#or indulgences that i wanted to indulge in

[fushiguho]

can’t rid the horrible thought of sitting on nanami’s lap, your backside pressed to his bare chest while that pretty, aching pussy just drools down the entire length of his cock. one big hand keeps your trembling thighs pried while the other is everywhere else—tracing delicious shapes onto your clit, greedily trailing up your writhing body, groping your bouncing tits, pinching your hardening nipples, choking you.

studiedly, he’s following the depraved arch of your back as you gasp out his beautiful name like it’s the only prayer you’ve ever known, gone with brimming pleasure and overstimulation. god, how he can hardly help the sinful drag of his palms as he feels you all the way up; nothing but thorough, ensuring not a seraphic inch of your body is left untouched.

“yeaaah, arch that back for me, pretty girl.” his lips settle just below your ear, kissing over the warm, thudding pulse that beats like a drum. “you like my hands all over you, huh?”

you’re delirious as you nod to him, sinking further into his embrace while he fucks you onto his big, fat cock no differently than a measly little toy. a breathless laugh escapes him when your head woozily lolls back, resting within the muscular divot of his shoulder. a warm hand is pulling at your face, deft fingers brushing your cheeks as he brings you close, kissing you deep.

the prettiest whine leaves your lips and he swallows it, along with every other moan and wince and gasp and cry. and it’s just so fucking sloppy—teeth clashing, tongues lapping, breaths heaving. nanami lets off a thick groan, his big fingers hot and steady, rubbing at your poor, twitching clit with intention.

“more,” it’s greedy, mumbled into your honeyed mouth while his lips remain pressed to yours. he’s spreading you wider, hooking an indulgent hand beneath the crook of one your wobbly knees, forcing you to slump further against his searing body. “give me more, sweetheart… wanna feel that cumming pussy, yeah?”

“n— nanami,”

“i know,” he coos, shutting you up with a dizzying kiss. “i know how close you are… can feel you tightening up like you want it.” the soft pads of his fingers are slapping against your aching clit thrice, encouraging your looming orgasm. “cum for me,” a warm, openmouthed kiss to the shell of your ear. “cum on my cock like i know you’re about to.”

and god, do you. your pretty mouth stupidly gaped as you meet the desperate buck of his hips with shallow movements, chasing that cock like the prettiest whore. he watches as your face screws up, brows knitting in nothing but overwhelming pleasure as you choke on your own breath, sobbing. those wide eyes welling with tears as you whimper and whine and curse, all while creaming down the entirety of his shaft like you’re life depends on it.

“thaaat’s it, always cum so pretty for me,” he plants a sweet, loving kiss to your racing temple, allowing you to ride out your orgasm for as long as you need. “but i think you can give me more than that.”

oh.

[mamawasatesttube]

im sick (again :/) so we're on silly time lockdown. please enjoy tim experiencing the consequences of pissing off a drunk wizard (get psychic blasted idiot)

“Kon, I could really use you here, if you’re”—Cassie grunts with some kind of effort—”not busy.”

The wind whistles past Kon’s ears as he picks up speed, leaving the golden fields of wheat behind. Cassie’s voice reaches him the slightest instant faster as he gets closer to Titans’ Tower:

“It’s nothing, like, life-threatening, but I promised my mom I’d—Tim, stop wiggling!—I promised my mom I’d help her out with this big thing at the museum tonight, and—”

Kon barely alights on the rooftop and zooms down into the common room, not bothering to actually let his feet touch the ground until he’s there. And then he blinks.

“What’s… er, what’s up?”

“Oh, thank the gods.” Cassie, holding a squirming bundle of black fabric, breathes a sigh of relief. She shoves the blob at Kon, who belatedly realizes that it’s Tim, wrapped up in his own cape like a delinquent cat in a towel at the vet. “This is your problem now.”

“Kon!” Tim sounds overjoyed, albeit muffled by cloth. “You’re here!”

“Uh… yes. Hi?” Kon turns the cape bundle in his arms to locate Tim’s face, flushed from struggling hopelessly against Cassie. The moment Tim’s eyes fall on Kon’s face, he lights up with a brilliant smile.

“Hi,” Tim says, and wiggles in Kon’s arms. “Hi, Kon!”

Okay, something is definitely wrong with him. “That’s me,” Kon agrees, and looks back over at Cassie. “Why is he in the punishment burrito?”

Cassie gives Tim a long-suffering look and rakes her hand through her hair. “Because,” she says, “after the third time he forgot his grapple line is broken and tried to climb out the window anyway, I got sick of his shit.”

“Kon,” Tim says, wriggling some more. He hasn’t stopped beaming. “Hi. You’re Kon.”

“I sure am,” Kon agrees, raising an eyebrow. Since he has the showstopping, awesomely handy-dandy power of TTK, he lets Tim get his arms free of his cape, just to see what he’ll do; to his surprise, all Tim does is grab two handfuls of the back of Kon’s jacket, then buries his face in his shoulder and hums in contentment.

“Kon,” Tim says again, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder. “You’re nice.”

“I do my best to be, yeah.” Kon pats Tim’s head, bewildered and a little amused. “Cass, what happened to him?”

Cassie buries her face in her hands. “We may have kiiiind of pissed off a wizard? And then there was, um… well, it turns out he specialized in psychic blasts, and he may have announced that by zapping the shit out of Tim?”

Zapping—

Alarmed, Kon looks down at Tim, sweeping him over with X-ray vision. No broken bones or any immediate damage sticks out; he doesn’t even have a bump on his head to show. But he’s sure acting weird! He’s still nuzzling Kon’s shoulder like a cat, not even trying to get out of his grasp. 

What does that even mean? Kon doesn’t know anything about how to help with psychic injuries! What if the damage is permanent? What’s gonna—

“Okay, okay, chill, whoa!” Cassie holds up her hands quickly. “That’s your doom and gloom freakout face, whoa, I promise it’s not all that bad! I already got him checked out, Raven said he’s gonna be fine, it’s just—he’s just gonna be a little loopy for a bit until it wears off, that’s all.”

Loopy, huh? That sure is an apt descriptor. Kon shifts Tim in his arms, absently rubbing his back; Tim hums in contentment, boneless against his chest. Honestly, Kon’s amazed that Cassie needed to punishment burrito him.

“Okay, so…” Kon glances down at Tim again, then back to Cassie. “I just gotta watch him for a bit, make sure he doesn’t try to climb out any windows?”

“Yeah! Pretty much.” Cassie shifts her weight, rakes her hand through her hair, and glances at the clock on the wall. “I’m super sorry to dump this—Tim—on you and run, but I promised my mom I’d help out with the museum charity gala thing tonight and I gotta be there to help the setup crews in, like, twenty minutes, and…”

Kon waves her off. “Hey, it’s no big! S’not like Tim and I don’t like to hang out. Right, buddy?”

Tim lifts his head, looks at Cassie, and puffs up his chest importantly. He jerks a thumb at himself and announces, “I’m Kon’s buddy.”

Cassie stares at him, unimpressed, and raises her eyes to the high heavens. “Yeah, Tim, you sure are.”

[swtheartz]

“ DRIVE WHO CRAZY? ” — M. Grayson variants what’s he like in the bedroom?

info : smut & nsfw, nasty nasty shit idk what to tell you. AFAB reader a / n : i actually need to be spit roasted by every single variant and main mark i’m sorry

SINISTER MARK

biting, scratching, is very condescending in bed. this one doesn’t leave marks to be possessive, as lovely as that thought is. nuh uh. he does it to match with you. he’s the one biting, you’re the one scratching. he prefers cowgirl most of the time, but when he needs to let out his frustrations, he loves a good mating press and full nelson. definitely the kind to record you when you’re fucking—not as blackmail really, but because he likes going back and hearing the sounds you make. likes that he’s the one that makes you sound like that. mirror sex. that’s it. that’s the sentence. spit kink. it’s inevitable with this freak. he’ll put his fingers in your mouth just to see your drool, to feel your teeth on his skin.

MOHAWK MARK

he lovesss someone who’s able to bite back at him. you’re both mean in bed, he absolutely loves it. missionary, cowgirl AND reverse cowgirl, 69. . . i could go on and on. he’s all sloppy kisses and makeouts. will absolutely dry hump you and cum in his suit or pants. don’t ever believe him when he asks for a quickie, it will NEVER be quick. ‘just the tip??’ yeah, no. he’s lying through his teeth. this man cannot live without fully indulging himself in you. you’d think he hated you with the way he fucks you—he’s genuinely, and not so secretly, obsessed. PUSSY EATER. sloppy with it. can’t help but wanna live in between your legs for the rest of his life. spells out his name and a multitude of words on your clit whenever you’re close to cumming, would absolutely suffocate between your thighs if he could. begs you to sit on his face constantly. . . . tongue piercing. . . yum.

SHIESTY MARK

dirty talker 100%. “c’mon, fuck me back. there you go, pretty. keep it up.” doggy style, reverse cowgirl, prone bone. he’s unfortunately an exhibitionist. heavy on eye contact, too, when he’s not wearing that fuck ass shiesty LOLL loves to cover your mouth and tell you to listen, fucks into you harder to get his point across as he obsessed over the filthy sound of your cunt sucking him in. lovesss to finger fuck you. don’t ask him why, he’s not gonna answer. but truthfully, just the thought of making your eyes roll back and to feel you cum around his fingers alone makes him impossibly hard. he’s a little embarrassed about it.

OMNI MARK

very quiet in bed. isn’t messy—no, he’s very precise. knows exactly what to do to make you fall apart. almost like he studies you, wants to know what makes you tick. prone bone, mating press, missionary. don’t ever let this man hit it raw. he won’t ever want to pull out if you do. but if you do. . . he shudders just from putting the tip in. tries to stay calm and collected, but the second he’s all the way down to the hilt, he swears he loses a little bit of his sanity. cockwarming’s a big thing with you two. he doesn’t know how he even manages to control himself, but he manages. for a while, anyway. every once in a while when he feels the need to let out his frustration, this man will put you in a headlock. just to hold you in place because he is definitely big on overstimulation just to hear you squeal. this is why prone bone’s so high on his list. breeding kink. no i’m not elaborating.

taglist : @lxkoluvsu @broicouldjustbuyyousomekombucha @tokoyamisstuff

[ifyoucandaniel]

If you haven’t read The Hellblazer’s Apprentice, by @bluelotuswrites this is your sign. Necromancer Jason, magic apprentice Jason, magic mentor Constantine, all blades Jason, sass and ghosts, what’s not to love?

[wandaslovey]

everyone stop what you’re doing and indulge me here.

wanda, mean mommy wanda.

you messed up. you pushed her too far one day. you knew a punishment would be in order, but little did you know what wanda had in store for you.

you trudge up the steps behind her, your hand gripped firmly in hers as she guides you up the stairs. a familiar pit settles deep within your tummy—the muscles fluttering with nervous excitement at the knowledge of a punishment just around the corner. wanda always managed to keep you guessing, never creating a pattern of what she would do to you when you acted out.

she wordlessly pulls you into the master bedroom, her steps full of purpose and intent, yet they weren’t rushed. there was an air of dominance around her as you stared at the back of her head. you didn’t even need to see the look on her face to recognize your place beneath her. she was about to remind you of that anyways.

“take off your clothes. stand at the end of the bed.” she instructs in a firm tone, abandoning your side as she walks into your shared walk-in closet.

you obey silently, stepping towards the edge of the bed and taking off your clothes until you stand naked. the cool air of the ac is unforgiving, goosebumps rising on your newly exposed skin. you want to wrap your arms around your torso for warmth, but you know wanda would disapprove of you covering any part of yourself.

you glance up in the direction of the closet when you hear some rummaging, straining your ears to see if you could hear any hints as to what toys she might be grabbing.

when wanda re-emerges, you see maroon rope dangling from her fingers along with a strap on. you furrow your brow at the item, noticing the dildo she picked was one you didn’t use very often. it was purple and only 6 inches in length. it had a vibrating function too, but through using it a couple times, you learned having something vibrating inside of you wasn’t your favorite sensation. was she going to make you try it again? you were also at a loss because normally, the last thing she would do as a punishment was fuck you. if you had the choice, she’d be inside of you 24/7, pumping her cock in and out of your greedy pussy. alas, normal life continues to ensue and you both had daily responsibilities to fulfill.

