#just wrote down a list of things i want to make sure to keep in mind

[kangaracha]

wouldn't expect a lot of queenmaker until ~christmas time, which is not what i would like to say but my body is just telling me to ease up after november and i'm hitting that pre-holiday slump so we're just chillin. we're playing a game for the first time in six months. we're doing a puzzle. my eyes are really blurry rn so i think i'll go to bed.

[kuiinncedes]

anbdfhjdhdbdjdhd

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

What the fuck it cut off my tags, whatever

I do deserve a treat :( Thank you <3

sorry for ranting, also sorry half the rant was cut off

this is the single worst way i've ever read to describe an erection, frank herbert

[seraphdreams]

JJK MEN AS YOUR PERSONAL TRAINER. | TOJI FUSHIGURO, GOJO SATORU, CHOSO KAMO, SUGURU GETO.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — synopsis. having private sessions with the men prove to be an experience. what type of trainer are each of them?

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — cw. smut, edging, degradation, praise, dry humping, fellatio, switch!choso, overstimulation, emo boy!choso, cervix fucking, unprotected sex, they are all whores. mdni <3

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 ��� word count. 3.1k

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! oh em gee ?? headcanon format ? yup! i originally wrote this as a little joke since i started pilates but then my mind wandered and it wasn’t a joke anymore. other than that, ino was supposed to be on the list but he couldn’t make it :( something about being busy .. regardless, comment / reblog if u like ! it would make my day, thank u ♡

TOJI — THE CORRUPT TRAINER.

there must’ve been a clear distinction as to why your trainer only allowed sessions from 9pm up until midnight, but your desperation when it came to relentlessly searching for a personal trainer didn’t leave enough room in your mind to think deeper about the true nature of its shadiness. all you needed was a spotter, and toji’s services claimed to provide just that.

and what happens when you combine height, a monsterous build, superhuman stamina, and a handsome face? well, you get toji fushiguro in all his abhorrent glory.

his chiseled body virtually doubled your frame with biceps the size of your head, shoulders wide enough to emphasize the narrowness of his waist, and veins crawling up his limbs even when the muscles weren’t flexed. a mean looking man with a scar over his mouth like some battered veteran. whatever he got into during the day was truly nothing you’d want to take part in.

inviting him over to your home gym was one thing, but it was looking to be another when his “help” took the form of sensuality; his large hands running along the back of your thighs when he’d seemingly fold you over with your legs on either side of your head for warm-up stretches, or even the occasional groping of your ass when it came down to squats, he was barely doing his job, what you paid a hefty price for, and yet you loved every bit of it.

“c’mon, you can take more of it, cant’cha?” toji’s gruff voice goads, watching the way your tiny cunt struggles with swallowing the head of his wrist-thick, bulbous cock. you were put in the awkward position of doggy, yet another one of his sessions derailed and he deemed this new workout could help you build up some much needed endurance. you were going to need it if you planned on keeping him around.

it surely seems that way when you’re practically running from the pleasure he pistons into you, thick cock kissing your cervix with each skillful, angled thrust of his. large hands were wrapped around your waist, keeping you in place for him — because if there was one thing your personal trainer was strict about, it was form. and your form was beyond perfect.

“‘s just too good.” you mindlessly whined, attempting your hardest to grip onto the thin cushion of the yoga mat beneath you. toji lets out a deep scoff at your vocables, driving his hips against your ass once more, this time a bit sharper with a hint of fervor as its aftertaste. “and you’ve been training with me for how long now?” his question came out in a mocking tone as his lips stretched wide in a crooked smile, that of a statement rather than a query.

“t-two weeks .. fuck.” you respond, mind going hazy from the gaining intensity of his potent movements. the feeling was all too much, it came as no surprise when pleasure began to surge from your spine to coil at your core, building up that high you've been chasing for the past hour, that grumpy ol’ toji continued to rip away from you.

pressing a heavy hand to the small of your back, he arches you forward, groaning at the sight of how swiftly you position yourself for him, your face pushed against the mat.

maybe his training has paid off. . “two weeks and you’re still struggling to take my cock?” he pulled your hips back against his, leaving you defenseless in the ministrations. “guess i need to train this pretty little hole of yours more often.”

with the end of his sentence, he snakes his thick arm around your waist, the pad of his thumb finding your achy, puffy clit, rubbing the nub in tight, harsh circles. if your moans weren’t already loud enough, you were sure the whole town could hear you by now, crying out his name like no tomorrow while your legs trembled with your impending orgasm. “‘m cumming! so hard!” you cry, drooling into the mat as he fucks you through your orgasm.

it wasn’t until soon after that he finally reached his high, sending hot and sticky ropes of cum into your womb. not once had a session with toji ended with him shooting his cum in a more responsible way, with a rubber. it was clear to you since the very first time you allowed his fantasies to come to fruition — toji didn’t believe in condoms.

your body went lax as soon as he pulled out, and he tucked his cock back into his pants, hovering over your sad frame with an amused smirk on his scarred lips.

“good session. i expect $800 wired to my account by the mornin’.”

GOJO — THE ENABLING TRAINER.

when you first showed up to the private room of your local gym in search of your assigned instructor for the night a.k.a “the strongest,” you were expecting some big burly man with a cocky attitude — someone you didn’t particularly get along with. but much to your surprise, instead, he was handsome; fluffy white strands of hair that strayed upwards and a million dollar smile with just the charisma, the charm to back it up.

gojo stood over 6 feet tall, and although he was on the lankier side, there was no denying the lean muscles that peeked through his skintight black top. he smiled, throwing a loose cloth over his broad shoulders.

“you ready to get started?”

your eyes greedily took him in, scanning over the finer details of his gorgeous build. it wasn’t until about thirty seconds of daydreaming about what he’d look like unclothed that you finally gave him a response in the form of a nod and hum.

of course satoru wasn’t an idiot, he could tell from how dazed you were during the first few minutes of instruction that you were focused on something else, not that he minds though, it’s truly an honor that a girl as pretty as you is capable of fawning over him, just as many others do.

after having to shake your thoughts whenever it came to watching him take a large swig from his water, droplets of the liquid streaming down his chin to graze his prominent adam's apple, or the soft appraises he’d coo when you finally got the hang of his workouts, it was the end of yet another vigorous session with him, sweat dripping from your chin down to your chest that was scantily clad in a baby pink sports bra. you held on taut to your water bottle as satoru carried conversation with you.

“you improved so much in just an hour. i’m proud.”

his praises barely reached your ears before you looked at him with adoration glossed over those pretty eyes — there was something about him that you just couldn’t get over, but you knew you needed him badly. you dabbed perspiration from your forehead with a matching pink towel, soft smile forming on your doll-like features.

“thank you,”

he nods his head slightly before starting, “you seemed a bit distracted today, though. something on your mind?” his query pulled you from your gojo-induced hypnosis, causing you to blink away the embarrassment pooling up within you. were you truly that obvious?

“hm? there’s nothing, i’m fine,” your reply came out low and sheepish while your eyes struggled to find anywhere else to settle besides those bright baby blues. he took it upon himself to inch closer to you, studying your features until you gasped softly once your back hit the wall. “nothing?” he asks for confirmation, and you affirm. “nothing.”

“all you gotta do is use your words if you need me.”

gojo’s hands found their way at your thighs, creeping them upwards underneath the thin spandex of your shorts. his touch felt hot against your skin, each brush of his fingertips along the expanse of your inner thigh causing shivers to trickle down your spine while he watched with mirth at your pitiful attempt to keep your whines at bay.

“i think .. i think i need you.”

with that, satoru smirked and lifted your leg up just enough so that it fell over his arm. his lips met yours with a salacious that only the whorest of whores could possess, skilled tongue angling its way inside your mouth to gently clash with yours in the sweetest harmony that had you buckling underneath the frame of his body.

it must’ve been a spur of the moment when you found yourself rutting your hips up in search for satoru’s, a pitchy moan sounded into the kiss when he matches your ministrations, grinding his sweatpant clad and half-hard, leaking length into the seat of your shorts; creating the most delicious sensation as the tip nudged against your clit.

his free hand took purchase at your cheek, his thumb rubbing ever so gently against the heated skin while his movements increased in greediness. your mind’s too hazy to make out anything besides the pleasure and build up of your orgasm — so much so, that it pulled you back to reality as soon as it hit, your sloppy kisses coating gojo’s soft lips in a thin sheen and the seat of your shorts sopping wet from the release of your high.

yet, gojo kept at it until he too came to a falter, cumming an ample amount in his sweats while groaning deep into your mouth. he separated from the kiss for just a split second before he took it upon him to goad,

“we can add 30 more minutes and i’ll give you more than just a taste.”

CHOSO — THE INTIMIDATING TRAINER.

a pierced tongue, some tattoos running along both veined arms, and a deep, monotonous voice were a recipe for your timidness when it came to the kamo, who you’d invited over for your very first home training session. it didn’t help that he was on the quieter side, responding to whatever small talk you’d make with one or two words while his intense eyes would follow every move you’d make as he’d help with your form.

he truly wasn’t a bad guy, or so you thought. even now, during your session with him, his praises were appropriate, he wasn’t too handsy nor did he seem to have any ill intent; being with him felt surprisingly comfortable and refreshing just as the crisp, cold water you two were currently drinking, made fresh from your refrigerator’s tap.

“was it too intense?” he’d asked in regard to the exercises you had just completed. intense was an understatement, you didn’t know how you could move your body in such ways that you did, which wouldn’t have been possible without his expertise. choso set the chilled glass of water down onto your coffee table, feeling coy from sitting on your couch, something he’d never done even with his regulars, and in response, you shook your head at the query, settling yourself by his side.

there was truly no denying how absolutely stunning you were, like some angelic being brought to him from the heavens up above in the form of the sweetest thing he’s ever met. he was afraid that if he blinked too hard, you’d vanish.

the more his eyes focused on your lips when you talked, how you’d massage the sore muscles of your thighs and even let out cute whines because of the fact, the more he found it harder to contain his thoughts, rapidfire in his mind. those perverted thoughts that only some horny teenager could have, not a well off adult like him.

yet, it wasn’t enough to stop him from getting hard in his sweats, a dark grey patch spreading at the crotch, what he’d hoped you’d mistake as spilt water.

“shit,” with that of a husky sigh, he ran his hand over his face, tinges of pink battering the tattooed scar across his nose and cheeks. “i’m sorry.”

oblivious to his situation, you were quick to express your inquiry. “sorry about wh- oh.” the head of his cock practically peeked through the barrier of the hem of his sweats while he made a futile effort to cover himself with one of your pillows once you had realized.

he looked cute like that, embarrassed by something so natural that it even spurred on your arousal, the thought of him getting worked up over you doing virtually nothing. “i-it’s okay.. i can help you if you want.” you offer, moving your position to sit between his thighs.

violet hued eyes widened from your newfound boldness, the clearing of his throat being the only true source of sound he could make in that moment.

“nah, nah. it’s-“ before he could inch out the words, you were drawing featherlight circles at his tip over the fabric, causing his breath to hitch and resolve to falter.

choso wasn’t someone who’d allow himself to be in such a pathetic situation, yet the thought of you carrying out his perfect porn plot fantasy was all he needed for that internal morality to fly straight out the window.

you chuckled at the way he hiked himself up when you finally took him from his bottoms and into your hot, wet mouth. just the sight of his cock disappearing past soft, glossy pink lips has his temperature rising, feeling as though he could pass out.

it’s hazy for him — your hand at the base, the rhythmic bobbing of your head slowly while gradually picking up speed. he never would’ve thought the job he took on for extra cash to fund his college textbooks would end up with someone as gorgeous as you giving him a chance. every pump of your hand around what couldn’t fit into your mouth had him groaning, bucking his hips up as gently as he could without battering the back of your throat.

though, he wouldn’t mind if he did.

staving off a gag, you ultimately increased your pace, determined to get him off while your other hand fondled his plump balls.

from the faint touches alone, he could feel his high approaching, embarrassingly quicker than usual. yet, he couldn’t help it when you started to grow sloppy, a mix of spit and precum dribbling down his shaft.

“w-wait, fuck.. ‘m gonna.”

it took no time for him to shoot his seed into your awaiting throat, his head thrown back against the headrest while he bucked his hips to jettison every last drop. you swallowed all he had to offer before pulling away, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

maybe he wasn’t as intimidating after all.

GETO — THE CHARMING TRAINER.

you were his favorite. you had to be. even in the long line of women waiting to have their own turn with him, you were always a top contender. he had always made time for you, and you alone.

geto’s popularity made perfect sense in your mind. he was tall, handsome with narrow features and dragon tattoos strung along both arms, a man ahead of his time. not to mention, his docile, gentle demeanor. he was charming as all get out and you were beyond aware of your superstar status of being the only one he wanted.

“are we actually going to get some training done or is there something else you want to do?” he straps his fingerless gloves around his palm, tank top tight around his torso, carving out each and every trace of his abs while looking over you, a pleasant smile quirked at his lips.

you felt sheepish under his sharp gaze, a feeling that comes all too natural with expert trainer, suguru geto. “i’m fine with whatever you have in mind, sugu.”

if you didn’t know any better, you’d swore you saw his cheeks dust in the lightest shade of pink at the endearing nickname. you were cute, too fucking cute and perhaps, that was the reason he kept you around.

“i’m thinking we test that stamina ‘nd see if you can hold up riding me?” he hooks his finger under your chin, tilting your head up just slightly. “no help, all on your own.” in all honesty, you could definitely take up his challenge. how hard could it be to take some dick?

or so you thought.

“fuck, sugu! ‘s too much!”

you wouldn’t want to be caught dead in the miserable state that you were in but it ultimately did seem as though geto’s lessons had gotten you nowhere. the tip of his cock wasn’t even an inch past your cunt while you rested your hands on his broad shoulders, pathetically trying to take what was the easiest part.

he smirked at you, resting his hands behind his head. “i’m not helping, princess. i meant it.”

you continued to try and sink yourself down onto his unreasonably thick cock, a soft crack of a whine tumbling past parted lips when your pussy engulfed another half inch of him. “but-“

“if i have to help you, we’re not finishing until you’re a mess.” he grits, not harsh enough to come off as daunting but stern enough to warn you. yet, the warning fell to deaf ears when you began to whorishly beg pleas of “help me, sugu. help me.”

from that, he let out a low groan, his hands on your waist sinking you all the way down to the base before he gained stability, flattening his feet onto the floor and fucking his cock into your fluttering cunt.

with the way he moves, you were almost positive you had the wind knocked out of you from those first few thrusts alone. soft babbles resonated throughout the room while you clung to his body like it’d comfort you in the hell that was his potent ministrations.

you felt far more sensitive than you ever felt, white hot pleasure coiling within you in no time, your pussy tightening around his shaft in such a suffocating way, geto felt as though he couldn’t breathe either. “s-so tight, princess. i know you wanna cum, cum for me, baby.” he goads through a strained voice, his thumb now working between your folds to find purchase at your clit, rubbing the puffy nub in moderate circles.

“if you do t-that, i might—“

and before you knew it, you were gushing around his pretty cock, face twisted in the prettiest picture of pleasure. the aftershocks of your orgasm were way more intense as you were fucked to overstimulation, a sly grin on his lips.

“told you we weren’t stopping, darling.”

[mossy-rock-in-a-field]

Several weeks ago, my retirement-age mother requested that I play Baldur’s Gate 3 for her because she has trouble with controllers/keyboards and wanted “to see what all the fuss is about with that cute wizard boy.” For context, my mother and I have done this sort of thing in the past with certain RPGs (dragon age, mass effect, etc.), but it’s been a few years since she’s personally requested a game like this. Basically, I control her Tav but let her make all the choices so she can determine how the story plays out without worrying about mechanics. She treats it like a choose-your-own-adventure book.

