#so this was what my brain decided to think about instead of work

[messenger-of-babel]

Jason Todd Who...

Summary: Thoughts about your relationship with Jason Todd.

Word Count: 1.6K

Notes: So this was supposed to come out a few days ago to maintain a 'one post a week' baseline, but my hometown kinda flooded, everyone got evacuated, I came back to work and my office building managed to flood and catch fire in the span of 24 hours. I'm still fine though! Currently splitting time with writing, work, and drying things out. Stay safe out there!

Love RiRi <3

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Thinking about a Jason Todd Who…

Has no idea how exactly he got into a relationship with you. Well, technically he’d like to call it a situationship, since neither of you have decided to put a label on it yet. He’d helped you out post patrol one evening, Bruce doing his head in as usual. He didn’t plan on drinking that night, but he still pushed open the door to the bar, hoping he could at least chat to James, the bartender, if he was on that night. It turns out that James was, in fact, on shift and currently occupied in the back corner near the pool table. His ears switched into overdrive hearing the ruckus, the years of vigilante training making his senses kick in keenly to try and respond. That’s when he saw you, being restrained by James and pool cue in hand.

Thinking about a Jason Todd who…

Laughs to himself as his first response to seeing a bar fight, your opponent curled on the ground from where you had jabbed him with the cue. When his eyes met yours, your form wriggling in James grip, he was oddly delighted to see the challenging glare you sent to him. After about twenty minutes of exchanged words and threats of security, James lets you go and you sit at the bar, fingers tapping the wood in irritation.

“You shouldn’t drink if you get angry, you know.” He grins, following your shadow to the bar and leaning on the nearby stool.

“I’m not drunk.” You defend, eyeing him up and down. “I made that decision completely sober.”

Jason’s eyebrows raise. “Oh, really? Do tell me what he did to deserve being attacked then.”

“He was being an asshole.”

Yeah, Jason was going to like you.

Thinking about a Jason Todd who…

Calls it a relationship to himself silently after a while but is still too nervous to say it in front of you. What if you didn’t think about it the same way? What if you were platonically getting coffee together every Thursday? That you only held onto him that tight when you rode with him because you were worried about falling off? That you were just friends that crashed in the same bed after a night out? He couldn’t help the flutter in his chest and the grin he wore so easily when you were around. He didn’t realise how much baggage he wore on his shoulders until you showed up and he felt like he could lift his neck for once. He knew he was fucked up, dying and coming back would do that to you. Yet he didn’t notice how the heaviness of it kept his eyes trained on the pavement, neck craning under the weight.

Yeah, Jason really liked you.

Thinking about a Jason Todd who…

Dreads you coming over to meet the family, protesting the entire time. Not only because it was pouring outside meaning he had to take the car (meaning he couldn’t feel your arms around him), but because he still doesn’t know what you are. He’s been meaning to clear it up with you, wanting to ask so desperately, but every time that he’s tried the words catch in his throat. Like he’s back to being Robin, the young boy now trapped in a body way too big for him. So instead he just tightens his hands on the steering wheel, lost so deep in his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice the lovestruck glances you steal from the corner of your eye, or the nervous playing of your hands in your lap.

Thinking about a Jason Todd who…

Is completely taken aback when you announce yourself as his partner at the door when Alfred asks who you are. His brain blanks out, just staring down at you with a wider than usual glance. His hands are frozen to his side, unsure of what he could do. What to even say. The old man just smiles when Jason flicks his gaze to meet his grandfather figure, the old man’s eyes crinkling in mirth.

“Then welcome in. Master Dick and Tim will be delighted to hear it.”

You smile so easily, so effortlessly as you take his hand and lead him into his own home (or ex-home as he liked to call it).

God, he liked you.

Thinking about a Jason Todd who…

Scowls when he sees Tim pay Dick a $20 under the table as you introduce yourself again, his older sibling figure sending him a shit eating grin as he pockets the cash in his front jacket pocket. He doesn’t miss the way that Bruce’s eyebrow twitches up curiously as you say you’re his partner, before that critical gaze flicks to Jason, silently asking if the information is true. He gives a short tense nod, and the billionaire grips his chin in thought before running a hand over his face.

That makes a flare of anger peak in Jason, but he squashes it down for the sake of Alfred and the dinner he worked so hard to wrangle everyone in for. You’re too distracted introducing yourself to Steph and Duke to see the critical glances Bruce sends you, the duo more than eager to engage you in conversation. He hates the way that Jason can feel the gaze of Bruce bore into his cheek, like he was trying to carve a his own bat-shaped scar next to the white ‘J’. He hated that gaze. The gaze that he could feel before he was told to ‘take it from the top’ or to ‘do another set’. The gaze he used to try and thrive under when he was younger, pushing himself to the limits in the hope that it would soften up if he excelled. The gaze that felt like it was doing nothing but waiting for him to mess up, so it could devour him with sharp teeth and harsher words. He knew Bruce didn’t approve. Jason knew he didn’t care.

Jason liked you too much to let Bruce scare away his chance of happiness.

Thinking about a Jason Todd who…

Has his breath stolen the moment you kiss him in the car. He feels like he’s drowning, but it’s the most blissful torture he’s ever experienced as you lean across the car console to cover his lips with yours.

“You were distracted at dinner.” You murmur softly when you pull away. Jason has to blink the stars from his eyes, his scarred hands twitching to rest at the back of your neck and pull you to him again.

“I was just lost in thought, that’s all.” He says back, fighting the tremor in his voice. Once again he feels like a young boy piloting a hulking, clumsy body, his mind and muscle out of sync. You hum in response, not fully taking his answer.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped, calling myself your partner.” Your murmur after a slight tense silence. “I should have asked first.”

Jason swallows thickly. “I don’t mind.” He says quickly, a little too quickly if he was honest with himself. “I’m happy to try, I mean, if you want that.”

You smile, the sight that makes his chest flap. Like he had said the funniest thing imaginable, your sparkling gaze focused all on him.

You liked him.

Thinking about a Jason Todd who…

Holds nothing back as soon as you two become an actual couple. He’s doing what he can (albeit it clumsily) to keep you around. He’s mostly mimicking other relationships he’s seen, readings articles on how to be a good partner late at night. He knows to be himself, he’s not an idiot. He knows that you would scold him if you saw the things that he was doing, but he couldn’t stop. He had had relationships before you, of course. Yet the difference this time was that this was you, and he wasn’t going to risk it going sideways the same way the others had.

The biggest thing he had found was trying to keep you away from the other side of him. The side that donned a mask when the sun went down and staked out rooftops with a blue and black spandex clad chatterbox, and a caped brat. It had been easily enough when you were apart, but now that you were living together in his little apartment, it was getting harder and harder to sneak out of your arms at night and crawl back into them in the morning. He cursed the fact that you were a light sleeper, leading him to nearly being caught one too many times. He knew that you were getting suspicious, but keeping your reservations to yourself in the morning.