“is something the matter, dorogoy?” wanda asks, stepping in front of you till you were just inches apart. your height difference becomes more prominent, the few inches she had on you causing your need to tilt your head up to meet her eyes.

“no, mommy.” you reply, shaking your head slowly from side to side. you knew that it was unlikely she would revisit something she knew you didn’t like. she must have something else in store for you with this particular dildo—but what?

she hums her approval at your response, tossing the strap and dildo onto the bed. she gestures for you to turn around with a twirl of her index finger, her brow quirking when you hesitate for a moment. you turn, placing your wrists together behind your back. she does a simply knot, tying them snuggly, but not too tightly.

“turn back around for me.” her hands are soft and gentle as she guides you to face her again, a stark contrast to how you know her punishments always are—brutal and unforgiving.

she appraises you with a closed mouth smile, the back of her hand caressing your cheek before she cups your chin. “we’re going to try something different tonight,” she tells you. immediately, you’re more alert, your eyes a bit anxious as she takes in your expression. she chuckles darkly, satisfaction settling deep into her bones at your worried face.

“i expect you to safe word should you need it, though i doubt you’ll want to use it tonight. is that clear?” she holds your chin more firmly, her eyes colder than before.

“yes, mommy.” you whimper out, feeling more and more anticipation with every passing second. it was bittersweet not knowing what she had in store for you.

you watch carefully as she reaches to the side and grabs the strap on. you’re surprised when instead of putting it on herself, she secures the leather straps around your waist and thighs. your breath hitches as she tightens them until they sit snuggly against your skin. it was a foreign feeling to have something tied there, but even more foreign was the sight of the purple cock standing proudly between your legs.

“mommy?” you ask hesitantly, glancing between the dildo and wanda. she shushes you, tucking some hair behind your ear while the other hand wraps around the shaft. you gasp softly, though the appendage was not actually connected to your body, you could’ve sworn you felt a phantom sensation.

wanda grins at this, the hand that was at your face now sliding down until she wraps it loosely around your neck. she leans into kiss you as she slowly pumps the purple length. her kiss is slow and teasing, her head tipping back every few seconds until your lips eagerly chase hers so they reconnect again. “you’re such a greedy thing, aren’t you? mommy shouldn’t even be letting a brat like you get anything you want tonight.” she pulls farther away this time, her hand squeezing your neck in warning not to lean in after her. you look back down where her hand is pumping your cock and you find yourself quickly entranced with the movement. she picks up her pace to a medium speed, your eyes intent and eager on her ministrations. you bite your lip, your hips beginning to thrust into her hand as the longer you stare, the more you feel like you can actually feel her hand around your faux cock.

wanda eyes scan your face closely, watching pleasurable fascination cross your face. you seem enthralled in her teasing which only encourages her to take it up a notch.

just when you think the visual can’t get any better, wanda drops to her knees, your cock just about level with her face. she looks up at you with her pretty green eyes, and even though to an outsider it might look like you have the upper hand, you know with every ounce of your being that wanda is still fully in control.

“mommy’s gonna suck your pretty cock. if you move your hips, i’m going to stop and spank you 15 times for each little movement you make. is that understood?” she holds your strap up to her mouth, twisting her hand as she focuses on small strokes near the head of the toy.

you pant, your head feeling fuzzy like tv static as you feel yourself relinquish any self reservations you had of this particular fantasy. “mhm,” you nod your head, your brows pulling together in a desperate expression. you really wanted to see her lips wrap around the tip.

she wasn’t satisfied with your answer, so she grips harshly onto your hip, pulling you closer to her face. “words, malyshka.”

you gasp at her firm hold, feeling her dull fingernails bite into your skin. “i understand - i understand.” you say quickly, your voice breathy and desperate.

“good.” she hums before she lifts the shaft up so the tip is pointing the ceiling, her eyes piercing yours. she flattens out her tongue, sliding it from the base all the way up to the head. you inhale sharply at the sight, thinking this had to be one of the top 3 most sexy things you’d ever witnessed. she takes the tip into her mouth, bobbing her head slowly while she uses her hand to twist up and down the length her mouth didn’t cover. her eyes dared you to move, dared you to defy her. it took every ounce of strength and determination not to buck your hips into her face.

wanda takes more of you into her mouth and you can’t help but let out a shrill whine as the whole shaft disappears into her mouth, her lips at your pelvis. she holds herself there, slowly shaking her head back and forth before pulling herself off of it. she releases your cock with a pop, the length now coated with her saliva. she begins pumping you again with her hand and you can’t help it, too lost in the sensation. you thrust your hips into her hand without a second thought, whimpering as you do so.

wanda stills your hips at once, her hand still firmly wrapped around your faux cock but not moving.

“what did i say? hmm?” her tone is harsh, her accent bleeding into her words.

what you didn’t know is wanda chose this punishment and the rules within it on purpose. she knew a greedy slut like you wouldn’t be able to keep your hips still.

“i changed my mind.” she announces abruptly, moving to stand. your face falls, your lips pouting as you watch her move away from you. like a lost puppy, you step closer as she retreats, wanting to be close to her, wanting her to finish what she started.

“stay there.” you steps falter immediately, but your face perks up slightly as wanda begins to strip out of her clothes. you watch her with eager eyes, wetting your lips with your tongue as her cunt was now on display. you could tell she was wet, the light catching on her thighs, causing the wetness there to glisten.

“lie on the bed.” she nods to the mattress behind you and with a quick glance behind your shoulder you back up and let yourself fall on the bed, scooting awkwardly so you’re lying in the middle of it. it was hard to move with your hands still tied behind your back.

wanda crawls on the bed and over your body until she’s straddling your hips. your breathing becomes more shallow, your mind slowly catching on to where she was going with this. wanda sees the recognition pass over your face and she grins at the sight.

“that’s right, baby. i’m gonna fuck myself on your cock… and you’re not gonna be able to touch me. at all.” she grabs your shaft, lining it up with her entrance. you whine desperately, your hands balling into fists underneath your back. she teases herself, running the tip up and down her slit. you can hear how wet she is, but even still you swear you’re far more wet than she is. and that’s saying a lot given the squelching noises penetrating the room.

she finally sinks down, your cock disappearing inch by inch into her heat. your eyes nearly bulge at the sight, never having been inside of her like this. she starts at a slow pace again, lifting herself completely off the toy before sinking down onto it. your stomach clenches with need, your pussy dripping onto the sheets beneath you.

you whine again, your face one of pure desperation as tears begin to prick at your eyes.

“mmm, you like this detka? you like watching mommy fuck herself onto your girl cock?” she ignores your whining, her voice coming out as a groan. she was quickly losing herself to how full you made her feel.

all you can do is continue to pathetically whimper and whine as she rides your strap. tears begin to roll down your cheeks as the need to have her fuck you becomes wholly overwhelming.

“oh, that’s it, baby. cry for me. you know i love to see your pretty tear stained cheeks.” she picks up the pace until she’s near brutally impaling herself on your cock, lost in the power dynamic of having you tied and helpless beneath her while she gets off. it helps knowing how desperate you are, your pleas and tears only spurring her on.

she makes herself cum, moaning loudly as she does, your hips eagerly rutting up into her as she rides out the waves of her orgasm. she stills your hips, panting and you watched mesmerized as her tits rise and fall with her breaths. you can see a thin sheen of sweat gathering on her forehead, but you can hardly pay much more attention to her as your need for relief is at an all time high.

“mommy, please!” you try to plea sweetly, but it comes out more desperate and demanding than you intend. wanda tsks, lifting herself up off your strap and spreading your bent legs. she settles between them, holding your cock in her hand again.

“tell you what - i’ll let you cum if you can just like this. i’ll suck you off and you can move your hips this time, but i’m not going to touch you in any other way.”

you’re so desperate for anything that she’ll give you that you agree. and guess what? you do cum. the sight of her sucking your faux purple cock and your hips fucking into her face was just enough to push you over the edge.

[astrolook]

Birth Chart Observations

Jupiter in 3rd house - Have an elder sibling that's at least 4 years older than you(if had one). Enjoys storytelling. Loves to teach and takes short trips often. Make friends easily.

Saturn in 3rd house - Not that close to siblings, if had one. It can even manifest as to the point of no contact. Middle child syndrome is common with this placement. You remember birthdays of people even if you don't talk to them or like them. Could overshare their personal life with others.

Sun in 11th house - Could be surrounded by people but still feels lonely. Could be having little to no friends. Enjoys solitary activities. Googles a lot. You're comfortable talking to people online or in chat than meeting in person. Either into adoption or these natives have a step mom or step dad in some cases.

North node in 12th house - Likes to eat meat or wanted to. Enjoys solitude. Like watching horror movies at night alone. Your dreams hold deeper meanings and can even guide to light. Even hears the same music or watches the same movies over and over again. Either a teetotaler or a drunk - no in-between in some cases.

Venus in 12th house - Attracted to emotionally unavailable partners. In some cases, attracted to middle eastern partners. Sometimes these people could be in love with celebrities or someone in the public eye thinking they are their soulmate. Could be the other man/woman in relationships. Self-care is important like these people are into natural skin and hair care remedies. Probably has a bathing ritual like coffee + sugar scrub once a week LOL. Also these people even though beautiful, they won't post their pictures on social media. The Hidden Beauty.

Venus in 10th house - Could be sexualized a lot by others. This placement manifests in a way these natives can use their charm to climb up the ladder in a good way, of course, unless it's afflicted. Loves compliments. Public approval matters.

Mars in 1st house - May have an androgynous appearance. These natives , for women, dress up feminine one day and boyish the next day. Quick tempered and blunt, slamming the doors shut or raising their voice or walking away. THICC BODY. Quickly moves from one task to the next or won't like to sit still for long. Could get depressed when bored LOL. Could be into unisex clothing and experimental make-up.

Venus in 8th house - These natives would even go to a witch and cast a love spell on their partner. Too many casual relationships until they find the one in some cases, especially men. I have observed men with this placement tends to be superficial in relationships or out of convenience and when they find the one for them, these natives change overnight. In general, could gain wealth after marriage. Spouse could be richer than them. Hides their true opinions (on love and relationships) and show it only to their closest circle.

Moon in 5th house - These natives personality or appearance might fluctuate depending on their mood. Idealizes their partner. Strong maternal instinct and strong connection to children. Rich imagination but if afflicted these native imagine the worst scenario and live in their own reality where everyone is against them. Trusts people easily and might get into toxic relationships.

Moon in 12th house - These natives absorb other people's mood and energy, often feels drained in crowded environment. These natives go to a party to have fun and even a slight irritation changes their mood and now they wanted to go home. In some cases, emotional abuse from mother or is over bearing and indulges into their constantly. Suffer in isolation sometimes and hides their vulnerability. Often drawn to people who are suffering or in need. But their compassion is mostly taken advantage of by others. Their thoughts and actions contradict. Won't reveal their true opinion on things due to criticism or to fit in.

✨🌟Curious about your birth chart? DM me for a complete astrology reading and check out my pinned post for pricing! 🌟✨

[tiramissyoucake]

imma need more of self indulgent pathetic mark please and thank you

I got you bro, here's a short one

It started with his head on your lap, escalating slowly until Mark was fully on top of you with his face in the crook of your neck, you strained to hold your phone above him and yourself, mindlessly scrolling through social media.

