you had charlie's head in between your legs, hungrily sucking on your pussy. you had strapped a remote-controlled vibrator to his needy, touch-deprived cock.

he let out whimpers and moans whenever you increased the vibrations, begging for you to let him fuck you. your hands found the back of his head, tugging at his hair when you found yourself getting closer to your climax. your moans were a signal to charlie to keep going. he wanted to make you cum.

but before you could, you pulled his head away, catching your breath. he looked at you, confused. you took the vibrator off of his swollen red cock and told him to lay down on his back. he knew what was coming, and he couldn't have been more excited. he was finally going to fuck you.

you climbed on top of him before slowly starting to sink down on his needy cock. you moaned softly as you adjusted to his size.

charlie was already a moaning mess, tears starting to form in his eyes from the feeling of your warm, tight pussy around his cock.

you started slowly moving up and down, charlie whining pathetically. his hands keeping a tight grip on your hips as you put your hand in his hair.

your movements started getting faster as the room filled up with the sounds of your moans. charlie started bucking into you helplessly, chasing his orgasm.

charlie looks at your tits as they bounce right in front of him. he greedily takes them into his mouth, sucking on the soft skin and kneading your hard nipples.

you felt your orgasm nearing, the walls of your tight cunt clenching around charlies length. his cock starts twitching as he feels that warm knot in his stomach forming, a familiar sensation.

as you bounced on charlies cock, his hand made its way to your clit, rubbing fast circles on it. that was all it took to send you right off the edge. you let out a loud, slutty moan as you came all over his cock and fingers.

the feeling of your walls squeezing him was enough to send his orgasm flooding through him. he shoved his cock as far in you as possible, making you take all of his length, releasing his warm cum deep inside of you with a shaky whimper.

his and your cum leak out of your pussy as you lay down on top of him, both of you panting after all these years of sexual tension. today, you saw a side of charlie that you never knew existed.

author's note: i just want to say thank you for all the attention I'm getting on this account, i appreciate all of you who read the things that i publish. im starting to work on all requests. hope you enjoyed!

[juneknight]

•.Be Lost.• 1

Chapter 1 | Chapter 1.5 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 2.5

Summary: after a series of failures to find a dominant, your long time best friend Marc offers to give topping you a shot.

About this: Marc Spector/f!reader, mentions of kink, dominance and submission, kneeling, orgasm control

Immersivity: reader is a non-physically described cisgender woman. She works with animals and spends months out of the year in a place where it is cold—but this is the extent of her description. If there are other details which need mentioned because they hinder your immersive experience, please feel free to point them out.

*

“Give up. Give In. in the end It would be better to surrender before you begin. be lost. Be lost—And then you will not care if you are ever found.”—Victoria Schwab

*

Marc sends the message one night after the two of you have hung up from a lengthy venting session about your latest dating failures. A simple, without context: 

You could do better

I know, you type back, squinting at the screen of your phone in the darkness. Outside, the wind howls—another snowstorm which you hope will either amount to nothing or be bad enough that you won’t have to traverse the icy roads to work in the morning. You roll onto your side, adjusting the pillow beneath you. You’re covered nose to toes beneath the coverlet and still shivering, but Marc always has a way of making you feel warm. That’s why I told that guy off, isn’t it? I know I can do better. 

You watch as he types, no hesitation: 

You could do me

*

In the morning, you text him with one hand, spooning Cheerios into your mouth with the other. 

What, are you offering? There. You’re giving him an out. His message had confused you, left you spending half the night awake wondering about its context. You could do me. You could do me. You could do me? However he had meant it, you knew you had to offer him an easy way out. A fire escape. Maybe one of those seats on the plane that are right by the emergency exits. There’s a parachute beneath your seat, Marc, you think to yourself, drinking the remnants of milk from your bowl. Take it. 

Yes. Give me a chance to help you feel better

Your face flushes. God, how embarrassing is it that Marc knows how bad you need fucked? Not just that—Marc knows how bad you need submitted. That was the caveat of having him as a best friend: he was more likely to listen than to speak, and as such, you told him everything. All your struggles with the kink scene up here in your little frozen section of the States. All the things every guy before him had done wrong…

You aren’t into that stuff, you text back. 

And at the end of your work day, toes frozen in your boots, cheeks dry and chapped from the wind, you finally pull out your phone to see his response: 

Says who?

*

I’m at a disadvantage here, you type to him while cooking dinner. The tiny kitchen of the sublet you rent during the winter months smells of pesto. You’re just glad it’s warm, wiggling your bare toes by the heat of the stove. You know all my kinks, I don’t know yours. 

Marc sends a voice chat. It’s just over a minute long. Your heart is in your throat while your finger hovers over the play button. God, what the fuck could he be saying? Is he listing them all out for you, in alphabetical order or something? It will be the first time you’ve heard his voice since his text (“You could do me”, the phrase haunted your dreams now). 

Pressing the button, you quickly hold the phone up to your ear. There’s no one else in the sublet with you, but you still imagine that his words will be scandalous enough to curl the nails in the floorboards. 

There is rustling—Marc’s voice in the background, bright and laughing and calling out to someone, and then obviously speaking lowly into the phone to you: “You know what my kink is? Three years ago when I tried to take you hiking on that backpacking-for-beginners trail and got us lost, you remember? We spent half the fucking day—literally six hours or something—finding our way out, and after we did, I felt so bad I took you out to dinner. We didn’t even go home first, we were so hungry. We went to that fancy Italian place in town, both of us smelling like sweat and covered in dirt and at least ten pounds lighter from all the energy we burned out there in the woods, and when the waiter finally set that plate of food in front of you, you took a bite and you made this sound, this sound like you’d been dying of thirst but now you were lapping water right out of God’s palm. It was pleasure, and, and relief all in one—hearing you make that noise, and getting you to make it over and over again? That’s my kink. Do with that what you will.”

The voice message ends.

You drop your pesto spoon in the pot of boiling noodles. 

*

You call him that night. You have to. 

You and Marc have been friends for years, meeting in your early days of adulthood. It had been a fast friendship, both of you complimenting each other well. Marc was so easy to love, it had only made sense that you’d fallen in love with him. He was handsome and gentle and sometimes scathing and often hilarious. The only thing standing between him and a long term relationship was what Marc considered his ‘baggage’: the terrible abuse he had suffered as a boy, and the ramifications of it which he was still actively working to overcome after all these years. Marc didn’t think himself fit for marriage or even long-term dating. It was a shame for all the single women out there. 

A blessing for you, though. 

“Is this weird?” you ask as soon as he picks up the phone. “I don’t want things to be weird, Marc.” 

“You spent half your day FaceTiming a horse,” says Marc dryly. “I don’t think your life can get any weirder.” 

It was true—you had had to walk out to the barn three separate times today through the sleet to let an owner FaceTime with her horse who was sick and under your care. It had felt a little strange, being the third wheel in that conversation, but you understood her anxiety. 

“I just—Marc, I don’t want to lose you. As a friend.” 

You hear the phone shift as he shuffles it from one ear to another. He says: “The only way you could lose me would be if you told me to get lost. So can we figure this out?”