Anyway, here is a list of some of the things my mother has said and/or chosen to do throughout the course of BG3 in no particular order:

She is (obviously) romancing Gale. She is quite smitten with him and his passion for books and learning; she also thinks he’s polite and qualifies as “relationship material.” She also REALLY likes the things he’s said about his cat so far (my mom is a cat lady), so I know she’s gonna flip shit when we meet Tara in Act III.

She’s playing a normal druid Tav with a generally good alignment. Her favorite spell is Spike Growth because she thinks it’s hilarious whenever enemies walk into the AOE and die. I usually end up having to cast it at least once per battle per her request. Sometimes twice.

Contrary to her alignment, my mother tasks me with robbing every single chest, crate, barrel, and burlap sack we come across; this also includes people and their pockets. The party is always at max carrying capacity. ALWAYS. She doesn’t like selling things because “what if I need them.” The camp stash is in literal shambles. There is no hope of organizing it. She’s got like fifty seven sets of rags and a billion pieces of random silverware.

She MUST talk to every animal and corpse in the game. I think five hours of her total playtime so far (47ish) has been spent speaking to animals as many times as humanly possible. Like, I was thorough in my own playthroughs, but this is on a whole other level.

She did NOT get Volo’s lobotomy, but she did let Auntie Ethel take her eye in hopes of a cure for the tadpole. I did not understand the logic then. I still do not understand it now.

She is far more interested in fashion than equipment stats. Do you have any idea how much gold I’ve had to spend on dyes just to make things match? SO much. Same vibe as that “please someone help me balance my finances my family is starving” tweet but instead of candles it’s thirty thousand fucking bottles of black and furnace red dye.

We broke the prisoners out of Moonrise, but they got on the boat too early and bugged the fight by leaving Astarion and Karlach behind. Wulbren Bongle somehow got stuck in combat mode even after engaging the cutscene on the docks below Last Light; he he kept trying to run ALL THE WAY BACK TO MOONRISE nine fucking meters at a time while I frantically tried to finish the fight with the Warden, otherwise Wulbren would have run straight into the shadow curse. (I would’ve let him go; fuck Wulbren Bongle, all my homies hate Wulbren Bongle. But my mom didn’t know that, and she wanted to keep him safe. So.)

She had me reload a save like eighteen times to save the giant eagles on top of Rosymorn Monastery. Wouldn’t even let me do non-lethal damage just to get past things. I think getting that warhammer for the dawnmaster puzzle took us like an hour and a half alone. (Yes, I know you can use any warhammer, but SHE didn’t.)

She’s started keeping an irl notebook to keep track of her quests between play sessions. She writes down ideas and strategies when she thinks of them during the week, then brings them to her next game session at my house. I think she wrote about three pages on possible approaches to the goblin fortress alone.

She insists that I pet Scratch and the owlbear cub before every single long rest, no exceptions. Sometimes I have to do it multiple times until she is absolutely sure that the animals know exactly how much she loves and cherishes them. She has also commissioned a crocheted owlbear plush from a friend of hers and is very excited.

I’m sure there’s a bunch of stuff I’m forgetting, but those are some fun things I thought of. She’s enjoying the game and is telling all of her retired friends to get it and play it for themselves. She asked me “what is Discord” yesterday and I think my life flashed before my eyes.

anyway shout out to my mom for being neat

Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5

[mariana-oconnor]

Types of AO3 Summary

Option 1 - The Excerpt:

The quickest, the easiest! Find a section of your fic that contains the main premise of said fic and also showcases your writing. Copy paste that into the summary box. BOOM! Done.

Best used for any fic, unless it's so short the excerpt would be the whole fic.

Option 2 - The No Frills:

Just a description of the fic. No need for drama. No need to complicate matters. Keep it simple, keep it safe.

Example: "A short character exploration of Blorbo's thoughts after Daisy leaves."

Best used for short fics, poems and fics where the style/format is more important than the plot. Or fics that tie directly into a scene/episode from canon or another fanfic.

Option 3 - The Hook:

Draw the reader's interest by giving them a set up with no conclusion. Introduce the main character(s), introduce the status quo, describe an inciting incident, leave a question in the reader's mind.

Example: "Blorbo is a barista at a coffee shop, struggling to pay their bills, but after handsome rockstar Obrolb walks into their coffee shop they find that they have to decide whether a chance at love is worth the cost of fame."

Best used for mid to long fic where there's a strong premise and follow through. Especially good for AUs. Can be expanded for more complex plots or used multiple times in one summary for multiple characters or subplots.

Option 4 - The Sitcom One-Liner:

"The one in which [over simplified description of one of the main plotlines]" This is essentially 'boil your plot down to the very simplest statement you can, oversimplify if possible. The more bizarre or unhelpful the better.

Example: "The one in which Blorbo learns to like cake".

Best used for fics with at least a little humour in them.

Option 5 - The Rule of Three:

Three is a magic number. Find three key moments in your fic and just list them. That's it. Often ends with 'not necessarily in that order' if used for comic effect. If it's an AU, establish that quickly (i.e. 'Star NHL player Blorbo…').

Example: "Blorbo makes a friend, falls in love, and almost burns to death, not necessarily in that order."

Best used for anything, really. Three is a magic number. The human brain loves things that come in threes.

Option 6 - The Trope Lure:

Why bother describing the plot? We all know AO3 readers are here for the tropes. Similar to The Sitcom One-Liner just using tropes instead of plot. Often followed by the phrase 'that nobody asked for'.

Example: "The Space western / A/B/O / Mail Order Bride fic that nobody asked for."

Often tacked on to the end of The Hook or The Excerpt as a tl;dr.

Best used for fic that plays its tropes straight with no shame or second guessing.

Option 7 - The Pre-emptive Strike:

(Not recommended) You just wrote this fic, the self doubt is consuming you. You feel the need to apologise profusely for your existence for no apparently reason. You feel cringe, you think the fic is cringe, you want everyone to know that you think the fic is cringe in case they don't like it and judge you for it.

Example: "So I fell in love with this pairing and had to write this. It's weird and terrible. Lol! I suck at summaries! Sorry!"

Best used for no fics ever. I cannot stress this enough.

(Seriously, I am begging you, don't do this. If you're planning to use this option, rethink it and do one of the others. I guarantee you more people will want to read your fic.)

Sometimes added on to any other summary as a strange disclaimer. (srsly. don't.)

Option 8 - The Unapology:

Embrace the mayhem, embrace the deep dark depths of your soul. The opposite of The Pre-emptive Strike. A combination of The No Frills and The Trope Lure that truly gives no fucks.

You have committed crimes and you are proud of them. You know what your USP is and you're going to make sure your target market finds you. Look upon my works, ye readers, and despair!

Example: "There aren't enough tentacle fics in this pairing, so I had to write one myself!"

Best used for fics with controversial/polarising tropes with all relevant details already clearly stated in the tags.

Option 9 - The Interrogation:

What if you wrote a summary entirely in questions? What if your readers had to read the fic to discover the answers? Who knows what will happen if you do this?

Example: "What happens when Blorbo McBlorbo gets his wish and Daisy doesn't make it to the plane on time? What happens when Obrolb finds out? How will this change Daisy and Blorbo's friendship?"

Best used for... I honestly don't know. This style of summary does not vibe with me. Mystery fic maybe? Sorry guys.

Option 10 - The Multipack:

Got a bunch of shorter fics in one work? No way of summarising them all without a wall of text larger than the Great Wall of China? This one is similar to The No Frills in that you're not describing the plots themselves and similar to The Trope Lure in that often broader genres and tropes are mentioned. What links those fics? Are they all in the same fandom? The same pairing? The same challenge? Just slap that right in the summary. A chapter list with 1-2 word trope/pairing summaries can be included or not.

Example: "A collection of Blorbo/Daisy/Obrolb fics based on Tumblr prompts. Chapter 1: Regency AU Chapter 2: Werewolves vs vampires Chapter 3: Ghost!Daisy Chapter 4: Space pirates!"

Best used for (obviously) works that are compilations of fic.

Option ? - The Void:

I said The Excerpt was the quickest and easiest summary to do. I lied, well... I didn't exactly lie. What is quicker and easier than not having a summary at all? After all, that's what the tags are for.

Example:

Best used for... nothing? Write a summary, guys. Please?

[amorisxx]

Snickerdoodle a.d.

pairing: Art Donaldson x reader prompt: Imagine being that parent who always brings baked goods to the PTA meetings and generally getting along with everyone really well. But for some reason Art Donaldson says something that rubs you the wrong way one night. warnings: smut 18+, car sex, piv, cheating, adults acting like horny teenagers, flashbacks, not proofread word count: 2.4K a/n: I wrote this in one sitting just from seeing this post 🤭

part ii | part iii | part iv | part v

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

He notices he’s offended you by the way you stop talking directly to him, looking everywhere but him. Smiling at everyone but him. You’re giving your undivided attention to anyone who speaks but when he opens his mouth you seem much more interested in your nails.

Art has known you since he's been coming to these meetings. He knows that you offer a polite smile to everyone, but he'd grown used to the small smiles you'd give him. The secret grins and the sarcastic eye rolls you shared with him when Nancy got a bit too controlling or when Dan overshared about his marriage.

You would playfully nudge his elbow when Cynthia inevitably brought up her small knitting business. You’d been initially interested, always loving a good sweater, until you found out the only things she knit were small replicas of pets.

You would discreetly play tic tac toe or hangman on a napkin while the more aggressive moms argued about where to host the next school event, or when the guest speaker for the night would drone on and on.

Once, you baked snickerdoodle cookies and Art ate three of them in one sitting, then asked to take some home for “Lily.” So, you made sure to bake snickerdoodle cookies almost every time you brought snacks. Everyone knew the circular red tin you’d bring was Art’s.

The two of you didn’t really talk outside of the PTA, but Art considered you his friend at these things.

Which is why he should've known not to bring up your recently divorced ex-husband during the meeting. He’d simply been trying to make sure the headcount for this year’s Fall Fest committee was right after Nancy had thrusted the clipboard into his hands. He was tasked with making sure everyone on the list was still showing up. When Art asked you if your husband would still be attending, you went silent, your lips tensing up like you’d tasted something sour.

“Are you really asking me that right now?”

Art stammered. “I just wasn’t sure…”

You scoffed at him disbelieving.

“Well when he finally gets his head out of that whore’s ass then maybe he’ll be able to let you know.”

He doesn’t say anything.

Before he hands the clipboard back, he makes sure to draw a line through your ex-husband’s name.

Art tries to apologize after the meeting is over. Insisting on walking you to your car and carrying your dessert containers back for you. His self deprecating little smile makes you roll your eyes, but you turn for him to follow you anyway. You silently lead the way to your car keeping a couple steps ahead of him. Despite his attempts to look away, Art’s eyes stay glued to the sway of your hips the whole way.

Once you pop the trunk and gesture for him to place the containers down, you finally look him in the eyes for the first time since he’d pissed you off. Art shoves his hands in his pockets, telling you he’s really sorry for what he said. That he wasn’t thinking. He wants to make it up to you.

You purse your lips, look at the way his eyes seem hopeful yet a little too pleading for an offense so small. You tilt your head to the side, taking in his features before eventually telling him that “it’s fine,” and that you forgive him. He seems to visibly relax at this and you can’t help wondering why he would be so hung up on your forgiveness. After all, it was really an overreaction on your part.

You tell him as much and reassure him that you don’t need anything, he doesn’t need to make it up to you. He grabs your hand then, insisting that he wants to.

Art has always been this way, you think, all placating and overly apologetic when he thinks he’s done something wrong. You’d chalked it up to the media training you know he must’ve received. Being agreeable probably made his PR manager’s job ten times easier. Not that you didn’t believe he was genuinely a kind person, but you knew even Art might be overcompensating every now and then.

You’d seen the way he could be snarky without remorse before. The two of you would basically laugh about it later. You’d also seen how he never hid the way his eyes would linger on your cleavage. The way he’d give you a small, bashful smile when you’d catch him, his smirk only growing wider the more you blushed.

Art Donaldson could be sneaky.

ᯓ

He’d never been ashamed about being touchy with you. Placing a warm hand on your arm or back when greeting one another, letting his fingers skim your hand on the table next to his while he listened to speakers. The touching seemed innocent enough until one night when he’d walked you to your car after the two of you had stayed longer. You had been distracted during the meeting.

Art stayed and listened as you told him about your husband and how he’d come home late after you planned a romantic evening for the two of you the night before. You made sure your son was at your parents’ house, made his favorite meal, and lit candles around the house. The two of you had decided to schedule date nights per your therapist’s suggestion. When 1 am rolled around, and your husband had returned none of your calls, you scraped the food into tupperware containers and got ready for bed. He came home with apologies and excuses about getting caught up in the office. He had already eaten, and he smelled of a perfume you didn’t own but had grown to recognize.

That night, you told Art that you were sure your husband was cheating on you. He told you that he understood how you felt. You didn’t believe him. Tashi was perfect.

After your tears had dried, and Art managed to pull a few laughs out of you, the both of you decided it was time to call it a night. You moved to give Art a casual hug, but he wrapped his arms around you so tightly that you couldn’t help but melt into it, burying your face in his chest. You remembered him smelling warm, like amber.

Art had rubbed your back as he held you, whispered that he was sorry that your husband was a dumbass. You huffed out a laugh, pulling away to look at him. He’d brought his hand up to your cheek, his other hand on the small of your back. You smiled at him through your eyelashes before letting your head drop down with a sigh.

Your cheeks burned as you took in how your legs were tangled with his. Art had tilted his head to get a better look at you again, but you’d stuck to hiding your face against his chest.

He huffed and let his chin fall to your shoulder. You still refused to look his way, turning to watch some trees. You felt both his hands on your back now.

“What are you thinking about?” He whispered.

“That we said we should go home like 5 min ago.” His hands traveled lower. “You?” You asked shakily. You could feel his breath warm against your neck.

“That I might not be any better than your husband.”

Your eyes widened. Art’s palms firmly cupped your ass. In contrast, his lips were pressed gently to the skin of your neck.

“Art!” Your hands flew to his hair.

He laughed into your neck.

You slapped his arm, but when his eyes met yours and his lips were mere inches away from yours, you let your eyes flutter shut.

His breath fanned your lips. He smelled like snickerdoodle cookie.

Then, his phone rang.

Art had pulled away from you, turning around to answer the call. You could tell it was Tashi. He’d been honest, telling her that he’d stayed late talking to you. At the mention of your name, he paused and looked over his shoulder.

“Tashi says hi.”

ᯓ

The two of you never brought up the almost kiss again, but you knew Art hadn’t been sorry. The next time he saw your husband, he’d smirked and told him how lucky he was to have such a great wife. Your husband, ever the narcissist, soaked it all in, pulling you in by the waist, showing you off like a shiny toy. When he turned away, Art had winked at you.

ᯓ

So, you know that Art is either laying it on thick or feels extremely remorseful about reminding you of your cheating ex-husband.

When he grabs your hand, insisting on finding some way to make it up to you, you see a look of desperation in his eyes that looks new.

Your eyes drop to where his large hand covers your own, then they travel up his toned arm until you find his face, flitting between his eyes and his lips. And for some reason, you’re leaning in. Maybe it’s your way of reassuring him that you guys are good. Either way, he’s not moving back. You’re gripping his forearm with your free hand and suddenly your lips are on his.

You’re not sure if it was his tongue or yours that first went seeking out the other, but now you two are sharing sloppy kisses on the empty school parking lot.

When his left palm presses into your cheek and you feel that cold metal band sting your skin, you pull away with a gasp, remembering where you are, who he is, and that he has a damn wedding ring on. This is Art. PTA Art. You know his wife, for god’s sake. You’ve hosted play dates between their daughter and your son. You carpool with them. You curse and back away from him.

“I’m sorry, I—I don’t know why I did that. I shouldn’t have...”