You shifted your shoulder and a groan resounded from him. "Relax, I'm just fixing my shoulder." You reprimanded him, he always got an attitude when he had you like this. "Don' moooovee..." he whined, the sound waves vibrating against your skin, it tickled.

He grunted once more as he heard nonsensical noise from your phone. "Get off that damn phone." He demanded as he looked up, glaring at you with sleepy but loving eyes. "Relax mom," you scoffed, one hand lazily placed in his hair. "It's not brainrotting me or whatever."

His lips portruded in a pout, sitting up he quickly wrenched the phone out of your hand. "Hey!! Mark?!" He paid your complaints no attention as he pushed the phone aside to the furthest corner of the coffee table, sinking back into your arms as his head nuzzled further into your neck. You were trapped between the couch and a clingy boyfriend.

"You want me to stare off into space now?" A sigh escaped you as Mark let out a happy low moan, taking a long whiff from you. "Pay attention to me, I'm better..." he huffed, kissing your neck as if to silently apologise for throwing your phone aside.

Your hand moved down to the nape of his neck, tracing simple shapes which invoked a shiver from him. He whimpered, it sounded too happy.

"Well... can't lie I prefer my good boy over tiktok garbage." Your eyes watched him closely for a reaction, a happy noise reverberated from him, moving down to kiss your collar bone and your chest as best as he could before the collar of your shirt would stop him. "Aaaw, Maaark~"

He kissed your skin gently once more, his chin gently propped up as he looked at you with such a disgustingly lovesick gaze, your hand cupping his cheek. "Who's my good boy?"

"Mmmh... me.. I'm your good boy..." Mark replied in a vulnerable tone, his face turning to kiss your palm. "'M your good boy.. only me.."

You smiled, the powerful Invincible, reduced to a whimpering blushing mess because he was called a good boy.

He looked so cute, hair tousled, face red and desperately clinging to you. It's like he was trying to nuzzle his way into your skin, not even a crowbar could move this man off of your body. The feeling of your hand in his hair, your body under his.

Maybe he wasn't invincible after all, he shuddered and almost moaned feeling your nails gently rake through his scalp, the sensation sending shivers up and down his spine.

"Yeah? Why's that?"

Mark moaned as he nuzzled into your chest, his cheeks flushed a pinkish red. "I stopped a bank robbery yesterday.. a-and I stopped an alien invasion.. I-I beat up a bad guy last week too..!" He listed off his heroic duties, looking at you with eyes that would make a puppy awe at him. "I'm your good boy, aren't I...?"

"Yeah," you mused, leaning closer to him. "My best boy, probably."

"Your ONLY good boy." He pouted, correcting you possessively.

[cheyisagirlkisser]

warnings: soft dom vi/abby + sub!fem reader, strap-on sex, praise, this is soooo self indulgent.

You'd think your strong girlfriends would be mean to you in bed. You previously imagined their degrading words. You thought that they would be the type to have you fucked dumb, failing to hold in your whimpers as they call you their needy little whore.

They're sweet, but it makes it even worse. They're so unaware of everything they do to you.

Abby and Vi are flexible. They forget you aren't. They fuck you in the most humiliating positions—your legs spread as wide as possible with Abby's grip on the back of your thighs, thrusts not gentle but words surely are.

"That's it, my love. Just be a good girl and take it. Look at our sweet girl, Vi." Abby coos praisingly.

Vi is quick to tease and give you the most sarcastic responses anywhere but in the bedroom. Now, all she can do is sweet talk.

"And a pretty pussy. I bet it's squeezing your dick so tight." Vi adds, her vulgar words causing just what she says. Abby can feel it like a phantom limb, and your clit twitches underneath her large thumb as a tell.

Vi squeezes your tits and leans down to suck on your nipples. Her tongue is warm against your pebbled skin, and you squirm despite Abby's firm hold. She doesn't scold, though. She lets you try and get away, self-assured you'll just lay down and take it until her favorite strap-on has that creamy ring of precum around it.

It's even more embarrassing when Vi gets her turn with you, loving to fuck you sideways. She has you laying on your side, one leg resting and the other hitched up. She lovingly yanks you until your bodies are flush and you can feel the tip of her strap nudge at your cervix.

Abby and Vi don't call you dirty when you turn your head into the pillow and moan a jumble of incoherent begging into the fabric. They think it's cute. Vi pounds you just like that, loving having you fully exposed to her hungry gaze as Abby strokes your cheek like you're not getting fucked into oblivion.

Their staminas are the scariest part of the whole ordeal, though. They can spend hours making you cum--feeling you clench around their fingers, fucking you or rubbing their own pretty, wet cunts against yours, and taking greedy turns tasting your release when you tap out.

And aftercare unfortunately doesn't work. It turns you on again when they're sweet and loving as they clean you up, Abby smothering your skin in soft kisses and Vi holding you against her, bare back to chest. And hey won't tease you for wanting more, only carefully laying you back down and stuffing your cunt for the fifth time that night.

taglist: @moonfloweredprincess, @morticeras, @starryeyedlovergirll, @abbysmeatrider, @ferxanda, @frillynpinkprincess, @meow4510, @eriiwaii, @g4ys0n, @mitskimisfit, @ruelezz, @bewareofmyglock, @witzs want to be tagged? click here

[galene-gothic]

𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗅

ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗             PAID SERVICES TIP JAR

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 1 ꒱

(Mostly explicit messages)

So recently, you’ve been feeling horny all the time. Like, I’m literally getting that you feel horny even after you’ve orgasmed. Your body gets turned on without any external stimuli and you start feeling knots in your thighs, making you crave a release. Maybe for most people, even short orgasms cut it but for you even average length ones don’t seem to do it. If your orgasms are short or average length, you might be too sensitive to masturbate right away but you aren’t satisfied and crave a longer, and more satisfying one. You want your orgasms to be something that you experience for a longer time and ones that you experience with your entire body. Right now, you seem to be learning a lot about your own sexuality. I’m so sorry but I’m not getting any other messages except sexual ones here. Your soul is likely a very sexual one? Another thing is that no matter who you are, your nipples are extremely sensitive. They’re so sensitive that many of you may be scared of touching them yourselves. Even if you do touch them, the mere idea of pressing onto them makes you feel tingly all over but in an uncomfortable manner. However, here’s the interesting thing, you may not know it yet but you would really enjoy nipple play of some sort. It does not have to be something too extravagant, could literally just be the other person sucking your tits while touching you. Many of you might not finger yourself and might simply just rub your clit. Even if you do finger yourself, the clit is very important to you. This is not how I was intending this reading to go, I’m not sure what’s going on because this is supposed to be a soul reading and I was expecting anything but this. However, I’m just rolling with it because sexual pleasure seems to be very important to you 😭. I’m trying to look into something that’s not about sex, masturbation and orgasms but I’m not getting anything yet. I think that unless I finish whatever the spirit and your soul is trying to get through to you, I won’t be able to tap into anything else about your soul. So well, you liked to be talked through it and be taught things. You also want your sexual partner to learn from you and to press your pleasure points. Your clit is very important to you. You likely can’t imagine sex without the clit being involved in some way. Maybe sometimes you’d be fine with it but on most days and nights, you prefer being rubbed and licked down there, devoured actually. You want to see your partner pussy drunk. I’m getting a certain image in my mind, you want your future spouse to be unwilling to move their head from in between your legs even when you tug at their hair, try to pull them away, try to push them away or cry out. You want them to be addicted to eating you out almost, you want them to get lost during it. You also have a thing for seeing their tongue work its magic down there. It might sound gross to some of you and you might not admit it but you find the idea of kisses after oral really hot, and if you don’t, you will find it hot when it’s actually happening. You seem to like the tongue a lot so you might naturally like kissing when doing it. I believe that right now you crave to be able to take more care of yourself physically and sexually. You already are but it’s almost like you’re insatiable.

Some of you might have a roommate, might sleep with your sister or mother, or something like that causing you to not have enough privacy but even so, you manage to find ways to indulge in that pleasure in whatever way you can and whenever you can. However, there’s a desire to experience pleasure in a very grounded manner, more times than you usually do in a day and feel, and indulge in the sensation of being blissed out, and warm in your thighs, feet, genitals and stomach. You may want to have the time, space and privacy to edge for a long time and experience a long orgasm that feels very whole, and spreads throughout the body rather than just stays in the genital area. At your core, you’re someone who wants to learn and teach others, and have a respectful reputation. There’s something about wanting to work with others and naturally being cooperative as long as there’s a shared vision. Your soul is currently craving genuineness, self care and being taken care of. You want to nurture and receive the same nurturing back. You desire stability, security and assets of some sort, possibly land or gold. You’re also desiring a physical glow up and to be grounded enough to remain humble. You want to be someone who doesn’t break character easily and is self assured because you’re grounded rather than having a prideful self assurance that’s more fiery in nature. You want the best of the best for your soul. That’s what your soul craves and for that, you want to become the best of the best too. You’re someone who is more long term oriented and values things like ethics, values, morality, stability and commitment. Which is why despite wanting to be touched and experience orgasms, you settle for ‘self care’ because you don’t want to give your body away to just anyone. You hold yourself to really high regard to do something like that. Your soul craves to be more mature and to progress in life, and career. Also, to be in domestic and secure environments. Your soul wants you to take care of yourself from within. “Working out is not enough if you’re not watching your diet.” Not my words, that’s just what I heard. The vibe that I keep on getting is the queen of ants or bees who is looked after and not only everyone is set on taking care of her but also she’s the first priority. Like, if there’s danger, they move her to the safest spot. That’s what you want except that you’re human and you genuinely desire to nurture too. You’re either already very independent but because you closed off in the past, you’re learning how to be giving and nurturing, I don’t think this part ever left you but you still want to experience it to the fullest or you’re giving and nurturing learning how to be more independent, or you’re all three giving, independent and nurturing but because you know your worth, you’re not willing to give it away to just anyone but you’re able to do so to people who need it but you’re still genuinely fine with being alone and you’re self sufficient too. For example, underprivileged children or old people who are living in this world of capitalism and inflation. The third one is what your soul desires to be like. You want to be independent, nurturing and giving but fine with being by yourself, and in fact, content with being as such. Right now, you’re learning about your sexual nature and desires. Majority of the reading was simply about your sex drive so well, I’ll leave you to take care of yourself. I hope that you liked it. Thank you for reading, much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 2 ꒱

You’re someone who can be pretty in friendships and that’s because you mostly feel unwelcome or disconnected from groups of people. Even if they’re welcoming, you don’t feel that connection with them. Even so, you are able to appreciate people for who they are and connections for welcoming you even if you don’t feel that synergy with them. So you have two sides, one side of you is overindulgent in socialising while the other is more of a loner. You’re someone who may start disconnecting from a group overtime. Like when you first meet them, you might really vibe with them because you’ve experienced being left out so you try to include everybody but as time starts passing by, you start leaning into yourself and withdrawing. You seem to have dealt with gossip, falling out with friends, friends affecting you negatively, people misunderstanding you, excluding you or you yourself feeling like an outcast. Also, other people preferring someone else over you. You have dealt with betrayal in friendships and romance, specifically being left for or replaced by someone else. Your soul is desiring travelling and experiencing things that make you feel young, and alive i.e. adventure! For example, stargazing, camping, travelling to different places with different conditions like beaches, mountains, cities, etc. Also, some of you might have a decision to make. You might currently be contemplating leaving something or someone. Your soul knows deep down that you deserve better than this and it’s leaning towards you leaving. For some reason, if you make the decision to leave, it has to be sudden, almost impulsive but something that you don’t look back from. You might have a lot of memories with this situation or person (could be multiple people too), or even if that’s not the case, some level of familiarity is what is stopping you from letting go. You are being told to leave. For some of you, you’ve already left. If this is a person, i’m picking up on them making you feel like an option or choosing someone else over you, or something like that? The vibe that I’m getting here is more platonic than romantic but it could be a friendship that borders on romance i.e. basically someone who sucks you dry by taking all the benefits of a romantic relationship but choosing others over you. Hell, you might not even be treated like an option. There are many different situations coming through here. Some of you may be dealing with friends having turned against you and leaving you out. Some of you may be dealing with mistreatment at school, university or work and might be contemplating leaving. The common theme is that there are two paths here and your soul craves to let go, and seek more, to discover that the grass is greener on the other side. However, some of you have already made this decision, possibly even a long time ago and are craving to progress further.

