#just do that and your movie would have ruled

[kashverse]

some say let your hands and fingers do the talking. not like that, you perv! i mean by playing the guitar. what did you think? anyway, when your boyfriend pulls out a guitar, it’s a moment of pure suspense. it can either go very, very good—think angelic strumming, a voice so smooth it makes you question if he’s been hiding a secret record deal—or very, very bad, like an out-of-tune massacre that makes your eardrums file for divorce. there’s no in-between. he’s either serenading you into a nicholas sparks movie, or you’re suddenly trapped in a hostage situation where the ransom is pretending to enjoy his soulful (read: painful) rendition of wonderwall.

ah, gojo. the man, the myth, the self-proclaimed musician. he played the guitar once—once—in high school, butchered wonderwall in a way that made even noel gallagher cringe from a distance, and now he tells everyone he’s a ‘part-time guitarist.’ you don’t have the heart to tell him that whatever note he’s playing isn’t in the known musical scale of this universe. he strums with the confidence of a rock god but with the technique of a toddler discovering sound for the first time. the worst part? he believes in it. “music transcends rules,” he tells you with a wink, completely unaware that he’s transcended harmony, melody, and all known music theory altogether.

then there’s geto. now, he looks like a guy who plays the guitar—cool, effortless, the type to lean against a wall with a cigarette dangling from his lips while plucking out a song that makes everyone in a ten-mile radius fall in love. and technically, he does play. but does he play songs? absolutely not. geto is a man of riffs. he’ll pick up a guitar, pluck out a legendary lick that would make jimi hendrix’s spirit shed a tear, and then… stop. no full songs. no verses. just a 15-second snippet of greatness before he casually shrugs and says, “eh, i never learned the rest.” it’s infuriating. masterful, but infuriating.

choso, on the other hand, is eager. enthusiastic, even. and the shocking part? he’s patient with it, which you didn’t expect given his general aura of broody silence. but the man loves to learn—he already had a thing for keyboards, so naturally, guitar was the next step. and he’s good. so good, in fact, that you have to physically restrain him from playing in front of random people. because let’s be real: if choso sits down with a guitar, strums even a single melancholic tune, women (and men) will descend upon him like he’s the last attractive man on earth. you’re not dealing with that. not again.

does sukuna play the guitar? please. your big, beefy, borderline villainous boyfriend doesn’t do “basic” instruments. he plays the shamisen. yeah, that’s right. while everyone else is fumbling through 'hotel california,' sukuna is out here commanding an ancient instrument with the kind of raw, aggressive technique that could send every mainstream musician straight into retirement. the way he plays is nothing short of feral—sharp, powerful, sending sound waves through your soul like he’s calling forth a battlefield. you don’t know whether to be turned on or to fear for your life. possibly both.

toji, bless his heart, tries. he wants to play the guitar. he knows it looks cool. and, honestly, the intent is there. but here’s the thing—his hands are the size of dinner plates. the pick disappears between his fingers like a lost sock in the laundry. fretting a chord looks like he’s trying to delicately handle a teacup with boxing gloves on. it’s not a skill issue. it’s a size issue. the guitar wasn’t built for a man whose hands could palm a basketball and a toddler’s head at the same time. but he keeps at it, convinced that if he just tries hard enough, one day he’ll stop making the guitar sound like it’s being physically assaulted.

and then there’s nanami, the dark horse. the unexpected legend. you find out, completely by accident, that he plays guitar—not just plays, but plays it well. sings with it, too. every night, he softly strums lullabies for yuuji, an act of pure paternal love that no one would expect from the stoic salaryman. but when you ask him about it? he shuts that conversation down. you don’t get details. you don’t get demonstrations. and you definitely don’t get to see the video of 17-year-old nanami covering ‘pocketful of sunshine’ with embarrassing sincerity. it exists. he won’t admit it. but one day, one day, you will find it.

[darinawrites]

ღ|Drenched in desperance|ღ

Pairing: Salesman x implied f!reader

Summary: the announcement of the late arrival of your train upset you. With nothing to do, a mysterious man came by and offered a game to pass by the time. Who knew it would lead to his hot breath scraping your throat?

Contents: very suggestive, getting cock blocked by the train </3

A/n: I hate this, but I have to fight the writer block somehow. This was a request, but I sadly can't find it ☹️ hope you read this anon.

Word count: 1.6k

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Body slumping against the metal of the bench, sighing as you waited for your train to arrive. It was a long and stressful day, sadly the norm for you to experience now.

Fiddling with your keys in the hand, trying to entertain yourself. An eery silence surrounding you as the dust replaced the lack of presence around you. It was just you against time, fighting sleep on the uncomfortable metal scraping your back.

An endless loop, you'd say. It was pointless, your job paid a measly amount, a pathetic amount to your debts. Yet you still had to endure it, sore limbs working till they fall off. Only resting in the subway and hard mattress. Is life supposed to be like this?

The whirling of your thoughts momentarily stopped as your ears picked up a polite voice echoing trough the speaker. The announcement of your train arriving drowning out your tired groans. Small occurrences like these take precious time away, ruining the routine set up for yourself.

"The world must be against me.." huffing out to yourself. Eyes glaring at the text which presented the 30 minute wait you had to endure, already crying at the loss of the hot shower you wanted.

With nothing to do now for 30 minutes, the familiar weight dropped back on your eyelids. The ones whom you tried to ignore to rest up properly at home. But, what's the point of it now? Your peace had already been disrupted, would a little nap hurt?

You let the temptations control you, not caring anymore and surrendering the battle. Imagining the cold bars beneath you were the blankets that are waiting at home. The bliss of slumping your shoulders and closing your eyes made your ears not catch the echoing of footsteps behind you.

It was not until the metal creaked beneath you with an additional weight added did you realize another person has came. Heart jumping as your eyes flew open, turning your head at the intrusion beside you.

Out of everything, an opulent looking man was the least you expected. Slicked back hair, a suit and a briefcase resting beside him. It felt off and you immediately felt wary. Why should such a man be in a shabby place? And that briefcase is straight out of a horror movie. An assassin, perhaps? Are those debts finally catching up, oh gosh—

"Care for a game?" a smooth voice interrupted you, quickly coming to the realization that you've been mindlessly staring at the stranger, quickly averting your eyes from his face.

"..A game?" you answered with wary. A game? Alone and at this hour? Your instinct begged you to run, yet your mind was curious about the proposal. If he had intentions to kill you, surely he wouldn't have waited this long.

"Yes. A game." he followed his words by taking the mysterious suit case. As his fingers opened it, your fear was ephemeral. A luminous stack of money glowing in your face. Two colourful cards beside it. It's definitely an upgrade from the knives and bombs you were thinking, yet it was still much too shady for your liking.

"..And the catch is?" you asked, not letting your hungry gaze falter. Practically drooling for the money.

"It's a simple game of ddjakji. If I lose, you get 100k won. You lose, I get 100k won." flashing a charming smile as he explained the rules. It only rang skeptical bells, but the money questioned all of your morals.

One game wouldn't hurt, no? You still had so much time to pass, why not indulge in a childrens game that could help your debt. Silence creeping back in before you answered.

"I'll play." your answer seems to amuse him, smirking as he picked up the papers, setting up the little childrens game.

"You start." handing you the red packet, you could almost scoff at how easy money this would be. You were great at this game as a child, easy money.

Thud.

A frown followed your disappointment, not being able to flip over the blue packet. Sadly underestimating the game, hazy childhood memories making it seem much easier. What a waste of money.

A smug smile was plastered on the strangers face as he saw your frustration. Gosh, you truly wanted to slap that perfect face. But you held back, giving him your packet to let him try. Hoping he would fail for your own sake.

But hopes simply are only hopes, a slap of his packet skillfully turning the other. You shouldn't have expected any less from a guy offering to the play the game, must you be so stupid to have accepted this? That irritating face of his doesn't help the irascible side you're showing either, not at all.

A sudden realization dawned on your head, you owed him money. A sheepish smile mixed in withe rage you felt, staring up at him. You were in serious debt, you couldn't afford something like this.

"No money," his tone indicated the expectation of the outcome, "That's fine. You can pay with your body."

Before your mind could rush to any conclusion, a sharp pain tugged your cheek, stumbling back to hold onto the bench. Your fingers coming up to graze at the damage, a small whine coming out. Did he really just slap you?

Eyelashes fluttering as you looked up, the facade of his enigmatic smile still on his face. Is this some type of sadist kink? It must be. Enjoyment stemming from your pain simply brought out a smile to him.

The money beside you was long forgotten, furry rummaging trough you as revenge clouded your mind. Huffing, you steadied yourself as you snatched back the packet. Letting your anger control you.

You wouldn't give up, you were now bound to bruise after you let yourself play more rounds, emotions controlling your actions. His hand ending up on your cheek each time.

"Seems like your confidence is gone." you didn't allow yourself to respond to his words, his fingers succeeding to flip the packet once more. How many times has it been now? You couldn't tell, the bruising of your right cheek being the only evidence of the torture you let yourself endure.

You sighed, pathetically closing your eyes to brace for the impact of his coarse hands. But instead, soft delicate skin brushed your skin, comforting the red patch of his hand on your face.

It was so quick, even as your eyes flung open you didn't catch im the act. His face not showing any indication of the action he pursued. No words were exchanged, mindlessly handing you the packet back as you furrowed your eyebrows.

What was this guys problem?

You couldn't even react when his hand pinned to the wall after another loss, rage fading away as he placed his head on your neck, the same feeling on your cheek now touching your neck.

Why was this so enjoyable? Gripping his well made hair as you whisper to him that only one kiss was allowed, sentence not coming to an end as he bit down suddenly. Breath hitching as you succumbed to his plump lips.

It's been so long without any contact, focusing so much on your job that you forgot your own needs. Embarrassingly rubbing your thighs together in need after he bit down harder.

"Where's all that fury gone to?" he murmured slyly, immediately noticing your actions. Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to care. Desperateness in your voice as they came out in whimpers. Whining for a stranger you wanted to strangle only a few moments ago.

"Oh my gosh, please." mutters of begs came out as his fingers grazed over your groin. The thin fabric doing nothing to cover the sensation of his fingertips.

If giving up your hot bath means the mans tongue swirls around your collarbone, you would do it again. Covering your eyes in bliss as you let your head lean back.

A gush of wind rudely interrupted your enjoyment, opening your eyes to be met with the open doors of the metro. A gasp, not out of pleasure, escaping your lips as you hurried over, pushing the man off of you as you ran. You couldn't afford to miss the last train, legs running without your mind comprehending it.

Only once you squeezed between the doors, panting as you rested your back against the seat, did you look back at him. Flashing a smirk at you with his disheveled hair, disappearing from your view as the train started to move.

A small blush painted your face as you realized what was done, suddenly remembering the marks your neck had from the interaction. Pulling up your shirt to cover them, regardless of the fact no one was around you.