Bruce still didn’t like you, even more so now that you were closer to Jason’s true side than ever. But maybe Bruce did like you. That was a thought that plagued him, preventing him from falling into the sleep he so desperately needed after a long patrol. You were curled into his side, chest rising and falling softly.

Maybe Bruce did like you, and he was trying to protect you. Trying to keep you away from the potential heartbreak of losing him, which was a constant threat in this line of work. Maybe he was trying to keep you from being harmed, something that Jason feared constantly about having you close. Maybe Bruce was trying to save you because he did like you, and Jason was condemning you by being with you.

You move slightly when he shifts, eyes flicking opening groggily. Your normally bright eyes are cloudy with sleep, and you meet his gaze.

“Jay?” you mumble.

He grins softly, calloused fingers brushing a piece of hair from your forehead.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Maybe Bruce did like you.

But Jason loved you.

[quibbs126]

I didn’t mean for this page to have like, the exact same format as the last one, but it does

I tried to design the kids from that one TFA fanfic I read once because they come into my brain every now and then. I feel like I’m undermining the fic by saying that. It’s part of a collection, called Blessings in Disguise by Quiet_Shadow on Ao3 (idk if they have a tumblr), where basically post Archa 7 and being kicked out of the Academy, Optimus finds out he’s sparked, and later has twins who were sired by both Elita and Sentinel, one for each, and he’s basically raising them with his space bridge crew, since Elita’s supposedly dead and Sentinel keeps ignoring Optimus’ repeated attempts to contact him. The kids are named Ariel and Dion, in reference to the War Dawn characters, and I think are also supposed to somewhat resemble them

I felt I should give a summary for anyone who doesn’t have yesterday’s context. The fics are both relatively short and the second one remains unfinished, but I liked it well enough

But yeah, as alluded to yesterday, I’ve been debating whether or not to draw the kids, and after yesterday I decided “screw it, why not”

As it turns out, the first fic actually did have descriptions for each of the kids, so I had more to work with, which honestly I probably needed

I don’t know how to draw sparklings, so I think I ended up making them look older than they’re supposed to be in the fic. Sorry

And also, while Ariel I think turned out really well, Dion isn’t the best. I actually had to redo him partially because I was trying to give him a Sentinel chin (though far smaller), while also trying to give him a helmet like he was supposed to have (in the fic he has both), but it wasn’t looking right so I changed it to what it is now, which is still kind of wonky. He’s also described as looking a lot like Sentinel, but because I wanted to give him Optimus’ blue skin, among other traits, he ended up resembling Optimus far more than Sentinel

I also gave them both Optimus’ chin thing, initially as coincidence but screw it, shared trait

Ariel was described as pink, so I conceded that she’s pink, but I gave her a more peach tone instead, and overall I quite like her color scheme. Dion too, just not as much

I’m not super sure about the bodies though, particularly the arms. I was drawing that part while bored at work, so it may have affected my creativity. I mean, I guess they’re fine, but I don’t know

But yeah I’m not sure I have more to say, so just know that I did this

Honestly it actually was a lot of fun, at least until the struggle with Dion’s head came into play. I really do need to get around to making my own fankids at some point

And also with this and yesterday, I really do see why people like the TFA style, it’s pretty fun to draw. I need to incorporate it more, but my AU already has another style it’s trying to emulate

*sigh*, if only I had a way to incorporate the TFA style more while also drawing characters and designs separate from the continuity, just borrowing a similar style. I don’t know

[lolvampira]

NATHAN SEXPLOSION — reuploaded!

elvira is typing . . hello!! originally i wrote this fic ages ago in like 2023? i think? i posted it on ao3 under the same name but since im making this acc from scratch i decided to reupload it on here so there’s more traction LOL besides i want there to be an example of my writing on my acc so like yeah! again, this is old and I PROMISE my writing has gotten better LOLOL so yeah! comments & reblogs appreciated! >_<

synopsis . . nathan explosion x fem! reader | after seeing you talking to skwisgaar, the swede’s smirk makes his stomach turn, a fiery pit of jealousy burning in his stomach, so he takes you back to his room to remind you that you’re his.

warnings . . nsfw! jealousy sex, skwisgaar is an opp kinda but it’s okay cuz nathan dicks you down lol, pussy eating cuz idc if he doesn’t like eating pussy he does to me ok.. he slaps you but like it’s a sexual way like you’re getting off to it.. breeding, mating press, idk what else i didn’t read through it bc it’s so old and ill die LOL

His eyes narrowed as he watched you from across the party. There you stood, talking happily to Skwisgaar, laughing along to whatever he was telling you.

Taking a sip from his beer, Nathan grunted, an uncomfortable hot feeling filled his chest. He had been trying to suppress the feeling all night long. Unconsciously, he knew that you weren’t flirting with Skwisgaar, you had no reason to be. But somehow, his blood boiled from jealousy as the minutes ticked by.

It annoyed him, Skwisgaar could be talking to any of the other groupie sluts in this god forsaken party, yet there he was. Talking to you.

His girlfriend.

It pissed him off, what the fuck were you thinking? He could see Skwisgaar staring you down, with his height, Nathan could see the way his gaze focused on your chest and how good that cocktail dress looked on you.

He hated how Skwisgaar had a smirk curled on his lips as his eyes were lidded, it was like he was trying to seduce you. It reminded Nathan of all the failed dates he’s had before because of his dildo band mates throwing themselves at them.

But this was different, you were his partner . Not some first date, not some woman that would bend over for the slightest hint of attention the rest of the band gave you.

Looking away, Nathan scoffed as he leaned back against the couch was was sitting on, taking a few hefty gulps of his beer, hoping the alcohol would hit sooner.

Nathan tried to clear his head, repeating to himself that he didn’t have to worry. He didn’t need to be jealous, you were just being friendly with Skwisgaar, besides just the night before he had you babbling like a brain dead slut over his cock.

Skwisgaar couldn’t compare.

Yeah, he couldn’t compare. Nathan thought, taking another long sip from his beer, effectively emptying the bottle. Glancing back at the two of you, Nathan’s heart rate spiked at the sight.

Skwisgaar had his arm wrapped around your shoulder, holding you close, way too close as he talked. If he would’ve held the beer bottle any tighter it would’ve shattered in his hand.

That was his last straw, he was practically seeing red. If he didn’t work with Skwisgaar he would’ve started a fight right there, instead, he stood up abruptly and walked over to the two of you. Taking long and fast strides, he was quick to reach your side, placing his hand on the small of your back.

You had just been laughing at a joke Skwisgaar had thrown, something about some fan that had tried to climb onto the stage when he did his solo. It was lively and oddly enough, the Swede was humorous when he wasn’t boasting about his guitar skills. Just then, you felt a large hand land on your back, you laugh stopped and you glanced to your side. Expecting some random person, but instead you saw Nathan.

A smile was quick to appear on your face, but Nathan wasn’t looking at you. Instead, he was looking, or more so glaring, at Skwisgaar, you didn’t notice his intense glare though.