Art shakes his head, stepping closer to you. He’s looking at you with those damn eyes again. Like he’ll break if you say the wrong thing.

“I—we, we shouldn’t have done that, Art.”

He shakes his head again. Your palm comes up to hold him back, but it doesn’t work as he simply grabs ahold of the hand on his chest and presses himself against you more. His forehead comes down to lean on yours. His eyes closed.

“You don’t understand,” he sighs. “I want you.”

“But you’re married Art…”

“I want you.” He repeats. “I’ve wanted you…for awhile now.”

And though you already know this, it still shocks you that he’s actually saying it now. Before you have time to register it, he’s back on you and you don’t know if it’s because you’re afraid to break him or if you’ve just always been this selfish, but you let him press you against the trunk of your car. You let him push his tongue into your mouth, let his big hands knead the flesh of your hips and ass. Let him lick and nip at your neck, nibble on your earlobe.

You let Art push you into the backseat of your car. You let him settle between your legs, guiding his lips to yours, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He’s pressing his hips into yours rocking against you as he pushes your top up. Art’s hands frantically work at your bra, impatiently bending the wire in the process of taking it off. You gasp at his eagerness but can’t say anything as he’s already wrapping his mouth around your nipple making you arch your back up off the leather seats. His hands are gripping your thighs and shoving your skirt up when he releases your nipple with a pop.

He’s up long enough to tear his shirt off and for your equally impatient hands to reach for his pants. His shorts are barely past his balls before he’s back on you. Kissing all over your lips, jaw, neck. Art groans when his fingers find their way to your soaked underwear, rubbing his thumb from your slit to your clit through the fabric. You whine and rock your hips into each movement. You pant into his open mouth as he pulls them to the side, letting the air hit your bare cunt. He dips his thumb into your entrance then drags it up to sloppily circle your clit.

You’re moaning loudly into his mouth, begging him for more. Art smiles against your lips as he takes himself in his hand. He lets his head sweetly kiss your sticky clit, and he asks if you want him to put it in.

You nod eagerly.

"Yeah?" He grunts, tapping his head against you in a taunting manner.

You nod again and let him press against your opening.

Art covers your mouth with his when he finally pushes into you, stifling both of your moans. He gets his arms around your waist, holding you as he rocks into your pussy. You’re whimpering and squeezing around him like you haven’t had dick in years, and Art thinks he might pass out when you start bucking up into him and begging him to fuck you.

He doesn’t even care that he won’t last long. He can’t deny you. So, he wraps your thighs tighter around his waist and pushes himself forward. Your mouth falls open as Art slides out and pushes back into you with a grunt. Your hands are in his hair, pulling at the short strands. You mouth at his jaw as his thighs slap against you.

Art buries his head into your neck as he frantically fucks into your tight hole, and he’s whining that he’s close. His fingers that have been playing with your clit are slippery with your juices and you clench your thighs, nodding with him in agreement.

You end up letting Art Donaldson cum inside you. You let him rub your clit until you orgasm around his dick that’s still buried in you.

You let him help you redress. He’d winced when he saw the mess he made of you between your legs. You ignore the way you can tell he wants to say sorry.

Once you’re both dressed and you’re standing against your car with wobbly legs, Art tells you that he still wants to make it up to you.

You roll your eyes.

“Good night, Art.” You get into the driver’s seat.

“I’m serious.”

Your hand hesitates on the door handle. You look back at him and his pleading eyes and his pathetic yet charming smile.

“Your wife has my number.”

And then, you shut the door.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

a/n: reader reminds me of Anna Kendrick’s character in A Simple Favor, sweet but also kinda toxic

thanks for inspiring this @artdcnaldson <3

[queers-gambit]

Neon Sticky Notes

prompt: ( requested ) reminding your boyfriend you love him one sticky note at a time.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader pairing: Carmy x Peach

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 2.4k+

note: baby gets what baby wants! God, do i hope this is what you want, my baby...

warnings: probably cursing, Carmy needs a nap, men being simps, this is short and sweet! it's FINALLY edited!!!

You knew he was struggling. Worn-out, beaten down, exhausted, run ragged, amuck, and into the ground.

It was evident in the way he carried himself; the prominent bags under his eyes, the way he tossed and turned in bed before being found on the living room couch in the morning. His hair seemed greasier then usual, his skin turning gaunt and grey, and you knew he wasn't making time to eat.

By comparison, you had a simple job, something corporate and in an office. Something that made decent money; something you were good at, something you could find pride in doing.

However, Carmy's job as a chef was different; being more than stressful, and while coupled together for years now, it was still a work-in-progress each time Carmen started on a new venture. Owning, running, and converting The Beef into something "better" should've been no different, only it was - it was totally different. Carmy was frazzled, looking deranged some evenings, as if operating on adrenaline, and you were at a loss on how to help.

So, you resorted to a natural instinct - communicating.

Carmy needed reassurance, he needed support, he needed to be loved for who he is, exactly how he was, in order to keep his head on straight. You never did mind the challenge that was Carmen Berzatto, finding him akin to a puzzle. So, on your way home from work one evening, you stopped at a CVS to grab a pack of neon, multi-colored sticky notes and a brand new Sharpie marker.

You had an idea.

When you got back to your shared apartment, you unloaded the groceries you needed onto the counters before calling Carmy. "Hey, Peaches," he answered on the third ring, usual kitchen clatter in the background, "everything okay?"

"Yeah, all good."

"Sure? Sound outta breath."

"The elevator's broken, I got groceries," you groaned, "and have been skipping the gym for a couple weeks."

He chuckled, "Never skip leg day, baby, you know it's our house motto."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever - hush. I'm just wondering if you had an ETA for tonight? I have an early morning meeting, so I want to go to sleep early."

"Uh," he trailed, a muffled ruffling sounding over the line before a small clatter that made him sigh, "yeah, um, you know what? I really don't know, baby, I'm sorry. You do your thing and I'll be quiet when I get in, just leave my stuff on the couch."

"No, come to bed," you whined slightly, "I miss you."

"Awh, yeah, miss you, too, Peach. I'll be there," he promised.

You finished putting all groceries away; the dishes following, then you got started on prepping dinner. Look, you were no cook - that was all Carmy. But you weren't totally useless in a kitchen, so, you didn't mind taking over most meals now that Carmy was waist-deep in The Beef's bullshit. You played music as you cooked, poured a glass of wine, danced around, and tried to think of a list of encouraging things to remind Carmy. You ate dinner alone, and when done with clean-up, faced off with your sticky notes and Sharpie.

The first note was scribbled and stuck on the covered plate in the fridge: Bone Apple Teeth, Chef!

Then you wrote a note to leave at the door where Carm was sure to drop his keys: make sure you eat the plate I left you!

Humming, you pondered a moment before smirking and writing a third note to be left on the TV remote: I know you too well. come to bed.

Lastly, you wrote a fourth and final note to be left in the bathroom: great job today, Chef! you're killing it!

You were fast asleep when he got home. He found the note in the key bowl, smirking at your kindness and thoughtfulness. Carmy saw the messily-drawn heart and pocketed the note, toeing off his shoes and entering the kitchen. He reheated the plate you left, pocketed the second note after a silent grin of amusement, and when ready, took his hot food to the couch.

Carmy laughed when he found your third note. He left it on the table as he ate, half-watching the news segment he flipped on. When he was full and his plate clear, Carmy turned the TB off, pocketed your note, set everything in the dishwasher, started it, and then went into the bathroom. Another soft chuckle emitted as he pulled the final note in his hand - and you already know he saved it.

When he got in your shared room, he made sure to leave the notes in a random shoe box, stashing it in his closet, changed for the night, and crawled into bed with you.

This was a regular occurrence now: Carmy came home late to a barrage of sticky notes, saved them all, then crashed in bed with you. You missed each other, but understood scheduling just didn't line up right now. It wasn't like you two never saw one another, you still did - but it wasn't like it was. Time together now felt fleeting, as if you had to savor everything, so you made the most of your situation.

Was it overcompensation? Possibly. But Carmy adored your notes.

Sometimes, you'll be sat in the living room, reading a book, working on your laptop, or scrolling Instagram on your phone, while he cooks and he finds a note left on the milk carton that reads: I am UDDERLY in love with you!

Get it? 'Cause cows have udders? You were pretty proud of that pun.

Other times, he'll be up at an unGodly hour, getting a steamy hot shower, and you'll come in to pee. He doesn't think anything of anything until he gets out of the stall only to see a neon orange sticky note on the counter, saying: i love your butt! lemme pinch it!

Carmy feels himself looking forward to your little surprises. Some were funny and a little vulgar, like the note found on the eggs: fertilize MY eggs!

Some notes were more innocent, like the one he found in his shoe one morning, reading: I'm so proud of you. have a great day today!

Some just said: be home for dinner @ 8! making your fav!

Others were found, saying: you're so fucking handsome. I'm one lucky ducky! You even tried to draw a little duck.

Some notes were motivational: you're doing a GREAT job, baby!

Some notes reminded: you have a dentist appt @ 10!

Some notes were sweet: call me during your break, cutie, i miss your voice!

And others found on the bathroom mirror were playful: you look too good today, go change! A second note added: don't need anyone looking at your fine ass! A third: i'm the only one allowed to look #respectfully

Each and every note had a drawn heart, being saved to a hidden shoebox. He found notes in his usual coffee mug, reminding him you loved him. He found notes on his toothpaste tube, telling him he was doing a great job. Cereal boxes now promised Carmy they were proud of him, pastas told him to have a great day, and the light switches assured reminded him how special he was.

The microwave told him you felt blessed to be his and in his jacket pocket, he was told how lucky you are to love him. Some notes swore to him he was one of a kind, others explicitly detailed what parts of him you wanted in parts of you, and a few reminded him of important dates, appointments, deadlines, anniversaries, birthdays, etc..

Sometimes, he found little treats with these sticky notes. Like when you had to make brownies for your little sister's bake sale, you left him a Tupperware full with a hot pink note, labeled: for the love of my life!

And then... One morning, when you got up for work, Carmy was already gone for his day. You went through your normal routine, entering the kitchen with the intention of making a to-go cup of coffee, only to pause and grin when a neon green sticky note greeted you from the stovetop. Written in messy, fresh, black Sharpie was: got you on my mind. love you, be home @ 6 tonight!

Carmy drew own heart and you beamed at the reciprocation. You didn't mind the distance for now, knowing he was busy and it wouldn't last forever; but the fact that he could reassure you as much as you could him warmed your heart. You felt like the Grinch when his heart grew in size, just without the painful grunting. If anything, you felt euphoric from his little note - thinking it was reassuring to still communicate even when your schedules differed.

The day passed sluggishly - only because you were actually excited to go home. Ironically, your last client of the day didn't leave until a little later than scheduled, so, when you FINALLY got off work and made it home, Carmy had beaten you. When you got through the door, you were met with a heavenly aroma; using Gandalf's advice and following your nose to enter the kitchen.

You sighed dreamily when you came to a halt in the doorway, bottom lip trapped between your teeth to attempt and restrain your ecstatic grin. Carmy was shirtless at the stove, stirring a pasta dish to coat it in the sauce of his choice. "Hi, pretty peach," he beamed at you.

"Oh, I've missed this sight," you squealed, rushing to his side to throw your arms around his neck. "Hi, baby, hi, baby, hi, baby," you chanted between chaste kisses to his cheek.

"Someone missed me," he laughed, cheeks blooming a bright red - but not from the kitchen heat.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in forever, and you know I don't do well alone, I need attention," you teased with a pout, his arm slithering around your waist - but a crinkle noise caught your attention. "Woah, hey. Did you get a new tattoo?" You pondered, looking down at his arm that was protectively bandaged.

He smirked and held his arm out, "Wanna take the plastic off for me?"

"What'd you get?"

"Find out," he whispered, staring at you with his intense baby blue eyes; waiting as you calculated your next move. Slowly, you reached out and unwrapped the protective cling wrap, getting to the gauze, then slowly peeling that from his skin.

"Ohhh, my fucking God," you whispered.

"Like it?"

"Are these... My hearts?"

He nodded, "I got 6 of them from your notes tattooed. 'Cause we've been together six years. Figured, each year, I could add one - but you gotta draw it."

"You're ridiculous," you laughed, in minor disbelief. "What made you do this?"

He eased, "You. I've never felt so confident in my life before, and I know you're a huge part of that. It feels right, being with you feels right and I wanted to show you that I see and appreciate all you do." His tone softened, "I wouldn't be me without you, Peach."

"You'd still be Carmy."

"A totally different Carmy, though," he chuckled. "I actually like who I am with you, baby. But look here, I know it's been real hectic lately, sweet girl, with the restaurant, but it's not gonna be like this forever. We're makin' progress, we're gonna get this settled."

"I know," you assured, "'cause if anyone's gonna get this done, it's you. Just don't forget to breathe every now and then - you're drowning in this stress and I need you to stay afloat, Carm."

"I'm good, Peaches, got you on my team so I can't lose," he eased, tucking you into his chest for an embrace. After a minute and a tight squeeze, he sighed, pecked the crown of your head, then mumbled, "Why don't you go wash up? Dinner's almost ready."

You agreed, stealing one last (prolonged) kiss before scampering off to the bedroom. When you got there, you almost tripped when you came to a halt; laughing loudly as the entire bed was covered in an array of neon colored sticky notes. Until you got closer and realized each note detailed a different reason Carmy loved you; from the way you search for him in your sleep to how you resembled a Gremlin if not fed within certain hours. From how you weren't afraid to dress up for the Renaissance Festival to how you throw blankets in the dryer for 15 minutes before movie nights. In fact, "movie night" was on a single note, being a fond yet routine date. You read each note carefully, tears wanting to build but you refused to let them, yet it was difficult when this was the sweetest gesture you've ever known.

Even things you were insecure about, like dimples or weight or hair color, was highlighted as a reason Carmy loved you. He listed your authenticity, generosity, thoughtfulness, charisma, incredible brain but even bigger heart. He praised your wit, your humor; adored your sneezes, and looked forward to coming home every night because he knew he was coming home to you.

You've never felt so loved before, wondering if this was what Carmy felt each time he found one of your notes.

Movement caught your peripheral, and when you looked up, Carmy was leaning in the doorway of the bedroom; arms crossed and lips pulled in a small smirk. He didn't speak, he just stared at you. You were at a loss for words, opening and closing your mouth twice; holding most of the sticky notes in your hands, but then, you settled on telling him simply, "I love you so fucking much, Carmy."

Dinner might've allegedly burned that night, but so did your love and passion for one another. Even the smallest of gestures can go farther than we anticipate, and showing someone you care could be as simple as leaving them notes around the apartment you cohabitate in, on neon colored Post It's.

Wanna know the cool thing about adult relationships? You get to love your partner out loud; being unapologetic in how you emote, and in return, you're loved by them. Each person deserves to be loved in the way they want to be loved - but you know how fucking great it is when two lovers respond to the same language? What I mean is, it could be considered rare that you, who liked to leave notes, would meet and fall in love with someone who liked to collect and read those notes. Your love language was the same as Carmy's, part of the reason you both worked so well together - but also why one day, he'd add plenty more hand drawn hearts to the collection on his forearm.

requesting rules and masterlist

The Bear masterlist

[gghostwriter]

Still Alive for My Lover

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The four times Spencer brushes with death and the fifth time he's reborn to find his way back to you

Warning: angst with happy ending || [Part 2A of Death of a Love Affair; Part 2B is the sad ending]

A/n: I did a poll the other day on if I should post both different part 2s for Death of a Love Affair and posting both won so here is one of the endings--the happy one! I actually scrapped my first happy ending idea for this (I dreamt about this plot just the other night) so like a maniac, I wrote and edited it in one sitting. Also he has been through a lot so I had to choose scenes that I think would affect his psyche. Hope you enjoy!