It simply felt so surreal, not believing any memory your mind played of the incident. Even as your slick collected in your panties and dark bruises appeared on your neck and face, you didn't want to accept it. It wasn't until you put your hands in your pocket, did it dawn on you of what happened.

A small brown card was pulled out, numbers engraved into it, mocking you to call him. Sly bastard. You couldn't give him the joy of calling,  you wouldn't let him smirk again to see you call. Your ego has already been hurt enough, pride washed away.

Yet the fingers hurriedly tapping the number on your phone displayed a different story. Pressing the call button without your premission.

How you loathed him and his skilled tongue to make you act like this.

[blueberrymocha]

misc hc ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

┌──────────────────────────────────────┐

ׂ╰┈➤ fluff

➣ characters: gon, killua, kurapika, leorio, hisoka, illumi, chrollo

➣ a/n: slightly different post 🧐 might make a part 2

└──────────────────────┘

gon

• he’d get a dog after coming back to whale island. probably an outdoor one that he’d show around the island—keeping him occupied for days.

• in fact, i think he’d always wanted one but because he was waiting most of his childhood to become a hunter/find ging, he didn’t want to raise a pet just to immediately leave for years while he searched.

• you know when you’re mad at someone, so you don’t talk for days? he’s the kind of person who would practically force you to interact with him unintentionally.

• like he’d wake you up for breakfast or call you when he heads to the market to ask what you want—forgetting you’re supposed to be fighting.

killua

• he had restricted media access growing up, so now he loves binge watching shows and movies.

• of course, everything is better for him when you’re around, so he’d force you to watch them with him. the perfect afternoon for him is gathering some snacks and watching whatever for hours, and he might even let you be cuddly.

• he has a lot of twisted ideas about what love looks like. there would be moments where he feels like you don’t love him because you’re not as overbearing and controlling as kikyo/illumi.

kurapika

• finds the sound of breathing very soothing, especially his s/o’s—sometimes while you sleep he’ll just lie beside you, watching your chest rise and fall and listening to your breaths.

• he’s pretty tenderheaded, so if you ever try to brush his hair or run your fingers through it while it’s tangled, he’d ask you to stop.

• adding onto that; i feel like you’d have to be very, very close for him to eventually allow it. the action would just remind him too much of being a child and having his hair taken care of by his mother.

leorio

• loves jazz and oldies music + occasionally will sing or hum along (he’d do the thing where he sings one part and then points to you to finish the lyric) (please match his energy).

• he becomes very chill at night compared to his usual intensive personality. what that looks like is him speaking often but in a softer, ramble-type voice. he’d narrate his actions, occasionally talking to you as he basks in the quiet atmosphere.

• as for his actions, he’d do nightly chores around the house regardless of your insistence he doesn’t need to. he hates the prospect of being useless—something he feels often with his friends. so around you, he just really wants to help.

hisoka

• he has harmful and harmless magic tricks. he loves to show both off.

• none would be harmful to you, but you’d have to establish early on that you’re not okay with him pulling things like the flower petal trick in front of you (unless you are 🧐).

• if he had a pet, it’d be a bunny. and on that subject, he completely disapproves of animals in magic shows (thinks they’re cheap tricks).

illumi

• this man cannot cook to save his life. and can you blame him? if i had servants on servants, i wouldn’t pick up a spatula either.

• still, he hates not being able to do things, so he often finds himself asking you to teach him. with cooking, not everyone is made for it.. he is a perfect example. no matter how many lessons, how great the advice or recipe is; it won’t turn out if he’s in the kitchen.

• his behavior towards killua would be entirely different from how he treats you. he views you as his equal, not a puppet, and it’s not his job to change/mold you. so generally, he’s nowhere near as controlling or manipulative (though because it’s his nature, i wouldn’t rule it out).

chrollo

• the gentleman act he puts on for people like neon is probably how he’d act around his s/o a lot of the time. not to manipulate you, but just because he’s not used to showing his natural self around non-spiders, so he puts on a facade he knows you’d like.

• the longer you spend around him, the more you’d begin to notice his real personality creeping through. it’d start with small remarks and comments that he doesn’t tell others, almost like he’s on a reality tv show and you’re the audience. eventually, he’d become more comfortable with you seeing him while he’s emotional.

• he’d read all the books you read so you could have conversations on them. even leaving sticky notes at certain parts so he remembers to tell you about his initial reaction.

[valeisaslut]

undercover desire

⚢ pairing: Secret agent!Ellie Williams x Secret agent!Reader 𖥔 ݁ ˖

ෆ synopsis: you and Ellie are two agents that can’t stand each other—but now you're stuck on a mission together. Between dodging bullets, sneaking through secret tunnels, and coming up with ridiculous escape plans, things get… complicated. 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭑ word count: 3.7k 𖥔 ݁ ˖

♱ content: tried to do an enemies-to-lovers, VERY suggestive, absurd amount of sexual tension and banter, blood, swearing, guns, bombs, blablabla, unexpected softness in the middle of chaos, some morally questionable decisions, ending that’ll leave you screaming at the wall. 𖥔 ݁ ˖

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ Hey! BE READY FOR THIS ONEEEE. I noticed how much i wanted to write a agent movie style enemies to lovers so i gave it a try. If i see ya'll like this one, ill be happy to make a spicy pt.2 !!!!. This is one of my fist fics and english isn't my first language, so if there's some misspelling or writing mistakes I will be happy to receive constructive criticism <3 𖥔 ݁ ˖

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The first rule of an undercover mission was simple: trust no one.

The government gave your agency a clear order: infiltrate a secret Russian base and extract information about an experiment so dark that it wasn’t even spoken of aloud.

It was a suicide mission, meant only for the best. When you received the summons, you saw it as the greatest honor. You thought it would be yours—and yours alone.

Until they told you that you wouldn’t be doing it alone.

They assigned you a partner. A stranger. Not even from your team. From the very first moment, you knew this wouldn’t end well.

The only thing worse than infiltrating enemy territory was doing it with someone you didn’t know.

And the only thing worse than an enemy, was an enemy that made you feel things you shouldn’t.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The building reeked of stale tobacco and old coffee, and the flickering fluorescent light made the meeting room feel even colder and desolate. You were alone, but the air felt heavy, dense, as if the room carried the invisible echo of forgotten conversations. The only sound was your leather boot tapping impatiently against the floor.

You never liked working in pairs, much less having partners forced on you. Most were a nuisance, dead weight that only slowed down the mission. So when you were informed that you’d have support on this operation, you were already in a bad mood before even meeting the person.

Sitting at the edge of the table, arms crossed and eyes fixed on the open file your boss had left before stepping out, you gave it a glance without picking it up.

AGENT 086 - Active since June 2020. Birth: 23/04/04. Sex: Female. Place of birth: Boston, Massachusetts. Family: Unknown. Background: Unknown.

Her entire past and origins are unknown? God. Mysterious complex.

You rolled your eyes.

You kept reading the rest of the protocol data—physical characteristics, skills, expertise, and it only went on and on.

You quickly skimmed to the list of missions she had participated in. Quite a few. Advanced complexity for someone with so little time as an agent. However, you stopped reading by the third one. Your attention had shifted to the photo in the corner of the document.

Agency pictures were never flattering—yours wasn’t exactly your proudest moment. But Agent 086’s… you examined it carefully. Cold expression, pale skin with slight freckles, slim build, short auburn hair in a half updo, deep green eyes, photogenic… with pretty features…

The sharp sound of the door snapping shut pulled you from your thoughts.

You looked up. In person, she was even more intimidating—and attractive—than in the photo. Dressed entirely in black, she radiated a firm presence, devoid of any cordiality.

She walked in without hesitation, shutting the door with a sharp motion. No greeting, just a cutting glance scanning you head to toe.

“_____ ______.” You broke the silence, revealing your real name. Calling each other by numbers was tedious.

“Ellie Williams.”

What a voice.

Deep, sharp, cold—it sent a subtle shiver down your spine. But besides her voice, her height surprised you.

“You’re shorter than I expected.”

She raised her gaze, locking onto your eyes. Looks like she’s a fan of eye contact. Lucky me.

“And you talk more than I expected.”

You smirked. Well, at least she wasn’t boring.

“Let me guess. They forced you to work with me on this mission.”

Silence lingered for a few seconds as she stepped closer, scrutinizing you.

“No. I had a choice.”

That definitely caught your attention.

“And you chose me? What an honor.” You murmured with sarcasm, narrowing your eyes.

“No. I chose the mission. You just came with it.”

Your expression didn’t change, but something inside you tensed.

Fine. So this is how it’s gonna be. If we’re working together, we better know exactly where we stand.

You snapped the file shut with a flick of your wrist, raising an eyebrow slightly.

“Well, this is gonna be fun,” Ellie muttered, equally sarcastic.

“I’m not here to entertain you.” you replied in a neutral tone, standing up and grabbing your coat.

“What a relief. I thought we’d have to sing campfire songs together.” She let out a low chuckle. “Meeting point. Don’t be late.”

You ignored her and headed for the door. She watched as you left, your silhouette disappearing behind the door, not even glancing back at her.

“How charming,” she muttered under her breath.

This was going to be a long mission.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The air was cold and dry, carrying a faint scent of frozen earth and rusted metal. You adjusted the hood of your coat as you moved through the underbrush, your boots sinking into the snow with a muffled crunch. The meeting point was close, right at the edge of a clearing.

Ellie was already there.

Of course she was.

Leaning against a tree, arms crossed, rifle secured on her back—she looked like a statue carved in ice. She didn’t say anything when you arrived, just glanced up briefly to assess you before returning her gaze to the map in her hands.

“Late.” she muttered.

“One minute doesn’t count.”

“Everything counts.”

You huffed, dropping onto a nearby rock as you pulled your own map from your jacket.

“If you’re gonna correct me every second, this is going to be unbearable.”

“Then don’t talk.”

Silence.

The wind rustled through the trees, carrying the distant echo of patrols moving nearby. You were close to the base. Too close.

You glanced at Ellie from the corner of your eye. Her posture was perfect—straight back, relaxed shoulders, fingers light over the paper, as if she could absorb every detail with a single touch.

Efficient. Precise. For some reason, you found it irritating.

And very attractive.

But mostly irritating.

“We should start moving in ten minutes.” you said without looking up.

“And who exactly put you in charge?”

You lifted your gaze, locking onto her dark green eyes. You couldn’t let her set the pace without fighting back—especially not let her treat you like some rookie.

“You’re not special, Williams. This isn’t about you. So if you want to live, you’ll do as I say.”

Ellie didn’t even flinch. Instead, a smirk curled at the corner of her lips. Something about her expression put you on edge, but before you could react, she dropped her next words with calculated insolence.

“Whatever you say, princess.”

…Princess?

A chill ran down your spine. And it wasn’t from the cold.

You moved through the forest, your steps sinking into the snow. The silence between you wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it was dense. The moonlight barely managed to slip through the tree canopy, casting jagged shadows around you.

“You don’t seem like the team-player type.” you remarked, breaking the quiet. She was walking slightly ahead, but she didn’t turn around.