“Are you even attracted to me?” Maybe it’s desperate, but you’ve asked it. Marc has always taken efforts to compliment your appearance (resulting in heart palpitations all afternoon for yourself), but he’s never explicitly said that he finds you attractive. 

On the other end, Marc lets out a breath which sounds a little like a laugh. Or a sigh? “Yes. Are you attracted to me?” 

Marc clearly has never looked in a mirror as long as he has been alive. Tan skin that turns golden in the right lighting, dark curls that you wouldn’t mind trying to manage with your fingers, brown eyes that hint at the color of whiskey, a jaw to die for…

You clear your throat. “I mean—sure.” 

“Sure.” You can hear his smile on the other end. It makes you want to die, just a little. 

“Kind of.” 

“Understandable.” 

“You’re passable.”

“I’ll take it.” 

*

One time, he texts while you brush your teeth. And if I’m no good at it, you can keep going to all those kink clubs up in the arctic circle 

And if you are good at it? you wonder, because Marc has never been bad at anything in his life. Because ever since he suggested it, it’s all you’ve been able to think about, the feelings that you’ve had for Marc surging forward from the dusty shelf in the back of your brain where you had stored them all these years. Marc could just give you a look and you’re pretty sure it would melt you. There’s no way he’s going to be bad at topping you. 

Then I’ll take care of you

Yes. Yes, melting already. You spit in the sink and rinse.

*

“Tell me again how it went with this last guy,” Marc says during your next phonecall. The two of you call each other every other night religiously when you are away (“up in the arctic circle” as he would say) for the coldest three months of the year. His voice is warm and low, quiet. 

Even though you have already told him once, it is different now, isn’t it? The thought of relaying again everything that happened makes your face heat, makes you tug the blankets over your head until it is dark all around you. 

“Do I have to?” you wonder. 

“Do I have to make you?” he wonders back, voice lowering a fraction.

Your heart stutters. Your breaths begin to come at a faster rate. 

“No,” you say, breathy and obviously on the verge of being devastated. “I’ll tell—we met on fetlife. He seemed nice and his picture was cute. Our interests lined up, so we met up at one of the clubs in town, but even though our interests had matched up on paper, we weren’t, like, meshing in real life. 

“Like—,” you have to pause to clear your throat, voice dropping down low enough to almost be considered a whisper. God, you couldn’t believe you were telling Marc this again. “He…he called me a slut. I had marked that I wasn’t into degradation like that, but I think he thought it was an exception.” 

“Why did he think that?” Marc asks. You’ve heard it said before that a lawyer never asks a witness a question that they don’t already know the answer to. In this moment, it seems like Marc is the same way. 

“Because he called me his slut,” you admit. “He thought that would like, negate…I don’t know.” 

“Are you?” Marc asks. “A slut, I mean.” 

It rolls off your tongue before you can stop it: “Not his.” 

There comes a breathy little exhale from Marc’s end of the line. It couldn’t be you—not when you’re holding your breath, eyes wide at your own audacity, at the mere suggestion that you would be okay being Marc’s slut, but not this stranger’s. Marc’s voice rasps from the other end: “I know, honey. I know.

“Tell me what happened next.” 

*

I’ve been thinking, you text the next morning (which is true, there is a single moment spent outside of work that you aren’t spent thinking about this). Maybe this is where I’m going wrong with every guy, but—maybe we should practice. On the phone, you know? 

Over text? he asks. 

Sure, you say, aiming for nonchalant. 

I want to hear your voice, he texts, effectively ruining any hope you had for nonchalance. It’s the last thing you want though. You’re terrified that hearing Marc’s voice croon such dangerous, sinful things to you will destroy you. You will be irrevocably changed. There will be the Before Marc times and the After Marc times.

Compromise? Start like this, and if we’re clicking, then we can do it over call. 

It, he teases. Can you say it? Can you tell me what you want? 

Jesus, Marc. You know what I want. 

Use your words. 

You whine, an honest-to-God audible whine beneath your blankets. He’s already slipping into the role so well. Or is he? Is he truly made to be dominant, some prodigious Dom, or are you simply made to melt at everything he does? But it also brings to light the question: what do you want? 

Can I think about it? 

Always, he says. 

*

It takes time for you to gather your thoughts. Everything to think about the fact that this is Marc you’re talking about, your brain gets fuzzy and you lose your words. Finally, you devote yourself to writing it out longhand and thinking in general terms. What would you have wanted from Mr. My-Slut if he had asked you the same question? 

When you’re finished, you text it to him before you can second guess yourself. 

I want to feel owned. I want to feel small but safe. I want to feel consumed, like nothing else matters but you and what you do to me and what I do for you. I want my head to feel empty of anything that isn’t good for me or doesn’t feel good. 

You bury your face in your pillow, but aren’t even there long enough to suffocate before your phone buzzes with a reply. 

I can do that. 

*

For a while, you don’t text Marc. You even miss one of your ritualistic calls. The thought of speaking to him when he knows what you want from a Dom is too much. Before, it had been easy to brush off your kinks to him. So much about wanting to be submitted had become akin to pop culture. Yeah, I want someone to tie me up and spank me and call me a slut, tee-hee! 

It had always gone so much deeper for you, and for so many others, you could imagine. You were a hard worker even as a child. You became someone that people could rely on—and too often, they did. It only made sense that you would crave a way to be useful to someone, crave a way to shut your mind off. Crave a way to feel loved. 

You throw yourself into your work, marking off days on a calendar. The first day of March, you will drive south back to the city. Back to Marc. Your contract here will be up, until next winter. God, you can’t wait to see him again. He always meets you outside the door to your building, chewing gum and pacing, like he’s nervous. Though only God knows what he would have to be nervous about. 

Marc doesn’t text or call you either. He must have picked up on the vibes. Instead, he gives you space. 

The next time you are due for your nightly vent sessions, Marc calls you. If you are worried you’ll get a talking to (or at least questions: why you hadn’t called, whether or not you were mad at him or other absurdities), you don’t get one. You slip back into the warm easiness that is your friendship, swapping stories about your days, talking about current events. Sometimes you don’t say anything, just sit in silence knowing the other person is there or listen to the quiet sounds of the other doing some mundane task: folding laundry, pouring a glass of water. 

You exchange your customary ‘Love you’s at the end of the call, but the words reverberate in your throat. You love him. You really do. 

*

Okay, show me what you got. 

? 

Come on, you know what I mean. I’m ready. Let me have it. 

Oh is that how this goes? 

You blink at the question. …yeah?

I don’t think so, he texts. You know how to ask for something you want. 

Your heart leaps to your throat. Thumbs shaking a little, you ask: How’s that? 

You say please. 

You take a deep, soothing breath. Please? 

That’s the word, yeah. Then he sends the thumb’s up emoji—monster. 

Marc, I’m ready. Can we try, please? Your nerves are shot, stomach in your throat as you wait for a response. As soon as you see him start typing, you lose your nerve and turn off your phone screen. It’s like a horror movie. You can’t watch. When he finally sends a response and you open it, your mouth drops. 

You can do better than that, can’t you? And a moment later: Beg me.