“Nathan! Skwisgaar was just telling me some fan stories, they’re crazy!” You said happily, leaning into his touch. His green gaze finally moved down to you, he grunted in reply. “Uh, yeah.” He grumbled, sliding his hand to your hip and pulling you close to his chest.

“..Yeahs, those dildoes ams crazies.” Skwisgaar added, his gaze focused on Nathan, the glare he shot him was hard to ignore. Scowling, Skwisgaar let out a grunt, “Anyways..amsts goings to goes.” Skwisgaar said, Nathan squeezed your hip.

At the Swede’s words, you pouted, but didn’t press further. “Okay! I’ll talk to you later, I had fun!” You said with a warm smile, waving at Skwisgaar as he walked away, not having issues with finding another woman to talk to.

Now, it was just you and Nathan.

Looking back up at Nathan, you noticed how his jaw was clenched and his gaze followed Skwisgaar, as if making sure he was actually gone. Raising your eyebrow, you nudged him. “Nathan?” Barely sparing you a glance, Nathan squeezed your hip. “This party is boring, let’s go.” He grunted, taking your wrist and practically pulling you away.

You didn’t have space to argue, so you followed.

Walking down the long hallways of Mordhaus felt like an eternity, while you two walked, Nathan’s grip on your hand was firm and rather tight.

There was a tense silence between the two, you had tried to start some sort of conversation about the party, but you made the mistake of bringing up Skwisgaar. In turn it made Nathan scowl and go quiet, you did notice how he squeezed your hand more at the mention of the Swede.

After what felt like forever, you two finally arrived to Nathan’s bedroom.

“What’s up with you?” You asked, sitting at the edge of Nathan’s ridiculously large bed. You weren’t an idiot and it was clear that he was annoyed, angry maybe?

Walking over, Nathan pushed you down onto the bed, “Nothing.” He grumbled, towering over you.

“Nothing?” You hummed, letting your legs spread to accommodate him, did he think you were dumb? With a smile, you hummed, “You’re being extra brooding, what happened?” You pressed.

Nathan slipped on top of you, both of his hands landing next to your head. “Nothing. Shut up.” He replied, his long hair falling and framing his face, with that, he pressed his lips against yours.

The pace was quick and sloppy, a bit of force behind it too, but you didn’t mind.

Moaning into his mouth, you moved your hand and gripped his shoulder, after a few seconds he pulled away. Letting you catch your breath while he went down and started pressing kisses down your neck.

The kisses were open mouthed, his tongue pressing against your skin before he sucked.

With your small cocktail dress, it had a plunged neck line. It was black and it hugged your curves nicely, your chest was exposed so Nathan had lots of space to lick and mark.

Whining, you could feel his lips against your collarbone, sucking on your skin, making sure to leave a visible hickey.

That way, Skwisgaar could see that you belonged to him.

“Mm..Nathan.” You moaned softly, your legs loosely wrapping around his hips. A rumbling groan left Nathan’s lips, one that came from deep down in his chest.

The way you moaned his name made his head spin and his blood surged down to his crotch, his jeans applying pressure to his hardening cock. Making him feel suffocated.

“Fuck.” He grunted, moving back, his hands gripped the neckline of your dress. It was plunged and brought out your tits nicely, being held up by some meek spaghetti straps. With a rough yank, Nathan pulled the dress down, exposing your tits.

They bounced at the force, you yelped as the cold hair hit your breast. Your nipples perking up quickly, “Nathan! This dress was expensive!” You squealed, instinctively covering your chest.

“And? I’ll buy you a new one.” He grunted, shooting you a glare before moving your arms away and latching his mouth to one of your perky nipples.

You were about to complain, but the warm feeling of his tongue swirling around your nipple made you moan softly instead.

Nathan grew eager with his tongue, alternating between both nipples and leaving hickies. His hand slipped down to your thigh, his rough fingers slipping up your dress, pulling the skirt up.

His fingers pressed against your underwear, toying with your clothed clit, making your body twitch, “N-Nathan!” You stammered.

Nathan’s gaze fell on your face, pulling away and standing at the edge of the bed, his hands hooked under your knees and yanked you forward. Leaving you lying against the edge of the bed, Nathan was quick to roughly pull down your panties, not even caring enough to take them completely off, they just stayed hooked on your right ankle.

Dropping down to his knees, Nathan made space between your legs, you shivered as his hot breath fanned against your soaked cunt.

“Nathan..”

You mewled, you weren’t sure what had him this filed up. A sharp gasp left your lips as you felt his flat tongue against your cunt, licking from your slit up to your clit.

Your hips squirmed, Nathan was never a big fan of eating pussy, so this had your brain fuzzy. In Nathan’s mind, his only goal was to outshine Skwisgaar.

He’s heard stories about the Swede, about how he gives the best head to whichever woman is lucky enough to receive it. Nathan wanted to mentally prove to you that he too could give you great head.

It’s not like you ever doubted that, but still.

This was all mental for him.

Rolling his tongue in a circular motion against your sensitive clit, your breathing was breathy and whiny. Fuck, he was good.

Your thighs struggled to stay open and accommodating to the fact your boyfriend was eating you out, but Nathan didn’t care. In fact, as your thighs squeezed his head, his hands held the outside of your thighs, keeping your legs locked around his head.

All you could do was moan shakily, whimper out his name, and roll your hips up. Thrusting up to try and keep his face pressed against your cunt.

Nathan made it his job to have his nose pressed against your clit whenever his tongue messed with your insides, but also alternating between sucking on your clit while his fingers slipped inside your cunt, curling up and pressing on your sensitive spot.

While his tongue pressed and lapped up your clit, Nathan moaned against your pussy. Hearing you whine and cry his name was making his ego grow as much as the bulge in his pants.

So much so, that while he kept sucking and licking, his hand slipped down to his pants. He palmed his bulge, groaning in need.

He wanted to fuck you so fucking bad.

He could feel his cock throb against his pants, but before shoving his cock into you, he wanted to have you cum on his tongue. A need to taste your slick made his movements more eager.

Luckily, it wasn’t long before a bundle of nerves began to build in the bottom of your stomach. Your hand came to push his head down, gripping his long black hair tightly.

Your hips kept rolling against his face, begging for friction. You gasped and whined, your cunt feeling sensitive, the feeling was too much. His flat tongue makes it hard to keep your composure, “M’cummin!” You weeped, rolling your head back as your thighs squeezed his head.

Nathan’s nails dug into your plush skin, devouring your pretty cunt.

The knot that had built up was getting tighter and tighter, to the point you couldn’t hold back. With a sharp moan, the knot snapped and a wave of ecstasy washed over you.

Your back arched and your thighs remained clamped against Nathan’s head while you tugged on his hair, struggling to catch your breath as your hips kept pressing against his mouth to ride out your orgasm.

Nathan’s sharp gaze focused on you, watching as your body twitched and trembled under his touch.