“I’m not. But this time I got stuck with you as punishment.”

You frowned, mildly offended.

She thinks she’s all that. Arrogant.

“Stuck with me as a punishment? I’m one of the best agents in the division.”

Still, after a few seconds, curiosity got the better of you.

“So…what did you do?”

Ellie let out a low, almost amused chuckle.

“Punched someone in a previous mission.”

“A target?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

That was when she finally turned to look at you, walking backwards with her hands in her pockets. Her expression remained cold, but there was a mischievous glint in her eyes, one that immediately put you on alert.

“Worried you’ll be the next?”

You tilted your head slightly, feigning confidence without breaking your stride.

“Worried? About you? Please, you have no idea wha—”

But you didn’t finish the sentence.

With a move as swift as it was precise, she lifted her leg and swept the ground with her foot. The treacherous loss of balance under your boots sent your body tilting dangerously forward. Only pure instinct kept you from landing face-first in the snow.

Ellie turned on her heels with satisfaction and resumed walking as if nothing had happened.

“One point for me.”

You clenched your jaw, shaking off the mild humiliation with a slow exhale.

“You’re a fucking headache.”

“What did you expect? A friendly partner?” She glanced at you from the corner of her eye, a barely-there smirk playing on her lips. “Sorry, no refunds.”

You huffed, but you couldn't stop the corner of your lips from curving up—just a little. You couldn’t make it that easy for her.

Unfortunately, the brief moments of peace didn’t last long.

A few meters ahead, the sound of branches snapping shattered the forest’s stillness. Both of you froze instantly. Your muscles tensed, and your hand instinctively reached for your weapon.

Ellie raised a finger, signaling for silence, her eyes locked in the direction of the noise. Without a sound, she moved through the trees with precise, effortless movements, as if the cold and snow didn’t affect her at all. You followed closely, adrenaline seeping into your veins, sharpening your senses.

A few more steps.

A shadow slipped through the undergrowth.

Your grip on your weapon tightened, ready to fire. But before you could react, Ellie vanished from your sight.

"What the…?!"

The gasp barely left your throat before you felt a sharp tug on your arm. In the blink of an eye, you were pulled back, your back pressed against her body. The warm breath of the agent brushed against your ear as she whispered.

"If you're gonna scream, at least do it for something more interesting."

Your lower stomach clenched in response. And not from fear.

The feeling of her body, the firm grip on your shoulders keeping you still, the subtle press of her leg against yours… everything felt too intense, too fast. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to ignore the sudden heat creeping in your core.

"I’m going to kill you." you whispered, your voice sharp as a blade.

"So mean."

The sound in the undergrowth returned. Both of you fell silent, the tension in the air shifting immediately. Ellie tilted her head, listening more closely. Slowly, she slid her hand to her rifle, her grip firm yet relaxed, like someone who has done this far too many times.

The shadow moved again. A couple of seconds of absolute tension and then…

A small deer emerged from the bushes, its hooves sinking into the snow as it sniffed the ground in search of food.

You exhaled, shoulders relaxing.

"Did you just hold me over a deer?"

"Shut up." Ellie secured her rifle with the soft whisper of metal sliding into place.

"I'm starting to think you just wanted an excuse to get close to me." You murmured with a sly smile, trying to regain some control over the situation.

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she stepped back just enough to look at you, her gaze traveling slowly over your face. When she spoke, her tone was teasing, but her voice was lower, more personal.

"Says the one whose face is all red."

You frowned, cursing her internally for pointing it out what you both knew was obvious.

Before you could respond, she was already back in mission mode, moving forwards with silent steps toward your next objective.

You shook your head, quickly pulling yourself together. There was no time for distractions. The enemy base was less than a kilometer away, and both of you had work to do.

Thirty minutes later, you reached the perimeter. The base loomed between the snow like an impenetrable fortress, its metallic structure illuminated by the sporadic flicker of security lights. You moved through the darkness like shadows, slipping through the undergrowth with absolute stealth.

From your position, you could see the patrols. Two guards at the main entrance, three more patrolling the fence. They moved in methodical patterns, their silhouettes barely visible in the dim light.

Beside you, Ellie scanned the structure with her sharp gaze. She climbed slightly up the stairway, her eyes assessing every possible access point.

"The entrance is too exposed." you whispered, eyes fixed on the guards.

"Good job, Sherlock." she murmured sarcastically. "Theres another option. The ventilation ducts at the back, but it’ll be tight."

You sighed, already anticipating the discomfort.

"I guess we’ll both fit."

She turned slightly, a sly smile playing on her lips.

"I guess." Her gaze drifted down your body, a flicker of amusement crossing her dark eyes. "I’ll disable the cameras. Get ready."

She didn’t wait for a response. While she slid towards a hidden electrical panel on the ground, you advanced towards the back of the base.

The duct was even tighter than you had imagined.

The cold metal pressed against your jacket as you crawled forwards, barely enough space to move. But the worst part wasn’t the claustrophobia—it was her.

Ellie was right behind you, her body practically flush against yours in the cramped space. Her breath matched your rhythm, and every tiny movement caused her to brush against you.

"Stop pushing." you whispered in a threatening tone.

"Stop going so slow." she retorted in the same tone.

You barely allowed yourself to let out a silent sigh before you felt Ellie’s breath ghost the skin of your neck.

"If I wasn’t so focused on the mission, I’d say you get nervous when I’m this close."

You closed your eyes for a second.

Patience. Patience. Control yourself.

You turned your head just enough to catch a glimpse of her in the dim light of the duct, meeting her arrogant smirk.

"If I wasn't in an enemy base, I’d make you swallow that smirk."

Ellie tilted her head, amused.

"Promises, promises..." she murmured playfully.

"Shut up!" you hissed, feeling the heat burning your skin.

No more words were exchanged. Minutes later, you both managed to slide out of the duct, landing gracefully in an empty hallway.

The red glow of alarm lights flickered on the walls, casting intermittent flashes over the concrete floor. The air smelled of metal and electricity. Remembering the map, this had to be the restricted zone.

"We have ten minutes before they check this corridor." you whispered.

"You keep watch. I’ll access the system."

Ellie moved quickly, pulling out her hacking device. You pressed against the wall, weapon raised, your senses sharp for any movement.

But you couldn’t help your gaze from drifting towards her.

The glow of the screen illuminated her focused expression, loose strands of auburn hair falling around her cheeks. Her breathing was steady, her fingers moving with surgical precision over the keyboard.

Efficient. Precise.

Incredibly attractive.

CONTROL YOURSELF.

"Stop looking at me like that." she murmured without looking up.

"Like what?" you smirked slightly, tilting your head.

Ellie turned just enough to capture you with her green eyed gaze.

"Like you can’t decide whether to kiss me or shoot me."

A low laugh slipped past your lips.

"Depends."

Her eyes narrowed, her expression hovering between mockery and provocation.

"If we survive, we can discuss it."

But the flirtation was cut short when a silent alarm flashed on the screen.

"Fuck." Ellie muttered.

"What?"

"They found us." she said, and the sound of hurried boots filled the corridor.

"Move!" you shouted, and both of you bolted just as gunfire erupted behind you.

The sound of shots ricocheted off the metal walls, deafening you as you ran through the narrow corridors. The echo of bullets striking made the ground tremble beneath your feet, and the acrid scent of burnt gunpowder was beginning to fill the air.

The red alarm light flickered frantically on the walls, casting distorted shadows that pulsed in sync with your desperate sprint. You felt the adrenaline burning through your veins, every muscle in your body tense and ready to react.

The rifle in your right hand felt even lighter than usual, as if it was an extension of yourself—a survival tool as natural as your own breath. Behind you, Ellie moved with the precision of a predator, her breathing steady, her gaze locked onto the enemies' movements.

Then, they appeared.

A group of guards stormed into the hallway, blocking the only exit. Their rifles were raised in seconds, ready to fire.

Both of you lunged towards the right wall, sliding in perfect synchronization. You turned and fired without hesitation. One of your bullets struck a soldier's leg, the second hit his shoulder. The man fell to the ground with a muffled cry, his rifle slipping from his hands.

Before you could aim again, a shadow moved beside you. Ellie, fast as lightning, threw a small pocket knife. The blade cut through the air and sank into the second guard’s throat before he could even react.

A wet gurgle. Blood splattered onto the floor, dark under the flashing lights.

No time to think about that.

"To the left!" you ordered, pushing her to a side door.

Ellie didn't hesitate. In one swift motion, she pulled a small explosive from her jacket and tossed it down the hallway without looking back.

The explosion roared through the air, a wave of heat slamming into your backs as you slipped into the adjacent room. The blast echoed off the walls, and thick smoke began seeping through the half-open door, clouding the vision of the approaching soldiers.

"We don’t have much time." you whispered, frowning.

The room was small, an improvised storage area with metal shelves and boxes stacked to the ceiling. The air smelled of dust and aging plastic. At first glance, there was no exit except for a single ventilation duct in the ceiling. Not a viable option.

"Any ideas?" she murmured, running her tongue over her dry lips.

You didn’t respond immediately. Your eyes scanned the room quickly, assessing every object, every possibility. Your mind illuminated a crucial detail, and your gaze locked onto her with determination.

"Do you trust me?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"No."

"What a shame."

You didn’t give her time to react. Grabbing her wrist, you dragged her quickly to the back of the storage room, where a large metal shelf leaned against the wall. With calculated effort, you pushed it aside, revealing a hidden opening.

A passage. She blinked in surprise.

"Since when did you know this was here?"

You shrugged indifferently.

"Wouldn’t be a secret mission without a few surprises."

You saw it on the map. You just wanted to add a little drama.

The voices and hurried footsteps on the other side of the door reminded you that there was no time for questions. Both of you slipped into the passage just as the storage room door burst open.

The tunnel was narrow and cramped, probably a maintenance passage used to discreetly move supplies. The air inside was heavy, thick with the scent of dampness and rusted metal. The floor creaked slightly beneath your boots, and every step seemed amplified in the silence.

The corridor stretched on for a few meters until, suddenly, you both stopped short.

A group of armed men patrolled the area just ahead. Your heartbeat pounded in your temples. There was no time to turn back, and you couldn’t engage them without being discovered.

Then, without a warning, Ellie leaned in and whispered in your ear.

"Just go along with it."

You barely had time to react before she pushed you against the wall, trapping you between her body and the cold metal surface. Before you could protest, her hand slid up to your face, dangerously close.

"If they find us, we're dead," she murmured, a barely visible smirk playing on her lips. "So… might as well give them something else to think about."

The footsteps approached.

You felt the warmth of her body against yours, the way her breathing slowed, controlled. The guards turned the corner, their flashlights illuminating the passage.

Ellie was quick. In one fluid motion, she dragged her lips along your neck, her warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. Her fingers tightened at your waist, pressing just the right amount to make your body appear relaxed–even though inside everything in you screamed the opposite of relaxed.