Your soul craves to experience life in a pure and passionate way, by travelling, achieving your goals and being in environments, and with people who appreciate you, share similar visions and don’t make you feel bad. You have dealt with feeling like you’re not worth committing to, that others always have someone else they prefer over you, being treated as if you don’t have feelings, being treated as not even an option, being treated as an emotional punching bag, being used for your emotional labour, having friends turn against you, getting humiliated and mocked by acquaintances, etc. If you have left and let go already, all of you are different stages. Some of you may still be haunted by the emotions of the past if it’s still fresh, some of you have grown a lot and have found more emotional stability, and understand that it’s good that things are not the same but you still want more growth, passion and experiences in your life. All of you are headed towards growth. If you’re struggling with leaving, I’ve gotta tell you that the grass is in fact greener on the other side. You might have to walk for a bit in order to get to where the grass is green but you need to get there, that’s the only good decision that you can make for yourself in this situation. Currently, you’re learning how to let go of familiar people if they betray or hurt you no matter how long you’ve known them for. Physically for those of you who haven’t left yet and mentally for those of you who have. Many of you have made significant progress in this process of leaving, letting go and doing better. You might think about the past but it’s not something you want to ever go back to and for the most part, you have let go of many emotions that you felt back then because you’ve significantly matured and are craving something different, something more. When you look back, you understand that you deserved better than that so many of you do not even acknowledge them as people you cared about. You seem to have understood that you were taken advantage of and because you deserved, and do deserve better, you have removed yourself from those situations of the past, acting as though they never even happened and you have a resolve to make sure to never repeat history again. It’s not even denial or avoidance, it’s just that you have grown so much that you don’t identify with that version of yourself anymore. If you haven’t left yet, this is what’s awaiting you when you leave. You’re going to become someone who is not willing to and doesn’t feel the need to help everyone, and does not care about familiarity or memories and focuses on what people are doing in the present instead. Also, you’ll not think of the past as something grand when it comes to other people, you’re going to think of it as grand when it comes to you because it will have made you who you are and you’ll be proud of how you used to be too.

You’re not going to be happy about having been used but you’re going to appreciate how innocent you were, how loving you were, your own willingness to do and try until the end. There’s going to be a feeling of you not having lost anything while the other parties lost the best. You’re currently maturing and letting go of the past no matter who you are. Even if you have accepted that you deserved better and have stopped acknowledging your past, it’s something that you think about, and are still letting go of. You’ve forgiven the past especially yourself but you know that you deserved better so you’ll never forgive the people who did what they did and let them have access to you again. There’s something about leaving the home and adulting, it might happen within the next three years at most for many of you. You’ve already started adulting though and it has matured you significantly. You don’t mind weakening connections and even leaving them behind completely because you have experienced really bad things in the past, and have been stuck in the past and nostalgia in the past, and you even tried until the end, seeming desperate so you have outgrown that and know that nothing good is going to come out by trying too hard unless the other person is actively making sure to get somewhere with you as well. You seem to be healing trauma regarding your younger self i.e. childhood, school days, innocent connections like the first loves, etc. You see the past for what it was, the good and the bad, and so you do not idealise it but you do not exactly hate it either, it’s sorta bittersweet, many parts of it but you’re at peace to have grown into who you’ve grown into but you just want something new, fresh, different, familiar but mature. You want to share a close and comfortable connection with people, and share a natural bond that makes them feel familiar to you but you want more than what you’ve experienced, you want something real and won’t engage with them if they repeat patterns of the past for you because you’ve outgrown them. If not, you’re in the process of doing so. You’ve only become more pure over time. Your capacity to love has become more innocent but more mature at the same time so you may not consider things of the past to be ‘love’ as per se. You acknowledge what you’ve given but you don’t identify with your past self who put up with so much bullshit. You desire more and want better for yourself. In the past, you seem to have had lost your sense of fun and adventure due to experiences, and people depleting you. Instead, you were playing small and sticking with them out of familiarity but you’ve gotten your passion and curiosity back, and want to go from there, grow from there. I hope that the reading gave you clarity. Thank you for reading, much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 3 ꒱

On the soul level, you’re someone goal oriented who’s supposed to pursue your goals unabashedly and unapologetically even if it means upsetting or hurting others. However, despite this sort of drive and approach to your goals, you are a very soft person. You seem to lack assertiveness and do not even know how to fight back verbally. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t even react. What seems to have happened is, you were very driven and ambitious growing up but somewhere along the way you lost focus, and lost your way. You became directionless and reckless, and developed almost like an inferiority complex. You’ve always low-key had one because you seem to have contradictory traits and two of those traits that contradict each other are inferiority, submissiveness, inability to speak up and lack of assertiveness, and extreme ambition, drive and a sharp ass tongue. It might sound impossible for both these sides to exist within the same person but they do exist within you. Let me put it like this, your soul is more action oriented than a talker. However, some of you fell victim to a ‘talker’ not realising that most people are not action oriented like you? This is not the case for most of you. So, because your soul is action oriented, when you were younger, you were self assured and more focused on getting things done than standing up for yourself, it caused you to have a more submissive side and image but on the inside, you’re the most driven person ever with a lot of aggressiveness and assertiveness, it’s just that it manifests differently. One example that I can give you that I believe all of you are going to relate with is that you can get very annoyed, impulsive, sharp with words or tone and firm when you’re bothered while you’re completing a task or doing your work. You hate distractions and want to be left alone during such times. You lack assertiveness but you’re action oriented and that’s how you assert yourself. You might run your mouth or did so when you were younger and excited, in regard to your vision, ideas, endeavours because you had the end goal in mind but standing up for yourself aggressively through words, that’s not really you. I feel like the main thing with you is that you struggle with aggressiveness and assertiveness with acquaintances, and those who you’re not close to but when you’re comfortable enough with someone or know them well enough, you know exactly what to say in order to hit a nerve. This is what I meant when I called you ‘sharp tongued’ earlier. When you lost your sense of direction and forgot yourself, you had no real purpose so it led to your confidence and self assuredness disappearing, and your inferiority complex getting stronger. When you were still driven, you didn’t really have an inferiority complex in an extreme way but it was more like, you knew that certain people had certain things in life and skills that you didn’t have, and because you weren’t much of a talker in an assertive manner.

It was something that intrigued you plus you were simply just curious about life because you were young. However, because you were doing your best and had a drive, a purpose in life, you didn’t feel as inferior internally but when you got distracted and lost your direction, your energy that was not well directed just ended up feeding into your inferiority complex. Also another thing that I’m getting that not all of you are going to resonate with is that you would be great at handling conflicts with your fists. You’re calm and seem almost submissive on the outside but internally very passionate and driven, and this drive translates to you needing a lot of physical release which means ‘orgasms’ xD. However, if you get back to finding direction and being yourself (many of you already have), you’re going to become self serving and self assured. You’re going to become someone whose actions are pretty unpredictable because you have opposing and contradictory character traits. You have a rude side to you too. It’s very interesting how many different sides you possess. A good trait that you possess is that you separate your ambitions from your personal life. For example, if your friend wants something you too want, you won’t hesitate to go get it and it’s not like you feel hostile towards them, it’s just that you are going after your goals with your own hard work and efficiency. Your soul is desiring one on one connections right now. There’s a craving to find true love, romantically and even platonically. You want to have a friendship in which you are so close that others don’t even stand a chance to come in between. A friendship so fulfilling that romance is not even a need but you’re also craving romance, you want mutual love that is full of respect and joy. You want to have connections in which people have your best interests at heart. You want to be with someone with whom you’re a unit, a team. One in which you mutually respect and even appreciate, and adore each other’s differences. You want connections that are open and honest, and everyone takes part with equal effort. The most important part of what I’m stating is ‘mutuality’, you need this kind of connection to be mutual, that’s what you crave. You value loyalty and think that consideration is the highest form of love, you consider those you love and you want them to understand that your go getter nature is not meant to threaten them. In the past, due to this go getter nature of yours, you may have failed to consider other people or even if you did, they didn’t see past all the times that you didn’t. It seems to be more of an ego thing for them. For example, you both wanted the same position and you got it then you both wanted to be friends with the same person, and you got it and then you both wanted the same guy but out of respect and loyalty, you decided not to engage with him but he grew to like you despite your lack of engagement.

It leads to others misunderstanding and growing aggressive towards you so you want a connection in which you’re understood, and are able to work with the other person’s best interests at heart because I won’t lie, I understand why your actions have been perceived as selfish in the past. You’re just goal motivated and oriented, it’s not malicious intent but just the fact that you go and get what you want. However, another side of you is that despite being this way, you’re extremely considerate in connections i.e. one on one ones in which you trust and feel a sense of loyalty towards the other person. Everyone who sees you as selfish would have done the same thing as you if they got the opportunity to. They were people who you felt like were competitive with you too whether they admitted it or not so you do not need to feel bad. You want to have connections in which you’d consider the other person and they’d consider you. You have a desire for intimacy and depth one on one connections, both romantic and platonic ones. You value quality over quantity. So you’d be fine if you simply had one life long friend and one life long lover, in fact, that’s what you crave, that’s what you want. You may hold connections to be sacred and want to experience divinity in the form of connections. Some of you fell victim in some sort of one on one connection to someone who knew how to talk a really good game and was incredibly manipulative but were a bum action wise at least to you, but you weren’t able to tell at that time because you were so action oriented that you assumed that everyone was. You seem to have either learned or are learning the lesson to recognise those who keep people around for person needs and in order to boost their ego. You are developing silent power or are growing a realisation of the fact that your power is in the way you’re not asserting yourself outwardly but have a steady heart with a strong drive, a controlled mind and are action oriented. You have struggled with overthinking and a hyper active brain, you still might but most of you have learned how to tame it or are doing so right now. You demand and expect respect from others, and are a quiet thinker who does not express all their thoughts or are learning how to be. You seem to have been acquainted with your inner truth and that’s helping you find power in who you truly are. Like, you may be understanding that you don’t have to stand up for yourself verbally if mistreated or disrespected, instead you can just remove yourself from such an environment and focus on your own life, and goals. You think that that’s a power because there are people who will stand up for themselves verbally but will continue staying in that environment, not removing themselves from such cheap people and situations but you’re not like that. You may not react but you know how to respond through follow through actions. I hope that the reading was enjoyable and offered you some sort of direction. Thank you so much for reading, much love and take care.

[brattyspence]

memory serves | s.reid

summary: in which spencer is keenly aware of all the little details. based on request from anon.

word count: > 600

tags: fluffy as fuck, smut adjacent, giggly reader, minor teasing, reader has freckles/birthmarks, spencer is a little shit

a/n: this one is a little self indulgent sorry not sorry. anon sorry this took 87 year i hope u like it <3

masterlist

Spencer has always been patient. 

Maybe too much so. He’s damn near obsessive sometimes. It never ceases to please you, even when it frustrates you. 

From your position, it’s like you can see him tick. His eyes are busy scanning every inch of exposed skin like it’s all new to him, although that’s far from the truth. You don’t understand his need to take his time and be patient. With your back against the sheets, legs carefully draped around his body as he stands over the edge of the bed, you’re not sure you could show him that you’re any more eager if you tried. 