Finally, your body relaxed. Moving your legs, you spread your legs and your body practically went limp. Your head rolled back, your eyes slipping shut as your legs occasionally twitched. “..Fuck.” You gasped.

Nathan pulled back and he stood back up.

You still laid on the edge of the bed, your tits exposed and your skirt pulled up to your stomach, your glistening cunt exposed to the eyes of your lover.

Nathan stood at the end of the bed, watching you hungrily as his hands slipped down and quickly undid his pants, his hands practically trembling.

You watched as he did so, he was quick with his movements. Eager even, with ease he dropped his pants and his cock sprung out. It was throbbing, standing tall in all its glory, precum coating the tip.

The sight of his cock made your stomach turn, filling with butterflies. You practically drooled, Nathan wrapped his hand around his shaft, pumping his cock over and over, groaning softly as he did so.

Taking a hold of your knees, Nathan pulled your body closer to the edge, holding you up for easier access to your cunt.

You gulped, Nathan’s cock prodding your cunt, teasing you. With a whine, your eyebrows furrowed. “You’re soaked.” Nathan groaned, his face flushed as he felt your slick coating his cock. “Stop teasing!” You cried, needing his fat cock to stuff your cunt.

Nathan adjusted his position, spitting on his fingers before rubbing the spit down his thick shaft, mixing it with his precum.

Without proper warning, Nathan shoved his cock past your cunt. Stretching your walls to make space for his girthy cock. A loud cry left your lips at the feeling, your own cries mixing with Nathan’s guttural groan.

The feeling of your warm walls wrapping around his cock, hugging him snuggly, made his cock throb. Your cunt was slick and welcoming.

He adjusted your legs to be wrapped around his hips and his hands held your hips, nails digging into his skin. Pulling your hips back, Nathan pulled his cock back and then shoved back in.

Thrusting his hips, Nathan pounded into your cunt.

Your body bounced against the bed due to his brute force, your hands gripped the bedsheets desperately as your moaned, a string of babbles and curses slipped past your lips.

What has gotten into him?

Your tits bounced freely, the sound of skin slapping was loud, his heavy balls pounding against your ass.

In Nathan’s mind, the egocentric thought of ‘ Skwisgaar couldn’t fuck her like this ’ was taking over his mind, watching as your face contorted in bliss, the way your eyes rolled back and shut, and not to mention the whiny cries that left your lips, it was filling his jealous ego and making his thrusts become harsher.

You could handle it.

Stopping his thrusts, Nathan stayed nuzzled deep inside your cunt. Roughly, he grabbed the back of your thighs and pushed your legs snug against your chest.

He had you folded into a mating press, the new position made your eyes widen, before you could even get a word out, Nathan pulled back and slammed back in.

“N-Nathan!” You cried, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he put his weight down on each thrust. The angle making it easy for Nathan’s cock to repeatedly hit the spongy spot inside you that has your brain melting.

Babbling, you couldn’t produce a coherent sentence, all you could do was struggle to talk as your brain gave out.

Nathan was doubled over you, his thrusts filled with a hard force, he had you folded and he wasn’t letting you move. He was grunting and groaning, those noises coming deep from his chest.

You’re the best pussy he’s ever fucking had.

He was practically drooling, the way your cunt fluttered around his shaft, clenching down while you mewled. It was like a fucking drug, shots of electrifying pleasure coursed through his body, making him shiver.

Moving one of your legs over his shoulder, Nathan moved his hand and wrapped it around your delicate neck. His large hand squeezing around your neck. His nails digging down against your neck, biting your lip, lidded eyes stared at Nathan as he squeezed.

“God, you’re such a fucking slut.” Nathan grunted, landing particularly harder thrusts inside you, making you moan like a horny slut, just like Nathan said.

His mind was clouded, the mental image of you smiling and laughing at whatever the fuck that Swede told you fueled his anger and frustration.

Nathan let out a noise, one very similar to an animalistic growl, “Fucking greedy for attention.” He rambled, “Hanging on the arm of some dildo and for what?” He groaned, “Laughing at some, uh, stupid stories like a groupie slut.” Nathan squeezed.

You whined, your eyes fluttering shut, his words barely registered.

“But you know that no one can fuck you like this.” Nathan growled, watching as you nodded your head desperately. “..No one can have you acting like a brainless slut,” He moaned, “Nobody but me.” He practically snarled, still pounding into your squelching pussy.

You could only nod, struggling to even muster up a vocal reply that wasn’t a moan or gasp.

Nathan didn’t like that, he wanted to hear you say it.

Stopping his thrusts, Nathan narrowed his eyes, you whined; you didn’t want him to stop! Nathan moved his hand and with a swift motion, he gave you a slap across the face.

Fuck.

A moan of pleasure from the sting left your lips, “C’mon, say it.” Nathan growled, his voice guttural and deep. His eyebrows furrowed, feeling your pussy clench around him after he slapped you, of course you liked that.

Your brain was melted, lidded eyes glanced at Nathan, a fucked out smile coming to your lips.

“..N-No one can fuck me like you can, Nathan.” You said, smiling like a fucked out slut, your words made Nathan’s chest fill with pride. Yeah, that’s right.

“Fuck.” He muttered to himself, that was hot. Really fucking hot, gripping the bottom of your thighs again, Nathan plunged back into your cunt.

That familiar knot from before was coming back, your body felt hot, a thin sheet of sweat was covering your skin as well as Nathan’s.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you cried. “M’so c—close!” You stammered, your eyes shutting tight as your head rolled back to the side.

Nathan shut his eyes too, focusing on his thrusts and his own pleasure, he gripped your thighs tightly, enough that it would bruise in the morning.

His balls felt heavy, a similar knot filling in his stomach, the primal urge to shove his cum deep down inside your greedy cunt making his mind run wild.

With a long cry, you came. The climax hit you hard, your back arched and your toes curled, one of your heels slipping off as your legs trembled.

Babbling out curses, you sobbed. The pleasure was too much, it was overwhelming for your body, Nathan’s thrusts had gotten sloppy.

“God, fuck .” He groaned, your walls squeezing down on his cock, as if you were milking his cock. His thrusts were heavy and uneven as he desperately chased his orgasm, your walls fluttering as your body trembled from overstimulation.

It didn’t take long for Nathan’s climax to hit, pressing your thighs against your chest, he pressed his body down. Placing his body weight on top of your smaller body. His balls tightened and his cock twitched, his cum coming out in hot spurts.

It was thick and milky, staining your walls and filling you up to the brim.

His body was pressed above you, his head nuzzled into your shoulder as he panted and grunted. Breathing heavily as he slowly thrusted, riding out his orgasm.

There you two laid, sweaty and fucked out.

Nathan’s cock stayed nuzzled inside your cunt as it softened, your arms lazily wrapped stood his neck, holding him tightly against you.

Nathan let go of your legs, letting them relax, you moved them and lazily wrapped them around his waist, savoring the feeling of his large body resting on top of you.