The closest guard frowned at the sight of you both, but instead of raising his weapon, he scoffed in annoyance.

"Seriously?" he said in Russian. "Fucking underground workers..."

Another guard chuckled.

"Let them have their fun."

With a disinterested wave, the men kept walking, leaving the two of you trapped in the same position. Several seconds passed before the echo of their footsteps faded.

But Ellie didn’t move.

And neither did you.

There was something charged in the air between you, something not even the imminent danger could dispel.

Finally, she tilted her head until her lips were mere inches from yours.

"I got a little too into the role" she murmured with a smirk, her voice laced with feigned innocence.

Your pulse was still racing in your chest, adrenaline mingling with something darker, something more dangerous. But you weren’t going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that. Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to stay composed.

"You should win an oscar for your performance." you replied with feigned indifference, keeping your gaze locked forward.

But she didn’t step away immediately. She stayed there, close—too close—as if savoring every second of your discomfort. Her eyes traced your face with a mischievous glint, her smirk barely curving at the edges of her lips. Then, finally, she stepped back, like a predator choosing to delay its attack.

"Maybe we should practice more often." she murmured, her tone dripping with provocation.

You let out a sigh, pretending to be exasperated, even though the truth was that every cell in your body still burned with the sensation of her touch.

"Shut up and keep walking."

You moved forward, forcing yourself to focus on the mission. But it was useless. Her presence lingered on your skin like an invisible tattoo—the pressure of her fingers, the warmth of her breath, the electric tension in the brush of your bodies.

And the worst part was knowing that if you dared to turn around, you’d find her watching you with that damn smug smile.

This mission was going to kill you.

Or worse… make you wish it never ends.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

DAYUMMMM I REALLY ENJOYED WRITING THIS

PLEASE LMK IF YOU WANT A PT.2 AND I'LL HAPILLY WRITE IT

Hope ya'll enjoyed and I'm SUPER grateful for every repost, like or share you wanna give!!! :D

(sorry again if there's any spelling or writing mistake)

[shoups32]

Dude I hate the whole trope of red hood/Jason going back to batman after learning how sad batman is without him

Like it makes no fucking sense for his character

I have the belief that Jason knew batman was hurt when he died and he knew batman cared for him but it is the fact that he doesn't care *enough*. He didn't care enough to stop the one person who killed Jason and really hurt so many of the other robins all because he didn't want the joker to "win" even though letting him live and antagonize the robins and affect your life forever is letting him win.

I understand his whole no killing rule but there is a point where he needs to break it or at least let someone else kill Joker. The joker has actually ruined almost every single one of the robins lives in one way or another.

Also back on the Jason would forgive batman thing, it makes even less sense because in most media Jason hates the fact that Jason made more robins after him. Almost every robin was seen as a replacement of him. Tim was basically a copy paste of Jason and in some comics that is why Batman liked him so much. With Steph she was basically a sit in to make Tim upset until she was no longer needed and basically fired for the smallest fucking reason. With Damian Batman just pisses me off entirely (this part is based off the comics and not the movie because the animated movies because those were just super stereotypical and most stuff from those have been retconned for what I know). Damian is seen as a younger version of batman, which makes sense, the kid is his son but holy fuck does batman annoy me in this. I know Damian being a robin was more of a dick's thing than batman's thing but batman is still his dad. Batman was more than capable of stopping him from being a robin and trying to get him actual help. Actually Batman was capable of doing that with all the robins.

I know the robins chose to be robins but he was more than capable of just saying no and getting them (AND HIMSELF) proper therapy. Using the excuse of "Oh batman is also neurodivergent and has a lot of issues!" is so fucking stupid. I get he has his issues but you would think he would learn from his mistakes and even possibly get therapy after the second robin. He even could have still had them do robin work and get better but he didn't. He used them as child soldiers then got rid of them when they were no longer needed.

All this being said, as much as I hate batman he is very well written (well has the potential to be) but I wish people stopped seeing him letting the robins fight as an act of good and acting like batman can't be blamed for what happened to the robins.

[problematic-polls]

Hello. I recently visited your presumably fine city, and I have to say, I did not enjoy myself.

I am reminded of a quote from AA (non active): "Principles before personalities."

Seems everywhere I went I was harassed, discriminated against, belittled, kicked out, yes sexually harassed, etc, apparently based on the characteristics of my physical appearance, as I gave no indication of political creed, religious affiliation, life philosophy, personal history, or otherwise. Like come on guys, my fashion sense is not THAT bad.

For example, a barista I interacted with saw fit to yell "no" in my face as I was attempting to order. Like fine, if you feel the need to publicly and preemptively cock block me by loudly stating your negative sexual preference towards my person, and thereby impress friends and bystanders, while letting that fella or lady you truly are smitten with know just how loyal a girl you really can be... I can't stop you. I'm sure they're great. I'm just trying to get some coffee.

Ok ok ok, so now, you (the reader) share a knowing look with the apparently psychic iindividual who tells you what to think and how to act (they obviously know about these things), who then makes a simple gesture accusing me of pedophilia and boom. Game, set, and match. It's over. Why even continue reading?

Not that either you believe what you are saying, but who gives a fuck at this point right? It's just that the look on both your faces reminds me of a smug version of the look my dog gets when he is licking his own butt.

Funny story-up until recently, I worked with an actual convicted child rapist. The genuine article. And let me tell you, he was having a fucking field day with this shit. It's ok, get it all out buddy. That's fine right? He's a part of the movement, and everyone gets something. Well, almost everyone lol;) ;)

Yes sir, it's a real pander fest out there. At an intersection, there is an environmentalist guy and a guy with the unnecessarily large and noisy truck. Given our recent political decision making process, you would think they would be staring daggers, yelling, celebratory coal rolling, etc. No absolutely not. Dudes are falling all over themselves in a mad scramble of trans political endearment. It's so simple!! All we have to do is find the one guy in society who isn't a completely gullible dumbfuck and shit all over him and poof. All problems resolved. Transgressions forgiven. A new age.

I mean, it is somewhat interesting how each of you has an individually unique rationalization for the exact same , identical patterns of hateful and abusive behavior. The tree hugger and the coal roller. Beautiful snowflakes all.

Just kidding, it's actually really easy to just place you in a cliched typology and reverse engineer your justification for participating in fascism lite (tm) based on a presumable self conception. I don't really give a fuck what lies you tell yourself in the mirror. But as your Bob Dylan said, it ain't me babe.

Point being, having superceded the political, as well as all conventional rules of civilized conduct, and or general local culture in your fair city, The Movement (tm) (ha) or whatever the fuck you call it, is the dominant social reality and governing social principle.

AND YOU CANNOT TALK ABOUT IT

Which is fine. You do you. But please cease to labor under the illusion that you still have any translatable values, of any kind, whatsoever. It's not that open harassment or discrimination or whatever, particularly when perpetrated by a group of people in a position of social power, is wrong, per se, right? I mean, it would be interesting to hear any of you attempt to justify yourselves, but unfortunately YOU CANNOT TALK ABOUT IT. It is forbidden. I get it. Its like fight club. That's fair. White guys have made some pretty decent movies.

Let's say you dropped $100k on a liberal arts degree. Here's a chance to exercise some critical thinking in the face of a mass social movement founded on cruelty and open hatred, which is kind of the basic purpose of such a degree. Nope. Let's say it was history. What does this say about your chosen field of study? Hide all evidence right? Or sociology. Beyond your purview. Philosophy. When in Rome? Congratulations.

A lot I could say, but, regarding the preposterous idea that this is jall ust a some organic, spontaneously occurring culture phenomenon (rationalization received from a Christian): 1. Easily forensically disprovable, I'm not even particularly well studied and I know exactly who your master is, where they work, and why, and 2. Shockingly naive, given the power dynamics of the situation, sorry no way are your overlords leaving that kind of money on the table.

I don't really feel like elaborating further other than to say that because you are unable to speak or "go back and forth with me", whatever it is that you are participating in is, on its face, complete bullshit, as you, by both structural and philosophical necessity, lack individual moral and intellectual agency, which is, in fact, and in spite of what you may believe (ask your benevolent dictator), the root of all collective historical human failure. As well as the principle rationale for a liberal arts education. But fuck it right?

So, you spent 100k on education, only to turn around and will yourself into intellectual and moral slavery, and become the object of some corporate marketing psychologist's vanity project? May I wipe my ass with that diploma?

In closing, I don't want to go over the top here and start some kind of song of myself, oh no, but having been treated like human garbage, I feel compelled to state:

In terms of adverse personal experience, I soloed goddamn Annapurna in the snow season, lived to tell the tale, and this is the shit I come back to. You are all useful idiots and your behavior is an insult to the human condition.

Why me? Honestly, because out of everyone in at least the entire western United States apparently, you could literally put a gun to my head and I would not get on whatever bullshit from the literal church of corporate Satan you all are being spoon fed. Which I guess is some sort of crime.

On behalf of myself, humanity, Jesus, the Buddha, the better angels of our nature, all the great ones who came before, rock-'n'-roll, etc, Bellingham, YOUR SCENE SUCKS.

I will enjoy the cold comfort of inner freedom and a righteous cause while watching you abandon any semblance of a coherent value system and continue to lick fascist corporate ass for a bump of cocaine (which I don't think is very punk rock:( )

In solidarity, an actual, working, breathing, locally available, and highly DMable, high 7-ish, cultural dissident.

And, let the bad faith Cassandra treatment begin.

(Unless you are feeling spry big fella. Wanna earn some points???)

UPDATE: You guys, you guys wait!!! I thought of a really good one. The hand gesture thing-that is soooo Hitler

Update to Update: WOW so many responses. I am not able to give each one the time and attention it deserves, so here I will make a brief general reply before sharing something (indeed) very special with everyone.

Briefly perusing these responses, they seemed mostly attempts and bad faith gaslighting (as predicted) along with a sprinkling of salty literary criticism. I, at least, personally, found the gaslighting amusing, because I said you would do it, and you still did it anyway. Lol.

But really, everyone here, myself included, knows that besides "though shalt not speak," like the second rule in the playbook (which apparently descended from Shiva on a ray of light or some shit) is "Just keep doing it," so really this discussion is basically pointless, other than to point out that based on your actions, you are now complicit in an ongoing attempt to manufacture a historical falsehood about our society as it exists today, which, to me, is somewhat mind-blowing and honestly something of a privilege to witness firsthand. Now on to the important stuff.

Driving home today, listening to some predictably tinny, cacaphonous, and emotionally shallow corporate music, it occurred to me: When all this first I was actually pretty afraid. I remember first commenting on this pattern of organized behavior I got so scared I had like a four day flashback, you know the terrors, worries that someone was going come kidnap me and bury me alive somewhere because the shit I talked was so unprecedentedly nasty there was no way it could be allowed to stand, etc.(Which honestly is a pretty scary thought, because just based on the responses I received here it is clear that no one is gonna come looking). But you know, this went on, and the ol shoe never dropped.