His hands are somewhere under the hem of your shirt, trailing soft fingertips along your skin in a way that toes the line between welcome and teasing. Goosebumps rise in their wake, leaving you simultaneously shivering while burning up in need of something else. When you decide you’ve had enough, you grab onto his hand, tugging him down over you in hopes to move him along. 

“Eager,” he smiles. 

“Not eager,” you protest. “You just like to take your time. Maybe too much.”

“Lots to take in. Can’t miss any details.”

A slight giggle is stifled by another kiss to the corner of your mouth, which turns into two and then three trailing their way along your jaw. 

“Okay, eidetic memory. We get it,” you hum. “You can just take my shirt off.”

He laughs softly, more of a slight huff of air than anything. The feeling tickles your skin and makes you shift under his touch. 

“If my memory stands correctly, which it does, that means you have new freckles.” 

“You don’t memorize my freckles.”

When he pulls away this time, his face hovering mere centimeters above yours, it’s almost like he’s offended. 

“Of course I do.”

“Spencer,” you giggle. 

“I do,” he nods. The hand previously cupping your head slides up to your cheek instead. “These are permanent. But it’s summer, which means sun, and so these are all new.”

You scrunch your nose for a moment as you feel his thumb run across your cheek, first on one spot and then over another. Suddenly, it’s much harder to tease him when he’s being so sickeningly sweet.

“If you say so.”

“Ah,” he shakes his head. “I wasn’t done. You also have freckles here–” another kiss to your jawline, “two here, actually–” a kiss to your shoulder, “and one here,” he places one final kiss over your stomach. 

“You missed a few.” 

“I was getting there. We could go into detail, but since you’re so impatient…” One hand tucks itself under your knee, drawing your leg upwards. “I’ll just remind you of my favorite.” 

Before you can respond, he places another kiss against the fabric of your jeans, right along your inner thigh, exactly over the birthmark that hides there. You can’t hide the way your cheeks flush from the attention.

“You’re so weird,” you smile. Your hands find their home back in his hair, guiding his return back to you.

“If that’s what you want to call it,” he replies. “I have freckles memorized that you don’t even know about.”

“Oh really?”

“Mhm,” he nods. His hand makes its way back to your waist, softly guiding the fabric of your shirt up and out of his way. “I can finish pointing them all out to you, if that would make you happy.”

He waits for the witty remark, or the teasing comment. This time, though, you only pause for a moment and nod before tugging off your shirt the rest of the way, tossing it aside on the bed.

dividers by @esote-rika

[hotchnerwrites]

I loved your fic Warmth!! You write caretaker Hotch so well, I would love to read more cute or caring moments where Hotch is looking out for a shy reader!!! Little things like giving his jacket, watching closely on cases, the sweet stuff!! you killed it

Soft Spot

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: SFW, fluff, no use of (y/n), no continuous plot it's fragmented stories tbh

A/N: Thank you so much!!! So very glad you enjoyed Warmth <3 I spent all day indulgently dreaming of the things he'd do OMGGG anyways this is the product. It was supposed to be a 5+1 but i think a headcanon-inspired style suited this story better where you kinda see fragments of their daily interactions. I hope you like it and it's what you imagined!!! Enjoy reading, mwah mwah mwah <3

My requests are open! Send me stuff :)

You didn’t want to be a burden. You liked putting people first. It felt good to be in a caretaker role yourself. You liked bringing Reid his coffee loaded with ten packets of sugar. You liked bringing Garcia collectables for her desk. You liked giving Rossi your chair if the room was one too short. It didn’t matter that it sometimes came at the cost of your discomfort. You’d never liked being the centre of attention anyway.

But perhaps that begged the age-old question— who cared for the caretaker?

●・○・●・○・●・

The first time it happened was on the jet. 

It was a late-night flight, nothing new. But the AC in the cabin must have malfunctioned that day. It was brutally chilly, and since you were returning from a case in Florida, you had nothing but summer clothes. Your tea wasn’t doing much, so you occasionally walked the length of the cabin, trying to be quiet so the others could sleep. It hadn’t even crossed your mind to ask for something as simple as a jacket.

But Hotch saw. 

He didn’t look up from his paperwork— he just held it out as you passed his seat again. His arm barred you from dodging past, so you reluctantly draped it over your shoulders. Just five minutes, then you’d return it.

Maybe he heard your thoughts because right then, he said, “Keep it on.” It wasn’t a polite request; he had already decided for you.

But it’s Hotch so you listen.

No one questioned where you got the jacket from when the jet landed. But you catch JJ’s faint smile from the corner of your eye when she sees the jacket hanging from your desk chair the next day.

Hotch never asked for it back.

●・○・●・○・●・

You’re a great agent in terms of fieldwork. The whole team trusted you. Of course, you wouldn’t be there if they didn’t, but it felt nice to realise that nevertheless. 

But blind trust didn’t mean Hotch wouldn’t watch you like a hawk.

It was probably just a coincidence. You always ended up paired with him when heading into dangerous situations. He never hovered or anything, he always let you do your thing. But it was the way he positioned himself slightly ahead of you when clearing rooms, a silent wall between you and any potential threats,

And then there were the crime scene situations. You could hold it together; your poker face an acquired skill. But some cases hit home. You never let it show too much, but Hotch noticed when your fingers curled into tight fists, shoulders going rigid.

He never called you out on it, or put you on the spot.

Instead, his voice came through the comms before you and Morgan breached a suspect’s house. “Be careful.”

He said it to both of you, but somehow, you knew it was meant for you.

And later, when the case was over, and you were sitting on the back of an ambulance with a shallow cut on your arm from a scuffle, he was there.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, voice low.

You shook your head. “No. It’s fine.”

He didn’t argue, but he sat next to you long after the paramedic finished patching you up.

●・○・●・○・●・

You didn’t even realise when it started.

One morning, you had walked into the bullpen, and there had been a steaming hot cup of coffee on your desk. Just the way you took it. You blinked at it, confused, but you assumed Garcia was behind it.

But it happened again the next day. Then the day after. And again the following day.

It was never a big thing or a grand gesture. Just a simple takeaway cup with your order etched into the side. When you finally thanked Garcia, she looked utterly bemused.

“Oh, sugar. That’s not me,” she’d said, a grin stretching across her face.

No way.

So the next time it happened, you glanced towards Hotch’s office. Sure enough, he was already looking at you. But he never said a word. He didn’t even smile. He just looked down at his files and kept writing.

You sipped the coffee at your desk slowly, savouring every sip, willing it to last longer. The warmth spreading across your chest had nothing to do with the drink.

●・○・●・○・●・

The rain had been terrible all week. Sick of fighting your way through public transport where everything was slippery and wet, you had treated yourself to an Uber. You didn’t have an umbrella while you waited, so you stood under the awning in front of the building. You’d make a run for it when the car showed up.

As you scanned the road in front of you for your designated car, a black umbrella swung open over your head.

You turned, startled, only to find Hotch standing behind you, holding it up without a word. His coat was getting wetter, but he didn’t look like he cared.

“You’ll get soaked,” you said, noting how he had angled it more over you than himself.

“I’ll be all right,” he replied simply.

And that was that.

He waited till your car came, and then he helped you get in, ensuring not a drop touched your head as you bundled yourself into the backseat. 

It wasn’t until you were almost at your front door that you realised— he’d never had an umbrella with him when he came to work this morning.

Hotch had taken the time to find one— just for you.

●・○・●・○・●・

The Denver case was a disaster. 

Too many close calls. Too many what-ifs.

Sleep was difficult that night. You stared at the ceiling of your hotel room, letting yourself dissociate. But a buzz from your phone snapped you out of your reverie. When you checked your screen, there was just one text message.

You did well today. - A.H.

You stared at those four words for too long. No over-the-top reassurances, no unnecessary fluff. Just an acknowledgement.

You never responded, but the next morning on the jet, he caught your eye and nodded, ever so slightly. Like he knew you saw the message. Like he knew it helped.

And maybe, just maybe, it had eased your worries a bit that day.

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any likes/comments/reblogs/follows. Constructive criticism is welcome. Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[mrspiastri]

✩ bandaged and bruised 🩹

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

cw: mentions of blood, violence, etc.

wc: 3.2k words

an: wrote this like 2 weeks ago, and yes this is completely indulgent i wrote this for me and coincidentally you all get to read it <3

When Oscar told Y/N he was going out, she didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t often he got to meet up with his friends, and they had been eager to take him out for a couple of drinks.

As soon as he left, she changed into her favorite pyjamas; the soft, oversized ones covered in little Snoopy heads, slathered on her salicylic acid face mask, and tied her hair into two loose braids. Nothing was going to stop her from having the ultimate night of relaxation.

To be fair, Oscar had asked if she wanted to come along, but she had absolutely no interest. Going bar hopping on a weekend did nothing for her, and she much preferred spending her evening curled up on the couch, binge-watching Sex and the City while their cat, Sylvia, snoozed in her lap.

She was halfway through her third episode of season four, having just paused the TV to reheat some leftover pizza from lunch, when the doorbell rang.

She groaned, taking another bite. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Dragging herself to the door, she peeked through the eyehole. The figure on the other side was shadowed, but she could tell it was a man. Immediately, every nerve in her body went on high alert.

“Who is it?” she called through the intercom, her voice cautious.

“It’s me, you goose.”

She frowned. “Who’s me?”

A heavy sigh. “It’s Oscar. Your boyfriend.”

Oh right. Her boyfriend. The very boyfriend who was supposed to be out right now, doing whatever it was that boys did for fun. Instead, he was here, rudely disrupting her peaceful evening.

He was so lucky she liked him.

She unlocked the door, swinging it open. “Why didn’t you just use your keys, disturbing—OH MY GOD!”

The sight in front of her nearly made her fall down.

🪻🪻🪻

Oscar looked like he had been through it.

His right arm was bleeding, a deep gash cutting through the skin. His jeans were ripped, his knees scraped raw. A small cut sat just below his left eye, on the apple of his cheek. His hair was a mess, tousled in a way that wasn’t even remotely cute, and his usually composed expression was replaced with something between exhaustion and pain.

“WHAT HAPPENED?” Y/N shrieked, yanking him inside as she noticed the way he hobbled through the doorway.

Oscar sighed as he lowered himself onto the couch, wincing slightly. “Had a bit of a tussle with this one bloke,” he muttered, waving his good hand dismissively. “No big deal.”

"NO BIG DEAL?!" she repeated, eyes practically bulging out of her head. "YOU LOOK LIKE YOU FELL OFF A MOVING TRAIN!”

She scrambled to find the first aid kit, muttering to herself as she dug through the cabinets.

Sylvia, now wide awake from all the noise, flicked her tail in irritation before giving Oscar a pointed glare. With the level of disdain only a cat could manage, she stretched, harrumphed, and strutted off to find a quieter place to sleep.

Oscar watched her go, sighing dramatically. “Once again, my own cat betrays me.”

He immediately regretted the action, his body protesting the movement with a sharp pang of pain.

Y/N rushed back into the room, first aid kit in hand, her face set in determination.

“Alright,” she huffed, setting the kit down on the coffee table. “Off with the shirt.”

Oscar groaned as he leaned back against the couch, his head tipping against the cushion. “At least buy me dinner first,” he quipped, shooting Y/N a tired smirk despite looking like he had just crawled out of a bar fight.

Y/N glared at him, yanking open the first aid kit with a little too much force. “Oscar, shut up,” she snapped, pressing a hand to his chest to keep him still as she assessed the damage. “You’re literally bleeding all over our couch.”

Oscar winced, glancing down at himself like he was only just realizing how much of a mess he was. His right arm had the worst of it, a deep gash trailing down his forearm, but his ribs were bruised, his jeans torn at the knees, and there was a cut sitting just under his left eye. He looked wrecked.