[velvetwyrme]

BORROWER AU???!! MY NEURONS HAVE BEEN ACTIVATED I’M AAAGDHXJCJ

I cannot wait to hear more about it I’m so excited RHDHEHE (but also take ur time with everything ofc!!! :D)

GRIPS YOU. BORROWER AU!!

It started off as being constructiprowl focused, then rapidly spiralled outwards to include jazz and soundwave hfjfjfbdm,,

the main thing stopping me from Making Stuff for this AU is that I can't decide who I want to be borrowers shfjfbdjfbfjfbdk,,, also i dont wanna draw humans BUT IT FITS BETTER IF THEYR HUMAN INSTEAD OF MECHS

ANYWAY rambling under the cut

So. there's two "main" versions of this AU (because my brain goes on wild, quick tangents) but here's the quick rundown of both:

VERSION 1

Prowl notices things going missing in his apartment. Initially he chalks it up to his annoying roommate, Jazz, but when Jazz comes to him asking about some of his bass strings that went missing, he begins to suspect something else is up.

Elsewhere, the Constructicons, a ragtag group of borrowers are trying to find their balance after the loss of their leader. Prowl is a detective, so cue a lot of silly shenanigans as the 'structies do their best to outsmart him.

They're super disorganized but they're inventive, which usually means Prowl keeps getting pranked, much to Jazz's amusement. Eventually this disorganization leads one of them to be found by Jazz :]

I like to think that Green exists in this one but shes Prowls pet lovebird who also likes the Constructicons fhfjfhkd,,

VERSION 2

The Constructicons are on holiday! Kind of. It's a holiday-slash-mandated-break and they bought a house to fix up to keep themselves busy.

Scavenger is CONVINCED that this new house is haunted, something which he is trying to convince everyone else of, very unsuccessfully.

... At first.

Jazz and Prowl are the ghosts borrowers haunting the house, and they're just trying to get by while having to make increasingly dangerous heists to get food and materials because there's FIVE guys living here now. FIVE!!!

Prowl keeps going and editing the drafts they leave out on the table, much to Hook's displeasure (Scrapper's hard work!) but he keeps finding out that the improvements are really effective... (Prowl knows what works in this weather, and he has an intimate knowledge of the house's structure, since he Lives There.) This results in a burgeoning appreciation for the Ghosts.

I like to think that Jazz is actually an outdoor borrower in this one, who stops by the house for materials and to trade with/annoy Prowl. He probably ends up singing in the vents, which echoes throughout the house and entrancing the Constructicons :] He also finds lost items and brings them round, and leaves little gifts for them.