I could only speculate that I must have been the subject of some kind of Job-like wager, to see whether I could walk the razors edge between hysteria, due to the gaslighting, on the one hand, and some form of violence, due to the anger at the abusive treatment, on the other. And it went on, and on, and on.

Today I realized that due to recent developments, and in small part because of this post, the terms of the wager have changed (which is good, because turns out, I can do this shit indefinitely, but where's the fun in that?). I am no longer the subject of this wager. No, I am now a party to it.

So, what or who (you may ask), is now then the new subject? What is the nature of this new wager?

The subject, my friends, is you. My fellow citizens. The unwashed (stereotype) masses. The people of Bellingham. The human race.

And what is in question? I guess on my side would be what is known as traditional humanism. Although I am no paragon and did not choose this, this tradition would generally focus on the value of things like honesty, courage, dignity, perseverance, kindness, love etc. which in my opinion are inescapable, and due to my own experiences with hardship, indispensable, and woe be to him who has not felt that light touch some corner of his immortal soul.

The counterargument (I suppose) could (for my purposes) be described as anti-humanist, at least in the traditional sense. I believe that this position holds that the idealization of these traditional virtues breeds discontent and indeed mass violence and war, as humans are inherently somewhat petty, cruel, violent, etc, Overly harmonious, idealized group identities simply displace(?) sublimate (?) (my bad) these tendencies outward, in the form of group based hatred and violence.

Relevant questions: Realistically, are humans capable of self government? Are ideals good? Is the project of the enlightenment practical or desirable?

I would argue that life is basically not worth living in the anti-humanist society, as well as point out that in the more moderate "European" view, this is why we have things like rock climbing or whatever other stupid shit you guys do. Traditional forms of collective action are still necessary, and you can't solve many problems "herding cats."

To some extent this is a matter of taste, but I guess the real question is whether your corporate overlords can succeed in birthing the anti-humanist society and ,indeed, become bigger than Jesus.

You guys aren't helping my case much, but regardless this is the fundamental reality of what is happening right here, right now, plain as day.

I'll end with a plea for collegiately, as I have presented the arguments collegially, mainly out of fear for my personal safety, although we both know, if one thing is true about people from my tradition, it's that we fucking LOVE to party.

The ball is obviously not in my court, as I am alone here in a literal sea of sycophantic assholes, with nothing to defend myself but my rapacious wit, endearing humor, and roguish good looks.

It is ironic though. Me, an actual pariah, and the girl who has it all, arguing across each other. Like, I cannot fucking BELIEVE I am defending you people.

here's that long fucking ask y'all wanted

[magicandmundane]

Ooooo this one looks really fun! Thanks @fangirlshenanigans04

What's the origin of your blog title? I just decided I wanted a tumblr blog one day and didn’t know what to call it, so I kid you not, I just searched “tumblr blog title ideas” and some generator gave me “magicandtorment” and I almost vibed with it, then I swapped out torment for mundane and here we are almost 3 years later lol

OTP(s) + Shipname: Rayllum and Percabeth, hands down. There’s definitely others (Kanera, Tagatha, Sokeefe, etc), but those are the main two for me.

Favorite color: blue! same prev

Favorite game: I am by no means a gamer, but I’m always down for Cards Against Humanity or Uno and I’ve dabbled in DND

Song stuck in your head: Amparito Roca (because I was just playing it in wind ensemble) and Mr. Brightside (because I played it for pep band on Saturday lol)

Weirdest habit/trait? Honestly prev, I’m the same way. I mutter to myself a lot, especially when reading. I give commentary all day if you just listen lol

Hobbies: writing! I have this 400-some page word doc that I’ve been working on for a couple years just for fun. I’ve also been trying to get into embroidery and as a kid I made things out of duct tape all the time. I still make a couple duct tape flowers every year for my mom on Mother’s Day because she’s allergic to real flowers.

If you work, what's your profession? Currently working on my bachelor’s in mechanical engineering (I graduate next spring which is INSANE). Sometimes I work as an assistant in one of my professors’ labs, and the last few summers I’ve been a lifeguard.

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? Idk but I think being a pilot would be really cool, ooooooo or maybe a professional swimmer.

Something you're good at: swimming! And also math

Something you're bad at: running lol

Something you love: my family and friends (including you all, my lovely mutuals), they’re the best

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: ask me about Olympic swimming, anything engineering related, my favorite books and movies, and I will yap for hours

Something you hate: uhhhhh politics lol (yes I know it’s important but that doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it)

Something you collect: do books count? I don’t have rare books or anything like that, just… a bunch of books I’ve read or want to read lol

Something you forget: ahaha how would I know? I’m forgetting it

What's your love language? physical touch and gift-giving

Favorite movie/show: THE BAD BATCH has a chokehold on me omg, also The Dragon Prince and Scrubs. My favorite movies are Cinderella (1950 and 2015) and Return of the Jedi (I feel like I’m forgetting a couple 😅)

Favorite food: ice cream! Also scones and this dish my mom makes whenever I’m home called hamburger and spinach

Favorite animal: dogs 🐶

What were you like as a child? I swam competitively for 10 years and loved it. I also enjoyed arts and crafts like the duct tape mentioned above, and I liked school, too. And reading! May Bird and the Ever After was the first book series I really fell in love with. But I was also kind of a loner and a floater socially and it bothered me until I got to high school, really became comfortable in my own skin, and realized just how little I cared about drama (my friends in elementary school had no chill, hence my loner tendencies thereafter)

Favorite subject at school? Math and music

Least favorite subject: ugh PE for sure. I got teased for not knowing the rules of like basketball and soccer, and most of the teachers I had kinda sucked lol

What's your best character trait? I’d say I’m really loyal and kind, but I feel like my friends would be better at answering this lol

What's your worst character trait? I’m pretty easygoing, but once I get angry, I’m angry. Also same prev, I think I’ve gotten a little hyper independent.

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be? Either I would not have agreed to do a competition later this month or I would be studying abroad with my two best friends (engineering makes study abroad hard, hence why I’m here and not there)

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? Martha (Patsy) Jefferson Randolph! Thomas Jefferson’s oldest daughter is one of my favorite historical figures thanks to America’s First Daughter by Stephanie Dray and Laura Kamoie. She’s very fascinating and quietly powerful. Even if you aren’t reading her story through historical fiction, just looking at the basic facts of what she went through and what she’s done is incredible. She was so resilient, and I really admire her.

No pressure tags:

@mandaloriandragontrainer @twinsunstars @jorolle @here-comes-the-moose @weirdponytail @clonebrainrot @maidenvault @vixies-art @not-so-mundane-after-all @loveution @thatartiststudios @glbtrx @konmaao3 and anyone else who wants to join!

Get to know your mutuals!

What's the origin of your blog title? When I was in middle school, someone told me "you dress so goth, but your personality is so happy. You're like a really cheerful grim reaper. A joyful soul collector." And that's been my username for most everything ever since!

OTP(s) + Shipname: Oooh, right now it's Jayvik, and tbh I can't think of another one, this is one of the first ships I've been really really into tbh. Other dynamics focused on my blog have actually been more platonic, like Irondad

Favorite color: Red!

Favorite game: Dungeons and Dragons! Both as a player, and DM!

Song stuck in your head: The Challenge - EPIC

Weirdest habit/trait? I download thousands of still frames of tv shows that I love so I can make memes out of them. But I have to sift through and delete all the pictures that are blurry or unnecessary, which takes hours. I think it's super fun because I'm autistic and really enjoy sorting stuff lol

Hobbies: Writing, playing DnD, making memes, and hanging out with my friends!

If you work, what's your profession? Not so much a profession lol, I work at a toy store. It's a part time job while I'm in college, studying to be a radiologist!

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? Realistically? Radiologist. But ANY job I wish? Professional DM or Professional DnD player, like the people on Dropout or Critical Role haha

Something you're good at: I'm good at writing stories! I can write them well and write things that make people feel deep emotions, and I like that.

Something you're bad at: Recognizing when someone doesn't want help haha. I tend to try and fix things or help people when they just want to vent, and it ends up frustrating for both of us.

Something you love: I love stories. Any kind, I love so so many

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: My favorite shows and stories, my dnd campaigns and characters, my stories and ideas

Something you hate: Fascism. Bigotry. Willful ignorance. Fearmongering. Propaganda.

Something you collect: Dice!! I'm a dice goblin for sure haha

Something you forget: I often forget chores unfortunately

What's your love language? Physical touch and acts of service

Favorite movie/show: Ooh right now it's definitely Arcane haha

Favorite food: Sushi!

Favorite animal: Cats!

What were you like as a child? In a word? Unwell haha. I'm a good bit better now, still struggling with a lot, but better than I used to do

Favorite subject at school? English, I was always good at that class

Least favorite subject: Chemistry. I hate that shit so much lol

What's your best character trait? I think that I'm kind and willing to stand up for others

What's your worst character trait? I can be disrespectful to some types of spirituality unfortunately. It just doesn't make logical sense to me. I have two friends that are fully convinced that a cursed doll gave some youtuber testicular cancer. And I just can't see the logic or critical thought in that

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be? Mmm. All of fascism shit is definitely damaging my calm so I'd love to change that specifically

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? Harry Allen. Google him he's a badass transgender cowboy

Tag as as many mutuals as you want!!

@sb-essebi @glitternightingale @blatterpussbunnyfromhell @captainhollowstories @kydrogendragon @misforvendetta @poetryinmotion-author @bocularteletheric @kai-ovillager @thatoneneuvichiliauthor @4amarcanethoughts @alexspearsxoxo @kotonni @buckybucananbarnes @kakesuwolf @martybaker @patheticjayce @sleepycrowhours @aixabi @up-the-bracket @snoopyviktor @emdashflower @humanshapedstress @hellsalore @juuzousmom @softandslow @fangirlshenanigans04 @batmans-attic @lvrstrsh @bluemoyai @tearexxwrites @bodyofvvater @lifeandeathepub @areesespiece @lancesblueazaleas @monaisme @milkywaysipper @carmendyy @tseecka @heazueken @tophat-69 @velocitychroma @prjctdiva @gremlinofchaos @ourvectorviktor @kenjinx @jxmimac @gh0stedvhampir @voxconcordia @arcaneheraldslawyer

ngl I tried to tag ALL my mutuals that I have, but this was how many it allowed me to do before it made me stop lol so here's as many as I could fit!

[swan2swan]

Thinking about Wish again (listened to the song) and how insanely neutered the film was.

Remember when killing off Elsa's parents was a huge emotional impact? Remember when Eugene got stabbed? When Wreck-It-Ralph had...take your pick?

What happened to that?

Disney had their gumption back for a minute. Then they--wait, never mind, I figured it out, it's YOU AGAIN.

Right there.

Or a few minutes earlier, rather. When Elsa saves the empty castle and city from being destroyed by the terrible wave created from the destruction of her family's evil legacy. That was it. That, right there.