Y/N grabbed the antiseptic, soaking a cotton pad. Oscar groaned as she pressed the antiseptic-soaked cotton pad firmly against his wound, his jaw clenching as a sharp sting shot through his arm.

“Bloody hell babe, go easy, would ya?” he hissed, shifting uncomfortably on the couch.

Y/N, entirely unimpressed, pressed harder. “Go easy? Go easy?” she repeated, eyes narrowing. “You show up at our door looking like this, bleeding, bruised, barely able to walk, and you want me to go easy?”

Oscar winced, his good hand coming up in surrender. “Alright, alright, message received.”

She exhaled sharply, clearly holding back from launching into a full-blown rant as she carefully cleaned the cut on his cheek. He tilted his head slightly, making it easier for her, but after a moment, she sighed in frustration.

“This isn’t working,” she muttered.

Before Oscar could ask what she meant, she grabbed his shoulders and shifted, settling onto his lap so she could get a better angle.

His hands instinctively came up to steady her, fingers gripping her thighs as she adjusted herself, straddling him without a second thought.

Well. She didn’t give it a second thought.

Oscar, on the other hand, definitely did.

Y/N pretended not to notice. Pretended not to feel the way his grip tightened slightly. Pretended not to hear the way his breath hitched for just a fraction of a second before he exhaled through his nose.

Instead, she kept her focus on his face, tilting it gently with her free hand before dabbing at the cut again.

“How the hell did this even happen?” she demanded.

Oscar blinked, his brain still catching up with the fact that his very attractive and very angry girlfriend was now seated firmly on his lap, her thighs warm beneath his hands.

He cleared his throat. “Saw some dickhead hassling a girl outside the pub.”

Y/N’s hand paused for a split second before continuing.

Oscar felt her tense slightly, but she didn’t say anything, just pressed the antiseptic a little more firmly than necessary.

“Shit!” he jerked, sucking in a sharp breath. “Warn me next time, Jesus—”

Y/N was completely unimpressed. “Keep talking.”

Oscar exhaled through his nose, trying to focus. “So, yeah, this guy was a proper maggot, I’m talking absolutely off his face and he was getting real weird with this girl. Like, full-on grabbing her when she was trying to walk away. So I told him to rack off.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, pressing the pad against another cut with no warning.

Oscar hissed. “Babe—!”

“Go on,” she said, her voice deceptively calm.

Oscar sighed. “And then he gets all stroppy, the fucking cunt.”

Y/N blinked. “All what?”

“Stroppy.”

She stared. “Oscar, I can’t understand you when you speak full Aussie.”

Oscar huffed. “Stroppy, babe. Like annoyed, pissed. Anyway, he tries to swing at me, and obviously, I wasn’t just gonna stand there, so I dodged it, but then his mates jumped in too, and then—”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “His mates jumped in?”

“Yeah.” Oscar scratched the back of his head sheepishly, his grip on her thighs tightening slightly. “I mean, it wasn’t, like, a full-on punch-on, but there were a few swings, and—”

“A few swings?” Y/N repeated, horrified.

Oscar gave her a look, lips twitching. “You’re just repeating everything I’m saying now.”

“Because I literally don’t understand half of it!” she threw her hands up. “I swear, you need subtitles when you get like this.”

Oscar smirked, his thumbs rubbing absentminded circles into her thighs. “You love it.”

She did not react. Would not react.

“No,” she deadpanned, grabbing a fresh bandage. “What I love is my boyfriend not getting into fights with drunk idiots outside pubs.”

Oscar hummed, watching her work. “You also love me in a bloodied-up t-shirt.”

Y/N shot him a glare before taping the bandage down with a little too much force.

Oscar winced, then had the audacity to smirk. “Ow, babe. I know you love me all shirtless, but come on.

Y/N swore she saw red. She out a long, slow breath through her nose as she soaked another cotton pad in antiseptic.

“I cannot believe you,” she muttered, shaking her head as she dabbed at the cut on Oscar’s cheek.

Oscar sucked in a sharp breath, scrunching his nose. “Babe, warning—”

She ignored him, pressing the pad firmly to his skin. “You really thought it was a good idea to go up against a bunch of drunk guys outside a pub? What, were you just itching for a fight?”

Oscar tilted his head, watching her carefully. “What was I supposed to do? Just walk away?”

“Yes!” Y/N snapped, reaching for a fresh bandage. “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do!”

Oscar scoffed. “Not a chance.”

She let out a groan, rolling her eyes as she gently smoothed the bandage over his cheek. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

Oscar smirked. “You should’ve seen the other guys.”

Y/N froze, staring at him in disbelief. “Are you proud of yourself?”

Oscar shrugged, wincing when the movement tugged at his bruised ribs. “Not proud, per se—but, I mean, I held my own.”

Y/N sat back, gripping the first aid kit like she was two seconds away from throwing it at his thick head. “You got jumped, Oscar! Jumped! How exactly is that holding your own?”

“Okay, technically—” he started, and Y/N immediately cut him off.

“No. I don’t want to hear it.”

Oscar sighed, running a hand through his messy curls. “I just, I couldn’t walk away, babe. That guy was being a prick. I wasn’t about to let him get away with that. Who knows. if I hadn’t stepped in the girl could’ve been in real trouble.”

Y/N stayed silent at that, thinking the situation through. Being a woman herself, she knew how scared that girl might’ve felt in that moment.

“I’d have done that for anyone getting harassed, but in that moment it felt like I’d be even more of an ass if I didn’t help that poor girl.” Oscar firmly said, finally getting serious for the first time that night.

“Could you imagine being in a similar position? And people walking by but nobody helping you? It’s probably how she felt before I stepped in. So I won’t be made to feel guilty about it.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty for it, love, you did a noble thing. But you can’t just fight people! They already managed to nick you!”

She swallowed, her frustration shifting into something else entirely, something that felt a lot like fear. Her hands trembled as she reached for his arm, carefully inspecting the gash running down his forearm.

He could’ve been seriously hurt.

He was seriously hurt.

And it hit her all at once, just how much she hated seeing him like this, all bruised and bloodied, because he felt the need to stand up for someone else.

“Jesus, Os,” she whispered, her voice small now. “What if they’d had a gun? What if—”

Oscar softened instantly, his teasing demeanor fading. “Hey,” he murmured, reaching for her wrist with his good hand. “I’m okay, Goose. Just a couple scrapes. Nothing I haven’t had before.”

Y/N clenched her jaw, trying to hold back the lump forming in her throat. “That’s not the point.”

Oscar’s thumb traced soothing circles against her skin. “I know.”

She huffed, blinking rapidly as she focused on cleaning the gash on his arm. “You can’t just throw yourself into fights, Oscar. What if someone recorded it? It’d be in the headlines tomorrow, “Formula 1 Star Oscar Piastri Caught Beating Up Group Of Drunk Men!”

Oscar tried to interrupt, but she was on a rampage.

“This is completely reckless. Not to mention you tried taking all of them on your own! I swear, one day—“

Oscar lifted his hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “One day what?”

Y/N swallowed hard, her fingers trembling as she finished bandaging his arm. She didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer.

Oscar exhaled, tilting his head as he studied her. “You were worried about me.”

Y/N scoffed, sitting back. “Obviously.”

His lips quirked. “Like, really worried.”

“Shut up.”

Oscar grinned, but it was softer now, warmer. “I mean, I like it,” he admitted, tugging her closer. “It’s cute.”

Y/N let out a long breath, glaring at him even as she allowed herself to lean into his touch. “Next time, just call the cops instead of getting yourself beat up.”

Oscar smirked, squeezing her hand. “Deal.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “I mean it, Oscar.”

“I know, babe.” He lifted her hand, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “I know.”

🪻🪻🪻

Oscar had been quiet for a few minutes, curled up against her, his breathing even and steady. Y/N had assumed he was dozing off, until he shifted slightly, nuzzling into her neck with a soft sigh.

“Baaaabe,” he murmured, voice dripping with exhaustion and something dangerously close to a whine.

Y/N smirked, running her fingers through his curls. “Yes, love?”

“I’m sore.”

She snorted. “Oh, really? I never would have guessed.”

Oscar groaned dramatically, lifting his head just enough to pout at her. “I think you need to take care of me more.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “I just patched you up.”

“Yeah, but now I need, like… comfort care,” he said, blinking at her like an actual baby.

Y/N sighed, already feeling herself softening against her will. “You are so needy.”

Oscar hummed, leaning fully into her again. “Luckily, I only need you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she was smiling as she carefully maneuvered herself out of his hold.

“Alright, fine,” she muttered, standing up. “If you want to be babied, I’ll baby you.”

Oscar perked up immediately, watching her as she walked towards their bedroom. “Wait, seriously?”

She didn’t answer, already in their shared bathroom.

Oscar watched her with big, expectant eyes, his bottom lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout as she rummaged through the cabinets. His fingers twitched where they rested on the couch, itching to pull her back down beside him.

She came back out, in one hand a pair of comfy pyjamas, and one of her favourite face masks she never let him use. But today was a rare moment.

He hummed in satisfaction as she tore open the face mask and started smoothing it over his skin, his eyes fluttering shut as he all but melted into her touch.

“This is nice,” he admitted sleepily.

“I told you.” She grinned, rubbing the last bit of serum into his jawline. “Now, let’s do something about this.” She tugged lightly at his soft curls.

Oscar barely reacted, just letting out another lazy hum. “Whatever you want, babe.”

She worked carefully, combing through his hair with her fingers, smoothing down the wild strands until he looked a little less like someone who had just survived a street fight. By the time she was done, he was completely boneless against her.

Y/N grabbed his pajamas off the coffee table, holding them out. “Alright, clothes.”

Oscar pouted but reached for them anyway, hesitating. “Too tired.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Do you need me to help you?”

He grinned, entirely unashamed. “Obviously.”

She rolled her eyes, but she still helped him, carefully maneuvering his arms through his pajama top, making sure not to irritate his bruises or bandages.

As soon as she was done, he collapsed against her again, arms wrapping around her waist as he all but melted into her.

“Better,” he murmured against her neck.

Y/N snorted. “You are so spoiled.”

Oscar smirked against her skin. “Yeah, but you love spoiling me.”

His contentment only lasted a couple of seconds, before he made another demand.

“C’mere.”

She huffed a laugh, placing a plate on the coffee table. “I am here.”

“No, like—” He pawed at her waist, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her legs, and practically her entire lower half, onto his lap.

“Here here.”

“Oscar,” she scolded, but her voice held no real bite. “You’re injured, you cannot be pulling me around like this.”

“Don’t care,” he mumbled, face buried in the crook of her neck. “Need you close.”

Y/N sighed, pretending to be put out, even as her heart melted. “You are so dramatic when you’re hurt.”

“You love me,” he countered, voice muffled against her skin.

She did. God, she really did.

Y/N pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Now, can we eat our pizza and watch my show?”

“Only if I get to be the little spoon.”

“You are always the little spoon.”

Oscar grinned against her skin. “Yeah, but I like hearing you say it.”

Y/N groaned, but she couldn’t stop the fond smile tugging at her lips.

“Fine, you big baby.”

Oscar hummed, squeezing her just a little tighter. “That’s more like it.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, she reached for the remote, pulling the blanket over both of them as she restarted Sex and the City.

Just as the episode started playing, Sylvia, who had been observing from a distance; finally stretched out of her spot on the armchair and padded over.

Y/N froze, watching in shock as their usually standoffish cat sniffed at Oscar before hopping up onto the couch beside him.

Oscar blinked, looking just as stunned as she was. “No way.”

“No way,” Y/N whispered, watching as Sylvia curled up against Oscar’s side.

Sylvia let out a soft huff, pressing herself into his ribs as if she actually cared about his well-being.

Y/N let out a dramatic gasp. “Oh my God.”

Oscar grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “I knew she loved me.”