Eventually!! One of them gets found by one of the Constructicons, and chaos ensues :3c

~~~

And NOW you may be thinking. hey Doozi you mentioned Soundwave. How does he fit in, you may ask!!!! And the answer is: he doesn't, but im forcing him in here anyway.

Option 1 is that Soundwave is a borrower living nearby who's stressed tf out trying to take care of a pair of human(!!) kids who are. absolute menaces. He's befriended a local cat and has a couple ravens that he's raised from when they were young.

Option 2 is that he's a very tired guy who works from home and has a bunch of pets. One of which brings home a couple borrower kids and welp, he's a dad now!!! Rumble and Frenzy are a literal handful.

Both options can fit really well in EITHER version of the AU,,, (but I'm always biased to having Jazz/Soundwave on opposite size scales,, i have many thoughts,,,, borrower!SW pining as he watches human!Jazz play an instrument,,)

WHICH REMINDS ME-

I also went on more tangents because I really like the idea of Human Prowl and Soundwave, with borrowers Jazz and Constructicons,,, and the matching flipside of Human Constructicons + their cool neighbor, Jazz, with tiny Soundwave and Prowl,,,,,,, like those dynamics are also really good to me and I can't decide which one/s i like most so I can actually draw stuff,,

BUT YEAH. THIS AU and its many versions HAS BEEN PLAGUING MY MIND FOR AGES and there's more character dynamics I've thought of but this is already very long thank u for reading if u got here.

BRAIN SO FUCKING FULL!!!!!!

[oldfoxyaoi]

Aster regularly posts lifestyle influencer type home tour videos of his polycule mansion. one video per room and he goes into great detail about some of the design decisions and throws in cheeky sex jokes occasionally like "since we're usually hosting a lot of people I wanted a 70's style conversion pit in this room. now since it's custom made, I specifically selected a fabric that's stain resistant and easy to clean, you never know what might happen hehe~"

the only ones appearing in his video are himself, Morvay's back on occasions as Aster directs him to lift something, and Eiden's voice from behind the camera (Eiden also has to edit the videos). the other clan members are rarely mentioned and only ever referred to as "my boyfriend's boyfriend" and he starts with the regular common rooms so it seems like mostly normal rich people bullshit at first

until he teases that his next video might be somewhat unusual but that it's a room he's really proud of and he hopes people enjoy it. when the video drops it's titled something like "the most frequented room in the house" and it's like. a sex pantry but ridiculously elaborate. there's contraption hidden behind a panel at the back wall that lifts this thing up for easier access to the spigot (which is actually connected to a spigot in the panel because one on the crate is too ~ugly~) while still making it easy for the staff to exchange the crates. the aforementioned dash button is right there. next to it are shelves with different types of refillable bottles. one wall looks like a fancy drug store's condom aisle. just like with the pantry there are small shopping baskets at the entrance. the other wall houses well lit display cabinets with unopened sex toy boxes, and he takes the opportunity to talk about this week's sponsor, hello fresh an online sex toy retailer

the video is pretty well received and he starts showing off the clan members' rooms and some of the sex rooms and thanks to that he becomes a special guest consultant on how to build a sex room

nu carnival modern au where aster has an amazon dash button for this thing

[puppppppppy]

adhd comix

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

if scars don't make man look good then being alive sure does

[neptunes-nebula]

started Vyvanse again for the first time in like actual years and. wow

[anothermonikan]

Have I told you guys about the fucked up dreams I've been having recently? I've been having some fucked up dreams lately. yeah <3

[tiredassmage]

also i promise i'll hopefully. sometime this week [maybe this month. this week is busy. maybe by the end of the month is a more feasible goal. anyway] actually manage to translate whatever the fuck is going on between alucren and tyr [one-sided as hell, btw] out of my dms and into like. a tumblr post but i just. i just need you all to know he's a delight and he's an idiot and he's my hamster running endlessly on a wheel and also he's a bag of m&m's that's stuck in the vending machine and i'm shaking him around. anyway.

you can, however, have this in the meantime.

and my single incoherent, possibly, without context giggle about them tonight is both of them are so fucking imperial sometimes in. usually slightly different flavors of it but also somewhat similar but also. shakes them. [laminated paper wobble noises] y'know?

anyway alucren's a fucking loser and i love him.

[infizero]

thinking about dl!scar makes me sad for many reasons but one of the worst is thinking about him knowing far too well that grian is unhappy with him and just having to live with that

[neverendingford]

.

[mortalityplays]

This is a dangerous sentiment for me to express, as an editor who spends most of my working life telling writers to knock it off with the 45-word sentences and the adverbs and tortured metaphors, but I do think we're living through a period of weird pragmatic puritanism in mainstream literary taste.

e.g. I keep seeing people talk about 'purple prose' when they actually mean 'the writer uses vivid and/or metaphorical descriptive language'. I've seen people who present themselves as educators offer some of the best genre writing in western canon as examples of 'purple prose' because it engages strategically in prose-poetry to evoke mood and I guess that's sheer decadence when you could instead say "it was dark and scary outside". But that's not what purple prose means. Purple means the construction of the prose itself gets in the way of conveying meaning. mid-00s horse RPers know what I'm talking about. Cerulean orbs flash'd fire as they turn'd 'pon rollforth land, yonder horizonways. <= if I had to read this when I was 12, you don't get to call Ray Bradbury's prose 'purple'.

I griped on here recently about the prepossession with fictional characters in fictional narratives behaving 'rationally' and 'realistically' as if the sole purpose of a made-up story is to convince you it could have happened. No wonder the epistolary form is having a tumblr renaissance. One million billion arguments and thought experiments about The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas that almost all evade the point of the story: that you can't wriggle out of it. The narrator is telling you how it was, is and will be, and you must confront the dissonances it evokes and digest your discomfort. 'Realistic' begins on the author's terms, that's what gives them the power to reach into your brain and fiddle about until sparks happen. You kind of have to trust the process a little bit.

This ultra-orthodox attitude to writing shares a lot of common ground with the tight, tight commodification of art in online spaces. And I mean commodification in the truest sense - the reconstruction of the thing to maximise its capacity to interface with markets. Form and function are overwhelmingly privileged over cloudy ideas like meaning, intent and possibility, because you can apply a sliding value scale to the material aspects of a work. But you can't charge extra for 'more challenging conceptual response to the milieu' in a commission drive. So that shit becomes vestigial. It isn't valued, it isn't taught, so eventually it isn't sought out. At best it's mystified as part of a given writer/artist's 'talent', but either way it grows incumbent on the individual to care enough about that kind of skill to cultivate it.

And it's risky, because unmeasurables come with the possibility of rejection or failure. Drop in too many allegorical descriptions of the rose garden and someone will decide your prose is 'purple' and unserious. A lot of online audiences seem to be terrified of being considered pretentious in their tastes. That creates a real unwillingness to step out into discursive spaces where you 🫵 are expected to develop and explore a personal relationship with each element of a work. No guard rails, no right answers. Word of god is shit to us out here. But fear of getting that kind of analysis wrong makes people hove to work that slavishly explains itself on every page. And I'm left wondering, what's the point of art that leads every single participant to the same conclusion? See Spot run. Run, Spot, run. Down the rollforth land, yonder horizonways. I just want to read more weird stuff.

[satoruxx]

thinking about since canonically Geto is more popular with girls than Gojo he’s gotten used to them looking past him to get to Geto but what if Gojo and Geto are out for drinks with the other teachers one night and he gets approached by the reader but he thinks she’s just coming over to ask him for Geto’s number and so he prepares his ‘responsible best friend’ act and then SHE ASKS ABOUT HIM INSTEAD, ALL BLUSHY AND STUFF BECAUSE HE LOOKED LIKE HE WAS GONNA BRUSH HER OFF

AHH I LOVE HIM SM 😔😔😔

pairing: gojo satoru x reader | 1k words summary: fluff, pining, reader is a simp but same, satoru is a good wingman but he needs attention too, au ig bc suguru's alive LMAO, idiots in love? rheya's note: oh my god shut up this is so cute and YOU'RE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT??? i can just imagine that he's gotten so used to judging whether or not the person is even worth suguru's attention before deciding to pass on his info...and after a while his brain just defaults to thinking that everyone wants suguru but he FORGETS that there are gojo girlies out there (me asf) !! thanks for the ask nonnie babes i love this idea so so much <33