The sanitization. The reluctance to do anything huge. The moment whatever focus group, whatever executive, looked at the screeing and said "No, take out the destroyed buildings, we can't have a downer ending in this film! The kids will be sad at the sight of buildings falling!", and from that moment on, it was nothing but trash.

[blood-in-retroflex]

google: how does one tell people I don't celebrate without pretending to be jewish or a johovas witness?

[bmpmp3]

the really beautiful landscape/skyscape animation in makoto shinkai's works tends to be the big thing i see focused on and that is understandable and deserved like the weather and lighting effects are unREAL but i do think we should also appreciate how absolute insane the plotlines of his original movies get. at least two movies with in universe catastrophes with major ecological implications. the guns and explosions. theres that one movie i havent seen yet with the guy who turns into a chair (?)

[happi-tree]

soooooo i don't have much new to post for wipweds this week so i thought i'd grab a little something from my archives! a ton more people were curious about The Raven and The Dove than i expected, so here's a little excerpt from my amphibia school for good and evil au! in which marcy learns a tiny bit of archery and sasha has some Feelings about it 💗💚

[jewishcissiekj]

I think we need to gaslight Dave Filoni into thinking Barriss only ever appeared in AOTC or that she died in the Battle of Geonosis so he'll stay the fuck away from her and never execute whatever his plans were for her

[aliceundrground]

So I went on a ramble in the tags, for anyone interested lol

I am calling for a total and complete ban on tiktok pop psychology until we can figure out what the hell is going on

[sundayinthcpark]

actually thought what do you do when you can’t tell if someone is flirting or not. especially when it’s your friend. and you don’t rlly know if you want them to be flirting or not because you’re not rlly sure what the fuck you want out of life forget out of them.

[apathyfairy]

someone who is good at reading too much into nothing pls analyze my dream

[spencerreidenjoyer]

addicted to you | spencer reid x reader

Spencer isn’t inclined to be affectionate with you. He’s a socially awkward germaphobe, and you’re perfectly fine with it. However, being three months into your relationship, you can’t help but want more. Once Spencer gets a taste, he wants more too. A lot more.

part 1 | part 2 - insatiable

wc: 6.1k, rating: explicit/18+

tags/warnings: established relationship, first times, virgin!spencer, early seasons spencer, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering praise kink, morning wood, morning sex, sex in unconventional places (like, not in public but not the bed lol), cunnilingus, creampie, implied multiple orgasms

a/n: no excuse for this insane fic but i was strangely inspired by a post i saw on twitter that i wanted to put a lighthearted (and horny) spin on. i definitely felt crazy writing this and i feel crazy posting this now so i sure hope you enjoy this insanity! (p.s you can also find this fic on ao3!)

You don’t mind that Spencer isn’t touchy. You understand, with Spencer being a germaphobe and a little socially awkward, that he isn’t inclined to kisses on the cheek or holding your hand. You’ve only been dating for three months, and he’s already getting better at doing these things, which makes your heart sing. 

Spencer is sweet, willing to do whatever it takes to make you happy. He used to shy away from your touch, but he’s gotten more comfortable with you. He lets you hold his hand when you’re out on a date, or he’ll kiss you chastely out in public. He lets you drape yourself over him when you’re sitting on the couch together watching a show, his arm around your waist to pull you in close. 

While you can understand Spencer’s hesitance towards public displays of affection, due to his awkwardness and anxieties about germs, you’re surprised he hasn’t initiated anything more in the privacy of his apartment (or yours). You’re starting to itch for it, something more, your attraction to Spencer Reid simply too overwhelming for it to simply be sweet and innocent anymore. Your body craves him desperately, because he’s so lovely and so fucking handsome. You’ve caught yourself staring at his hands more than once.

Tonight, you decide you’ll get what you want. You’re going to fuck Spencer Reid.

With your head buried in his shoulder during movie night, your hand runs down his body, getting dangerously close to his crotch – he jumps up off the couch, almost comedic, and stares at you like your touch had burned him. He looks positively freaked out. 

“Spencer,” you say, very confused that he’s not into this. What kind of man doesn’t like his girlfriend initiating sex? Hell, what kind of man doesn’t like sex? 

“I just–” Spencer pauses, like he’s struggling to find the words. “I can’t. Not right now, I–”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You assure him. “We don’t have to. Ever, if that’s what you want.”

His eyes widen again. “No! I want to, just– It’s difficult, right now.”

You cock your head slightly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Spencer frowns slightly, seeming to know that talking about it is the most rational thing to do, but it’s not like that makes him want to do it. “Well, I– I’ve never done it before.”

Your mouth falls open, just a little, and you look up at him. While you don’t mean to judge, it certainly isn’t surprising. Spencer was fourteen when he was starting university, and his general awkward demeanour and extreme nerdiness would likely rule out any sexual encounters for him during his time in college. Spencer’s line of work would clearly make it difficult for him to maintain a relationship – you definitely lucked out with getting to date him – and he’s too much of a softie for one night stands. So, Spencer Reid being a virgin at twenty-seven definitely checks out.

“That’s okay,” you say softly. “It’s totally normal.”

Spencer’s lips press into a thin line. “Well, you know it took me a while to get used to being affectionate with you, so I think–”

“Being intimate with someone else is going to be a hurdle you’ll need time to cross, too?” 

Spencer looks up at you, eyes wet, looking at you like you’ve read him like an open book. He whispers, “Yeah.”

“That’s okay,” you repeat, even though you’re trying to come to terms with the fact that you’re not going to fuck Spencer Reid tonight. “I’ll– We’ll take it slow, if you want to try.”

“Yes, please.” He has a small smile on his lips as he looks up at you. “I– We could try doing something tonight, too. I just– I wasn’t expecting it earlier. I’m sorry for pushing you off like that.”

You shake your head, reassuring him that you aren’t offended by it by any means. Then, you ask, “You’re sure you want to try? Tonight?”

Spencer nods, as he reaches for your hand. He holds it gently, resting it on his thigh. “Yeah. I haven’t– It’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone, but I want to, with you.”

You lean in to kiss his cheek gently. “I’m glad you trust me.”

His eyes are soft and syrupy when he meets your gaze. “Of course I trust you.”

You squeeze Spencer’s thigh before pressing your lips to his, the familiarity of kissing Spencer making you both ease up a little more. Your kiss is gentle, sweet, just like every other kiss you've shared, but you let your hand slide up his thigh as you kiss him, and you can feel Spencer tensing up under your touch. You squeeze his thigh to reassure him, and you feel Spencer wriggle underneath where you're leaning your body weight on him to loosen up. 

Your hand skirts over his crotch, a hardness under your palm that makes you feel somewhat proud of yourself. Spencer’s breathing is heavy as he keeps kissing you, and keeps letting you touch him. You think he’s so cute. You just want to make him feel good. 

You push the waistband of his sweats down, tugging him out of his pants. His cock is the same shade of red as his cheeks, his shyness turning you on extremely. 

He doesn’t look down at himself, where you’re holding him – instead, his eyes are intently focused on your face. You don’t push him about it, instead leaning forward to kiss him as you start to stroke his cock. 

This time, it feels desperate. Spencer kisses you with more fervour, like a fire’s been lit within him, the pleasure running through his veins almost like liquid courage as he kisses you deeply. You’re more than happy to be doing this, letting Spencer lick into your mouth while you jerk him off. You appreciate the weight of him in your hand, imagining him inside of you – but perhaps you’re getting ahead of yourself. 

“You can touch me, Spence,” you say, in between Spencer kissing you fervently. His hands have been cupping your face, but otherwise he seems awkward with them. You pull back slightly, and while it’s adorable that he’s still holding your face sweetly, you drag his hands down to your chest, in the oversized t-shirt you’d stolen from Spencer’s drawer. “Like this.”

Spencer’s large hands cup your breasts through the shirt perfectly. He squeezes tentatively. You bite your lip as his palms brush over your nipples, as he manhandles you just a little. It’s more force than you’re used to from Spencer, kneading and squeezing and feeling you, and that makes your head spin. 

Daringly, Spencer’s hands slip under your shirt, as he leans back in to kiss you. You feel his calloused hands on your skin as he feels you up, making you shudder. His touch isn’t demanding nor pushy, simply exploratory as he feels your soft skin under his fingertips. 

Your arousal is pumping through your system, Spencer’s gentle submissiveness like a drug you can’t kick. The more you touch him, the more he reacts; touching you more, whimpering and gasping against your lips, into your neck.

“Come on, baby,” you coo in his ear, your hand speeding up on Spencer’s hardness. He’s leaking pathetically, wet in your palm, and he squirms underneath you. 

“I’m– It’s too–” Spencer cuts himself off with a helpless whine, like he can’t control himself. His hands grip your waist tight. “Please–”

“Mm,” you hum sympathetically, while you thoroughly enjoy seeing Spencer like this. “Wanna cum like this, baby?”

Spencer’s breathing hard. He can’t get the words out, but he shakes his head. You slow your strokes, to an excruciating pressure on his length. “No? Then tell me, Spence.”

“Inside you,” He gasps, eyes squeezed shut. 

You absolutely should not let Spencer fuck you for the first time on his couch, but he’s desperate and your resolve is steadily crumbling. “You– You’re sure?”

“Please,” Spencer gasps, his eyes pleading with you helplessly.

So, you pull your hand back and push your shorts off instead. Your panties come off in one fell swoop, and you sit back onto the couch with your legs spread. Spencer’s eyes are wide and his lips are parted as he looks at you, takes the sight of you in. 

Then he’s like a baby deer, standing up and fumbling to get his sweatpants off. You can’t help but giggle at his awkward movements, in his excitement and eagerness to get to touch you, to get to fuck you. He’s quick to get between your legs, his hardness nudging at your entrance already. 

“Mm, not yet, Spence,” you hum. You reach for his hand, taking his wrist as you guide his fingers to your clit. “You know what to do, right?”

He turns his wrist so his fingers – God, his fingers – are poised almost elegantly above your clit. He presses down and starts to circle his fingers against you. You gasp.

“Thought you didn’t– oh– Didn’t have much experience,” you gasp. You hold onto Spencer’s forearm tight, throwing your head back as Spencer pleasures you.

Spencer huffs out a laugh. “I might not be experienced, but I’m not a prude– I remember the… stuff I’ve seen. Eidetic memory and all.”

“Stuff,” you laugh. “I’m sure the porn you’ve watched must’ve helped, darling.”

He slips his fingers into your wetness with an unsurprising ease, considering how turned on you are by him. He hits spots inside you you’ve never thought were possible to reach, but they make electricity zip up your spine. You moan as he crooks his fingers into you, rocking them in and out with a wet squelch.

Spencer grins at you. “You were saying?”

“You’re a cocky bastard, you know that?” you huff, your tone teetering between awfully turned on and mildly annoyed. 

“You like it,” Spencer says, assured of himself, and you smile, because you really do.

“My love,” you moan, as Spencer presses his fingers into you, back out. “You should try fucking me now.”