“She feels bad for you,” Y/N cooed, reaching over to stroke Sylvia’s fur. “She pities you.”

Oscar scoffed. “Or maybe she recognizes that I’m the superior owner.”

“Please,” Y/N snorted. “I’m the one who feeds her. You just exist near her and hope she’ll acknowledge you.”

“Well, clearly it worked.”

Y/N pouted as Sylvia burrowed deeper against him. “I can’t believe this. All it took was you nearly getting beat up for her to show some love?”

Oscar smirked. “Guess she knows I’m a fighter.”

Y/N’s face dropped.

“Oh, absolutely not,” she muttered, turning to face him fully.

Oscar blinked at her. “What?”

Y/N placed a hand on her hip. “You are never fighting someone again unless I explicitly allow it.”

Oscar looked amused. “You’re giving me a permission system now?”

“Yes.” She folded her arms. “I will be your fight manager. You do not throw a punch unless I say so.”

Oscar huffed out a laugh, clearly trying not to smile. “And what if I see some bloke being a melt again?”

“Then you call me and ask for permission,” she said sternly. “I will assess the situation and then decide if you’re allowed to get involved.”

Oscar chuckled, tightening his arms around her waist and pulling her back into his chest. “You really don’t want me fighting, huh?”

Y/N sighed, her hands resting against his chest. “Of course I don’t, Oscar. Look at you.” Her voice softened slightly. “You came home all bruised and bleeding, and I—” She swallowed. “I hated it.”

Oscar’s smirk faded instantly. His fingers traced slow, soothing circles against her back as he murmured, “I’m okay, love.”

“You better be.” Y/N sighed, resting her head against his shoulder. “Because if you ever come home looking like this again, I might actually fight you too.”

Oscar grinned, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. “Yes ma’am. No more fights unless I have official clearance from my very strict, very beautiful manager.”

Y/N smiled despite herself. “That’s more like it.”

Oscar sighed happily, settling into the couch. “Love you, Goose.”

She hummed, curling into him. “Love you too, idiot.”

what can i say, i love a sappy plot. again i have no shame in saying i giggled maniacally writing this, so hopefully u lot feel the same while reading this ;D! and i am open for requests so pls send as many as u would like :p

[milfsloverblog]

Is It Casual Now ?

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

A/N: To whoever requested this from me, your request was anonymous so I can’t tag you and for some reason Tumblr wouldn’t let me answer directly to your ask 🥲 I hope you’ll enjoy what I did with your request, I’ve had Casual stuck in my head for days now hahaha!

You never meant to stay this long.

It was supposed to be one night. Maybe two. A private indulgence. A whispered secret between silk sheets and stolen time. Larissa made it easy to pretend—her words velvet-soft, her hands knowing, her body impossibly warm in the quiet dark.

You told yourself you wouldn’t linger. And yet, here you are again, weeks later, lying in her bed while dawn tries to crawl its way through the blackout curtains.

She’s still asleep. Or pretending to be.

Your head rests against her shoulder, eyes fixed on the steady rise and fall of her chest. You breathe her in—something expensive and floral with a trace of vanilla—and wonder if it clings to all her lovers, or just you.

She shifts beneath you, her arm instinctively pulling you closer. The movement is gentle, practiced. Comforting. And yet, you can’t tell if it means anything.

You want it to.

“I should go,” you whisper, though you don’t move. You say it every morning. It's become part of the ritual, like the quiet sex and her occasional smirk when you stumble over your words, trying not to sound too eager.

Larissa hums, eyes still closed. “Mmm. Why rush?”

There’s that voice. Satin and command in equal measure. You’d do anything to hear it say something real—something just for you.

“I’ve got class in an hour,” you murmur, letting yourself linger just a little longer. You never mean to, but she makes it so easy to stay. You tuck your face into the crook of her neck. “I think the other teachers are starting to notice I’m always tired on Tuesdays.”

A faint smile curves her lips. “Let them wonder.”

You laugh, a small sound, but there’s something fragile beneath it. You don’t want to wonder. You want to know. You want to ask questions you don’t have the right to ask.

Do you sleep like this with everyone?
Do you think of me when I’m not here?
Is this more than nothing, or am I just pretending it is?

But you don’t ask. You never do.

Instead, you press a soft kiss to her throat and let her hold you like you matter. Like you’re more than warm skin and temporary comfort. Like maybe—just maybe—she wants you here too.

You let the silence stretch. You pretend it means something.

The warmth of Larissa’s bed still clings to your skin when you step into the halls of Nevermore, but reality is already cooling it.

You tell yourself not to expect anything. That it’s fine—normal, even—that she hasn’t texted. That she didn’t kiss you goodbye when you left her office this morning. That she only ever kisses you in private.

Still, when you catch sight of her at the end of the corridor, a quiet, nervous kind of anticipation stirs in your chest. Will she look at me? Will she smile?

You don’t expect her to rush to your side or whisper something meant only for you. But maybe—maybe—she’ll acknowledge you with something softer than professionalism.

But Larissa Weems is all business now. Immaculate in her pressed suit, clipboard in hand, speaking in hushed tones to a board member.

She doesn’t even glance your way.

You try to ignore the sting of it. The way it makes you feel like last night was something you imagined, like the weight of her hands on your skin, the sigh of your name in the dark, meant nothing at all.

You swallow it down.

You’re an adult. You knew what you were getting into.

Still, something bitter settles under your tongue when she turns slightly, offering the board member that smile—the poised, charming one, full of effortless grace. The kind that makes people feel special.

It shouldn’t bother you.

Except it does.

The board member laughs, and Larissa places a hand on his arm in that effortless, casual way she has, a gesture so smooth it might as well be instinct. You wonder if she even realizes she does it. If she touches everyone like that.

If she’s ever touched you like that outside of her bedroom.

Your stomach twists.

She’s not doing anything wrong. Not really. You remind yourself that whatever this is between you—whatever it isn’t—has no rules. No promises. You’re the one who stayed, the one who crawled into her bed again and again, the one who let hope creep into your ribs like a sickness.

Still, when Larissa finally walks past you, eyes skimming over you without even a flicker of recognition, it feels like a slap to the face.

And the worst part?

You don’t even think she notices.

You don’t bring it up right away.

You tell yourself it was nothing—just a moment. A busy morning. She probably didn’t see you. She probably wouldn’t want to seem unprofessional in front of a board member. It’s not personal.

You repeat that to yourself all day.

But it keeps echoing.

She looked right through me.

Later, back in her office, the air is different. Quieter. Dimmer. The curtains are drawn and the fire crackles softly. She’s taken off her heels. Her hair is down.

Here, you’re not a stranger.

Here, she looks at you like she knows you.

She pours two glasses of wine and hands you one, brushing her fingers along yours in that way she always does. She’s graceful about it, as if affection is something she gives you in curated, elegant doses.

You watch her sink into the couch, legs crossed, wineglass balanced delicately in her hand. Her eyes flick to yours. “You’re frowning.”

You hadn’t realized you were.

“I saw you today,” you say, quiet.

Larissa raises a brow. “Yes?”

“In the hall. You walked right past me.”

A beat.

She tilts her head, feigning thought. “I must have been preoccupied.”

You nod slowly. Sip your wine. Pretend it doesn’t sting. “You were talking to the board.”

“Yes.” She says it like a full stop. No elaboration. No apology.

You set your glass down, fingers tightening on your knee. “Do you ever think it’s strange? That we act like we don’t know each other at all during the day?”

Her gaze flickers, just briefly. “I assumed you preferred it that way.”

You blink. “Why would you assume that?”

She shrugs, ever so slightly. “I thought you valued discretion.”

“I do,” you say, a little too fast. “But discretion’s not the same as pretending we’re strangers.”

Larissa leans back against the cushions, studying you now—calm, unreadable. “What is it you want from me, exactly?”

You freeze.

It’s not the question itself—it’s the way she asks it. Like you’re the one who’s overstepping. Like this is a negotiation and you’ve just asked for too much.

“I don’t know,” you admit, softer now. “Something that doesn’t make me feel... invisible.”

She sighs—tired, not annoyed, but not gentle either. “You knew what this was.”

You nod. You did.

But that doesn’t make it hurt less.

You don’t go to her that night.

Or the next.

It isn’t some grand, dramatic decision—you don’t throw your phone into the sea or draft a final message you’ll never send. You just stop reaching out. You sit with the ache. Let it settle in your ribs like something dull and heavy.

And she does nothing.

No text. No knock at your door.

Maybe you were wrong to think she’d notice. Maybe this was always how it was meant to be—you, orbiting her, mistaking gravity for something reciprocal.

But on the third day, there’s a knock at your door.

Your heart stutters.

You consider pretending you’re not home. You consider waiting, letting her leave, letting yourself believe she was never really here at all.

But you open the door.

She’s standing there, one hand resting on the frame, looking as put-together as ever. But there’s something softer in her expression, something almost hesitant.

“I haven’t seen you in a few days.” Her voice is smooth as ever, but there’s a question in it.

You swallow. “I’ve been busy.”

She hums, tilting her head slightly. “Too busy for me?”

Your throat tightens. “I thought you might appreciate the space.”

“Space,” she repeats, like it’s a foreign concept.

Like she never once considered that you’d pull away first.

She steps inside without waiting for an invitation, her perfume enveloping you, and suddenly it feels like every ounce of distance you put between you has collapsed in a breath.

Her fingers trail along your wrist—not grabbing, not holding, just there. A tether.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she murmurs. “Give me space.”

Your stomach twists.

Because she says it so softly, like she means it. Like it’s you who created this distance, like she would have reached for you if only you had let her.

Like this is still something real.

You shake your head, trying to clear it. “Larissa—”

She lifts your hand, pressing it to her lips. The kiss is barely there, the kind that makes you want to chase it.

“Stay,” she says simply. A single, quiet request.

You can’t stay quiet anymore.

You don’t even mean to say it—it just comes out. The words tumble from your mouth like they’ve been waiting behind your teeth for far too long, desperate to escape.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you say, your voice tight. “I can’t keep pretending this is fine.”

Larissa’s eyes narrow slightly.

“You’re making something out of nothing,” she says, like this is just another one of your moods, another one of your moments that will pass when she’s done with it.

But you can’t let it go. Not this time.

“You know what you’re doing.” The words hit the air between you like glass shattering. “You’ve been playing with me—using me—and I don’t even know why I let it go on this long.”

Her expression remains unreadable, but the flicker of something dangerous moves through her eyes. You’ve seen that look before—when she’s about to shut you down.

But you’re not backing down this time.

“You’ve made it clear that I’m just… convenient for you,” you spit out, your breath catching in your chest. “And I’ve been stupid enough to believe that I meant more to you than that.”

Larissa doesn’t flinch. Her gaze is cool, calculating, almost too calm. “You’re overreacting.”

“No,” you snap. “You don’t get to tell me that. You don’t get to pretend like this means nothing when I can feel it. I can feel the way you pull me in, and then push me away. Every damn time.”

Her jaw tightens. She moves slowly, deliberately, her movements sharp and controlled. “I never made any promises to you.”

You laugh bitterly, the sound harsh in your ears. “And I never asked for any. But I was stupid enough to think that this—” you gesture between the two of you, “—was something real. That you cared. That I meant something.”

Larissa’s gaze hardens. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Oh, I know,” you retort, feeling the sharp edge of her words cut through you like a blade. “I know. I thought this was casual—no strings attached, right? But I was wrong. I’m not some passing moment for you, am I? You wanted me to be casual—just another distraction—while I fell for you.”

Larissa’s face tightens at the implication. She steps toward you, her presence overwhelming. But you’re not backing down.

“I was the one who didn’t know any better, right?” you continue, your words growing more heated with every beat. “You’re the one who’s never been clear about what you wanted. Casual, right? That’s what you told me over and over. But I should have known that was just the line you fed me to make it easier to walk away when you were done.”