Fuck you, you text, laughing brightly at his audacity. 

Not with that attitude, he types. I only fuck good girls. 

“Jesus, Marc,” you mutter to yourself, breaths coming fast and short. How can he just say stuff like that? Single sentences that are hotter than any of the dirty talk men have given you during sex over the years. For a while, you are torn on what to answer. You want to quip, to say something bratty and whitty that will make him give one of his quiet exhales of laughter, the kind you are so familiar with hearing from the other end of your sofa while you both scroll through your phones. But, deep down—

What if I’m not a good girl? Maybe he’ll consider it just mindless sexy talk. Yeah, I’m not a good girl, I’m a bad girl. Maybe you’ve even said something like this before to one of those other guys. You can almost hear in some generic male voice the response: yeah, you’re such a bad girl. 

Which is why Marc’s answer is so striking: She’s in there. Do I need to help you? 

You have no idea what it could mean, but your fingers answer without any hesitation: Yes please

And your phone rings. 

You answer it. Holding the phone to your ear, you become aware of how you are holding your breath, not letting a single word or sound pass through your lips. 

On the other end, you can hear Marc’s steady, soft breathing. 

“You there, baby?” 

You hum in affirmation, but it comes out as a choked whine that makes your face turn hot. 

“You’re going to have to use your words,” he warns. “But I’ll help you. Alright? The only thing I need you to do is this: if I say something that isn’t true, don’t say it. Otherwise, just repeat after me. Can you do that?” 

“Uh-huh.”

“Good girl,” he says, voice dipping into a silky, pleased octave from his side of the phone. Your thighs clench together. Holy fuck. He’s going to destroy you. “Here we go: Marc Spector.”

“Marc Spector,” you sigh shakily. Easy enough. 

“I trust you.”

“I trust you.”

“I trust you so-o much.”

You snort. “I trust you so-o-o much.”

“That I trust you to know what I need.” Mouth dry, you repeat the words. He adds: “And I trust you to be able to give it to me.”

“Marc,” you whisper, though you don’t know why. 

“I love the way you sound when you say my name,” Marc admits to you. “Especially when you sound half-wrecked, and I’m five hundred miles away, not even able to touch you. But I need you to be a good girl and follow my directions. Repeat after me, or say nothing. Can you do that? Say, Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” he says again. “I don’t know how anyone could mistake you for anything else. Now keep repeating, okay?: I trust you to be able to give me what I need.” 

“I trust you to be able to give me what I need,” you repeat. As you say it, the words strike you in the chest. They’re true. You really do. All the people in the world, and maybe you love Marc more than any of them. And he is the sort of man who keeps his word—always. 

“And I want it.”

“I want it,” you breathe. 

“Real bad, Marc.” 

“Really bad, Marc.” 

“Are you in bed?”

“Are you in—wait—“ Marc laughs. “Yes? I’m—“

“I want you to get out of bed and get on your knees,” he says—just casually. Oh, lovely evening, now get down on your knees for me. Like being on your knees for Marc wasn’t on your mind constantly these days. 

Without higher thought, you throw the blanket off, the cold air chilling your body. Sitting up, you let your legs dangle off the edge of the bed, holding the phone to your ear with your shoulder. Your socked-toes skim the floor. 

“What’s it matter if I go down there?” you whisper. “I’m in a different state. It’s not as if you can see me.”

“It matters to me,” he says. “If it’s too cold, put down a blanket. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Go on.” 

You don’t bother with the blanket, appreciating the chilly floors against your bare knees and shins. You sit on your heels, thighs squeezed tightly together. 

“What if I just lie?” you wonder. “Say I did it, but I’m still under the covers.” 

“You wouldn’t do that. Are you down there?”

“Uh-huh.” 

“Fuck. ‘What does it matter’, as if I need to see you. Like I can’t picture you clear as day in my head. Like it doesn’t mean more to me to know you’re on your knees a hundred-hundred miles away, just because I told you to.” Marc sounds strangely wrecked, and the knowledge that this menial action really has affected him so deeply has your shoulders going lax, bowing over to rest the top half of your frame against the soft mattress. Your cunt aches. 

“Marc,” you whine. 

“Yes?”

“Please,” you groan, turning to muffle your face into the mattress. Your further words are just inarticulate mumbles. He laughs, soft and warm. 

“Spread your knees apart,” he says. “Far apart, as wide as you can.” 

It is the last thing you want to do, but you do it. The brief sparks of pleasure that lit you up every time you clenched your thighs together are gone now, the cool air brushing against your heated sex through your underwear. It only emphasizes how much you ache, how little you’ve been satisfying yourself lately because every time your hand dips between your legs, Marc comes to mind, and you’re too flustered to give in and rub one out thinking of him. But oh god, that’s going to change. You can tell. 

“Are you wet right now?” he wonders lowly. 

You make a sound that is the vaguest affirmation you can give. 

He exhales, the sound shaky through the speaker. “You’re so fucking good. I don’t know how you could ever think otherwise. Absolutely perfect. That’s how I know you’re going to be good and follow this next rule of mine.” 

“Wha’s that?” you slur, head fuzzy where it rests against your sheets.

“You can touch yourself as often as you like,” he says, making your face burn hot again. “Use those toys I know you have—but absolutely no one else. Not in person, not over the phone. If we do this, you rely on me and I do the same for you. Deal?”

“Deal,” you sigh, relieved that his condition goes both ways. You aren’t necessarily strict on monogamy, but you are strict on devotion. The last thing you could ever do would be to go behind your partner’s back—and it’s something that could be liable to shatter your heart if it happened to you. 

“Glad we’re on the same page,” he says. “But this next part is just as important okay, so make sure you’re listening, yeah?” 

“I’m listenin’.” 

“If you want to cum, you get permission from me, first.”

[vicsbasement]

What about a Charlos first meeting? Charles accidentally spilling his coffee on Carlos like in a romantic movie? 😃 Or it can be any kind of first meeting you like. ❤

Oh, I'm moving through these at a glacial pace but I'm always grateful for prompts. I hope you like this first meeting!

“Pierre, for the last time, she was not flirting with me.”

Charles pinches the top of his scarf and brings it up to cover his mouth. He’s walking swiftly around campus with his umbrella perched high, his best friend snug against his side because, as always, he forgot his own. The rain is falling steadily atop them and Charles hates the cold, but fortunately, he brought a whole change of clothes because Pierre had invited him over to his dorm room to study.

As they both enter the café, the heating makes them release a long sigh of relief. Charles fiddles with the umbrella while Pierre makes a beeline for the counter to place an order for tea and coffee. Charles manages to beat the umbrella into submission after struggling to close it for a full minute and retrieves a free bag to keep it from mudding up the place as he looks for Pierre with his eyes. Pierre makes a hand gesture that he already found a seat at the bottom right, next to the window, and Charles moves towards it to sit.

He’s leaning down to put his belongings under the chair, and as he looks up, he sees Pierre coming with their orders, so he starts to take off his layers, removing the wet scarf and coat, leaving him with a cozy black hoodie. Pierre mimics him after he places their drinks on the table, but as he’s flailing his arms to get the scarf off, Charles sees with horror how he moves his elbow a little too far back, and said elbow collides straight on with a guy who was walking past Pierre.