Spencer’s fingers are still inside of you, and his eyes are wide as he looks up at you. “You think so?”

You smile at him. “If you think you’re up for it.”

You mourn the loss of Spencer’s fingers, but as he’s mumbling to himself and lining his cock up with your entrance, you can only coo at how adorable you find all of this. And how turned on you are, but that’s more than obvious to the both of you by now. 

He looks to you, like he’s looking for reassurance. You nod. Even in the silence, he’s gotten the confidence to push his cock into you, the thickness of his tip breaching your hole. You gasp as you stretch around him, your cunt making space for him as he slides in, excruciatingly slow. “Spencer–”

Spencer lets out a whine as your tight heat engulfs him, his length swallowed up by you as he sinks deeper into you. “Oh, my God–”

“Just like that, baby,” you moan, your leg hooking around Spencer’s leg to coax him forward, closer to you. “Fuck.”

“Do I– When should I–” Spencer gasps, unable to form a coherent sentence with the pleasure swimming through his bloodstream. 

“You can start moving when you don’t feel like you’re going to blow your load if you breathe the wrong way,” you joke, but Spencer does seriously look like he’s going to finish any second. “Hey. Deep breaths, baby.”

Spencer’s brows are furrowed and his eyes are squeezed shut as he breathes in hard, in through his nose and out through his mouth. He’d told you to do that when he’d helped you through a panic attack one time, and while you feel bad that he feels so nervous about all this, it’s extremely amusing to you right now. 

“Look at me,” you say, trying your best not to laugh. “You’re doing great, love.”

Spencer pulls his lower lip between his teeth, his eyes looking to you for validation. 

“So good for me, darling,” you coo, your hand on his hip, while your thumb draws little circles into his skin. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” Spencer shudders, voice high-pitched and a little breathy. “I– You feel really good.”

“Yeah? It’ll feel even better when you start moving, sweetheart,” you hum. “You think you can do that for me? Slow, out then back in.”

Spencer whimpers, nodding, and he takes another deep breath in. His hands on your waist, he pulls out halfway before pressing back into you, and he moans so loudly your ears ring. “So– So tight, you–”

“That’s good, yeah? Feels good?” you coo. “Come on, baby. More.”

Spencer rests one of his arms on the back of the couch, holding himself steady and getting him that much closer to you. He starts to thrust in and out, starting off slow as he finds a rhythm. 

His thrusts are erratic, but you’re so wildly turned on and it still feels amazing, because it’s Spencer. 

Spencer is frantic, desperate, bracing himself against the couch as he fucks into you. Maybe pounding into you is a better phrase to use, because he’s fucking you like a madman, till the couch is squeaking under both your weight. You cry out, feeling Spencer drilling into you – and it feels so good.

“Oh, God,” Spencer whines. “You– It’s so good, oh–”

“Yeah, baby?” You rock your hips along with him, burying Spencer deeper into you. You clench so each thrust is a little tighter, and each time Spencer fucks into you, he moans a little louder. 

Amidst Spencer’s whines and pretty noises, you watch his face morph with pleasure, feeling assured that he’s enjoying this as much as you are. In fact, he’s probably enjoying this more. As you’re lost in your train of thought, admiring Spencer’s gorgeous face, you’re startled when you feel Spencer’s load inside of you, hot and slick. His hips flush against your ass, Spencer shudders as he rides out his orgasm, body trembling from the force of his pleasure.

“Oh, Spence,” you giggle, a little dizzy from how turned on you are, from watching Spencer lose himself just like that. You reach up to cup his face, your thumb gentle on his cheek. “Was that good?”

“Oh,” Spencer mumbles, seemingly brought back to reality. He pulls back, taking the sight of you in. “I’m– I’m good, I’m sorry–”

“Don’t be,” you say. “You’re so cute. It’s so hot.”

“I mean, you are too, but– But you haven’t–”

“You wanna make it up to me, then?” You smile, gentle and warm and Spencer nods like he’s eager to please you. 

You kiss him while he pulls out, replacing the thickness of his cock with two fingers, which fit into you easily. Like before, Spencer presses his fingers into you, slick and wet and squelchy. Spencer curls them and fingerfucks you like a pro, like he’s done this a hundred times. With his face pressed into your shoulder and your arms slung around his neck, Spencer fucks you on his fingers until your toes are curling and you’re screaming his name. You cry out as you orgasm, shaking as Spencer fucks you through it. 

You’re almost embarrassed when you finally come back to your senses, no longer reeling from the intensity of your orgasm. Spencer is kissing your jawline sweetly, his clean hand stroking your hair.

“Hey,” Spencer says softly, somehow knowing you needed to hear him. He parrots you from earlier, “Was– Was that good?”

“So good, my love,” you murmur into his shoulder. Then, after a quiet moment, “I thought you needed some time to get comfortable with being intimate.” 

Spencer pauses for a moment, like he’s pondering it, before he says, “I know. But for you, I think I’d do anything.”

That’s all Spencer manages to get out before you kiss him again. It’s tender and sweet, the intensity behind your kiss no longer lustful but full of adoration and love. You feel like you could sob right now, but you manage to hold it back.

Spencer gets into the shower with you, which you’re surprised by, but his hands are soft on your body as he cleans you up. You shampoo his hair for him, even though he has to lean forward a little so you can reach. 

You end up falling asleep in Spencer’s bed, curled up in his arms. 

You don’t dream at night, but when you wake up with a hardness poking against your thigh and Spencer’s gentle snoring in your ear, you think you might be. 

In your dreariness, you reach behind you, the angular sharpness of Spencer’s hip bone under your palm. He’s warm, cuddled up against you, and the tickling of his breath on your neck tells you that this isn’t a dream. 

“Spence,” you whisper, shaking him slightly. You watch as he blinks himself awake, drowsy as he comes to focus on your face. “Hey.”

“Good morning,” Spencer says, his voice rough with disuse. “What’s up?”

“You are,” you smile, a little too pleased, as your hand snakes down toward his crotch. 

He squeaks at the contact, your soft hand on his hardness, “Um, sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” you laugh. “Had a good dream?”

He pulls his lower lip between his teeth. “About you, yeah.”

“Wanna tell me about it?” you goad, wiggling your eyebrows. 

Spencer’s cheeks somehow get even redder than they already were, but he shakes his head. “I want– I want to have sex, though.”

Your eyes widen. “Now?”

“Do you have the time for it?” He asks, sheepish. “I– I want to fuck you again.”

Your cheeks flush at Spencer’s sudden crudeness. You think about what Spencer could’ve possibly dreamt up, wonder how Spencer could possibly be confident enough to tell you straight up that he wants to fuck you. That phrase probably hadn’t been in Spencer’s lexicon until about twelve hours ago – while Spencer was smart – a literal genius – his innocence was completely understandable. 

“We have time,” you exhale, looking back into his eyes after looking at the clock. “I only have to be at the office in a couple of hours.”

“Good,” Spencer says, leaning in to kiss down your neck. His hands are frisky already, slipping underneath your shirt. Spencer splays his hands over your stomach, before reaching up to cup your breasts in his hands. 

“You like touching me like this, don’t you, baby?” you chuckle breathlessly, already feeling weak in the knees from the way Spencer holds you. “Mm, I’m surprised.”

“Why is that?” His words are slightly muffled against your skin, too busy kissing you to make himself sound coherent. His hands are rough against the softness of your skin, and you moan from the way he’s handling you.

“Yesterday you couldn’t even tell me you wanted to fuck,” you croon, thoroughly pleased. “And now you’re touching me like you know what you’re doing. It’s so hot.”

“I– I just can’t get enough of you,” Spencer admits, his earnest words turning you on extremely.

“Now you’re just horny,” you laugh, feeling Spencer’s hand slide over your underwear.

“Mm, you’re so wet right now too,” Spencer murmurs in your ear, his warm breath and raspy voice sending a shiver down your spine. Where’d he learn to talk like that? You squeeze your thighs together, but that doesn’t stop Spencer from feeling the wetness between your legs, soaking through your panties. 

“All for you, baby,” you gasp, as Spencer’s fingers slip past the band of your underwear, deftly stroking your clit. “Spencer–”

“Can I fuck you? Please?” He pleads, breathy, his hips already rutting forward against your ass. 

His eagerness makes your head spin, his sudden confidence in the realm of sex surprising – maybe it’s cockiness, but you still find that stupidly attractive – but it is certainly welcomed. 

“Yes, Spence, please,” you shudder, the word yes leaving your lips enough for Spencer to pull your underwear down, over the swell of your ass. He fumbles with his own boxers for a moment, but soon you feel his hard, leaking tip pressed to your butt. He rocks his hips back and forth, desperately seeking whatever friction he can get. 

Lost in his own pleasure, Spencer is quick to slide his cock between your legs, the wetness from your cunt making it easy for him to rut into the tight, slick space. Like this, his length rubs up against you, the head of his cock nudging at your clit with every thrust of his hips. It feels primal, Spencer so far gone that he isn’t even fucking you proper, content with the slick, tight space between your thighs and your pussy. You wonder if you need to tell him, but Spencer’s groan in your ear is shaky as his tip catches on your hole.

His arms wrapped around you, both of you moan as Spencer finally sinks his cock into you. He slides in too easily, so easily you almost think he’d hadn’t meant to do it. Maybe he hadn’t, but you’d gotten there in the end, where you both need to be; Spencer buried inside of you.

It’s so different from yesterday, the angle when he presses into you from behind so exhilarating, so good. He’s just as desperate as last night, but there’s a sort of reckless confidence in his movements. His hands slide under your shirt to grab at your tits again, rocking his hips while he practically gropes you. It’s so hot your head spins. You feel like you’re going to explode.

“Spencer!” You cry out, your voice ripping its way out of your throat. Pleasure surges through you like electricity, Spencer’s thick cock hitting all the right spots from this angle. His eager desperation turns you on to no end, as you let him take you from behind. While you weren’t expecting lazy, morning sex at all, the intensity and desperation he fucks you with right now makes you think you could get used to this.

Spencer’s whine has your head spinning. His hips don’t slow, more rhythmic than yesterday but still as needy. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“Yeah?” You coo breathlessly. You’re so fucking turned on, and every time Spencer drives his hips into you you can hear how wet you really are. “You’re doing so good for me, Spence, fucking me so good.”

“You like it? Is it good?” Spencer gasps, always so eager to please you.

“So good,” you moan. You’re still sore from last night, but the pleasure Spencer is giving you right now overrides all of that. You would love for him to wake you up like this every day. “I’m close, baby.”

“Oh,” Spencer says, like he’s surprised you’re already getting off on this, on him– “What do you need me to do?”

“Just keep going, Spence,” you gasp. “Keep fucking me just like this.”

Spencer’s hum is breathy, high-pitched. Somehow, his grip on you gets tighter, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. The force he fucks you with is so wildly arousing. You’re so enamoured, and so turned on.