OK SO

it's obvious that there are quite a few women at the bar eyeing the group. young, attractive teachers spending an evening trying to relax and take their minds off of the stress of jujutsu work. nanami is in deep conversation with shoko about something while ijichi quietly listens. further down the table utahime is quietly sipping her drink while mei mei orders another. shoko makes a comment and suguru bursts into unabashed laughter.

the flush of alcohol dusts over each of their cheeks, but satoru remans the only one who has barely touched his glass, the sting of the bitterness a little too harsh for him to enjoy. he opts for instead letting his eyes roam over the faces in the crowd, taking little notice of all the eyes and smiles sent in their direction.

well until he notices you anyway.

you're already looking in his direction curiously, face illuminated by the dim lighting of the bar as your friends giggle around you. when his eyes lock with yours, you immediately tear your gaze away, trying to play it off by immediately delving into conversation, though satoru can tell that there's a flush crawling up your neck now.

he doesn't look away though, too caught up in the crinkle of your eyes and the smile lines that grace your face as you laugh at something. a minute later you're looking back in their direction, and when you catch him staring, you turn away yet again.

satoru glances to his side, knowing that you're probably watching suguru take a sip of his drink and most likely falling for his charming smile.

typical and so predictable.

some time passes like this. you'll look, and turn away, and satoru will watch you do it over and over again. it isn't until a while later that satoru catches your friends pushing your shoulders and giggling, and he knows that they're urging you to come up and ask about suguru. you're shaking your head, the nervousness clear as day as your brows pinch. but eventually you succumb to peer pressure and stand up from your table, taking anxious strides towards him.

and usually, satoru will make a face or turn his back or do something to look as unapproachable as possible. because almost every person who comes up asking for suguru's contact info has been obnoxious as hell.

but you're quite pretty and you look sweet enough, and he doesn't think it'd be right to deter you.

suguru would probably like you too.

so satoru decides to let you try at least, and if you seem to be as nice as you look maybe he'd bridge the gap between you and his best friend.

you make your way up to him, and as soon as he finally gets a good look at you he's thinking you're a lot prettier up close.

dammit.

"hi," you say, face hot as you try your best to maintain steady eye contact with him. you look so nervous, fidgeting with the fabric of your clothes as you attempt to strike up conversation, and he doesn't have it in him to watch you struggle.

"yeah i can give you his number," he says, voice clipped as he tries to hide the disappointment in it. you watch him grab a napkin and begin scribbling something down, confusion clear as he hands you the digits.

"um…?" you look at the napkin and then at him. "sorry, whose number is this?"

satoru balks, lips parting as he mirrors your confusion. "uh…suguru's? the guy behind me?"

realization dawns on your face and you shift your weight from foot to foot.

"oh actually," you suck your teeth nervously, trying to hide behind an awkward little smile. "i came to talk to you."

satoru can only blink, cerulean eyes widening behind his glasses as he stares at you in surprise.

you take his silence as a bad sign, shoulders dropping and embarrassment settling in your frown as you look anywhere but his face. "s-sorry if that's weird. i don't wanna make you uncomfortable or anything so-"

he's grinning before he can stop himself, heart dangerously swelling with affection as he motions toward the empty stool next to him. "not weird at all."

the pleasant surprise on your face makes him bite back a chuckle, and you take the seat. "huh...i wasn't expecting you to be okay with it."

satoru raises a brow curiously, tilting his head. "why not?"

you shrug with a careless grin. "i had a feeling you were gonna brush me off from the moment i first looked over."

satoru winces, and he can practically feel suguru's knowing smirk on his back. he chooses to ignore that for now, eyes trailing over the mirth in your expression, and he can only smile helplessly. "no way in hell."

your laugh comes instantly, sweet and bright, and you take it as a sign to continue talking. satoru listens on, sipping his drink to hide his giddy smile and ignoring the sting of bitterness once again.

honestly, with the amount of sweetness he's just found, satoru would tolerate as much bitterness as he needed to.

[salemlunaa]

✰ YOU’RE INDUCING FOR CERTAIN, RIGHT? ✰

a lot of you subconsciously doubt yourself, let’s talk about it

stop with the “just incase”, just stop. “I’ll save this post to read just incase i don’t induce the void.”

“I’ll do this tomorrow just incase I fail.”

“Another day in my shitty reality after an unsuccessful night, I hope this is my last day here” (how many times have you said that, may i ask?)

“Just incase I’m not doing right, i’ll check some more posts.”

how many times have you gone through this cycle, waking up after an unsuccessful night hoping it’s your last in the shitty life you live, doomscrolling hoping it clicks for you with each paragraph you read and then “attempting” to “enter”. And when you “fail” to induce, you go back around this cycle.

Inducing pure consciousness doesn’t require a day of “good self concept” or affirming till your brain is mush. However, it helps to have a mindset of knowing, that this IS your last day here in this shitty reality. Knowing that you aren’t going to try you’re going to do. Knowing that there is no “what if i don’t make it” or “just incase i fail” because failure doesn’t exist for you. Being firm instead of wondering if it’s going to work can help a lot.

There is no trial and error for you, stop going into this inducing process “hoping” you’ll do it. Seeing “if” it will work tonight. There is no “if”, “maybe” or “just in case”. There is no attempt and fail for the operant power, there is no trial and error for a god. You just be and you just do. Idc how long you’ve spent in this community there is no week, month or even year long process of trying and failing, because it’s not needed, this isn’t some developmental arc, it’s instant.

You must know that you are inducing for certain. This wavering relationship isn’t helping

There’s no “i’ll try tonight”, if you have decided that tonight is the night then it is, if you have decided you will use this day to shift consciousness then you will. there is no “just incase i don’t” nope, not a thing when you’re a god.

so kill that thought of trying, as soon as you found out about the law you found that you control everything, so why are you trying, attempting, hoping for something in a reality where you control everything, where you can just do? it’s almost as if you think whether you induce the void or not is based on external factors, because if you knew it was you who holds the power you wouldn’t be trying, you would just decide that inducing is simply something you can do.

and i feel like this is a reason a lot of you procrastinate, you’re holding off failure so you don’t let yourself down, but why would you fail if you know it’s you who owns all the power in this reality and it’s riding on you to induce. why would you fail if it all rests in your hands.

you do know it’s you, right? you’re inducing for certain, right? a lot of you need to reevaluate what you actually know about pure consciousness because this “trying” and “failing” to induce wouldn’t exist in your reality if you understood

you can’t try at something when you call the shots

🐬🦩STOP SETTING YOURSELF UP FOR FAILURE AND ACTUALLY APPLY YOUR BELIEF 💋

[3verythingiknowaboutlove]

the limit does not exist!

how spencer helps college!reader understand a little calculus and therefore understand how he loves her.

MDNI | smut word count: 1931 warnings & tags & stuff: fem reader, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), lil bit of overstim hehe, pure unbridled affection, LOVE, FLUFF, hugging, reader cries, this was in fact meant to be written for spence's birthday... sorry about that school is kicking my butt lets just pretend it's october! author's note: this one is for my folks who HATE their calculus class and want spencer reid to give them head instead <3 maybe this can help you romanticize it a bit. i think this is classified as self indulgent…like REALLY self indulgent… hah... anyway i hope you enjoy! let me know your thoughts if u have any, i loveeeee you!! have a great day my hands are shaking posting this smut is so scary!!!!!

You sat in bed, staring down your notebook, eyes narrowed. Limits stared back at you. You were just about at your own limit, if you were being honest. 

Your brain, however sharp and witty it may be, is absolutely not one designed for calculus. A literary analysis essay? Done in half an hour. In depth scientific research project? Easiest months of your life. But there’s something about finding the instantaneous rate of change of a curve at one point in time by finding the slope of a tangent line that hasn't clicked yet. 

A slew of other papers- notes, practice worksheets printed from obscure websites, and formulas- surround you, a sea of unfinished thoughts from the past month of the semester.

You bite on the end of your pen, the little hope you had for a good grade in this class slipping further and further away with each passing moment, like the last ember dying in the remains of a fire.