Charles sees it happen in slow motion, the guy instead of recoiling stumbles forward and so does his drink. Charles moves quickly to catch the guy by the shoulders, and he succeeds, but the coffee he was holding lands square on his pants.

“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry!” The guy says. He’s tall, almost as tall as Charles, with big and expressive brown eyes and strong features. Charles is taken aback by how handsome he looks up close; so Pierre not-so-subtly nudges Charles’ ribs with his elbow to bring him back to earth. “I’m sorry, I can pay for the laundromat, I swear I didn’t see you guys—”

“Hey, it was my fault, man.” Pierre interrupts seeing that Charles was still frozen to the spot, looking between the handsome stranger and his coffee-soaked pants. “You don’t really have to pay for anything, he can borrow one of my jeans—"

“B-but.” Charles stammers, grabbing several napkins from the table to soak up the worst of it, “I won’t let you pay for the laundry, it’s fine, but I would accept your number.”

The handsome stranger looks a little surprised by the bold display, but he seems to appreciate the honesty, too. He eyes Charles up and down and seems to decide something in a silent conversation with himself. “My number? Why not start with my name first?” A teasing smirk dances on his lips and Charles has to fight the blush that spreads all over his cheeks and down his neck. Was the heating in the café too hot? Pierre sends him a sharp look to wrap it up so they can sit down finally but Charles isn’t letting this opportunity go.

“My name is Charles.” Charles offers as he continues to pat his leg with napkins. Carlos seems to notice he’s running out of those, so he points a finger to the counter to indicate he’s going to retrieve more. Charles takes the opportunity to turn to Pierre as the other man takes a seat, finally, and makes an obscene gesture at him that is very judgy and rude to Charles. Still, it’s not every day that handsome strangers bump into you at your usual café. Charles needs to seize the moment.

The stranger returns with more napkins and Charles nods, thankful, as he hands them over. The barista also seems aware to their little predicament, and they offer the guy another refill of his order. Charles briefly wonders if that’s the benefit of having such a gorgeous face, and as he’s deep in thought studying the way his hair falls to one side of his face, the stranger speaks up again.

“I’m Carlos Sainz.” He introduces himself and offers his hand. Charles stops his little task with the napkins deeming it futile, and shakes the hand offered, marveling at how soft the skin felt on his. A little thrill runs down his spine at the thought.

“Charles Leclerc.” Charles says again, this time with a last name to match Carlos’ introduction. Carlos smiles at him softly and Charles feels a sharp snap of something hungry in his belly at the display.

“You’re honor roll student Charles Leclerc?” Carlos asks him, and Charles doesn’t deflate but finds himself a little uncomfortable with the line of questioning now. He runs a nervous hand through his hair as he eyes the room for a bin to throw away all the dirty napkins and Carlos offers his help, handling ones that were already on the table and walking with Charles towards the trash bin.

“I am, yeah. Your last name seems familiar too, why is that?” Charles asks, trying to turn the tide a little bit so he doesn’t have to go on too long about his academic prowess.

“Oh, I’m—Ha.” Now it’s Carlos’ time to blush. “I’m the dean’s son. You know. Carlos Sainz…” He points at the general direction of their campus “And Carlos Sainz Jr.”

Charles can’t help the little gasp he lets out, and now that he has time to study Carlos’ face, he can see the resemblance. He’s been way too many times near the dean to not recognize the man, and now that his carbon copy is right in front of him, he wonders how he didn’t notice it before. He’s also seen Carlos at university events because he was…

“I’m also the captain of the soccer team.”

“Yeah! I was wondering where else I knew you from…” Charles mentions, and as they walk back towards Pierre, he pulls up a chair for Carlos to sit. Carlos nods his thanks and the three of them sit in silence for a second as they sip their drinks.

“So, Charles.” Carlos begins with a light knock on the table. “You asked me for my number?” Charles blushes furiously, now, how emboldened he felt by Carlos’ mishap to be so crass and just go for the kill. But at the same time, who can blame him? The man is handsome. Charles wasn’t blind.

“I did.” He decides to double down on it.

“Give me your phone.” Carlos says, offering a hand. Charles unlocks his phone and places it on Carlos’ palm and sees, transfixed, as long, dexterous fingers type his number on it. Carlos returns the phone with a tiny little smirk.

“Handsome Carlos”. Charles reads out loud, a frown on his face. Carlos chuckles like he’s the smoothest in town. Charles can’t help but be endeared at the sound of it.

“Okay, handsome Carlos. Let me give you a call so you can save me in your contacts.” Charles says. Carlos nods as Charles presses the call button. When he rejects the call, Carlos doesn’t let Charles take his phone like he expected, but instead he types the contact information himself. Seemingly satisfied, he turns the phone to face Charles.

“Gorgeous Blue Eyes Charles” Charles reads aloud. Pierre chortles over his coffee as Charles feels himself blush and melt at the same time. Carlos’ smile doesn’t seem mischievous, though, it seems fond.

“We can meet here tomorrow?” Carlos offers, and Charles seems too engrossed in him and his magnetism to do anything but nod fervently. “I can buy you another tea and some pastries.” Carlos says, and Charles continues to nod like he’s a five-year-old boy completely taken by something fascinating.

“He’d love that.” Pierre says, and kicks Charles under the table. Charles finally comes back to himself as Carlos is drinking his last drop of coffee and taking his leave, standing up and grabbing the chair to return it to where it was originally.

Charles stumbles on his words, but he manages to say. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Same time tomorrow.” Carlos winks at Charles, nods at Pierre and leaves the café.

“So, was he flirting with you, blue eyes?”

“Shut the fuck up, Pierre.”

[soupthatistohot]

BSD 110: An Absurdist Analysis

The fate of Aya Kōda

Since my post analyzing BSD 109 in accordance with Asagiri's absurdist storytelling got so much love, I've decided to continue analyzing the chapters thru an absurdist lens when I deem it relevant, and making predictions accordingly. I think that not only is it an effective way of reading BSD, it gives us readers a bit more hope that things will turn out okay when the plot is... like it is right now (lol).

I recommend checking out my BSD 109 post if you haven't already this since I explain the philosophy of the absurd in depth there :)

BSD 110 spoilers below!! Obviously! Also TW for discussion of suicide.

So. I really don't think the ten year-old girl is going to die.

On top of Aya being "the last hope" (more on that later), suicide is one of those things that absurdists really frown upon.

Aya's plan as I understand it right now is to add her weight to the table in order to pull the sword from Bram's body, this is why she jumps. If this works, the sword will be dislodged and she, the sword and the table would fall to the ground, which is very far below -- she would likely die upon impact.

Absurdists really don't like suicide as a solution to hopeless situations, most absurdist storytellers have their characters commit suicide because they have "given up". It's submission, giving into the meaninglessness of our reality rather than rebelling against and embracing the absurd.