The words feel like acid in your throat, but they burn with truth.

“You were never casual, Larissa,” you say, a sudden intensity rising in your chest. “I thought I was—thought I was just another face you’d forget. But I’m not. Not now. Not when I’ve let you twist everything I thought we were.”

Larissa doesn’t respond immediately, and for a moment, it’s like she’s frozen in place. There’s a shift in the air, something almost imperceptible, as though she’s finally seeing you for the first time in this whole mess. But it’s too little, too late.

You take a step forward, the anger building in your chest, but it’s mixed with the sting of realization. “You never cared about me the way I cared about you. You were always so damn careful to not care. I was never more than a moment, wasn’t I? You were never going to be mine, Larissa. And you let me believe I could have you.”

Her lips press together tightly, but she still doesn’t say anything.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” you dare her. “Tell me this was just casual for you. That it was just some game you were playing with me.”

Her eyes flick to the side briefly—then back to you, her gaze sharp and cold. “It was never a game. But you made it more than it was.”

“I didn’t make anything,” you bite out. “You used me, and I let you. You told me to keep it casual, but I wasn’t the one who needed it. You were. And now, it’s me who’s left holding all these pieces, trying to make sense of what the hell happened.”

She takes a step back, crossing her arms over her chest, and her voice is icy. “It’s your fault for reading into something that was never there.”

“Is that it?” you ask, laughter bubbling up bitterly. “Is that all I was? Just someone you could use when it was convenient? You really don’t care, do you?”

Larissa opens her mouth to respond, but you can’t hear it anymore. The words you’ve been too afraid to admit are crashing through your thoughts, unrelenting. You’ve been fighting so hard to convince yourself that this wasn’t a mistake, that maybe she cared about you even just a little. But now—now you see the truth, clear as day.

“I see it now,” you say quietly, stepping away from her, the words breaking your heart as you speak them. “I was just a distraction. And you don’t even have the decency to tell me I’m wrong. You let me fall for you, and when I finally do care, when I finally say enough, you’ll just turn away like you always do.”

Her face is unreadable now, but you know her well enough to see the tiniest flicker of something—guilt, maybe? But it’s gone in an instant.

“You don’t get to make me the villain here,” she says, the edge of her voice cutting through your chest like a jagged knife.

“Maybe I don’t,” you reply, “but you sure as hell made me feel like one. You made me feel like I was too much, too needy, like I was asking for too much. And I was—I was asking for something real. But you were just… playing with me, weren’t you?”

Her eyes flicker, and for a second, just a second, you think she might say something. Apologize, maybe, or at least try to explain herself.

But then she looks away. “I’m not sorry.”

And that’s it.

The final cut.

She turns on her heel, walking out without another word. The silence that follows is deafening, suffocating, and you can feel your chest tighten with every step she takes away from you.

The letter you write that night isn’t long.

You don’t see the point in making it poetic. You’ve said everything already—screamed it, cried it, bled it out on the floor of your quarters. This isn’t about drama now. It’s about survival. About reclaiming the parts of yourself that she tried to keep casual.

No, that’s not fair.

You were the one who believed her when she said it.

Still, you leave the resignation letter on her desk the next morning. Just a single sheet of paper folded neatly in half. Your name signed at the bottom with a shaking hand.

You pause for a moment in her office, the silence thick with everything unsaid. Her perfume lingers faintly in the room, floral and cold, like a memory that won’t wash off.

You don’t look around. You don’t need to. You know this place too well—its perfection, its elegance. The way she kept everything beautiful and just out of reach.

Kind of like her.

You take the long way out of Nevermore. Past the classrooms, past the rows of windows that once glowed warm when she waited for you. Past the hallway where she used to pull you aside with a smirk and a whisper, asking if you could stay a little later.

You remember the butterflies. The heat. The way she’d kiss you like you were the only thing that mattered—until the morning after, when you were nothing again. Just someone she kept in the dark, hidden beneath carefully measured glances and vague promises.

You walk past it all, and for once, you don’t stop.

Not even when you see her.

She’s standing at the top of the stairs, spine straight, arms crossed in that perfectly controlled way she always carries herself. Her eyes find yours, sharp as ever, unreadable. And for a split second, time stalls.

She knows.

Of course she knows. She’s already read it. Or maybe she hasn’t yet, but she always knew this was coming. She just didn’t care enough to stop it.

You hold her gaze for a heartbeat longer than you should, hoping—desperately, foolishly—that she’ll say something.

Anything.

But she doesn’t.

She just watches you. Stoic. Cold. Silent.

Like you were never more than a passing moment. Like none of it mattered.

And maybe that’s the truth you needed.

You turn without a word.

No dramatic exit. No tears. Just the quiet click of your shoes on the stone floor as you leave it all behind—her, Nevermore, the hollow ache of wanting something that was never yours to begin with.

Outside, the sky is heavy with clouds, the kind that feel like they’re holding something back. You don’t bring an umbrella. Let it rain. Let it soak through your coat and into your bones. Let it feel like something.

Anything is better than the numbness.

You don’t look back.
You’ve already done that too many times.

————————————————————————

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[fallentitan98]

Not gonna lie, maybe you should stop fucking talk about it so damn much. Seriously, I didn’t give a shit about the game. I really didn’t. But you fucking HP haters wouldn’t shut the FUCK UP ABOUT IT! Y’all keep shoving Harry Potter shit down everyone else’s throat while simultaneously yelling at people to not watch or play it. You all harassed a ton of people over the game, streamers and voice actors got death threats over it.

If you don’t like it, and don’t want people to indulge with it, maybe SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT IT!!! Holy shit shut the FUCK UP!! Stop spreading it around! Stop letting people know it exists! Stop!!! Just fucking STOP!!

[capseycartwright]

Saying "I love you" In-between kisses

Eddie had never been a lounging in bed kind of person. It hadn’t been allowed, when he was growing up – even at the weekend, there was sports to play, chores to do, and mass to attend. He’d never done much of that teenage oversleeping he lets Christopher indulge in, always out of bed by eight am, even during the holidays. He’d joined the army, and become a father in one breath, and so early mornings became the norm: Christopher had been an early riser, as a toddler, and then when he’d started school, the Diaz day had started at six am sharp.

The point was – Eddie rarely got to indulge.

He was indulging today.

They’d gotten back from Texas three weeks ago, and he’d been dating Buck for about three days. It had been a lot of life change all at once, and it had been perfect – coming back to LA had been coming home, and coming back to LA and to Buck had really been coming home. Neither of them had lasted very long before the confessions of undying love had come, exchanged quietly in the kitchen, Buck trying to decide which of their microwaves was the better one to keep, their house full of duplicates of just about everything.

Eddie had looked at him and not been able to hold it in any longer. He wanted this, him and Buck and mundane conversations about kitchen appliances for as long as he lived.

Burrowing himself underneath Buck’s fluffy, thick duvet (that had been an easy decision – Eddie had put his own bedroom set on Facebook marketplace the morning after they had gotten together, Buck’s mattress and duvet set up cloud-like. Eddie was not letting that go) Eddie let his eyes flutter shut, the distant whirl of the coffee machine telling him exactly where Buck was too.

(Hildy had been relegated to a cupboard, her convenient ways too good to get rid of – Buck’s fancy machine was out on the counter, there for days where Buck was willing to grind coffee beans, and steam milk, the sure sign of a perfect, slow morning.)

Christopher was still sleeping – Eddie didn’t need to look at the time to know that. It was a Saturday morning, after a busy week, they’d be lucky if he rose by lunchtime. Eddie didn’t mind. His kid was home, he and Buck were dating, and he was sleeping in a cloud. What more could he possibly ask for?

He felt Buck’s weight before he saw him, the clink of two mugs of coffee being set down on the nightstand the second indicator his boyfriend had returned. Gentle hands peeled back the duvet, Buck straddling Eddie, his curls soft against his forehead (the wonders of a silk pillowcase, Eddie had discovered – Karen had taught him that one), Buck wearing a grey t-shirt that had been cut off at the shoulders and pair of Eddie’s own sleep shorts, clearly having gotten dressed on his adventure to this kitchen.

“Hey, sleepy baby,” Buck hummed, his grin ever-present. They were definitely in the honeymoon stage, but Eddie figured it was allowed, only three days in. He pressed a soft kiss to Eddie’s lips, and God, Eddie was never going to get used to that – the fact that Buck was his, that he got to be on the receiving end of all the love and affection that Buck so freely gave.

“You got out of bed,” Eddie pouted. Maybe he was a bit of a baby.

“I did,” Buck hummed. “I made you a fancy coffee, though.”

Eddie glanced at the bedside table. “You did,” he relented. “I did have to wake up alone, though.”

“I am terribly sorry for the inconvenience,” Buck said dramatically. “How can I ever make it up to you?”

Eddie shrugged, somewhat petulantly, the duvet still tugged up to his chin. “No idea.”

“I can only apologise,” Buck hummed, pressing another kiss to Eddie’s waiting lips. “I love you,” he said, pausing to kiss again Eddie, longer, and deeper this time. “I love you,” he repeated, kissing Eddie for long enough this time that Eddie got lost in the feeling, letting Buck guide his mouth to where he wanted it to be, Buck’s tongue poking at the seam of Eddie’s mouth.

“Better?”

“Mm, almost.”

Buck laughed, but he kissed Eddie again. “I love you,” he sing-songed. “I love you, Eddie Diaz. I am so sorry I left you to wake up in bed alone,” kiss, kiss, kiss, and another for luck. “But I love you.”

Eddie wasn’t sure if ‘I love you’ accurately summed up the way he felt about Evan Buckley, but then again, he wasn’t sure if any language had managed to sum up the way he felt about Buck – how safe, and warm, and cared for he felt when he was with him, how Buck was so much more than the man he loved, how he was the other half of Eddie’s soul, the part of him he’d been searching for his entire life.

“I love you,” he kissed Buck, trying to pour every feeling he had into the embrace.

Buck hummed, rolling off Eddie as they broke apart, propping himself up against the headboard. He reached across Eddie for his coffee, making an agreeable noise as he took his first, and second sip.

Relenting, Eddie forced himself to sit up, taking the second mug. It really was good coffee, he though, the first sip delicious and caramel-like as he drank. “This is the perfect way to wake up,” he said softly, leaning against Buck. It was perfect – it was everything Eddie hadn’t ever thought he deserved, but selfishly, he wanted it forever.

Buck beamed at him. “It really is.”

That was how Christopher found them, a half an hour later, when he finally woke, their coffees long-since finished but the two of them still sitting peacefully in bed, Eddie half dozing as Buck scrolled through a news article on his phone. The image of his son standing sleepily in the doorway, a fond expression on his face, struck something deeper, in Eddie – he could imagine a few more kids standing at that doorway, with Buck’s curls and his bright blue eyes, could imagine the weight of a wedding band back on his finger.

It was a perfect fantasy – one he’d focus on later.

For now, he was having a quiet morning in bed with his family. It was perfect.

send me a physical intimacy prompt

[ohithankyou]

i was thinking about why the morning after but specifically, the bit when buck hops up on the counter during the morning after, is so precious to me and it’s because it takes me back to the dynamic they had in masks after buck dislocates his shoulder—where he completely and unabashedly indulges in tommy’s care for him but this time, after all that time apart. they’re broken up and yet buck shows no resistance to tommy’s gesture and he doesn’t try to take on any responsibility in the moment. no, ‘oh i can plate my breakfast’ or ‘what can i do to help.’ he knows tommy wants to dote on him and so he just sits himself on the counter, looking so so pretty, and soaks up every moment of being pampered lovingly by this man who lives and loves to take care of him. spoil him. indulge him. just give give give. because he wants to. and it’s just my favourite dynamic when it comes to them also set within a moment of peak domestic-bliss which makes it even better