What you really wanted to be doing was celebrating Spencer’s birthday with him right now. A chocolate cake lay on the kitchen counter and pasta simmers on the stove, but you and your boyfriend had agreed to do a solid hour of work before the celebrations ensued.

You were never particularly strong willed when it came to following through on such agreements.

“Teach me calculus,” you say, a very impressive three minutes later, flopping down on the couch. Your head makes its way to its forever resting spot, Spencer’s lap. He raises his eyebrows slightly, thumb reaching out to trace over the slope of your nose. His eyes flit between you and the file to the side of him. 

“I thought we agreed on an hour.”

“Yeah. But it wouldn’t be a very productive hour if I didn’t know how to do what I have to do. And I missed you.” 

He sighs quietly, closing the file next to him. 

“What do you not understand?” You smile at that, loving how quickly you won.

“Related rates. Like, conceptually.” 

Spencer hums in response.

“It’s October. You’re not even supposed to know related rates yet.”

“Fine. Then let's open presents,” you respond, smiley. His eyebrows get impossibly higher, hand stroking your cheek delicately.

“No. I want our night to be a little more stress free when we celebrate, okay? How about you think about that lovely cake you made for me. What if I decided to squash it so that the diameter would get bigger, going from…let’s say, 20 centimeters to 26 centimeters in 3 seconds, and the height would get smal-”

“That wouldn't be nice. It took me like four hours,” you interrupt, grumbling. He cracks a smile.

“For the sake of the example, let's say I was an awful boyfriend and really wanted to ruin all the hard work you put in for me.”

You roll your eyes.

“Hey,” he says, hand moving down to touch your jaw softly. “Don’t do that. Don’t be difficult. I’m helping you.”

“Sorry. I guess I need you to zoom out a little. I don’t really get why I’m learning this as a whole.” Spencer’s eyes pore into yours, staring down at you adoringly for a small moment as he comes up with an answer.

“Calculus helps us begin to explain the unexplainable by harnessing what we can,” Spencer says simply. “Einstein once said that, ‘Pure mathematics is, in its way, the poetry of logical ideas,’ which makes it simple in practice, but I actually like to think about it as the opposite philosophically. Trying to find logic in the more poetic ideas.”

You cuddle deeper in his lap.

“Think he would agree with that?” you ask. “I do answer to Einstein before you, unfortunately.” Spencer bends down to kiss your hair.

“I think so. He also had a really nice quote where he remarked that, ‘Gravitation cannot be held responsible for people falling in love.’ He said, ‘How on earth can you explain in terms of chemistry and physics so important a biological phenomenon as first love? Put your hand on a stove for a minute and it seems like an hour. Sit with that special girl for an hour and it seems like a minute. That's relativity.’”

Spencer takes a deep breath.

“Math doesn’t explain how I love you. It can’t. But I love the fact that it tries to. It kinda makes you wanna learn it as best you can.”

You process that for a long second and nod. He keeps talking.

… 

Presents get opened, and cake gets eaten before dinner. Of course.

You’re now in bed, on top of the covers, forcing Spencer to give you a fashion show of the new sweater vest and tie you got him. He turns to you after putting it on, and you beam. 

“I really like it. You look great. Do you like it?” you ask. He nods, smiling back at you.

“I’m gonna wear it to work tomorrow.” 

You beckon for Spencer to come closer, sitting up in bed. Your hands go out to the tie, tugging at the knot softly. He stares down at you until eventually interrupting your motions with a slow kiss, hands cupping your face.

“You’re so pretty,” he mutters.

He pulls away and finishes what you started, folding the tie neatly and setting it in the drawer. Then comes the vest, and soon enough, he’s just in his boxers.

“You’re the pretty one,” you say quietly. “Come to bed.” He crawls on next to you, tugging you into his arms. “Happy birthday, Spence. I love you.” He dips his forehead to your shoulder.

“I love you.”

Before you know it, he’s shifted on top of you, moving down. Fast. You blink, hard, trying to rid your head of the hazy endorphins as you register what he’s doing.

“What? No, I was gonna do that. It’s your birthday. You don’t have to,” you protest.

“But I really, really want to, darling girl,” he murmurs back, kissing your knee and softly pushing it to the side.

You fluster and Spencer just looks at you, fingers tracing shapes on your waist, waiting for you to be ready. 

“Well. Um. Okay. If you insist. I can’t really deny the birthday boy.” Your voice is small, and a little giddy smile grows on your face. Of course Spencer Reid would want to give you head on his birthday. 

He smiles a little against the bare skin of your hip where your top meets your shorts. Then he meets your eyes. 

“You know you can, though, right?” he asks, voice a little more serious. You reach out to touch his hair softly. 

“Yeah. I know.”

Fingers hook your shorts, gently pulling them down. He presses a kiss to your thigh, and then he suddenly looks down at it. 

“Soft,” he murmurs, like he’s making a mental note. He presses another, and another, incrementally going closer and closer to your soaked through underwear. His eyebrows scrunch when he sees the wet spot. “All this from a few kisses?” 

You blush, unable to respond. 

Spencer’s fingers hook a centimeter of your underwear. “These?” he checks.

“Yes, please,” you manage. He tugs them down, silently noticing the slickness of your sex, and exhales shakily.

“How many times on average does it take for a guy to call you pretty on a given day before you get annoyed?” he murmurs, soft smile playing on his face. You smile too, head cloudy from his words, but it immediately drops when his lips press directly against your pulsing clit, kissing it softly.

“Fuck,” you say (Spencer would argue moan) softly (loudly). You let out a content sigh, and he moves to suckle it, actions becoming less and less delicate. 

It’s not harsh, but incessant. Spencer knows what you can take. He knows exactly what you can take. You’re both quiet for a bit, save for your breathy moans. 

“Spencer,” you say softly, ripping you both out of your individually hazy and dirty and distracted minds. “You’re too far away.” He looks up to you, face parallel to your aching core, hair beautifully messy and mouth glistening.

After a second, he grabs your hips, gently pushing you up against the pillows so you’re propped up at a better angle. He then shifts his body up wordlessly so he’s more above you, dipping his head down to give you a soft kiss. You taste yourself, tongue darting out to lick your lips.

His hand takes over where his mouth was, sliding in between your folds with a practiced ease. Spencer looks down at you, eyes wide and flitting between yours, searching for a reaction.

You reach out and wrap your arms around him, holding him close. “Holy shit, I love you,” you murmur.

His fingers lightly graze your clit again before one slides into you. “Angel,” he breathes out, so quietly. “I love you too. This okay? Are you okay?”

You nod feverishly and lift your hips to meet his hand, always in a perpetual state of wanting more, to be closer. Your bodies are melded so close together, barely giving him room to push his hand into you. He doesn’t even bother to ask you to use your words or keep your hips down, like he might on a regular night.

He pulls his head back to watch as he pushes another finger into you, stretching you just a little. “There we go. You always feel like heaven around me.”

Your eyes flit up to his face as he says those words, now having a little more room to observe him. You focus on the slope of his nose and curve of his mouth. 

“You’re so perfect,” you say quietly, adoringly, before you even realize it was true.

You blink at that thought. Spencer Reid is perfect, despite whatever universal odds deeming that impossible.

Those graphs, those formulas, now laying discarded & crumpled on the ground. They click, a little bit. You understand why Albert Einstein wanted to spend his life developing theories of relativity.

This is how Spencer sees you? What he was talking about earlier?

This is how he sees you?

The thought is almost too much.

Spencer sees your face, and not knowing what's going on in your head, slides down his free hand from your cheek to your carotid, feeling your racing pulse. “Take a deep breath for me, okay? You're about to come, huh?”

You inhale and are met with peace. Then your orgasm hits you like a wave. You clench hard around his fingers, and he just watches it happen, fascinated. “Baby,” he coos softly at you.

It wasn’t just your sensitivity he’s currently maximizing on or the little kisses he dips down to leave on your neck that sealed the deal, but the very thought that you could be loved in a way that is so perfectly impossible.

You exhale breathily as Spencer pushes you through the last trails of your climax, fingers not caring one bit that you just had your world tilted on its axis. 

“Spencer. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” you say eventually, overstimulated.

“You’re okay. Did so good.” he murmurs, fingers slipping out of you. 

His thumb brushes your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn't even realize was dripping down.

“Don’t cry, you always cry. It’s my birthday. Don’t cry on my birthday,” he whispers soothingly, affection lacing his voice.

“I’m not.” 

Another one falls. 

You reach and press out that perpetual little slope between his eyebrows with your thumb, gentle, like you might break him. “I’m not crying.”

Spencer lets you lie.