We see this with Oda in Dark Era, his suicide mission is framed as him giving up on life because the orphans were killed. Of course, it also served as catalyst for Dazai's character development, compelling him to escape a situation that would have likely ended up in his own eventual suicide. All this to say that even though Asagiri chose to make Oda go on a suicide mission, the overall narrative purpose still lent itself to absurdism through Dazai's decision to defect. It needed to happen for the story to move forward as it has (and as we know from BEAST, there literally cannot be a universe in which both Oda and Dazai are alive).

So, if Aya dies now, what message does this send? It's almost certain that the world will literally end if she does, meaning that everyone's efforts up until this point have all been for naught, which, as I explained in my BSD 109 post, is the opposite of the entire point of BSD as an absurdist text. Aya is really the "last hope" right now, with all our other main characters pretty much screwed or just not present.

"Nothing is impossible for a warrior of justice. We beat the bad guys and save the world, no matter what happens."

What Aya says right here is something I'd liken to the Dazai quote I brought up with my BSD 109 analysis: "The ones who actually make the world turn are those who scream within the storm of uncertainty and run with flowing blood." Both communicate the idea that there's never an acceptable point in time to give up (suicide), that there's always something more that you can do, even when things seem bleak. Those who "make the world turn" are one in the same with Aya's concept of "warriors of justice."

Aya may not succeed exactly the way we expect her to, but she absolutely is not dying like this. On top of the absurdist storytelling reasons, she's just a child. Of course, we know Asagiri isn't above killing kids, but Aya is a bit different than the other children we've met in BSD. Her character has been built up and developed, she has a fleshed-out backstory, and we've spent a lot of time with her. To kill off a little girl we've come to care about a lot would just be cruel, plus her death wouldn't really serve a narrative purpose right now.

So, what could happen?

One prediction is that Aya adding her weight to the table does dislodge the sword and she falls, but she is saved by another character. We know Kenji and Tecchou are out there right now, we haven't seen Yosano or Kyouka in ages, etc. etc.. Basically, there are definitely people out there that could come to her rescue.

But there's an option I like a lot better: Aya's ability manifests.

Aya Kōda was a 20th century Japanese novelist and essayist, and the namesake for the Aya we know in BSD. As far as we know, all the characters who are named after real-life authors possess an ability inspired by the life/work of said author. Aya doesn't have an ability yet, so logic follows that she will develop one by the end of the series.

I'm not sure where I read this, so take it with a grain of salt, but I believe that in BSD the character's abilities manifest because of trauma. Not only does Aya live in a somewhat emotionally abusive household, but she's literally been thrust into the middle of a conflict in which the world could literally end and has decided to jump off of a tall building to try to save the world -- I'd say that's pretty traumatizing!

I'm not familiar with the irl Aya Kōda's works enough to speculate about what her ability would actually do, but there's a decent chance that because of the current situation, her special ability will manifest in order to prevent her from dying and/or dislodge the sword from Bram. This would also fit absurdist storytelling very well, she's literally doing jumping off a building as a complete last ditch effort, it's a crazy plan that probably won't work -- but her other option is to just accept death, and that's not acceptable. If she were to manifest her ability in this moment, it would reinforce the idea that rebelling against the absurd has value, that even when things seem at their worst there's always something you can do.

Anyway, these are just my thoughts! Please feel free to add anything you find relevant, especially if you're familiar with Aya's irl counterpart! See you next month ;)

Here's the BSD 110 translation I pulled the panels from.

[loganslowdown4]

The newest reasons to smile video made my heart so happy! He mentions my boy Terry Fox right out of the gate. He’s literally one of our great national heroes 🇨🇦, and they’re hoping that him being on the $5 bill will encourage everyone to donate at least $5 to the Terry Fox Run cancer charity in the coming years!

Additionally, STORYTIME from me! So the last Reasons To Smile video was back in 2020 and in that one, Thomas asked people to send in submissions of articles and jokes which was fun. Me being newish to the fandom back then, I didn’t submit anything, but I found this great article little while later that I held onto it my notes app in case he were to do another video like that. And I eventually asked Thomas about it because I had a good article to share! Well his response was the submission video wasn’t the norm, and I promptly moved past it and forgot about it.

Well after today’s video I went back in my notes app and found the article I had saved from 3 years ago! Thought I’d at least share it here.

It’s about how after Alex Trebek passed on, he donated all his suits to a charity that helps homeless folks get ready for job interviews! It’s bittersweet but it shows what a stand up guy Alex was. Hope you all have a nice night!

[wutheringcaterpillar]

The Exchange

Summary: Being the new girl in town you were desperate for work but little did you know what that work would entail. Your boss Neil ensures that you’d be given a paycheck as long as you work for it.

warnings : NONCON, abuse of authority, degradation, humiliation, boss!Neil x employee!reader, smoking, hitting, wedgies

Requested

There you were standing in that tight black dress, your hair flowing freely as you stood at the register helping a guest. The fabric was tight around your hips, plumping your ass right out like it was going to burst from the seams. Neil stayed just around the corner staring intently but not trying to make it obvious to the customer until he decided for himself you needed some assistance.

“Sir, you’re nearly a week past your return date I-“ The feeling of Neil’s hands grazing over your thighs startled you, but you played it off like nothing happened as this was a normal occurrence. The reason you hadn’t left was because you needed the money, you were just a girl trying to make ends meet and Neil would hold that over your head whenever you mentioned his advances made you uncomfortable. The touching was all that had happened and you had conditioned yourself, convinced yourself that a little touching was nothing compared to being homeless on the streets, whether you liked it or not. If it weren’t for him you wouldn’t be making any money, and he would often let you keep any tips just to keep you around, his little primadonna. You cleared your throat and continued on explaining the policy while Neil made side comments here and there to get this guy out of there quicker, eventually telling him he’d cut his bill in half.

“Have a great day, hope to see you soon!” You quivered, eyebrows furrowing together in discomfort when his finger tips trailed slowly up underneath your dress gripping the soft, jello like skin of your asscheeks, making you pull away from him.

“You know you shouldn’t be dressing like a whore, most managers would send you home, even fire you for walking in like that.” You were taken aback by his words and scoffed in disgust, refusing to make his day and look at him by retrieving the returned movies to put them back in your place.

He’d hate to see you leave from his proximity but he loved to watch you walk away, his eyebrows raising with each step of your feet as your hips swayed.

Glancing around the store, he had purposely only scheduled himself and you as other employees wouldn’t question it as it was a monday, and mondays were slow.

When he didn’t see a customer in sight and noticed you were too busy being his good little employee, paying close attention to the alphabetical order he nonchalantly began to whistle as he swayed his way to the door, locking it and flipping the sign over to closed.

The sound of his feet approaching made you wince in fear of what he had in store, trying to quietly inch away around the corner to another aisle but he was quicker than you.

“Ah-ah.” His hand wrapped around your forearm in a tight, menacing grip that was sure to leave a bruise.

“Neil, I can’t stay tonight. I have to get home I-I have laundry, dinner and- and a date…” You shouldn’t have been concerned to tell him that, or even had to of mentioned it to your boss. He noticed the hesitation in your voice and his crystal blue eyes locked with yours, noticing the submissiveness and cowardliness in your eyes.