Part one || Main masterlist || Part 2B

The first time Death came close was during an Anthrax attack

In Spencer’s quest in solving the time sensitive and nation threatening case, he made a series of misjudgments that had led him to being exposed to the chemically engineered Anthrax.

During his months of adjusting back into being single and alone, he poured all that he could to his job. No longer were the cases viewed with a clear objective mind, they all became personal. Case distance from Virginia, where you were, meant nothing. He viewed each killer a threat to your existence. In the most convoluted way, this was him protecting and keeping you safe when he no longer could beside you. 

“Hey, Reid.” Garcia softly said.

“Reid, wow, no, uh—no witty Garcia greeting for me?” Spencer joked to try and lighten the mood.

She shakily exhaled her breath. “I can’t be my sparkly self when you are where you are.” 

“Garcia, do you think you can do something for me?” His voice trailing off at the end.

“Anything.”

“I, uh-I know I can’t call my mom without uh—“ he cleared his throat. “Without alerting everyone at her hospital and I can’t call Y/N since—since it’s protocol and we broke up.”

She paused, nodding her head. “What do you need?”

“I-I need you to record messages for them, in case anything happens to me.”

“Oh, nothing’s going to happen to you,” she tried to be optimistic. “You’re gonna—brilliantly find out who did this and we’re gonna treat this strain.”

He sighed with a slight smile on his face. “I hope you’re right, but if you’re not, I just—I really want to make sure that they hear my voice.” 

“Ok, just give me a second.” The taps from her keyboard echoing in the background.

“Are you ready?” Spencer asked.

“Ready.”

“Hi, Mom. This is Spence. I just, um-I just really want you to know that I love you and—i need you to know that I spend every day of my life proud to be your son.” His tone fluctuating from holding back tears. “Y/N, I know we broke up months ago but—I need you to know that I love you and that I’m sorry—” A shiver passed through his body, a sign of his fever escalating. “Sorry for pushing you down in my list of priorities—should have done better. I don’t resent you for leaving me and if—if this is my last message, I want you to know you’re one of the last things on my mind, Angel.” 

The thought of you finding out through the news that an FBI agent had died or worse, not finding out at all, sent him into a tailspin. You were a worrier and Spencer didn’t want you to question your judgement of breaking it off with him and drown in the not knowing, what ifs of it all. He wondered where you were at that very moment as he crept closer and closer to Death’s door. Were you wallowing still? Maybe out for brunch with your friends or a date—his breathing stuttered at the thought. He tried and failed to imagine you smiling at a faceless man in front of you, preening under your attention. Who wouldn’t? He shook his head as an effect to bring him back to the present.

The pause made Garcia panic. “Reid?”

“I-I gotta go.” 

Click.

***

The second time was when Maeve died

Spencer thought he was finally going to get it right with Maeve but it was false hope, his speculation far from the truth because Maeve—his second chance in love was dead, killed right before his very eyes. He loved her, truly did even without knowing what she looked like—not in the encompassing way he loved you, no, but Maeve still carved a space in his heart that was one filled by you. She was comfort and a healing balm for the pain of losing you.

He associated navigating life with you as something like entering a luscious forest. With you leading the way though the beautiful greenery and kind animals—a fairytale kind of love. But when you let go of his hand, the forest turned dark and the animals turned into monsters that haunt his every move. Maeve was a cabin in those woods, lighted and warm with a fireplace—a respite for his lost and terrified being. He knew what was out there but housed in her presence, he felt safe and believed himself ready to defend his newfound solace. He was wrong, the security was temporary. His shelter torn down and taken away, leaving him back out in the woods with no light or guiding star to see him through. 

Curling into himself on the floor beside his bed with ‘The Narrative of John Smith’, the copy that Maeve gifted, tucked to his chest, uncaring of the the pathogens that it can carry, a folded piece of paper under the dresser caught his eye. He stretched his hand, feeling the settled dust on its surface scatter, and pulled it into the light. Gingerly, he opened the yellowing sheet and found himself staring at your handwriting—a note that he had never seen before.

He once asked about your penchant for leaving hand written notes for him to find. You shrugged then and nonchalantly called it a treasure hunt for him to partake in. During the times passed, he’d encounter lingering, forgotten notes from you all over his apartment. In his cupboard, pushed in the dark recesses, in his rarely worn patterned coat, and slotted in between the books on his bookshelf. He thought he had found them all but here was one left unread as if it knew when to make its presence known. As if it knew that he needed a sliver of light to guide him home.

Spence,

I’m not sure if we met at the right time, but because we’re both here, let’s do our best and if there does come a time were we must part, know that I love you. I’ll love you enough until we meet again. 

His tears broke free from his battered walls and streamed down his face. He loved Maeve. He was thankful for the peace each phone call had given him and although his memory of each talk may fade into the back of his mind, the relief and emotion she had given him will linger in his chest. He slowly got up from his position and approached his beloved shelf. With one last look at his book, he slotted it within the nook and walked away.

His love for Maeve will always be there but he loved you too and he thinks he always will. And when sadness and grief comes to pull him back under in moments of weakness, he unfolds his talisman—the note—kept near his heart as a reminder. A reminder that he has loved, was loved, and is still loved. 

***

The third time was when he was shot in the neck

Fading in and out. 

In—liquid seeping into his shirt and tie.

You were the only thing he could think of. Not the case, not the team, only you.

Out—sirens blaring in a distant background.

In—Morgan’s voice calling his name.

For the first time in a long time, Spencer was terrified. He was so terrified that death had come to collect his borrowed life without having a chance to right his wrongs. Without any contact and without any way to say how much he has loved you still after all these years and months. He could probably recite how long it had been, if only he wasn’t loopy from the pain. 

Out—muffled voices all around him. 

In—a gentle sway in the ambulance as it rushed to the hospital.

He wanted to tell you how much he’d learned from recalling all his memories with you. How much you had taught him about love—a teaching he could never find in books. How love was selfless and tenacious—just like when you didn’t give up on him early on—when it needed to be. How love is fueled with respect—like how you respected his choices and demands of his career, and how love—true love, knew when it’s time to go. 

Out—streak of bright lights passing him by. 

In—professionals dressed in scrubs and white coats touching him. 

Your face was the only image settling behind his closed eyelids. He tried to remember the crinkle around your eyes when you smile, the scrunch of your nose when you laugh, or the he arch of your brows when you teased him but all were hazy, as if he was staring into a deep depth of water that rippled nonstop. All he could conjure up was your face with tears sliding down to your chin from the hurt he caused. He was deathly afraid that his last memory of you were in pain. 

Out—laying cold on the operating table.

All he could muster to repeat to himself as he faded under local anesthesia was your name. Like it was a mantra, a prayer, and his own personal saving grace. 

In—surrounded by beeping noises and fluffed pillows.

Mind still hazy when he came to, he sent a thank you to the stars. Grateful that Death was unsuccessful and to have been given an opportunity to correct his mistakes. Wishing that somehow, somewhere your paths and his would cross again and he could tell the story of all his adventures and yours, and how he has changed, hoping once again to be worthy of you.

***

The final time was during his stint in prison

He’s changed. In the dark forest you’ve left him behind, the once scared and hunted by monsters had become the hunter. The anger and agitation that simmered near the surface of his every waking moment was something he did not know how to accept. He was worried about the new him and how you’d perceive it. There were no signs of who he was before and during you. If he’d cross paths with you on the street, would you recognize him? He hoped so. Would you still accept him? He needed you to.

Along his long route back to you, he grew thorns and horns. He became decorated with wounds and scars. His talisman—your note—had aged, just like him, and had ripped along the folds. His once brilliant mind—now in a haze from trauma, memorized the words. It was your writing that grounded him while he was stuck in the cell of a mad woman’s making. The slants and loops studied and the grooves and indentations caressed with his calloused, bloody hands. 

He loved you still, very much so, but with his change, it had also mutated. What once was compared to a fairytale kind of love had now been smudged with darkness and desperation.

He felt lethal in his journey back to your embrace. Gone was the boy who felt remorse in shooting an unsub between the brows and replaced with the man who felt no qualms in killing should safety be threatened. He knew he had to talk to someone about the path his thinking had taken but instead, he entered his home with a single-minded purpose, walking straight to your side of the drawer and clutched another memento that will buoy him through the ravaging waters of emotion—your engagement ring. Looping it through a chain that he now wears on his neck and near his heart, a symbolism of his will to see things through, come hell or high water, he’ll crawl home to you.

***

And his second life started when he left the BAU

Spencer wanted to see you. Once inside the building elevator going down, he fought the urge to dial your number—regardless if it was still even yours. He needed to know. To know if you’ve moved on after all those many years apart or lived just like he did—tried but unsuccessful, always comparing and always coming up short. The eyes not as kind as yours, the smile not as radiant, and the heart not as beautiful. Was it awful of him to wish for the former? Yes, yes it was. He knew you deserved happiness and support after all the times he had let you down, knew you deserved a life after him, knew you deserved a happy ending but here he was, hopelessly wishing that your happy ending was still with him. 

He didn’t keep up with your life as much as he wanted to. The wounds of his failure and the battle scars he received along the way were still fresh. He didn’t have the right to know—a self imposed punishment. Although Garcia offered to look into you whenever he would reach rock bottom, and he’s been there a lot, he refused. By returning your ring, the engagement ring hidden underneath his shirt, you’ve taken back his privilege and he respected your decision.

You deserve better than to have him contact you without his life in order. If you’d still have him, you’d get the best of him. And so for the past six months, he focused on himself. He gained his footing in teaching young agents, he worked on his anger and made progress with his therapist, and he got to know who he was again beyond being an FBI agent. And it was as if the stars took notice of the changes and decided to reward him.

It was late into the night when he decided to make a quick grocery trip for some perishables missing in his pantry. This was out of his normal routine and he was forever grateful to the impulsiveness that took over him that night ever since. It was what led him to cross paths with the only person he had once considered home—you.

As he was entering the store, you had come out in all your beauty, struggling with one bag in each hand. Whenever he would recall this story, you’d scoff and tell him that you didn’t feel beautiful then—hair in a sloppy bun, t-shirt all crumpled, and face bare from any makeup. He’d object as no matter what the circumstance, you were always the most beautiful to him. 

He cleared his throat then. “Y/N.”

“Spencer,” you breathed out, surprise painting across your face.

“Do you need help with that?” He asked, voice cracking at the end. He thought he outgrew his shyness, time in prison does that for a person, but here you were reverting him back to how he felt when he first met you. “I’d like to walk you back to your car, if that’s alright,” he added on as he was afraid of your refusal. The parking lot was dimly lit and almost deserted. Years of solving cases has made him hyper vigilante and even if he was technically no longer a fed, his experience stayed the same. He still wanted to make sure you were safe, after all the time away.

You hesitated before nodding once in agreement. 

He smiled, letting go of his breath he didn’t know he was holding, and reached out to take your grocery purchases. “Let me get these for you, lead the way.”

The silence was uncomfortable. Years of being away from each other has made him a stranger to you and you to him.

You crossed yours arms, a sign of defense, before clearing your throat. “How’s the team?”

He pressed his lips into a straight line, not wanting to spill every little change that has happened while you were gone. “Good, good.”

Silence.

“No case tonight?”

“Uh—I only consult now,” he explained. “I went into teaching.”

Your arms dropped, a sign of openness, and you peered at him. “That’s—different. I mean, are you happy about that?”

He laughed and almost felt like preening at the care that you still had for him. “Yeah, it’s nice to have a normal schedule for once.”

“Somehow normal and you being mixed together doesn’t compute in my head,” you teased, swinging your hands in a clear sign of nervousness. He felt good—glad that he still could read your tics. How the slight downturn of your eyebrow meant you’d table the information to ruminate on it later. How the little bounce on your walk, that wasn’t there earlier, meant you were accepting of this situation. And how you slightly shifted closer to him meant you find his presence a protector. 

As he was documenting each non-verbal cues into his memory, the back of your hand brushed with his, sending a jolt of electric charge. It was as if both your bodies needed a physical reminder that the other half is back and nearby. It was as if a defibrillator had charged his black and blue heart to life once again. 

You giggled. “Sorry about that.”

It was a cold night but each laughter wrapped around him like a comforting blanket, warming his weary bones that had been lost in the dark cold woods for so long. “It’s alright,” he stated as he watched you unlock the trunk of your car. 

Loading in your grocery in silence, he shuffled ever so slightly out of the way as you closed the trunk and rocked on your heels.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets. It was the only way he could prevent his hands from reaching out and caressing your pink cheeks. He didn’t have the permission to touch you yet—not matter how much he wanted to. So wanted to.

“You look—you look great, by the way,” you stammered out.

“Thanks, you too—look great, I mean,” he stated. He wanted to sing out more praises on how you’d gotten more beautiful, more radiant, and more lovely but he settled on something simple lest he scares you away with the intensity of his feelings. “Do you think could have your number? You know, just in case you’d need help with groceries again.” A feeble excuse.

You smiled. The type of smile that was once reserved for him and he wished for it to still be his. Please don’t say no, please, he realized that if you do, that will be it. That there will no longer be any saving the tragedy between him and you.

As he was starting to slide down the familiar slope of sadness, you nodded. “I never changed it.” You unlocked the driver seat before facing him once again. “Spence—”

He basked in hearing you say his name.

“—I’m different now. So you’ll have to get to know me again.”

“I’m different now, too,” and while you uttered yours as if it was an apology or a forewarning, he uttered his as a promise. A veiled promise that he was now the man that you wanted him to be after all those years.

He reached his hand out. “Hi, I’m Spencer Reid,” he hoped you’d play along.

You laughed, clearly intrigued at changes that had happened to him. Here he was, a germaphobe, reaching for a handshake to a stranger regardless of pathogens. You weren’t really a stranger, not really, but he wanted to write a new beginning. The last time was too tragic and ended with goodbyes. This time, this time, it’ll be perfect, he vowed to himself. A perfect fairytale with a happy ending that he could share with his kids with you one day. 

“Hi, Spencer,” you reached out your hand into his, engulfing yours in his tight grip. “I’m Y/N.”

He watched as you got into the car, fastening your seatbelt and roll down the window. “I’ll call you.”

“Please do, I’ll be waiting,” you whispered out before backing away from the parking lot.

And he did.

And after a few dates, he slid back the ring that once hung around his neck, sitting near his heart, back to where it belonged—back to your fourth finger where the Romans once believed a vein ran directly to the heart. Vena Amoris, the vein of love. Where it will stay forevermore, never allowing time and the outside to separate what once was meant to be. Never allowing ‘him and you’ as separate, there was just ‘them’.

[honeytonedhottie]

HOT GIRL SUMMER⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🍹

hot girl summer is officially here and its the perfect time to have lots of fun and make rly amazing memories, while also feeling and looking ur best ✨ AND continuing to pursue ur goals while doing it.

THE RULES ;

in order to have a hot girl summer there are rules that need to be set in order to ensure that u have fun in a safe manner that aligns with ur goals and who u are as a person. MY hot girl summer rules are

dont put urself in situations that are compromising to ur safety or the safety of ur friends (look out for each other)

try ur best to keep moving and doing things with ur time

be social and HAVE FUN (dont ruin ur own fun)

if u didn't document it, it does NOT count (take lots of photos)

i dont have a LOT of rules for my hot girl summer, i just put those in place bcuz i wanna make sure that i have the most memorable and enjoyable summer that i can.

THE PREP ;

we should be preparing for our hot girl summer. to be helpful and just for funsies, to help you feel your most confident and radiant this summer ✨. if i were to break down the most important things to prep for hot girl summer they’d be ur base (skin + body) ur company, and ur wardrobe.