Your orgasm creeps up on you, slow and steady as it bubbles up inside of you. You squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the dirty, rough way Spencer fucks you, and then you feel his soft lips on your neck again. He isn’t properly kissing you – more like slobbering all over your neck, but you cry out as he does so, thighs pressing together as you reach your orgasm. You’re shaking through it, clenching around Spencer as you come, and Spencer’s gasping as your tight pussy pushes Spencer over the edge too. You feel his come inside of you, cock twitching as his load spurts hot and heavy into your cunt. You sob, feeling Spencer slow his thrusts as he rides out his orgasm.

“Holy shit,” you say, your voice coming out ragged and hoarse. You feel like a different woman, being fucked ruthlessly by your boyfriend in his bed for the first time. You can’t get enough. 

“I love you,” Spencer says quietly, earnest. It makes you shudder. 

“You’re crazy,” you laugh, taken aback at how Spencer’s returned to his gentle, soft self. “I love you too, you madman.”

“I can’t resist you,” he murmurs in your ear, the vibrations of his raspy morning voice almost soothing.

You turn around to face him, Spencer still holding you in his arms. He smiles warmly at you, and you lean in to kiss him. “You’re so cute.”

“Wanna go again?” he asks, somewhat timid. 

Your eyes widen. You try to hide your grin, but it doesn’t work. “Someone’s desperate, huh?”

Spencer flushes a gorgeous red. “Maybe a little?”

“I have to get ready for work,” you sigh, actually a little bummed that you can't spend all day fucking Spencer. “Maybe tonight?”

“Okay,” Spencer smiles. “Want me to drive you back to yours?”

You grin. “You’re the best!”

Work is relatively uneventful, numbers and Excel spreadsheets; and all you can think about is Spencer’s rapid change in demeanour over the last twelve hours, his innocence torn away by you, leaving behind a horny, insatiable man. You’re kind of proud of yourself for that. 

So, you can’t blame yourself for being excited to get back to Spencer’s. Lately, you’ve been staying over more, your apartment simply a place to house your wardrobe. Maybe you’ll talk to Spencer about living together.

“Hey, Spence,” you say, pleased when Spencer kisses you as he greets you at the door. 

Even with all the probable germs on you from being out all day, Spencer’s surprisingly clingy, hands on your waist as he stumbles in behind you, as you set the takeout you’d brought over on his dining table. Spencer leans in behind you, kissing your cheek then down your neck.

“Hey, what’s with you, baby?” you chuckle, very much enjoying the way Spencer’s hands slide down your waist to your hips, grabbing the meat of your thighs through your dress pants.

“Missed you,” Spencer answers simply, but even you can tell there’s something in his voice that implies he’s looking for something more. 

“I’m sorry I had to leave you alone the whole day, my love. I’m sure you must’ve found something to busy yourself with, though?” You hum, teasing. You have a good idea of where this is going.

Spencer’s quiet for a moment, so you turn to look at him. His lips are pressed into a thin line, looking almost nervous, and his cheeks are flushed red. Spencer finally presses his body close to yours, and you feel it–

“Spence,” you grin, “Someone’s happy to see me.”

“Thought about it– Thought about you all day,” Spencer mumbles. “You promised.”

“What did I promise, baby?” you egg him on, eager to hear him say it, even though you definitely know what he’s going to ask. 

“That we would do it again tonight,” he answers, but you shoot him a look. “You said we would have sex again tonight.”

“Twice in one day? I don’t know, baby,” you pretend to sound disinterested.

Spencer looks at you with wide eyes. Respectful as ever, he clears his throat. “Please? If you’re tired we don’t have to, but I really want to. Only if you want to, though. This involves both of us, I don’t want to impose–”

You giggle, reaching to hold his hands. “God, you’re perfect.”

“What–?” Spencer barely gets the word out before you’re kissing him. He’s happy to do so, holding your face gently, matching your energy perfectly. You feel his cock pressing against you. 

“I turned you into a sex fiend,” you laugh, between kissing him, “And you’re still thinking about making sure I’m into it too.”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Spencer’s brows furrow slightly, like he can’t comprehend how he could be into it if you weren’t too. “And I- I’m not a sex fiend, I just–”

Smiling, you whisper sultrily, “I think you should take me right here, baby.”

“Oh–” You cut Spencer off with another kiss, and he squeaks as you reach for his half-hard cock through his sweatpants. You’re positively delighted that Spencer’s like this, for you.

Spencer kisses you deeply, leaning forward until the small of your back hits the edge of the table. His hands coming up to your ass, he lifts you up, getting you to lay back on the table. You gasp, as Spencer kisses down the column of your neck, his hands making quick work of the buttons of your dress shirt. His lips are soft against your skin, at the swell of your breasts. Your shirt gets pushed off your shoulders. You feel him unhook your bra with a surprising ease, tossed aside, and then his hands are grabbing your tits like they were made for him. His thumbs brush over your nipples, a little forceful as he kneads at you, and your head is spinning. 

“Spencer,” you moan, as he kisses down your stomach, unbuttoning your pants to reveal your soaked-through underwear. He smiles up at you, his messy mop of hair a lovely sight. 

“Can I…?” Spencer’s big brown eyes dart down to where you’re soaked, then back up at you.

Your eyes widen. “Yes. If you want to.”

Spencer grins. “Of course I want to.”

His fingers are gentle on your hips as he pulls your panties off, wasting no time in spreading your legs so he can get between them. Your eyes are wide as you watch him, feeling kind of self-conscious over how eager he is to be doing this. Knelt between your thighs, he lifts one of your legs and swings them over his shoulder. You can feel his stubble on the soft skin of your inner thigh, his nose nudging against your clit. His tongue comes up, wet and hot, as he tastes you for the first time. “Spencer–”

He presses his face impossibly closer, more urgent in eating you out. You watch as his eyes flutter shut, his jaw flexing as his tongue works on you, and you’re trembling already. Spencer’s extremely good with his mouth, and you’re surprised at how good he’s making you feel, considering he likely hasn’t done this before. The sounds of his mouth are wet and squelchy and so obscene, and you would feel almost embarrassed, were it not for how into this Spencer seems to be too, 

With your hands in his hair, you cry out when Spencer’s tongue circles your swollen clit, jolts of pleasure sent through your body. You can’t think straight when Spencer’s face is buried between your legs, eating you out like he was made for this. All you can think about is how gifted Spencer is with his tongue, and how you wish you could do this all night. 

“Please, love,” you moan, “Need you to fuck me.”

Spencer hums in approval, the vibrations between your legs making you jump. He makes a little wet slurping noise before he comes back up, and you feel your cunt throb when he looks up at you with his lovely, wide brown eyes, and his chin wet and messy with your slick. Spencer wipes his face with the back of his hand, and you’re so turned on you might just explode.

“I love you,” you tell him earnestly. “I think this is the craziest thing I’ve ever done. I love you.”

“What is? Having sex on my dinner table?” Spencer quips, as he sets your legs down and stands back up. He has a cocky grin plastered on his face. 

You roll your eyes playfully. “First time for everything, right?”

Spencer nods, smiling, before he leans forward to kiss you sweetly. You watch as he pulls his sweatpants down, his cock bobbing up, red and angry and rock hard. You feel yourself salivating at the sight, but decide that he needs to fuck you right now.

“Spencer,” you mewl, feeling breathless as you watch him wrap a hand around himself, stroking his length. Concentration is written all over his face and it makes you want to kiss him. 

“I’ve been wanting to do this all day,” Spencer says, pressing his cock forward until he’s lined up with your entrance. It’s so tantalising, the way the blunt head of his cock threatens to slip into you. You’re so wet and so loose for him, and you need him inside of you now.

You gasp when he finally pushes in, his thick cock splitting you in half as he slides into you. The pressure is so perfect, the slow draw of his hips as he takes care not to rush, wanting to take care of you. Even with all this still being new for Spencer, he still focuses on you, puts you first. You’re not sure if you’re swooning over him, or the way his cock fits inside you perfectly.

You don’t need to encourage him to start moving. He rocks his hips slowly, somehow already familiar with your body, and makes you feel like you could explode with pleasure. 

He leans forward, pressing his body to yours as he kisses you. Like this, Spencer presses into you deeper, fucks you slow and deep and loving. The edge of the table is absolutely digging into your back, but you don’t care when every sense of yours is filled with Spencer, getting to taste and touch and hear him. You taste yourself on his tongue, hear the sloppy way he thrusts into you, your skin burning wherever he’s pressed up against you. 

Burying his face in your neck, Spencer pants in your ear, hot and heavy as he fucks you, giving you everything you need. Your head is swimming with arousal, as Spencer presses you against the table and fucks you like his life depends on it. “You feel so good, fuck, so good–”

“I’m so close, baby,” you cry out, the pace absolutely ruthless as Spencer fucks you. You didn’t think his stamina would be this good, considering your boyfriend’s lanky stature and abhorrence towards exercise. You certainly wouldn’t mind doing this kind of cardio with him more often. “Please, Spence–”

“Let go, I– I’m here for you,” Spencer stumbles over his words, but he’s so sweet that you’re losing yourself, your orgasm crashing into you like a tidal wave. You scream as you reach your peak, your toes curling while Spencer fucks you through it, shaking as pleasure and arousal zips through your body. Spencer’s hips stutter as the tightness of your pussy has him reeling, too close too quickly. 

While his hips keep a steady pace, you’re feeling loopy as Spencer continues to fuck you. You hold his head close to you, kissing his forehead as you murmur, “You’re so hot, Spence. Made me come so quickly, and you held out for me? So good for me, baby. Are you close?”

Spencer whines, a pitiful noise in the back of his throat. “Please, I’m so close, need you–”

“I’m right here, baby,” you coo, stroking his sweat-matted hair sweetly. You’re so enamoured with him. “Gonna cum inside me, Spence? Fill me up with your–”

You don’t even get to finish your dirty talk before Spencer is moaning, coming inside of you. It feels like he’s released so much inside of you, hot and messy as he fucks you through his own high. His chest heaves as he pants, trembling as he reels from the intensity of his orgasm. Spencer’s hips slow to a stop, and he mouths at your neck mindlessly until he seems to get his bearings back. You imagine you must look a mess, sweat and spit all over you, your makeup from a long day of work likely running by now. 

Spencer gets up off of you, so both of you have space to catch your breaths. You feel Spencer slip out of you with a slick ‘pop’, and feel his release trickle out of you just moments after. You stifle a quiet moan, but when you look up at Spencer, his eyes couldn’t possibly leave the sight between your legs. His lips are parted slightly, pupils blown wide, as he watches you drip with his release. You feel Spencer’s cock, resting against your inner thigh, twitch slightly. 

“Woah there, cowboy,” you chuckle, out of breath. “Give me a minute to recover.”

His eyes practically twinkle when they dart up to look at you. He’s like an excited puppy as he asks, “Again?”

You shake your head, laughing, and sit up to kiss Spencer again. “Maybe we could try something new?”

Spencer grins, nodding eagerly. It definitely seems like he’s down for whatever, as long as it’s with you.