His lips turned into a grin as he held back a laugh, not releasing your arm.

“You? You have a date? With who? You just moved here and no ones going to want a woman who dresses like that for work. If anything I’d say you dressed like that to get a reaction out of me and now you’re getting one.” Before you could react, he reached for you other arm, bending them behind your back as he forcefully guided you, and pushed you over the back of the orange sofa that was old and filthy.

“Hate to ruin your plans sweetheart but the only date you have is with me.” The sound of his belt unbuckling forced anxiety to rise within you, realizing what was about to happen.

“No don’t please! Please I’ll- I’ll work over time, I’ll- I’ll do your- your paperwork, the taxes. All of it! Just let me go, please Neil.”

“Oh bribing your boss now are you?” The enjoyment in his voice made your stomach twist in knots while tears brimmed at your eyes when you felt his hands push up your dress, making you feel exposed and completely at his will.

A desperate cry poured out from your lungs when you felt his length up against your most private area. It felt hefty, and stiff against your hole, there was no getting through to him.

His hand swung back, and slapped harshly against your ass, forcing the tears out, streaming down your cheeks.

“You’re so fucking desperate for money you’ll just let me do whatever I please to you, are you really that much different from a prostitute on the street? I mean c’mon Y/N. I know your new to the area but allowing your boss to grab at you all day and not even make an effort for me to stop? Sounds pretty desperate to me.” The sight of you bent over, nothing but the thin fabric of your underwear covering your most sacred areas made his cock twitch against you.

His fingers delicately slid underneath those pink ribboned satin panties, and you felt his finger tip graze over your back entrance, making your thighs attempt to clench together as your body pushed forward trying to escape his touch.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His free hand gripped your strands of hair, forcefully yanking your head back to where you could feel his lips just ever so slightly touching your ear.

“Please- please don’t hurt me.” The desperation and pleading was like music to his ears.

When his lips began to kiss the top of your ear lobe, he slid his tongue on the back of your, causing your face to scrunch together in disgust and discomfort.

“We play by my rules, and that little cunt of yours is going to accept my cock. Consider it your payment for me keeping you as my employee.” He threw your head back down, pulling your underwear tightly up just barely lifting your feet off of the ground.

“Hmm. I wonder if I pull hard enough it will break.” He stretched it up higher, causing a burning sensation to take over your pussy and ride up your ass. You felt embarrassed, completely helpless, you knew you could fight him but you needed a paycheck. 

Lifting it once more your underwear was now hanging by a very thin thread and he began to bounce you up and down on the couch until it snapped in half revealing your reddened, swollen lips to him.

“Wow, that was better quality fabric then I’d expect for a woman who makes only ten an hour, plus tips if you’re good occasionally.”  Your eyes burned from the physical pain your pussy was feeling and the reddened skin around your asshole.

He aligned his head with your entrance and to his surprise you were already practically dripping, you could feel warmth sliding down the inside of your thigh, your cheeks turning red from embarrassment that it only took fabric to make you wet.

“God, that’s all huh? You are soaking, aren’t you my sweet little fuck toy.” He slapped your pussy before pushing two fingers inside of you without any warning. His movements were aggressive as he was not gentle to start with, his fingers drilling in and out of you while you began to practically drool on the couch, trying to resist from moaning.

It was painful yes but the thickness of his fingers made it feel pleasurable and you hated it.

You screamed out to mask any pleasure, grunting loudly against the couch.

Neil knew what he was doing, making you hate your own body for getting any sort of pleasure from him.

When he decided you had enough he pulled out his cock that was leaking of precum, tapping it ferociously against your dripping hole.

“Can’t wait to see that needy pussy stretched out by my cock. It’s kind of a turn isn’t it? How much you’ll do for your job, to keep me happy at any extent?” You whimpered, as the pain began to come back, and the weight of his cock was to show how much more you’d be in but he was right, if he was wrong you would’ve spoke up.

The bills added up and you were beginning to regret ever thinking moving away from home was a good idea now that you were at the mercy of Neil Lewis.

You gasped loudly when he plunged in your divine succulency at the sudden intrusion.

He watched as you took him mercifully, his cock disappearing within you, widening your hole beyond an extent you believed possible.

“Oh fuck, didn’t expect a whore to be so tight, think we might have to do this another way.” He pushed your weak body over, onto the couch before laying beneath you, grabbing your wrists and forcing you on top.

“Oh, is little broke bitch gonna cry?” He mocked your misery, and in a swift movement yanked you forward before picking up your sore ass and dropping it right down on his dick in an instant.

You began to cry, biting your trembling lips while your nose sniffled. The make up you once had on smeared down your cheeks as the tears ruined all of it.

The length of his cock was unimaginable and the width didn’t help with the stinging pain like you were being torn a part from within.

“Ride me, go on. You want that money don’t you? Or I could just withhold your paycheck until your behind on rent.” You batted your watery eyes up at him, your cheeks heating up, turning rosy red as you did what he said.

Gliding up and back down to slow for Neil’s liking causing him to roll his eyes.

“Haven’t you rode a cock before, or are you too stupid to figure anything out?” When you began to whimper again he became fed up, growing impatient.

Taking matters into his own hands, he continued to hold your wrists, as he flew up into you with a hard thrust, sending blood rushing out on top of him.

He didn’t care, he drilled into you relentlessly, watching intently as your boobs bounced up and down faster than the speed of lightning, he couldn’t help but take enjoyment at how round and hardened your nipples had became.

“You like that don’t you? Like being used and being my own little private slave.” Your body was too weak to fight back, the constant move of the head of his dick brushing with each movement against your most sensitive sweet spot, you were in crumbles.

Your ass cheeks were bouncing off of his thighs, you legs quivering on top of him.

He was biting his lip in satisfaction at the sight of you crying, knowing damn well you felt disgusting for allowing him to do this just for a paycheck.

Your thoughts began to spiral as your inner walls clenched against his cock, shame washing over you that your body would betray you like this.

He began to speak in between his groaning and moaning from your pussy soaking his throne, he could tell you were close.

“Look down I want to see you watch yourself get off on me, I want you to see me ruining that stretched out not so tight hole while you get off on it.”

Painfully you looked down watching him pound into your throbbing pussy, his balls acting like a cushion for you each time he bucked his hips up forcefully.

Your toes began to twitch and you wanted to close your eyes, you wanted to pretend you were anywhere but here being raped by your boss but you couldn’t. Not if you wanted your rent money.

Moans escaped from your parted lips, and you hated yourself when your hips began to move along with his movements just searching for the sweet release your body wanted so desperately bad.

“That’s my girl, c’mon ride me. Ride me for that money.” Your pace quickened and your moans became louder when that unexplainable, euphoric feeling rode through your entire being, your back slightly arching as you watched all of your orgasm stream down onto his cock.

The sight was like a scene out of a movie to Neil and he couldn’t hold back any longer. His seed oozed into your heat like a pool, coating your insides white.

“Maybe I should put us alone more often.” He chuckled darkly before pushing you off of him into the corner of the couch.