BASE ; 

moisturize ur skin after your showers while your skin is still slightly damp. for moisturized and soft skin this summer 

if ur not already using sunscreen on your face AND body then what are you even doing? get in the habit of putting sunscreen on ur body to promote a smooth and even skin tone and protect u from the sun ofc 

get into a solid workout regimen that u can be consistent with. focus on building ur body to perfection! work out as much as u want, i recommend 3-4 times a week. 

my recommendations for soft skin is to use an african net sponge bcuz that always gets me CLEAN. also, use african black soap for glowy skin and use shea butter on ur body while ur skin is still slightly damp. 

not only does it smell yummy but it rly REALLY moisturizes you well. i also recommend using it during the summer bcuz the glow that u get from it is REAL 🌺🍹

i’ve elaborated on sunscreen in the bullet points already so let’s go to body building. get into a workout regimen 3-4 times a week. i’ll share some workouts here depending on what u want. 

the important thing is that you start NOW so that then by the time it’s summer your gains will be visible and you’ll feel stronger and more confident -> therefore more happy and prepped for ur hot girl summer. 

use body scrubs to exfoliate skin and also promote optimal softness bcuz in the summer it’ll be hot and you might wanna show some skin 

WARDROBE ; 

get onto ur pinterest and start looking for inspo for your summer wardrobe that coincides with ur personal style. use ur fashion binder if u have one to start formulating and thinking of outfits. 

create a list of specific pieces that ur looking for (with photos if u can) so that when ur shopping/thrifting u know to get what u want for summer. 

the important things for summer from my own fashion binder are bikinis, camisoles and mini skirts + shorts. bcuz i wrote that in my fashion binder i’ll look for and buy those specific clothing pieces for my summer wardrobe. do the same ✨

COMPANY ; 

it’s more fun when u spend some parts of ur summer with quality company so make sure to prepare that NOW so that then ur plans go smoothly in the summertime. 

make sure to have a list of things/activities that u wanna do this summer either alone or with company. and make plans according to that bcuz ur not about to be cooped up all summer, unless thats what u want ig.

now is the time to test the waters and propose ideas with ur friends about what u guys should do together this summer. maybe it’s simply hanging out, or going on a sort of vacation together. 

whatever it is, make sure that ur company is not only reliable/responsible but also that they have ur best interest at heart bcuz it’s gonna be hot girl summer and everyone’s gonna be out there 😭 u need someone to have ur back and someone that you can trust. 

THE INSPO/MOOD ;

skin is so glossy and smooth it almost looks wet. warm beaches and fruit platters. swimming like EVERYDAY, cruises and shopping sprees and vacations. dinners with ur girls, summer romances. natural yet so ethereal.

SUMMER FASHION LINK ;

i've already made a post that talked about summer wardrobe essentials and its linked right here. but the gist is that summer is all about vibrant colors and skin and shimmer.

PLAYLIST ;

for a proper hot girl summer u absolutely MUST have a proper hot girl summer playlist. the top songs on my summer playlist are jump by tyla, and the 250 remix of attention by newjeans. make sure that u formulate a couple playlists for summer because the music is what makes the season.

PRODUCTS AND ESSENTIALS ;

for the summertime i gravitate towards products that are more tropical and fruity which is a juxtaposition to what i usually smell like. cuz im a vanilla cupcake/strawberry poundcake scented girlie. but in the summer i kind of like to smell like a refreshing cocktail instead.

body shimmer

moisturizing lip oils

cute claw clips

mini fan that u can take in ur purse

thick body butters

a swimsuit on hand

some products that i recommend to achieve that scent are the bronzed coconut products from victorias secret pink, along with strawberry and champagne and fruit crush. the ulta beauty smoothie shower gels r also rly good. lastly bodycology has some great summer scents.

last but not least i rly hope that u guys prioritize having fun this summer and being the embodiment of beauty and confidence that GLOWS. stay safe and have an amazing hot girl summer ✨

[milfsloverblog]

Hello author ! I have a request for Larrisa. Reader is a prostitute and Larissa goes to her to forget Morticia. May I ask for shifted cock ? Thank you keep up the good work 🥳

Unraveled Illusions (NSFW)

Larissa Weems x prostitute!reader

A/N: Slowly going through my request list. I loved this idea, wrote this tonight instead of preparing my lessons for next week (work can wait). I hope you’ll enjoy what I did with your request!!

tw: shapeshifted cock

You thought when your latest client picked you, it was for your body. After all, that's what most people are paying for. They weren’t looking for conversation or connection—just the fantasy of intimacy.

Over the years, you’d learned to read them: the ones who worshipped breasts, ass, legs, as well as many other common—and uncommon—things. Larissa seemed like a hair woman, judging by the way her fingers twisted through your locks, keeping you bent over the bed.

She hadn’t touched you beyond that, though. One hand was locked around your hair, the other... Well, she was stroking herself, seemingly content to maintain the distance between your bodies. It was unusual. Clients usually tried to consume you, to use you until there was nothing left. But Larissa, this woman with her piercing gaze and sharp cheekbones, seemed more like a collector.

You could hear her laboured breathing behind you. But it wasn’t pleasure—at least not entirely. There was something raw in it. Frustration, maybe. Longing.

You turned your head, curious to catch her expression, but her grip tightened, and she guided your face back toward the headboard.

"Stay."

Her voice was low, almost commanding, but there was something fragile underneath it. Something you’d seen before in others: a woman who wasn’t really here with you.

It always came down to projection, didn’t it? You weren’t yourself in these moments—you were the canvas they painted on. Larissa, too, was searching for someone else.

"What's her name?" you asked, breaking the silence.

Larissa's movements faltered.

“Don’t talk.”

You didn’t listen.

“Her name,” you repeated, turning your face enough to glimpse her. "The one you’re thinking of."

She scoffed, shaking her head, but didn’t deny it.

“Not everything has to be spelt out,” she muttered, but the way her shoulders stiffened told you everything you needed to know.

This woman—this ghost—haunted her.

“You know you’ll feel better if you say it,” you pushed gently, straightening enough to sit back on your knees. Larissa stilled, her hand falling away.

She sat heavily on the edge of the bed, pinching the bridge of her nose. For a long moment, she didn’t speak, and you weren’t sure if she was trying to gather herself or find an escape. Finally, she muttered one word.

“Morticia.”

Her lips barely moved when she said it, like she was afraid of summoning something painful.

"Good." You let the name sit between you, an offering of sorts. “Now, was that so hard?”

Her icy blue eyes snapped to yours, narrowing.

“Do you always try to psychoanalyze your clients?”

“Only when they make it this easy.” You smiled, softening the edges of the dig.

For the first time since she’d walked into the room, Larissa smiled back. It wasn’t warm—not yet—but there was something wry in it, something almost playful.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

“A little.”

She exhaled a short laugh, running a hand through her hair. The updo she’d tried to keep intact earlier was half undone now, strands curling rebelliously around her face. You thought she looked beautiful like this—dishevelled and human.

You didn’t often allow yourself to feel for clients. It was dangerous, after all. But something about Larissa's loneliness, the way it clung to her like a second skin, called to you.

“You miss her,” you said softly, not a question.

Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t deny it.

“Do you want to tell me about her?”

“No.” The word was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. But the way her fingers trembled slightly as she worked to rebutton her blouse betrayed her.

She stood abruptly, reaching down for her pants that she quickly put back on.

“I should go,” she muttered.

“Larissa,” you said, her name falling from your lips without thought.

She froze, her hand on the door handle. Slowly, she turned, her eyes searching yours.

"Say that again," she murmured.

“Larissa.”

There was a flicker of something in her gaze, something raw and unguarded.

“You almost sound like her,” she said softly. Her voice wavered, but her expression was steel.

You crossed the room, closing the space between you, emboldened by her hesitation. When you reached her, you lifted a hand, letting your fingers hover near her temple. “Do you want me to be her?”

She swallowed hard. “You can’t.”

“No,” you agreed. “I can’t. Because in what world would she ever want to be with someone like you?”

The words were cruel, but you’d seen what women like her responded to. Pain. It was familiar to them. Comforting, even. You held your breath, waiting for her reaction.

Her eyes flared, something igniting in their depths.

She stepped forward, her presence filling the air between you, heavy and electric. It took everything you had not to retreat—not to give her the satisfaction of seeing you falter. She was close now, too close, her icy blue eyes locking onto yours, turbulent and searching. They flickered like a storm barely held in check, and you wondered if she was about to lash out or leave altogether.

Your heart raced, an unpredictable rhythm, and you weren’t sure if it was fear or desire that caused it. Maybe both. Then, before you could steel yourself, she closed the distance.

Her lips crashed against yours, a punishing press of mouth on mouth. It was rough and demanding, all sharp edges and no finesse, but you met her fervour head-on, refusing to let her dominate entirely. You pushed back, kissing her with just as much bite as she gave.

It was the right move. A low growl escaped her throat as her hands found your hips, gripping tightly. She pulled you against her, guiding you down onto the bed without breaking the kiss. The mattress dipped beneath your combined weight as she covered you, her lips relentless.

The kiss was messy, a heady mix of clashing teeth and lingering wine. Her perfume lingered faintly on her skin, a floral note beneath the heat of the moment. It was intoxicating, but not enough to distract you.

Your hands worked quickly, curling around the collar of her blouse and tugging her closer. The buttons she had so meticulously fastened earlier came undone with ease under your fingers, and when you finally managed to peel the fabric off her shoulders, she hovered above you, breathless and dishevelled.

“You’re an idiot,” she growled, and you knew she wasn’t talking to you but rather herself.

“You’re a cunt,” you shot back, breathless but smiling.

She pulled back just far enough to smirk, the expression sharp and self-assured. “You are what you eat,” she quipped before diving back in.

A laugh bubbled out of you, unexpected but genuine. The sound didn’t seem to bother her; if anything, it spurred her on. She buried her face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as if trying to anchor herself.

Her weight pressed down on you, solid and comforting in its intensity. Your hands roamed to her biceps, gripping them, feeling the tension in her muscles as they shifted and flexed beneath your touch. She moved with purpose, her hands sliding over your body, down to your hips, then lower still.

Your legs moved instinctively, wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer. The fabric of her pants rubbed against your skin, and when her hardened length brushed against your core through the layers, you couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped you.

She hummed softly, rolling her hips against yours.

"Larissa, please," you begged, the words tumbling out more earnestly than you'd intended.

Her movement stilled. Rising to her feet, she left you sprawled on the bed as you propped yourself up on your elbows, watching as she reached for the zipper of her pants. Hooking her thumbs into the waistband, she slid them and her panties down in one fluid motion. Your eyes stayed locked on her face, unblinking, even as she stepped out of the fabric and crawled back toward you, her movements deliberate.

Your arms stretched toward her as she closed the space between you. Without breaking eye contact, you reached into your discarded purse beside you, your fingers quickly finding a condom and tearing it open with practised ease.

The other hand drifted down her body, brushing over the curve of her breasts, the smooth line of her navel, and lower. When you felt the soft hair below her belly button, your fingers ventured further, wrapping around her cock, heavy and hot in your palm.

The first experimental tug earned you a soft groan. The second, a deeper growl. By the third, her forehead came to rest against yours, her breathing laboured as you carefully rolled the condom over her length. Satisfied, you lifted your eyes to hers, offering a small nod of readiness.

She crushed her lips to yours in a fierce kiss, pushing you back onto the bed. The kiss was rough, more teeth than softness, and you moaned against her mouth, your breath hitching when her fingers finally found you. They slipped through your folds with practised precision, circling your clit with just the right pressure to make you gasp. Her teeth nipped at your bottom lip, her control maddeningly exact.

Sweat slicked your skin as your breaths mingled, and more than once, she brought you right to the edge of release only to pull back, leaving you teetering on the brink. By the third time, you shot her an exasperated glare.

“I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry in the slightest,” she said, her grin equal parts smug and infuriating.

Your response caught in your throat when she finally positioned herself at your entrance. With a deliberate push of her hips, she filled you, the stretch overwhelming in the best way. You whimpered, unable—or unwilling—to hold back the sound.

"Larissa," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper.

She buried her face against your neck, her breath hot against your skin as she groaned. It almost sounded like a name—Morticia, perhaps—but before you could linger on the thought, she thrust again, hitting a spot deep inside you that made you cry out.

Your arms wrapped around her shoulders as her pace quickened, each movement precise and powerful. Her hands roamed your body, squeezing, gripping, and claiming. For a fleeting moment, you let yourself believe she wanted you—not whoever haunted her mind. But you quickly dismissed the thought. This was just a transaction, nothing more.

Her pace grew erratic, her body trembling as she neared her climax. To your surprise, you felt your own release building, an unfamiliar sensation creeping over you. You rarely let yourself enjoy these moments with clients, but something about Larissa’s focus, the weight of her presence, unravelled you.

The wave of pleasure hit suddenly, your cry sharp and unrestrained. At almost the same moment, Larissa thrust deep one final time, her body going taut as she groaned through her release. The condom dulled the sensation, but you swore you could still feel the faint pulse of her inside you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the room filled only with the sound of your ragged breaths. Then, with a grunt, she pulled away, disposing of the condom in the bin before beginning to redress in silence.

“Dinner?” she asked casually, buttoning her blouse without looking at you.

You laughed, reaching back to zip up your dress. “I don’t have dinner with clients.”

Sliding onto a nearby stool, you bent down to clasp your heels.

“Even if they pay you?” she asked from the doorway, her tone light but curious.

Looking up, you caught her gaze, noticing the brief flick of her eyes to your cleavage before they returned to your face. A smirk tugged at your lips, mirrored instantly by hers.

“Good night, Larissa,” you said, your voice soft but firm.

She chuckled, a low sound that lingered even as she turned to leave.

“Good night.”

————————————————————————

taglist: @weemssapphic , @im-a-carnivorous-plant , @dingdongthetail , @azu-zu , @gwensfz , @erablaise-blog , @rainbow-hedgehog , @renravens , @kaymariesworld , @niceminipotato , @witchesmortuary , @notmeellaannyy , @weemswife , @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 , @redkarine , @women-are-so-ethereal , @opheliauniverse , @willisnotmental , @raspburrythief , @fictionalized-lesbian , @ness029 , @geekyarmorel , @h-doodles , @cxndlelightx , @m1lflov3rrr , @winterfireblond , @nocteangelus15 , @aemilia19 @spacetoaim22 @vendocrap8008 @jkregal @gela123 @lilfartbox1 @xuukoo @bellatrixsbrat @sadsapphic-rose @dumbasslesbi @larissaoftarthweems @larissalover3 @friskyfisher @fliesinmymouth @imprincipalweemspet @forwhichidream11 @amateurwritescm @imlike-so-gaydude @sugipla @lvinhs @http-sam @gweninred @a-queen-and-her-throne

[alltimefail]

Agency Assignments: A comprehensive to-do list for saving Dead Boy Detectives!

I'm very easily overwhelmed, so I wanted to break down all the ways to help "Save Dead Boy Detectives" that I have seen floating around. This is meant to be something you can reference when you feel like there is so much you need and want to do to help, but don't know how or where to start.

Note: I will be updating this post as we go when necessary, so feel free to bookmark it in your browser for easy access, add it to your homepage, whatever! I'll always have a link to it in my Pinned Navigation post on my blog as well!

It is of the utmost importance that we fight as an organized, well-informed front. We need to be on the same page if we're going to save our show, so let's get into it! 💜💀🔎

➪ First and foremost, follow @savethedeadboys! They're going to be our best resource during this fight.

➪ Next, follow @deadboyagency for news and updates: they've been around since the show dropped and have been an invaluable source of information the entire time.

Now for some task breakdowns:

"One-Time" Tasks

➪ Like the header says, these things can only be done once. Once you do them, you don't have to give them any space in your mind.

Sign the petition*

Review & Rate Dead Boy Detectives on Google, IMDB, Rotten Tomatoes. Be sure on IMDB you don't just rate the show as a whole, but you also rate each individual episode! You can also "Like" the show on Google and click "Watched" which helps the show's engagement scores. (If there are other popular sites I haven't listed here, feel free to share them and rate Dead Boy Detectives highly on them!)

Notify Netflix customer service (through their online chat feature) that you're unhappy with the cancelation of Dead Boy Detectives. This is a short, 5-minute task that I wrote a guide on (with an example message) here!

"Repeat" Tasks:

➪ These tasks can become a part of your daily routine; do what works best for you! You don't have to do every single one of these tasks every day if that is overwhelming!

Share the petition* over and over again, on every one of your socials! Make everyone you love sign it!

Stream Dead Boy Detectives!* Keep it on a loop in the background on low volume as much as possible. Try to get others to stream it as well, especially if they haven't watched it before! Netflix cares about VIEWS: views save shows and I broke down the reasoning here. (Bonus: if you post over on Twitter about your rewatch, use the tag #ReviveDeadBoyDetectives)

Talk about Dead Boy Detectives!* You're probably doing that already, but just be sure that you're tagging your posts. Here on Tumblr use the "Dead Boy Detectives" tag at least (to boost our tag to trending) and anywhere that uses hashtags (Twitter, Facebook, Instagram for example) I would recommend #SaveDeadBoyDetectives and #DeadBoyDetectives as those seem to be the most commonly used tags! IMPORTANT: do not use more than 20 tags here on Tumblr! Any more than 20 and your posts might be marked as spam and hidden from the tags!

Create art, edits for TikTok, fics, gif sets, doodles, crafts, analysis posts, and so on for Dead Boy Detectives.* Having fun is important, too! This is an extension of the "Talk about Dead Boy Detectives" point, but it needs to be stated - don't remove the joy from the fight. If a drawing of our boys or a smutty fic with your favorite trickster cat king is what you can bring to the fight on any given day, that is a perfectly valuable contribution! It's not all emails and hashtags.

Daily request a show through Netflix. Bonus if you're signed in! (I do 3-5 times a day)

Send Emails advocating for Dead Boy Detectives (Email list & Email Template). You can do this as much as you want or just one time.

Send Snail-mail (physical letters) to Netflix advocating for Dead Boy Detectives. I also send a copy of my letters to Warner Bros. Studios. Again, you can do this one time or multiple times. There are dates set aside for "mass" mail sending as well, so check out info on that here!

Interact with articles posted about Dead Boy Detectives. Read them, share them, comment on them, thank the writer for writing them, etc. We want lots of press about the cancellation, and supporting journalists and publications will make them want to write about Dead Boy Detectives more.

NOTE: Anything marked with a * means it's extremely important; if you can only do a few things, these tasks are the ones that you should focus on first. Remember to take care of yourself. This is a marathon, not a sprint, so don't burn yourself out!

WE WILL SAVE THIS SHOW.

Say that to yourself as many times as it takes for you to believe it. We're doing this to get justice for the writers, the actors, for ourselves, and assert to these companies that diverse, queer stories are not disposable one-offs; they deserve to be told in full!

Hugs and Handshakes to you all - whatever will suffice. 💜 Always feel free to reach out if you have any questions, whether that be through private message or my ask box. I'm not going anywhere!

- V

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 33 || The Degrading Era (part 1)

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language & filthy smut. (lots of degrading, if it's not obvious by the chapter title lol)

[ { A/N } ] ➤ I was in heat when I wrote this chapter & the next btw...

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 5.3k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——HE WASN'T LYING.

Sukuna meant every bit of that last statement to you and you'd soon figure out just how serious about it he was. After those words to you, he gave you one final heated kiss as he tugged you off the counter and to your feet.

His lips are removed from your own, just barely, "Starting with this mouth of yours first," Sukuna tells you before planting one last peck on your lips.

You felt like a mindless slut, dazed with lust already simply from his words and kisses combined. Sukuna took his hands off you and stepped back only slightly, his eyes taking in your body. A smile dawns on his lips before he tilts his head and moves a hand down to simply pull at the drawstring of his sweatpants.

It's so similar to the last time you were here, his tone deep and commanding, laced with lust as he voices the words, "On your knees."

Identical to the time prior, it's utterly embarrassing how you move to do as he says with little to no hesitation. Quickly finding yourself on your knees, the cold bathroom floor felt even through the fabric of your pants, not that you cared though.

Your eyes peered up at the man and even from such a low angle, Sukuna was as attractive as ever.

He chuckles, "Remember what I told you to do last time?" He asks.

You frown at the fact that he still wants to drag the whole thing out, "I still can't use my hands?"

A scoff leaves Sukuna's lips, "Nope."

You roll your eyes and adjust the way you're seated on the floor. Your legs spread a bit and you push up on your knees, crossing your hands behind your back and bringing your mouth to his pants. Sukuna swallows hard, his eyes never once leaving the sight of you.

Using your teeth, you mimic the same actions as the week prior, pulling down his sweatpants and feeling ridiculously embarrassed as you do so. Again, you're left facing his boxers, the prominent large bulge straining against the fabric in front of you.

Your eyes widen at how big his length is, your mouth almost even watering. You lean forward and Sukuna voices your name in a low tone, the sound making you freeze and redirect your gaze upward.

"Kiss it," He purrs with this little smile on his face. Oh, it's so obvious that he loves making you embarrassed, seeing as another flushed shade takes over your face.

You narrow your eyes at the man but lean forward, pressing your lips to his erection, to which he bites his lip.

"Good girl," Sukuna praises. His words go straight to your core, "But if you keep lookin' at me like that, I'll punish you."

You're pretty sure that's what you wanted so, you rolled your eyes and then moved to tug his boxers down. Sukuna smiles wickedly at your brattiness, moving his hand to the top of your head and pushing you away.

A pout takes over your lips, "C'mon, stop teasing me..."

The man frowns to mock you, "Or what?" Sukuna asks before taking his hand away from your head.

You don't respond and simply stay in place as he then works his cock out of his boxers, your eyes quickly dropping to the sight and widening further than they have thus far. You swallow as you stare because holy fuck is his dick big. And as for that tattoo he claimed to have, it's similar to the one he has around his wrists, just... wrapped around his cock-- near the base.

Precum oozes out of his tip and you can feel the way you're soaking in your underwear at the sight alone. Sukuna's hand suddenly moves to his member and you're forced to watch him stroke himself right in front of your face.

You patiently await his next words to you, comforting yourself on your knees as you just stare at the way his large hand strokes his cock, spreading his precum all over his length-- the sight making you ridiculously needy.

Your gaze shifts up to his face and his eyes are already on yours, his face exuding nothing but pure lust. "Spit on it," Sukuna orders, his voice driving you insane, "Get it nice 'nd wet f'me."

You don't have to be told twice, moving to well up water in your mouth and then just barely looking away from his eyes to spit on his length. He hums deeply at the contact, his strokes growing faster and you get more desperate for something as you watch.

"What a good slut you are," He comments, moving his free hand to the top of your head and forcing you to angle it back so that you can look up at him. Sukuna then smiles, "Stick your tongue out and maybe I'll reward you."

You do, neediness clouding your gaze as your tongue seeps out your mouth, your lips parting and your mouth wide open for the man. Sukuna jerks himself off a bit more at the sight-- turned on by the way you look peering up at him so desperately, the way you've got your hands behind you, and the slight arch in your back as you try to lean toward him.

The man moves to tap the tip of his cock against your wet tongue and you are almost to the point of whining for more. You then move on your own, shifting your tongue around to lick over his tip, to which his breath hitches.

Sukuna wasn't expecting you to move so he wasn't exactly ready for the way you push yourself forward, even against the hold he had on your head, quickly moving to suck on the tip of his leaking cock.

"Fuck," He curses breathily between a slight chuckle, "Wanted it that damn bad?" Sukuna asks rhetorically.

You don't answer, moving to tilt your head as your tongue swipes through the slit of his tip, lapping up every drop of his precum and causing the man to groan. Sukuna decides to let you do your thing, removing his hands from both himself and your head.

The man leans back only slightly, watching the way you happily attempt to take him into your mouth. Your eyes are up on his and it's cute to him the way his cock can hardly fit in your mouth. You made it about halfway before you pulled right off, rolled your tongue over him again, and then pushed yourself forward once more.

Sukuna found it entertaining more than anything how you bobbed your head back and forth on his length, not yet throating his cock and simply sucking about half of his length. Normally, for someone his size, you'd move to use your hands too but he told you not to so you did your best with your mouth alone.

He gives you about two to three minutes to suck him off as you wish, letting out slight and quiet grunts and groans, especially when you take a bit more of him. After that, he grows tired of seeing you struggle and debates on allowing you to use your hands.

Sukuna heaves out a breath of air but then a better idea comes to mind and you feel one of his large hands go to your head again, the other moving to the counter behind you as he holds himself up.

Sukuna groans as he suddenly pushes his hips forward and forces more of his cock down your throat, "Mmmgh... muuch better..."

He then forces your head further onto him, really making his length squeeze further into your tight throat. You moaned around the man and he had to bite his lower lip to conceal the sound the vibration almost made him let out.

Sukuna draws his hips back and then thrusts forward slowly. He didn't want to hurt your throat so he started out slow, allowing you the time to get used to his massive girth sliding in and out of your mouth.

"That's it," Sukuna praises, feeling the way you open up the back of your throat for him and begin to breathe through your nose, "Take it-, fuuuck..."

You worked your tongue over his dick as he picked up a steady pace into your mouth, trying your best to please him and keep your eyes open and up on his. The eye contact was what made the whole thing all the more stimulating since his eyes never left yours.

You gag a little when his cock pushes further into your mouth than you expected, to which he smiles at the feeling. Sukuna then loses his sense of control and goes to do what he's been wanting to do this entire time.

His legs part a bit further and both of his hands go to the side of your head, cradling you in his hold before he drew his hips back and then snapped them forward with a harsh thrust. Tears quickly prick the corners of your eyes as the tip of his cock knocks into the hilt of your throat, once again making you gag.

Sukuna speaks huskily through gritted teeth as he works up a mean pace, fucking his dick into your mouth and causing you to moan around him at the feeling. "So... fucking... warm..." He voices out in between thrusts, "You make a good cocksleeve, y'know that?" He chuckles.

The slick sounds of his member slipping and sliding over your tongue and down your throat filled the bathroom, drool and spit leaking out of the corner of your mouth as he face fucked you.

Sukuna allowed his head to fly back as he rutted his tip down your throat, listening to the sounds of your gagging and feeling how sloppy and messy he had your mouth as he fucked into it.

"Fuuuuck," Sukuna groans loudly, the sound making your cunt clench around nothing, "Had' me thinkin' about this all week," He grunts out to you before looking back down at the sight, "Fuckin' this pretty face of yours... shit..."

Your eyes are glossed in tears and there's even a few running down your face, along with spit dripping down your chin due to his harsh thrusts. You had shifted to squeeze your legs together, needing some sort of friction and your hands were no longer behind your back.

Instead, one was placed on his thigh as you tried to brace yourself and the other was on your chest and you gave yourself minimal satisfaction as Sukuna used your mouth to get off.

With a sudden smirk, "Touch yourself," Sukuna orders, his words bringing back a sudden memory of the time Gojo said those same words to you. The situation was much different but of course, it still aroused you the same way.

You didn't hesitate to drop your hand from your breast to your cunt, rubbing yourself just barely over your clothes and letting out a moan as you do so. Your lashes fluttered as you struggled not to choke over his size ramming into your mouth.

Moving your fingers a slow circle, you began to moan as you pleased yourself beneath him.

Sukuna releases that deep groan of his that gives you butterflies, making you squeeze your legs together. His lips then part and his brows push together, "Hah... Think' I should reward you for taking me down your throat so well? Hm?" He asks hastily, his thrusts growing harsher.

You nod as best you can as your eyes begin to shut, tears streaming down your cheeks and spit dripping off your chin and onto your chest. The sight was so messy and Sukuna loved every bit of it-- the sound of your gagging, your moaning, your whines, the way your tongue felt, how wet and sloppy your face had become, Sukuna was enamored by it all.

He tilts his head at you and shoves his length all the way down, to the point where your nose is pressed against his pelvis and your eyes shoot open, widening at the sudden stretch.

Sukuna smirks, "Look at me," He orders.

You struggle to do so, seconds away from choking around him as you lift your gaze to him. Big teary eyes stare up at the man and the sight does it for him.

Sukuna bites his bottom lip for a second, "Stay like that for a second. Yeah?"

Both of your hands go to his thighs and you try to keep your throat open for as long as you can, your nails digging into his skin as you try to breathe through your nose properly. Sukuna wanted nothing more than to capture the image of you like this, it was so sexy, so sinful, and he fucking loved it.

"Hah..." He lets out a heavy breath, "F-Fuck... M'gonna cum down your throat... stuff you nice 'nd full of me, okay? You want that?" Sukuna asks, though, his words came out as more of a low-toned warning than an actual question.

To respond, you give the man a whiney little hum, struggling to keep your eyes open at this point as tear after tear streams down your face, "Mm-mhmm..."

Sukuna finally slides his hips back and you get only a second to collect yourself before his grasp on your head grows tighter and he begins thrusting into your mouth again. The groan he lets out bounces off the walls of the bathroom, echoing into your ears and making you so stupidly horny below him as he fucked his orgasm into your mouth.

You felt it slide right down your throat, the feeling mildly uncomfortable but you accepted it nonetheless, swallowing as best as you could before Sukuna pulled himself out of your mouth for the first time in what felt like ages.

The second he's out, you let out a few coughs, moving your arm over your mouth to collect yourself as you gasp and scramble to properly bring air into your lungs. So distracted with that, you didn't even notice that the man was still hard, heavy pants leaving him as he too collected himself.

Once you caught your breath and wiped your face off, you dragged your sights up to the man again. Sukuna had a little smile on his face before he crouched down to you. A hand went to your jaw, his fingers pressing into your cheeks as he stared into your eyes.

"You look so fuckin' pretty like this," He compliments.

Unbeknownst to you, despite trying to wipe yourself clean, you still had streaks of tears running down your face and saliva was still sliding out of the corner of your mouth. Sukuna tilted his head and pulled your face close to his own for a second before you felt his tongue near your chin.

The same mess that had dripped out of your mouth, he was licking it up, dragging his tongue up along your skin before he got to your lips. Then, he pecked your lips for only a split second before moving to your cheek. Your eyes went wide when he licked the salty tears off your face.

"S-Sukuna," You whispered, your voice slightly hoarse from your actions.

He pulls his mouth away from your face and when he looks at you, his face is completely straight, "What?"

You swallow hard, "I..." You gazed back and forth between his left and right eyes desperately before taking one of your hands and grabbing ahold of one of his, moving his palm in between your legs, "I n-need you..."

A laugh spilled from his lips, there was nothing more that turned him on than seeing you needy for him. You feel his middle and ring finger press up against your pussy, moving to rub a slow and torturous circle.

"Getting your throat fucked wasn't enough, huh?" He coos, mocking you with his facial expressions.

You shake your head, completely void of embarrassment by this point and too eager to get something more.

Sukuna takes his fingers away from you and you whine. "Words." He hums.

"N-No, it's not enough-," You're cut off with a gasp when his fingers press into you again, "Mmh... I... I want you to fuck me..." You say timidly, watching the way his eyes dilate and deciding to continue with your pleas, "P-Please... f-fuck, I need it so bad..."

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, the man leans back a little and takes his hand completely away from you, "Fine, fine..." He sighs, lifting his fingers to his face and looking at them. Sukuna smiles at the way your liquid has seeped through two layers of clothing and onto his skin, "Holy fuck," He lets out that sexy chuckle of his, "You're fuckin' soaked..."

With that, the man stands to his feet and pulls you up to your feet along with him. There's so much heat in between your legs that you could feel what he was referring to, feeling the way every inch of you is heated and your wetness coats your crotch.