Some of his seed spilled out of you and you could feel and see the puddle forming on the cushion making you feel complete disgust and shame for yourself. What had you come to, what have you done?

Wrapping your arms around your legs you curled up into a ball and began to sob silently to yourself while Neil pulled his pants back up.

He excused himself for a moment and when he came back he had an envelope in his hand.

When you went to grab for it he pulled it back, making you angry and scared that you did this for nothing.

“I earned that money!” He sat down next to you, still keeping the envelope at a distance away.

“You earned half the money, if you want the rest and want to continue being payed you will attend my needs every weekday of the night until I get tired of your useless stupidity. Don’t you get it Y/N? You’re my property to use as I please. I know your landlord, he’s actually a close family friend of mine if you will.” That couldn’t be, he was lying he was trying to get you not to say anything, which you wouldn’t at the expense of having a place to live and money for food and gas and bills.

“He knows how I feel about you. Hell he even told me how easy you were. One word from me about any wrong move, say taking money from the store thinking you wouldn’t get caught, all I have to do is call him and you’ll be out on the streets. Who do you think he’ll believe. A friend he’s known from grade school, or some skank that can’t even take care of herself?” You were in disbelief and felt like you were at a crossroads. If someone had warned you about Neil Lewis before you moved here you never would have and you felt like you had no privacy, no nothing anymore.

You pondered in your head before you locked eyes with the man who had you at his fingertips in a death grip for life.

Taking in account how speechless you were, he knew what the answer would be.

“So tomorrow night then?” He had a shit eating grin plastered on his face, his blue eyes and the way he smirked made you sick but what choice did you have.

Nodding silently, he tossed you your clothes before throwing the check on the floor, waiting for you to crawl to your golden ticket.

“You can put the clothes on after you go get that piece of paper on your hands and knees, thanking me for being so generous. Give me a kiss.” You leaned in, placing your lips against him reluctantly. His tongue dove in, exploring every inch of your mouth before he bit down on your lip harshly, drawing a small amount of blood.

He tasted of arrogance and cigarettes, a volatile mixture.

He looked at you, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

“Thank you. Thank you for taking care of me Neil.” He nodded and eyed the envelope on the floor.

He relaxed back into the sofa, lighting a cigarette as  he watched you fall to the floor his hand mark on your ass cheek, crawling over to the envelope.

You’d always crawl back to him.

[quote-tournament]

Quote tournament

It is what is sounds like, you send in your favourite quote and it will be in yet another Tumblr tournament.

A few rules:

- It can be from any media, books, poems, internet, games, songs, speeches, random stuff your sibling says at 1 am, you name it

- Nothing political or discriminating. I reserve myself the right to not include a submission if I think it's offensive or rude. I don't wanna play police, just use common sense when submitting

- There are literally no stakes. This is my first time running something like this, and I'm not too familiar with Tumblr as a whole yet, please be patient

- I'm going to close the submissions once I think I have enough. The type of bracketing I will use is called 'I am doing this on my free time'

Submit here:

Inspired by other Tumblr tournaments such as @jojopolls @autismswagsummit @furryfaceoff @john-battle @emoticonpoll @homoerotic-shonen-rival-showdown @rock-swag-tournament @lovableassholestournament @vs-coughing-baby @youngersiblingstournament @they-are-so-gender @i-lived-bitch-beatdown @foundfamily-tournament

Hope you guys don't mind the @

[v3nusxsky]

I know everyone is loving the platonic Lesso stuff but I nEED THAT WOMEN TO RAIL ME LIKE OH MY GOD. You’re platonic stuff is very comforting though. Truly appreciate it.

Hey lovely anon! I hope this is sufficient if not feel free to send another ask in and I’ll attempt it again :)

play thing| NSFW

*Authors note~ I have a few requests waiting to be written I will write them guys it’s just a few personal things stopping me writing as much as I wish to*

Trigger warnings~ sub r dom lesso, pet play? Oral, toys, restraints r, self pleasure l, overstimulation, lesso called ma'am

Prompt~ tumblr Anon~ I know everyone is loving the platonic Lesso stuff but I nEED THAT WOMEN TO RAIL ME LIKE OH MY GOD. You're platonic stuff is very comforting though. Truly appreciate it.

☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

You knew what would happen when you entered this arrangement. Of course you did. Yet you still couldn't stop yourself from agreeing to it. Lady Lesso being the irresistible women is knew just how to push your buttons. She knew just what to say, the sway to add to her hips and even the right stance to take on. Everything about the women all pointed to one word. Irresistible. That's why when you joined the staff you were shocked to hear that she was single. A women with this much beauty surly would be snapped up? Apparently not in her case. You heard the rumours of Rafal, how he treated her so poorly and shattered her heart leaving it irreparable.

That's why you couldn't be surprised at the fact this was a simple arrangement. No strings. And truthfully your heart yearned for more, to hold her close and try to fix her heart. But you knew that lesso didn't feel the same. It was more of a friends with benefits situation for her. So you tried to push down your feelings for the women and be happy with whatever Lesso is willing to provide. Which is why lead you to being in an agreement with the Dean of Evil and subsequently falling deeper in love with her.

Recently the Dean had become rather stressed with the upcoming test between good and evil. You knew this of course so it was no surprise to you that you that the play time had increased as the weeks progressed. At this point it was becoming a daily occurrence. You would wake up deliciously sore from the night before, teach your students in the school for Good their defence class and then would head back to your office to complete paperwork. And then that is where you would be interrupted by the Dean. Sometimes she would be so stressed you never even made it out of your office, others you were taken to the Doom room and on the odd occasion you even ended up in Lady Lesso's quarters. Each day you never knew what mood she would be in, never knew what would happen but that was all part of the game.

Lady Lesso liked to taunt her pets. Simply a play toy for her to use as and when she deemed fit. That was made clear to all that entered this agreement. Yet with you it was some how different from what you'd been told to expect. Rules had been established alongside any limits being discussed, after all this was all for the fun and pleasure of both parties. Lesso truly had no desire to seriously hurt you in any shape or form. Which is why you were not shocked to be dragged into her quarters by her guards.

You were instantly thrown onto your knees in front of her desk, immediately taking your submissive position and tilting your head towards the ground. Just as she had taught you. The women sat at her desk seemed uh phased by your arrival and choose to simply ignore your presence in general. She knew that the wait was something you enjoyed, it allowed you to let your mind wonder what could possibly be in store for you. So far the longest you had been left is ten minutes maximum but tonight it seemed that Lesso was setting a new record. Your knees were beginning to ache, the tights that clung to your legs beginning to irritate your knees yet you didn't dare even move a centimetre. You didn't even lift your graze to rake over her form, after all you truly preferred to receive her rewards rather than her punishments. It was her coming to stand in front of you that got your attention.

A hand cupping your chin tilting your head upwards to meet her lustful gaze. "Now pet remind me, what's your safe word?" She husked out taken in just how desperate you looked. "Nova" you mumbled earning a pleased hum from the older women. "Be a good Pup and go sit pretty on the bed for me" she commanded and you were left dumbfounded at the name. Not something you had experienced yet you oddly enough didn't hate it. It was the sharp tsk of her tongue that had you up in a flustered hurry. You sat on the edge of her bed and she couldn't help but hum in disappointment that you hadn't found your original position. "On your knees pup" she demanded and you complied instantly. Desperate to serve and please her.

Despite the things you heard, Lesso was a considerably slow and patient lover. She took time in learning your queues and tales. Loving how she knew the spots that would drive you absolutely wild for her. The spots that were just enough to tease you and if you had teetered on the edge of realise long enough a simple bite to your collarbone was enough to force you into the blissed out high. Lesso loved to switch it up so you couldn't predict what she would do with you next.

Tonight she opened to feast on you. When had you lost your clothing? Nestled in between your legs lapping up the slick drenching your core. Instantly her stress started to fade away hearing the sinful sounds she could pull from you. Good and Evil shouldn't mingle and you knew that. But you both also knew how sweet the forbidden fruit was. And that's how you found yourself on the edge of climax while Lesso licked and sucked at your aching core. You couldn't help but whimper when she moved just in time to prevent the pleasure from cursing through your body.

"Ma'am please" you whined out trying to get your mind to focus and remember the rules you had been taught. It was the chuckle that your lover let out that caused a shiver to run down your body. Immediately you were blinded by the familiar orange silks that were specifically used for this activity. Next your limbs expertly bound to the bed. Causing you to whine in need. "Oh such a need little Pup for me aren't you?" She taunted and began to strip off her clothing, watching as you withered in anticipation.

The silence in the room was deafening until a click of the button and a constant buzzing noise took its place. It was only then that you felt her position the toy perfectly against your core. Your moans instantly began to fill the room as it created waves of pleasure. The sight to sinfully delicious that soon enough your moans weren't the only ones flying around the room. Your mind was hazy due to the toy working diligently between your legs. Although pleasurable not enough to throw you into the pools of pleasure. You knew that and so did Lesso, which is why lesso had now sat herself in a chair with a direct view of your soaking core. You were now drenching her sheets with arousal unable to do anything but whimper and mewl uncontrollably for her. Quickly growing overly sensitive at the toys constant assault. Blinded and restrained all you could do was listen out as she brought herself to the edge at the sight in front of her.

The straw that broke you was when she finally tumbled over the edge praising you as she came.  That mixed with the toy still working on your core had you pleading with the women. The blind fold was swiftly removed and she was instantly met with your eyes full of desire. Need. Want. Lust. It was a delicious combination and one she thoroughly enjoyed being the cause of. You were completely out of my, only one thing on your mind, your need to climax and you weren't above doing just about anything to get it. So when Lesso situated herself on your stomach, her very own drenched core soaking the skin there and husked out "open pup" you couldn't help but instantly respond. Your tongue swirling around her slender digits making sure to get every drop of her essence and savouring it.

The toy was shut off and removed causing you to cry out. Your words incoherent as you begged and pleaded for her to give you what you so desperately needed. Only this time her fingers slid into your soaked pussy creating the sounds of wetness as she thrusted them in and out. You were thrashing wildly desperately chasing that high you had been denied so many times. It was bordering on painful when Lesso brought you over the edge in an earth shattering orgasm. She slowed her efforts in an attempt to drag out your high as long as she possibly could.

You were completely out of it. Your head empty as you enjoyed the pure bliss you were experiencing. How long had you been in this state? You weren't sure but you were sure you never wanted to leave. It was Leonora's voice that broke your sub space and guided you back to her. Despite being the Dean of Evil she gave the best after care you had ever experienced. Always so attentive and caring making sure you were safe and cared for. You couldn't help but fall for the women ever more than you already had. Once again the red head settled between your thighs this time with a warm wash cloth intending to clean you up so you were comfortable. Your body trying to automatically inch away from her, unable to handle any more stimulation. "Shhh hush pup I'm just gonna clean you up" she reassured pulling your legs gently toward her and wiping the cloth gently, ensuring she got everything for you. After ditching the cloth she joined you on the bed. This was new not something you were expecting and you most certainly didn't expect her to gather you in her arms and whisper "be mine pup not just a play thing but mine?" You couldn't actually believe your ears, still stuck in your own mind. You had to have had imagined it right? But you nodded anyway and snuggled into her embrace.

Word count~ 1771

[milogreer]

For that thing you just reblogged (I'm sooo good explaining myself), Lasko? ^^

hi morgan! 👋🏼 ty for letting me talk about lasko again hehe ↳ send me a character!

My first impression: so … i almost didn’t get into the DAMN arc when i should have chronologically 🫣 when i saw that there was gonna be new characters i was so reluctant to get into them bc i just wanted the ones i already knew. but he had me hooked in his first audio cause the way he went “shit- i mean damn- DARN. ah fuck” made me laugh 💘

My impression now: LASKO 🥰🥰 my number two guy!! he’s made me so genuinely rabid sometimes that i don’t even know how i’ve survived it. i really really love how his character has developed & still is developing now with his coworker. i miss him so dearly, i hope he comes back soon despite the pack weddings on the horizon

A favorite thing: i always think it’s so funny when he swears and then tries to correct himself even outside of work settings. babes it’s okay!! you can say fuck! this is a safe space beloved swear all you want bc i swear like a fuckin sailor

Least favorite thing: not least favorite in an “i don’t like this” way but in a “this makes me so so sad” way: oh man. the ways he puts himself down, like. when he says “i don’t know if you should have to see the ‘nothing special’ side of me yet” ??? oh my god. there was a similar line in the FL/gavin/lasko BA that made me hurt so much i had to pause and walk away for a minute ☹️

Favorite line/scene: “being with you, how i feel when i’m with you, how i feel right now… it’s proof that new isn’t scary. i don’t have to be scared of something just because it’s unfamiliar.” …. i actually haven’t ever relistened to the first time audio bc it did psychic damage to me LOL but i had to find the exact quote... this audio and the “slowing down” audio i feel gave him a lot of depth beyond “nervous sub who gets freaky sometimes” and i love it for him!!

Favorite interaction that character has with another: listen listen listen okay. i love gavin/lasko as much as the next person. i eat up every single interaction like it’s the most expensive dessert on the menu. HOWEVER. lasko inviting huxley to join his dnd campaign when they're first reconnecting makes me so happy 🥺💕

A character that I wish that character would interact with more: milo ummm hmm…. tbh i always love when lasko and damien get like Real Interactions. i think they should have more one on ones that aren’t about DAMN or damien worrying that he’s freaking lasko out/lasko being nervous about damien’s intensity

Another character from another fandom that reminds me of them: i have forgotten every single other character i’ve ever met 🫣 i think i'm gonna take this option out for the other asks i got unless someone rly hits me lskjdgsd

A headcanon: i know it’s popular fanon already but i really do love when he is tall and bespectacled. mwah. also i think he likes vocaloid. it’s just a feeling i have

A song: against the kitchen floor by will wood !!!! i’ve posted it before but it’s always the first one i think of for lasko

An unpopular opinion: we need less twinky baby-faced white boy laskos. being submissive doesn't automatically make you a skinny twink!! giving him fat, facial hair, wrinkles, etc will not kill him i promise