The male grabs your wrist and then tugs you along with him, pulling you out of the bathroom and heading toward his bed.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

You didn't know what to expect.

There was nothing that could've prepared you for Sukuna. Everything about him aroused you. From the way he had you lay down on your stomach, to the way he ran his fingers over your body as he undressed you, and even to the sound of his commanding words-- he didn't fail to have you a wet mess.

"Arch that back f'me," Sukuna voiced out to you from behind.

Everything you'd previously been wearing was discarded completely, lost to the bedroom floor. It was like your body was moving on its own, your face rested against the mattress as you lifted your hips and then arched your back.

Sukuna let out a hum and then tilted his head at the sight, inspecting the curve of your back before he placed a single hand into your arch. You could feel the tip of his hard cock brush over your entrance before he pushed down on your back a bit.

He inhales sharply, "You can arch more than that, can't you?" He asks, his other hand going to your hip.

You let out a whine as you parted your legs further than they already were and then dipped your back into the mattress even more, creating a slutty arch for the man behind you.

"Thaaat's it," Sukuna praises, his hand leaving your back and going to his cock, "You better stay like that too." He hums, his fingers working to stroke himself at the sight.

You wiggled your hips back a little and then glanced over your shoulder and to him, "Sukuna please..."

"Please what?" He scoffs.

You forced your hips back slightly, feeling his tip brush over you again and using the motion to answer his question. Sukuna's eyes drop down to the sight and he smiles before pushing himself forward only a little bit.

The man rubs his tip in between your folds, teasing you and watching your moisture spread all over him.

"H-Hah... put it in, p-please?" You whined.

He smirked and then moved his hands, clasping them together and then placing them behind his head, "Do it yourself," Sukuna said.

You were so frustratingly aroused. An annoyed grumble left your lips as you shifted a hand under your body and back to him. You felt around for a second before you were able to grab ahold of his cock, shifting yourself backward and lining him up with your cunt.

You had to bite back a moan as you felt his tip press over your clit for a moment before you pushed him back into place. Sukuna watched the whole thing, smiling at the way you struggled.

That was, until he saw you backing yourself up and he felt his tip pressing into you. His eyes widen, not expecting you to figure it all out so quickly, and then his hands shoot down to your hips to hold you. Sukuna didn't want you to think you won anything so he took control again and started to push his hips forward.

Your jaw drops as his cock enters you, the stretch causing whines and slight whimpers to leave your lips. "F-Fuck... you're so b-big... aah..." You moaned, your words going straight to his ego.

Sukuna continues to ease himself into your warmth, trying not to toss his head back or grunt as he squeezes into you. "You can take it," He claims, his grip on your hips suddenly growing tight as he pushes over halfway in.

Instead of pushing all the way in, he almost all the way out and then decides to thrust every inch of himself into you with a loud smack of his pelvis to your ass, along with a moan from you, filling the room.

Your hand instantly goes to grip the bedding beside you and your jaw remains dropped, a filthy moan pouring from your lips. His cock reached so deep into you, filling you up, stretching you out, and even nestling right against your g-spot.

"Oh m-my-," Your words fall off your tongue as he pulls out again and then slams right back in with ease, giving you barely any time to adjust to his length.

Sukuna's behind you with tense brows, breathing heavily as he adjusts to the way your pussy sucks every inch of him in like it's nothing, feeling the way your gummy walls clamp around him and losing himself in how good it feels. "So fuckin' tight..." He groans, his fingernails digging into your skin.

The man then works another slow pace, only for barely even a minute before he's thrusting into you harshly just as he was in your mouth beforehand. The loud squelch of your cunt gushing around his cock could be heard all throughout the room, sounds drilling into your ears and leaving you to only imagine the mess you were making.

Sukuna's dick was so damn big, hitting every mushy spot inside you without even trying, the sensation leaving you to bite onto the sheet below to conceal your sounds of pleasure. The tip of his cock would just ram into your cervix, kissing your insides so sloppily that it felt good and left you a moaning mess below.

Hell, it was so pleasurable that you didn't even realize you came until he said something.

Scoffing loudly, Sukuna'e eyes are down on his cock steadily getting smothered in your liquids, smiling at the sight, "Aagh... Fuuuuck... You're drippin' all over my cock like a fuckin' slut, shit..."

"S-Sukuna... feels s'good..." You mumble out to the man.

He smirks, "Yeah?"

You try to nod but your words lead him to go from harsh thrusts to pounding into your sopping hole, feeling the way he begins to pull your hips back to meet his thrusts. Your moans begin to come out broken and you could feel every vein of his cock sliding so perfectly against your walls.

Then, to make it worse, of course the man decides to taunt you, bringing a single hand to your hair and tugging your head up only slightly. Your eyes are hazily met with a mirror that's propped up not too far from the bed, seeing the way your body jerks forward with his every thrust.

"See yourself?" Sukuna hums, moving to lean down to your ear, "Look at how well you take my cock," His voice flows into your ears, making you moan and squeeze around him.

He releases your hair and then leans up again, moving to bring a hand down to your ass with a harsh smack. The loud slapping of skin echoes through the room and you think your legs are beginning to shake as his thrusts are relentless.

Sukuna moves his hands to your back, pressing into it and weighing his body over yours a little, forcing your arch impossibly further, "Mmmgh... look at that..." He comments, his eyes on the way your folds spread around his cock and watching the way he just fucks in and out of your hole, "Can you feel that, hm? Feel how deep I am?"

You're on cloud nine by this point, holding onto the bedding for dear life and barely able to respond to him with anything more than a weak, "Mmhmm..."

He smiles and then slaps your ass harshly, the smack loud as he continues to please you. In between thrusts, he speaks to you so lowly, "Use... your... words," Sukuna groans.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you moan, "Y-Yes, fuuck... You're s-so deep... p-please," You weren't sure what it was you were pleading for but you whined nonetheless.

His name began to leave your lips in whimpers as you experienced another orgasm.

Sukuna eases off you, only a little, his hips still snapping into yours and causing your ass to ripple with his every thrust. His hands relax off your body and he moves to wipe sweat from his forehead, biting his lower lip at the slick and filthy mess you were making of his cock.

He smacks your ass again and again, enjoying the sound of the contact and the way you whine and moan in reaction. "What a needy whore you are," Sukuna comments, "Squeezin' around my cock so desperately. Even when I'm this deep inside you, you still can't get enough, huh?"

You could barely voice a response anymore, too wrapped up in the way his tip kept ramming into your cervix. "Hhngh... a-aah... S'kuna... oh fu-uck..." You mumbled, the sound of your struggle making him toss his head back.

"You were so needy 'nd now you can't even take it?" He scoffs before rolling his head back into place. Sukuna looks over to the mirror, seeing the fucked out expression on your face. You can feel the way his cock twitches at the sight, threatening to spill his seed into you.

He then thrusts deep in, too deep. So deep that your jaw goes slack and you instinctively try to pull your hips away from him. The sight drives Sukuna mad, seeing the way you're trying to crawl away from him slightly for a break.

He shakes his head and grabs ahold of your hips, "Don't fuckin' run," Sukuna growls, "Take it, you slut. You begged for it 'nd now you have it so take it."

Again, your eyes roll back, "M-Mmgh... please, please... it's t-too mu-uch..." You whined, though, it was only becoming such because you were creaming around him yet again, forming a messy white ring around the base of his cock that covered the tattoo there.

Sukuna looks down at the connection, "Shiit... pussy's just leakin' f'me," He comments filthly.

"A-Aagnh..." Your eyes are just stuck in the back of your head, especially as he moves to grab ahold of your hair again.

He gives you a mean pull and your body lifts off the bed as he just pounds into your cunt, the wet, sloppy, creamy, gushing sounds loud and slick all throughout the room.

Sukuna moves to your ear and he wraps an arm around your body, his hand going to your clit and making you spasm in his hold, "You're so fucking filthy," He hums lowly into your ear, "Look at the mess you're makin'." The man says before releasing the grip on your hair.

You're forced to look in the mirror and you can see the white mess dripping off his cock as he thrusts into you. The sight is so lewd and obscene, making you whine while he starts to aggressively rub over your clit.

It's all too much for you. You couldn't even moan anymore, simply taking his cock with a slack jaw and slight whiney whimpers leaving your trembling lips. Then, Sukuna moves his free hand around your neck and forces you to look at him.

His eyes are so low on yours, so clouded with lust and desire that it's intoxicating. His lips press into your quivering ones and you gasp as he pinches your clit and knocks into you just right.

Your legs were trembling terribly, thighs threatening to draw together as he fucked you so roughly. Everything was too much and you were reaching a level of high only one person's ever been able to bring you to.

"S'kuna-," You moan, just barely into his lips.

He grunts in response.

"M'gonna... f-fu-uck..." You tried to warn him but he ended up ignoring you and dropping his mouth to your neck, biting and sucking on your skin.

He pulls away only a little to whisper to you in a surprisingly gentle tone, "Do it then," Sukuna says, knowing exactly what you were about to do, "Squirt all over my cock, c'mon, don't be shy..."

You shudder within his grasp just before he lets go of your neck and his fingers rub all too fast over your clit. You do just as he told you to, not exactly on command but, still squirting as your entire body quakes and you fall forwards, going nearly limp due to the sensation.

The bedding is an absolute mess as you come undone, all as Sukuna pulls out for only a moment while you squirm and gasp below him.

His brows raise slightly in amusement, "Good girl," Sukuna praises, "Think' you can do it again?"

Your eyes go wide and you turn your head back to him. Technically, you know you can, you've done it before, multiple times actually, with Choso. But even so, your high has just barely died down and you could feel Sukuna sliding right back into you.

He grins at you, "Hm?"

You shake your head no.

Sukuna chuckles, "That's cute but," He leans forward a little, "I know you can do it again."

"Hah... Sukuna, p-please..." You whine, feeling him slowly roll his hips into you.

He raises a serious brow, "Want' me to stop?"

You bite your bottom lip, hazily debating a few things in your head before whispering, "N-No... but... can you go s-slower?"

Slower? With the way you were squeezing around him? Hell no, Sukuna knew he wouldn't last long enough to go slow, that's why he never did to begin with.

He frowns, "Slower? S'that what you really want?" He asks almost agonizingly, pressing his pelvis against your ass and making your eyes widen at how full he has you and the way his cock is just jammed against your g-spot.

You were seconds away from spazzing again, quickly shaking your head no to the man.

Sukuna chuckles and draws his hips back before snapping them forward, "Make up your mind, woman." He teases, "You want me to go slow," He does it again, pressing into that gummy spot inside you before pulling out and thrusting harshly again, "Or fast?"

Your lips part and a shaky breath leaves you before you're able to properly say something. "Ha-ah... fuck... f-fast," You whimper.

He heard you perfectly fine but decided to taunt you further, moving his hands to the bed beside your waist and leaning near your ear, his breath hitting your skin as he spoke, "Speak up," Sukuna orders before he mashes into you again.

"N-Nngh... a-ahh... fast, Sukuna... fuck..." You moan out, earning a wide smile from him.

"Atta' girl," Sukuna purrs slowly before shifting his position.

You're quick to lose your mind after that.

The man has this stamina like no other and you simply sit there and take his mean thrusts and degrading words for the next hour or so...

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: ???

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

[snapnov4]

marry me | gojo satoru

synopsis: a bad idea disguised as a practical joke turns into something way deeper than you intended it to be.

wc: 1.1k

cw: just good ol fluff!

a/n: happy late birthday to my baby daddy and man of my dreams gojo satoru. i have to marry this man. i have to i have to i have to. anyways. enjoy reading this cute little fic i wrote, meaning i thought abt gojo proposing as a joke and vomited this out. enjoy!

it starts, like all things involving gojo satoru, with a bad idea disguised as a practical joke.

you're sitting across from him, in a restaurant that’s not too fancy, more of a family-type deal. he's forgone his blindfold in favor of his square-framed glasses, but his uniform is still on. he insisted on treating you to dinner after you exorcized an unregistered special grade on your own. however, with gojo, things can't always be so easy; he always adds his patented gojo twist to things, and this time the twist is this terrible joke.

“come on, it'll be funny!” he whines, from across the table.

“you want to propose to me in this restaurant for free food? when you make well over six figures a year? and have full access to thousands of years of old clan money?” you ask, incredulously, reaching to take a sip of your drink, suddenly wishing you had gone with a stronger option.

“yes, exactly. what's not clicking?”

“uhmmm, all of it?”

“look it'll be funny. you could even say no, then you can run out and i get free food as pity points,” he smiles at you, and you find it hard to keep saying no. “i mean, they'll probably all call you heartless and tell me i deserve better but that's fine.”

“okay and if i say yes, what about a ring? or the fact that we're not even together? how is anyone going to believe you?” you ask, thinking you've backed him into a corner, until he just sighs softly, keeping an easy smile, and reaches into his pocket. he pulls out a black velvet box, and shakes it a bit by his head.

“you think i hadn't planned for that?” he asks, smirking in your direction, trying to hold back laughter at your aghast expression, you drag a palm over your face, finally conceding.

“okay. fine! fine! just…try not to embarrass me. please?”

“no promises! also the waitress is coming this way, so get ready. tears are optional but preferred.”

you roll your eyes at his statement, your gaze following him closely when he stands up and walks over to your side of the table. you look around desperately hoping that no one will actually have their attention drawn to you but the thing about gojo is wherever he goes he commands attention. consequently, when he stands at a whopping 6’7 everyone’s already looking, and when he drops down on one knee in front of you, holding that little velvet box in front of you, you catch people’s smartphones shooting up immediately, great. and you're sure the vision of jujutsu’s strongest sorcerer, taking off his sunglasses and holding up a ring box to you would haunt you forever. you think right under reverse cursed technique in his list of talents, they should add acting, because the look in his eyes almost feels real.

the way your name falls so delicately from his lips, before he clears his throat, feigning nervousness. the way he struggles at first to look you in the eyes, the ring sparkling in the dim lighting. he starts:

“you are truly the most beautiful woman i've ever met, inside and out. to know you and love you is a pleasure too great for words, and i want to continue living in it every day. will you marry me?” you roll your eyes, but the smile across your face is genuine, maybe he was right, maybe this is funny. so you have no issue, saying yes, throwing your arms around his neck as he spins you around, delicately sliding the ring onto your finger. the two of you giggle all the way back to jujutsu tech, containers of your free leftovers in hand.

and so it becomes a tradition.

satoru continues to propose to you every time the two of you get the chance to have dinner together, and despite all your better judgment, you laugh and say yes every time.

and what started as a joke, turned tradition, starts to morph into something else.

satoru notices it on a summer day. you're out with the students, supervising them as they spar. the sun’s been beating down for days, he's standing beside you his eyes trained on your hands. your left ring finger has a tan line, it's from that ring. you're not wearing it, you returned it to him last night, forgetting to give it back after dinner and then desperately trying to get your schedules to align for at least five minutes, but he'd been out of town for a week and when he finally got back late last night to find you working on paperwork in your office, he didn't know why it felt like his heart sank when you slid the ring off and put it in his hand.

now, the box feels heavy in his pocket (when did he start carrying it all the time?) and he looks at you with so much adoration that had his blindfold not been on, he'd look like a love-struck puppy to any passerby. you'd been wearing the ring so much it's left a mark on you, it's obvious you'd been wearing it, the tan line a stark reminder that it was there; and something about it makes satoru wish he could make the next proposal permanent. you turn your head to him, smiling softly.

“the first years are something else this year, gojo, did you see yuuji and maki spar? they're going places,”

and he's not sure why but before he can stop himself he's blurting out:

“let me take you on a date.”

you sputter and falter, turning fully to look at him, “are you being serious?”

he nods, that goofy smile of his making you weak to his every whim, it's the same one he gave you that night at that dinner table; the same one that made you start this tradition.

so he takes you out, and then that becomes a tradition. still every day, he thinks of the way that ring looked on you whenever he slid it on your finger, and how he felt rejected every time you gave it back. he'd clear his schedule if he knew he could have dinner with you, just to see the smile you couldn't stop whenever he got down on one knee.

satoru doesn't propose anymore. he figures the next time he does it, he should be serious about it since you're his girl now. on a tuesday night, you're sitting with him on the couch, your legs are thrown over his lap and he looks at you, focused so intently on a book you've been dying to finish, the bookmark always staying near the end as you get called into emergency exorcisms, and he knows. he fishes that ring out of his pocket, the same one he gave you in that restaurant almost two years ago, and there's no fanfare, no cameras, no theatrics. he just opens the box, looks at you, and says,

“hey baby, let's get married.”

and just like the first time, you smile and say yes.

[nakylvr]

— SÃO PAULO

daniela avanzini (katseye) x fem!reader

summary: going to a rave in the middle of the summer wasn't exactly on your to-do list. but when your best friend dani offers to take you to one, you have a hard time saying no

warnings/tags: language, nsfw content, rave setting, drug usage (acid & molly), switch!daniela, switch!reader, semi-public sex(bathroom), oral, fingering, praise

wc: 2,5 k

now playing: são paulo by the weeknd & anitta

minors do not interact

this is pure fiction for fun, do not come at me 🫵 but it is accurate descriptions of the drugs so pls don't do drugs cause i wrote this, i aint responsible for what u do🙏

for the past week, you had been dealing with your best friend, daniela’s, attempts at trying to get you to go out to a party. well, not exactly a party, but a rave. you have no idea how she found out about this, but you didn't care at the same time. you didn't bother asking how she found out that there was a rave on saturday night, knowing she would counter it by saying “so you're interested?” 

so here you are now, sitting in your car in front of the big warehouse, mentally preparing yourself. unfortunately, you ended up giving in to dani’s consistently annoying manner of asking you every day if you were going to go. you couldn't lie and say these environments weren't your thing, because they really weren't. you only came along because you wanted to make sure dani would be okay. but, you didn't say that. with a sigh, you turn off your car and get out, walking up to the door and pushing it open. you're immediately met with bright strobing lights and booming loud music, and your nose scrunches up in discomfort at the sight. this was going to be a long night.

you swerve through the sweaty bodies, thankful you were wearing a short crop top and shorts with how hot it was already growing in there. your eyes wander around the place, trying to find daniela when you suddenly feel arms wrap around you, causing you to jump.

“calm down, ‘ts just me,”

you can barely hear her voice over the music, but you know it's daniela by the way her arms subtly curl around you and pull you closer to her. her words are slurring, and you can smell the alcohol on her.

“‘m glad you came,” she murmurs into your ear. 

“how drunk are you, dani?” you question, trying to ignore her words, but not being able to meet her glossed over eyes. 

“only a little,” she answers, but she’s swaying from side to side, giving a different answer. “c’mon, you need to have some fun, yn,” she pouts at you. “you want something?”

“excuse me?” your eyebrow arches, looking at her now. “dani, i’m not going to drink-” 

“hold your tongue out.”

“what?” you look at her with even more confusion. “dani-” you glance down at what she's holding in her hand, two small pills and two tiny pieces of paper. “oh my god, what else are you on right now?” you hiss out, almost angry. 

“it's just half a tab of acid and the smallest dose of molly possible,” daniela ignores your question about her, telling you what's in her hand. “everyone here is on this shit, you’ll be okay, trust me. ‘s long as you stay with me. ‘m taking it too.” 

your first thoughts are being angry at the fact she was obviously on what “everyone” was on, but the way she's talking to you, saying that you’ll be fine as long as you're with her, the anger fades away. “okay, fine,” you sigh. 

dani smiles at you, taking the pill from her hand and handing it over to you. you take it from her and quickly swallow it before she holds the paper near you.

“hold your tongue out,” she tells you. “it's gonna taste weird, but keep it in your mouth for as long as you can, then swallow it. you’ll feel it within the hour.” 

you comply, holding your tongue out and letting her place the small paper on it. you aren't really listening to what she's saying, too busy trying not to stare at her, your heart racing at the sight of her. you feel the paper touch your tongue as she pulls her hand away, closing your mouth by your jaw, her thumb grazing over your lips. 

“let's have some fun, yeah?” she grins at you, quickly taking both the pill and tab for herself. 

all you can do is nod your head, not trusting your voice to respond. she grabs your hand and pulls you through the bodies, stopping in the middle of the warehouse and smiling at you. 

“you look really good,” she tells you, her eyes shamelessly eyeing you up and down. 

your cheeks grow hot at her gaze on you, averting your eyes from hers. she grabs both your hands, starting to sway around which causes you to do it also, and you're doing your best to not feel like you're gonna panic within the next hour when it kicks in. you know dani has done these things before, seeing as you've had to help her the morning after when she would call you in the early hours saying she was having a bad trip and needed someone. one too many times have you drove over to where she was to pick her up and bring her back to your apartment with her almost nonverbal as she stares wide eyed at every light she sees. yet, here you were, not being the one helping her, but doing it with her. you trust her more than anyone, and you know she wouldn't give you anything that could possibly hurt you, which is enough for you to let your anxieties fade away. 

within a few minutes you find yourself enjoying this. the edm music isn't terrible, and the colorful lights distract you from the crowded environment that you're in. daniela’s eyes haven't left you for one second, and she's asking you every now and then if you're okay, which you just nod, smiling and continuing to dance. 

time flies by quickly, and you can start feeling the weird effects of what you assume is the drugs you were given. your body feels hot, and the lights feel 10x brighter than they were earlier, almost blinding you as you sway around. your back is facing daniela, who is eyeing you with hungry eyes while watching you let go and finally enjoy yourself. she can hardly think with the mixture of alcohol and drugs in her, but all she knows is that she wants you. she's known it for a while now, but didn't want to fuck anything up with you and lose you. she's surprised she hasn't accidentally blurted it out yet on the many times you've taken care of her while she was high. 

her arms snake around your waist from behind, pulling you so close that you're pressed against her. she stares at you as you sway to the hyper music, your eyes closed relishing in the feeling of everything. she wants to kiss you so badly, her eyes flickering to your lips every other second when you suddenly turn your head and open your eyes to look at her. 

you smile at her, your arm hooking around her neck, hand grasping her nape as you pull her in to kiss you. dani’s eyes go wide when you kiss her, but she instantly kisses back, her arms tightening around you. your lips feel soft against hers, and she can taste the lipgloss you put on before arriving. you practically melt into the kiss, moaning softly when she manages to pull you even closer. all you can think about is how good her lips feel pressing on yours, and you're desperate for more. you part from the kiss, panting as you rest your forehead on hers, staring into her eyes. 

daniela can barely process what's happening before she realizes you’ve dragged her into the dimly lit bathroom. you close the stall door and push her against it, leaning in and kissing her deeply. she can't stop the little noise that comes from her throat as you do so, a bit embarrassed by her own reaction with her cheeks flushing bright red. she doesn't know what to do, her hands shaking before finding your waist and grabbing you to hopefully ground herself some bit. your hands trail up and down her body, fingers grazing against her skin under the shirt she was wearing, your touch feeling like a burning sensation with the mix of the drugs. 

dani gasps into the kiss, her eyes closing when she feels your hand dip into her jeans and start circling her clit with two fingers, gripping your waist tighter. her head leans back and hits the door with a quiet thud when you pull away from the kiss, her mouth falling open as quiet whimpers come from her. 

“f-fuck, yn,” she whines your name. “more, please,”

you don't respond, instead taking your hand out of her jeans and unbuttoning them, tugging them down her legs onto the floor. you drop to your knees, pushing her legs apart with your face inches away from her dripping core. you stare up at her as you lick up her folds, hearing her gasp and grab your hair. your hands hold her thighs as you slowly push your tongue inside of her and quickly start thrusting in and out of her, moaning at the taste. 

“o-oh my god,” daniela moans, pushing your head further into her. she whines loudly when you switch to suck on her throbbing clit, tugging on your hair. “keep d-doing that- f-fuck!” 

you move one of your hands from her legs, lining two fingers up to her entrance before slipping them into her, causing a loud moan to come from her at the action. her hips start rocking against your fingers as you build a quick pace, long whines and moans falling past her lips as her head leans back against the door. your eyes remain looking up at her, watching the way her face contorts with every movement you make, her eyebrows scrunched together and her eyes squeezed closed. 

dani can barely think about anything at this point, except the fact that it feels so good with you finally touching her like this. she’d been craving it for so long, and it was almost overwhelming with the amount of pleasure she was feeling. her chest heaves up and down, breathing heavily as she feels the knot building in the pit of her stomach while grinding against your hand. she isn't even trying to be quiet, her moans echoing in the room without any care. it was feeling too good for her to be quiet, her noises becoming more whiny as she feels herself growing closer to the edge. “fuck, you're gonna make me cum!” she whines. “don-don’t stop- shit- please,” 

you don't say anything, speeding up your fingers and curling them inside her leading her to let out more higher pitched moans at the feeling of you hitting her g-spot. she finally opens her eyes and looks down at you, whimpering at the dark look in your eyes as you watch her come undone before you. her eyes lock with yours, and you curl your fingers again, making her let out a long whine as her eyes roll to the back of her head, cumming on your fingers. 

you slow your fingers to a stop, leaving little licks on her clit before standing up again. you bring your fingers to her lips, which she parts instantly as you put them in her mouth. she moans around your fingers at the taste of herself, gagging lightly when you prod them further into her mouth, her hand grabbing your wrist. you pull them out of her mouth, a string of saliva connecting when she suddenly spins you around and presses you against the door, kissing you roughly. you let out a noise of surprise at the sudden action, kissing back as you feel her hands roam up and down your body. 

dani’s hands move under your shirt, fondling one of your tits and smiling at the moan you let out into the kiss. she parts from the kiss, panting through her words. “you're s’ fucking hot,” she mumbles. “be mine, please,” her voice almost sounds pleading as she says this. “please, i’ve been wanting you for s’ long. just-”

your hands cup her face, causing her to stop talking as you smile at her. “of course, dani,” you reply. “i’m all yours.” 

she smiles back at you, kissing you again as her hand trails down your body to under the waistband of the shorts you were wearing. she dips her hand in, pushing your panties to the side and dragging her fingers up and down your wet folds, collecting your wetness on them. “you're so wet,” she murmurs against your lips. without another word, she slides two fingers in you, your walls swallowing around them.

a moan escapes your lips at the feeling, your arms wrapping around her neck and pulling her close to you. parting from the kiss, you put your face in the crook of her neck, moaning into her skin as your hips subconsciously roll against her hand. “fuck, d-dani,” you whimper pathetically. 

“keep makin’ those noises, you sound s’ pretty, mi amor,” daniela mumbles into your ear, thrusting her fingers in you at a steady pace. 

you can't help but whine at her words, clenching around her fingers at the petname she calls you. she slips a third finger in you, stretching you out as you bite down on her neck while moaning. “oh m-my god, dani,”

dani hisses quietly when you bite into her neck, but doesn't stop or even slow down her fingers one bit, her unoccupied hand around your waist holding you against her. she smiles at the way you moan her name, and she wants to hear it more. she needs to hear it more. she didn't think you’d sound this pretty while she makes you feel like you were on cloud nine. “you're so tight around my fingers, fuck,” she breathes out. “mi hermosa niña,” she mumbles affectionately. 

you feel like your head is spinning with the mix of everything you’re feeling. her body feels hot pressed against yours, her touch electrifying as she draws circles on your lower back, her affectionate voice as she talks, her long fingers curling their way inside of you as your mouth is agape with loud noises coming from you. you can't think anymore, the only thing on your mind being how good you’re feeling at the moment. you know someone could come in at any moment, and dani knows it too, which is why she speeds up the pace of her fingers, leaving you whining loudly into her neck. “f-fuck, ‘m gonna cum!” 

hearing your whine, daniela curls her fingers in you again, hitting your g-spot with you rocking your hips with more desperation. “cum for me, mi buena niña,” she whispers into your ear, using her thumb to rub your clit quickly. 

your eyes squeeze shut as a scream-like moan leaves your mouth when you cum on her fingers, clenching around her tightly and pulling on her hair. you whimper quietly as she pulls her fingers out of you slowly, not moving your head from her neck as you pant heavily. 

“are you okay?” dani asks you softly, glancing down at you. 

“yeah,” you answer in a mumble. “can we go home?” 

“yeah,” she nods. “i’ll get us an uber or something. i’ll pick up your car here tomorrow.”

“okay,” you say quietly. “i love you,” you whisper.

“i love you too,” daniela replies in a second. “let's get out of here, yeah?”

“yeah.” 

[justporo]

I'm desperately trying to get things done before the end of the year and thought: man, I'd like Astarion telling me to concentrate and keep going. So I quickly wrote this as a reminder to myself that Astarion would believe in me and tell me to keep it up - maybe it helps you too...

Astarion is watching you and he'd much rather you focus again, love!

“You’re distracted again, love”, Astarion whispered to you and softly squeezed you where his hands were on your hips.

“Oh, am I?”, you snarled and tried to turn around - but the vampire wouldn’t let you. So you only turned your head to glower at him.

You sat comfortably on his lap and tried to get writing done you desperately needed to get finished. For hours you had tried but it just had been an uphill battle the whole time.

Not wanting to just keep listening to your complaints, Astarion had come over and softly nudged you to get up so he could sit down and gently place you down on his lap. You had let it happen with a soft sigh, already feeling a bit better with his presence surrounding you.

“My love, if your writing is as colourful as your curses that must be a masterpiece already”, he had said in a low teasing tone.

And you had chuckled hysterically and then almost started to cry. When you had wanted to bury your face in your hands, Astarion had caught your wrists and leaned as close as possible to gently whisper to you.

“I know you can do this, my heart”, he had whispered directly into your ear, making all your hairs stand on end. “You’re brilliant, my sweet, utterly incredible - this stack of paper just doesn’t know it yet”, he had continued while his hands had reassuringly massaged your arms and shoulders.

“I’ll try to keep that in mind”, you had replied still not fully convinced.

Astarion had made a low noise of disapproval, then he had wrapped his arms completely around your waist and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Be a dear then, remind me again, how clever and amazing you are”, he had demanded of you. And then he had went on to talk everything through with you. Making you spell out all of your concerns, what you had planned, what you wanted to achieve.

And in talking about it with him you already felt how the knots in your stomach and in your head seemed to loosen, if just a little.

When you had reached a point where you had felt motivated again to jump back into writing, Astarion had smiled victoriously to himself and had kept watching you work. Evenly stroking down your back in a calming, steadying manner he had leaned his head on his hand, propped up on the side of the chair, and admired how beautiful you looked when you were so deep in your thoughts. How you furrowed your brows, how you tapped the quill against the paper in impatience when a word didn’t come to you immediately.

And he made sure you wouldn’t distract yourself more than needed by calling you out whenever your mind seemed to wander. Just like he had just done.

“Maybe you are distracting me”, you pouted at the vampire while he tapped the tip of your nose with his index finger with a grin.

“Exactly the opposite, darling”, he replied and you saw the sparkle in his red eyes. Softly but with determination he grabbed your chin and turned your head away from him and angled it down: towards your stack of papers and the unfinished writing.

“Focus now and write, my dear, I’ll reward you for it later, if you’re going to be a good girl now”, Astarion promised in a low, almost rumbly voice and pressed a kiss directly behind your ear, making you shiver.

You took a deep breath and took up your work again - you needn’t be told twice now.

Your vampire proudly kept watching you: “Keep going, you beautiful thing!”

~~~ And now I really need to get back to my own writing - abdwelfqwdwg...

(Sorry, forgot tags, ah): Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon