#you will find methods that work for you i promise

[sporeclan]

☀️: how do you document your clan? As in moon to moon events stuff, how do you pick out what’s important? I haven’t yet found a way that doesn’t just burn me out so I was just curious!! /genq /pos

I can't promise this is a method that works for everyone, but here's how I do it! I usually do around 5 moons per play session and document it in Google Docs. This is also an newly generated clan, as to not spoil anything that happens in future SporeClan moons. This example clan has 26 cats in it.

Firstly, I write down nearly everything that happens in the "all events" tab. I may skip over some insignificant things, such as the game notifying me that I don't have enough healers or someone getting a bruise, but usually I just write it all down like so

When newborns, kits and apprentices graduate to their next lifestage, I like to add a little screenshot of their traits since they tend to change over the course of the game (especially at those milestones.) I also just like adding screenshots regularly to break up the monotony, and commentary to keep myself engaged and invested! Give it a try, it's very fun :D

Anyhow, next up I go to the relationships tab - this one's a bit more of a by feel thing. I just go through and see if there are any prompts that are super in character for anyone OR just any interactions that I find cute and/or interesting.

(Sidenote, this is what I get for choosing a bloodthirsty leader lol)

After this is when I do patrols and write down if anything interesting happens. The way I decide that is if it either a) affects the health of one or more of the cats (f.ex. injury or death) b) adds a new clan member (f.ex. newborn kit or loner events) or c) is an interesting interaction that adds to the characters in some way (f.ex. mentor/apprentice support event)

And that's about it! Sometimes I go back into the relationships tab at the very end to see if any of the prompts can match something that happened in a patrol, but that didn't happen this time around so :'D

The way I choose what to draw when I get to that is really just by feel and how much I can justify cramming onto a page. Usually I prioritize "big news" (such as injury, death, births and new relationships) as a must-have, then go along to those smaller cute interactions to see what I feel like drawing to close the gaps. That's why you'll often see a lot of Piperdapple small cute interactions - it's really just because I love drawing her a lot

Hope this was helpful somehow! And if not, I hope it was at least insightful haha

[stellarshifter]

✨ Pst? Y'okay? I saw you have a mental breakdown in the corner (Me too, babe, me too)

Agh...shiftok ruin your vibe? Spreading bullshit? C'mere. I got ya.

✨ BREAKDOWN OF MISINFO

1. "Your script might not all happen, or be in that reality."

Like huh???

Scripting, infallible, or meaningless?

Oh babies... Scripting is infallible. Wanna know why? It's literally a GPS for your awareness to shift to the reality that all of your chaotic (and probably very fun) notes are very real in! Like, c'mon, who would even script if it meant nothing like that???? I wouldn't waste my precious time... I could be looking at vintage shops around town. Like seriously, no.

2. "You need a method to shift"

Bitch please. Do I need to astral project and beat your ass? I'll do it. Don't test me.

Look, methods are fun and all. But that's it! They're fun and can help you become aware! But that's all they are. You don't have to even to work on your subconsious. Know why? That bitch ain't catching a ride with you! You just gotta be aware. Just shift your focus.

3. "You gotta stay hydrated.." bleh bleh I don't even remember the rest.

Bullshit. Sure you should stay healthy and hydrated for you! But that's nothing to do with shifting. This vessel's priorities don't matter in terms of shifting or not!

4. "You can't age up/down that's immoral!"

...I need a minute... I dont wanna commit arson.

Who the fuck thinks they're so intilted to tell others what they can't shift to be?? You need to fucking chill. Aging up or down doesn't matter because you are literally shifting to a reality where you're that age. You will have that mentality unless you script you don't. For fucks sake, stop.

5. "You can't shift to where you're a different ethnicity/gender/sexual orientation, that's disgusting"

Again... who gave you the right? Hm? I'll wait.

Unless you're being a weird fetishist creep. Then you're good, babe. And for all of this, once again. There's infinite realities where you're all different enthcities, genders, and sexual orientations. There's nothing wrong with shifting there either!

6. "Respawning is unethical"

Okay, this started due to people misunderstanding respawning as something it is not! It is not suicide. You people need to chill on TikTok. Swear to god you fear mongers!

Respawning is just cutting ties with this reality. Which lets be honest? In its state? For the love of God, me too, honey. Me too. The only difference between respawning and permashifting is that you'll never remember this reality. There's no harm. Okay?

7. "Permashifting is not okay"

As a permashifter, fuck you. You intilted bitches spewing bullshit because you come from different circumstances.

You have no clue what people are going through, and even if they live perfect lives, you are 1000000% valid permashifting. Go home, babies. You deserve it!

8. "Shifting shouldn't be used for escapism"

Look most of us were day dreamers? Right? Right?

I was a kid with a WILD ASS imagination. I mean wild, and I come from a not so cool environment. I used shifting as escapism when I first started. And y'know what? That's okay! If you are just wanting to leave to get a break! Do it! No one can stop you. There's no shifting police.

Which..gets me to this one.

9. "The shifting police will find you"

Bitch please. Shut up. My brother in christ, what fanfic you reading?

Shifting police do NOT exist (unless you want them to. You do you)

Seriously no one. I mean no one, not even me. Not even the holiest of holiest can stop you. We live in a multiverse that does not run by morals set up by shiftokers. And no if you do something questionable the shifting police will not find you. You're safe. I promise

10. "You can get stuck in your DR!"

If we can shift to our DR we can shift again. Like what? Who let this toddler type? That doesn't even make sense.

Honey, I can assure you, you're not stuck here. You're not stuck there.

11. "You can't script relationships that's against their free will!"

Have you ever heard of infinite realities where every single thing you can ever think of exists? Yeah? Then STOOOOOP

You are shifting to a reality where those relationships exist! Where that relationship is real and mutual. Where they feel so much love for you as you do them. No forcing.

Now, if you're holding them in your basement, tying them to a chair and begging them to love you forcefully like you're in a yandere wattpad fic from 2013? Yeah, you need to rethink some things. But if not! You're good!

Whatever relationships you script are requited

12. "Your DR isn't as real as this one"

Woooo, imma throw hands. Let's go. Someone hold my hoops for me? I'm gonna beat a bitch up.

YOUR DR IS A REALITY!!!!!!

Meaning it is just as real as this one. Just as real, maybe even more real! The people are real. The places are real. The experiences are real!

13. "People shift based on genetics"

Aw yes... my new favorite reason to murder.

Anyone and their mama can shift. You can shift, I can shift, the person you randomly saw on the street can shift, fuck your pet can shift. Anyone can. Okay? We are all one. Pure awareness. That's what we all are.

None of that. We are not shifting based off anything but what we all are.

✨ That's all for today, folks. Take care, and remember, you've got this. Go shift, baby!

[astracora]

Poly!LADs headcanons - Caleb Edition

(Because I have no idea if I'll ever get around to writing his intro to the polycule so I wanted to shove some ideas into a post.)

Masterlist

- The one who has the most trouble adapting to the concept of the polycule.

- Reintroduced after the polycule is formed, a year after his death.

- His reintroduction is obviously a bit rough, not only is he actively combative with the MC, but his actions push them further into the comfort of the polycule like a wounded cat.

- After they have eased the relationship out, it's some time before they talk to him about the polycule. Not sure how to broach it.

- He already knew, and he already stewed about it for a long time. (He's still stewing about it.)

- They've mourned him, after loving him, and moved forwards though, he can't push and demand when he knows that without the polycule they likely wouldn't still be there.

- His first meeting is rough, he can hide as much as he wants behind smiles, but Sylus is very good at reading people, as is Rafayel, so they can see through him. (Rafayel is no stranger to fake smiles). Xavier is jealous so reacts most to Caleb, while Zayne is somewhat calm, but wary. On one hand he has a childhood friend back, on the other hand depending on how much he knows. If he knows about Caleb's involvement with EVER, a great deal of distrust, and some real anger (that he tries not to show).

- Clashes most with Rafayel and Zayne. Rafayel because the two are almost opposed in many ways (Caleb's lack of sensory input and reluctance to touch, vs Rafayel as a Lemurian where his senses are SO attuned to his lovers, as well as the memory focus, and also the fact that both hide part of themselves behind a reasonably jovial mask, but Raffy is a lot better at hiding.) Zayne because the two do not agree on the methods of protecting and caring for MC (Keeping them hidden/caged, and the actions of siding with EVER with the intent to keep MC safe (which Zayne consistently states is a stupid plan.)).

- Understands Xavier, still doesn't like him.

- Depending on the advancement of his story, he has the potential to come to terms with the fact that accepting help and acknowledging that he's not alone in his drive to protect the person who means the most to him, helps him step past his self assigned cage.

- With enough time and trust, he accepts the polycule's help tending to his arm. They tinker with it and work with specialists to try to make it capable of sensory responses. It's kind of an exchange that keeps them on good ground. A kind of 'look we're not enemies, you have to lower your hackles' kinda thing.

- He hates the situation a lot less when he holds MC's hand for the first time again, and can feel the heat of them through his cybernetics.

- Builds models with Sylus, though it's more he builds models, Sylus suggests ways to bring them to life as real mini robot weapons. If the two are left alone, they WILL create tiny weaponised planes.

- Rafayel has taken to using them as target practice for throwing daggers.

- One crashed into Zayne's office door, waking him up from a nap, and made him think they were being attacked.

- Xavier slept through the whole thing, and woke up to plane shrapnel in his hair (he's used his light blade to knock a few out if they have disturbed his slumber though.)

- MC does not get enough sleep, and almost banned the planes, until Sylus and Caleb both promised to stop flying them indoors. Hooked up lil cameras to the things and started flying them around linkon and as far as they could before the things ran out of signal. (They got some killer nature recordings.)

- Caleb is another member of the insomnia crew. He's woken up alongside Zayne a few times, and made tea for them both. (Only for MC to toddle in not long after, and curling up between them with their own warm drink, exhausted and miserable but also unable to sleep.)

- Caleb helps take over some of the cooking, he also tries to find tech Xavier can use that won't catch fire, reducing the amount of cooking incidents by about 50%. (If asked he'll say he's doing it to keep MC safe... Xavier's smile when he cooks a full and very good meal has shit all to do with it. He swears.)

- Is the most averse to affection, originally sees the polycule as a means to an end, after all other people are just background noise to his real focus. Unluckily for him, it's hard to keep that mindset up when you spend that much time with people who don't have chips in their head, and also don't want to hurt the things you care about. The anti EVER squad are best placed to combat his 'world for just us two' energy. As well as question his intent. (Especially with how important MC's independence is to them.)

- Will not begin physically and emotionally warming up to the rest of the lads before he finally overcomes the wall keeping him from MC. After he has finally stepped over the line, he basks in it, then begins to let himself become more human again.

- He and Xavier ARE the protection squad. You want to bother the polycule? Can't promise you won't end up dead in a ditch somewhere.

- Zayne does try to rein this in. Sylus finds it hilarious. Rafayel cannot comment because he was thinking about stabbing that dude too. MC thinks they might need to start taking migraine medication because please guys, one nice meal out.

- He's tidy and multi talented. It takes a WHILE before he finds a room for himself in the house, isn't really sure what to fill it with because he struggles to refind his identity as a person. It begins with filling it with model planes, it advances into photos and memories, as well as his DAA stuff as well. Becomes a place he can keep things that tether him to himself.

- Has mended clothes for the others, really wants to know how Raffy tears so many shirts. No he cannot get acrylics out of a white shirt, why did you let it stain!?!!

- His puppy dog eyes are a weapon of mass destruction. NO one is safe. All have fallen to those eyes. 'But he just looks so sad' 'I know he does but why does that mean we now have two puppies in the living room' 'MC wanted them!' 'Caleb we don't have the space or time!!!'

- Uses all his old social media accounts, like an absolute fool. (Aren't you dead dude why are you using all ur old numbers????) Unfollowed most people, kept MC. Didn't follow the polycule. Was missing cute photos and things they'd posted, grumpily and (not that) reluctantly followed them all.

- He and Zayne occasionally have a kamaoji-off.

- He has taken Sylus flying. He did turn his head away so the dragon man could have a moment of sad recollection.

- Does still compete constantly to be the best person to assist mc in their day to day. The competitions can get aggressive and over the top. The lads do get carried away.

- Is the most scared of losing everyone, it does keep him awake at night. Does plan eventualities with the polycule. Does feel comforted knowing that if he fails, he's not leaving MC to deal with everything alone. Assures himself and everyone that he won't fail. He has his tether to get back to, after all.

[haechanhues]

OMG have to steal (also omg hiiiiii)

SELLING MY MOOTS

ASPEN @fxstpace

pros | could talk about thai/k-dramas/any sort of media for days. also good if you're like me and like the 'other' of the working pair (e.g ohmnanon - she's an ohm girl and i am all for nanon).

cons | has a lot of uni work (too much work) and also not work i can help her with unfortunately. also i'm pretty sure we agreed no boys otherwise he'd die (manifestation methods pls come through).

price | a dinner party where forthgem are the hosts and nanon starts his smack talking.

ESA @rum-gone-why (deactivated :brb cryingggg:)

pros | sends through hyuck pics so i never go hungry. let's me go on my tangents about him even if they're deluded. can always find the source.

cons | i swear she could be a serial killer with above credentials. for some reason if she's an assassin i just know she's skilled in poison.

price | @liliansun's permission in writing, with a photo of her as proof and a video explaining why she's suddenly okay with esa being taken.

ELLE (@hearts4hee)

pros | NICEST person for literally no reason. voice notes for days (30 min limit if i remember correctly). easily excited.

cons | austin, texas (only saying this not because i mean it but because there's nothing else sorry buddy)

price | i'll sell her if you want to see the fall of my mental health :)

LOKI (@alohajun)

pros | those eyes of hers. hahaha. works so hard, poor baby. always down for the gc. everything to me (i just know the rest of them will pack a sad if they see this but i promise i think that for all of you!) <3 i had a dream we were purgers together so that's always fun

cons | works so hard, poor baby. must protecc kind of vibe even if she says she doesn't.

price | my dead body

tagging : @alohajun @hearts4hee @fxstpace @/esa if you see this

SELLING MY MOOTS

this looks fun and I've been tagged a few times so ty my loves for the tags mwah ! let's get down to business now !

SUZA ! @suzayaaa

pros | my soulmate fr / down for any and all yap / has some fire storytimes tbh / is a cutie fr / shows me her cute nails and hauls i love

cons | writes super good long fics and never posts them / won't let haey/n be happy / DOESN'T LIKE GO???? OR CHEWING GUM??? / sleeps with slippers on.

price | priceless. not for sale (by enha!)

LONDON ! @winwintea

pros | doggo is adorable ! / the most fire fics to ever exist / is literally chenle / doesn't mind noob roblox tendencies and let's me pull us to our death every 2 seconds / flirts + let's me flirt 24/7 / COOKS 🙏

cons | DOESN'T LIKE GO??? / doesn't support true love 💔

price | london (the city, buy me london and you can have london.) or free ig... not that bothered, depends on the day

J ! @justalildumpling

pros | PRETTIEST EVER !! / never a dry convo 🙂‍↔️ / so inspiring and so so supportive / fellow 04 warrior ! / lwk a fashion icon

cons | literally on the opposite end of the globe :(

price | fund our dream asia trip and maybe I'll consider it... probably not tho !

ANNA ! @chenlezip

pros | MOONWALKER !!! / makes me blush / matches your energy fr and is super easy and fun to talk to !

cons | doesn't appreciate nct feet unit i wanted to make :/

price | bring 127 (or any other kpop group fr) to the uk and abolish the squeaking on the tube 😾

LOTTIE ! @lotties-readings

pros | SO SMART!!! / literally speaks every language under the sun it's so fascinating / we can talk about random/nerdy stuff w no shame ! / has a fire tea collection / gives show recs and they're so good now I'm addicted

cons | dyes her hair like she's taeyong and has a scalp made of steel...

price | £100000000000000000000000000000000000

TRICKY ! @thatsatricky1

pros | makes fun memes / has super good and unique posts / SO SMART AND HARDWORKING !!! / conversation flows so well and it's always so comfortable to talk!

cons | none ! an absolute sweetheart

price | 1 bitcoin (idk how much that is but I'm pretty sure it's a LOTTT!)

every time I do moot games I realise I don't actually talk to half of my moots... guys ily I'm just a big wuss and suck at social interaction

[cozylittleartblog]

small PSA: if you shop at craft shows or artist alleys, please bring more than apple pay or a virtual card - especially if you're not comfortable entering your card number manually. not all of us have fancy card readers, so please also bring your physical card or cash, even if it's only as backup 👍

[maikaartwork]

Artists, let’s talk about Instagram commission scammers

There’s been a huge rise in commission scammers recently, mostly on Instagram. A lot of new artists don’t know what to look out for, so I figured this might help people.

How they begin

Usually the scammer will write to you asking about a commission. Something deceptively cute - mostly I encounter asks about pet portraits, with one or two photos sent. They’ll probably try to sell you a sweet little story, like “It’s for my son’s birthday”. They will insist that they love your artwork and style, even though they don’t follow you or never liked a single piece of your art.

What to look out for:

Their profiles will either be private, empty, or filled with very generic stuff, dating at most a few years back.

Their language will be very simple, rushed or downright bad. They might use weird emojis that nobody ever uses. They will probably send impatient “??” when you don’t answer immediately. They’re in a crunch - lots of people to scam, you know. 

They’ll give you absolutely no guidelines. No hints on style, contents aside from (usually) the pet and often a name written on the artwork, no theme. Anything you draw will be perfect. Full artistic freedom. In reality they don’t really care for this part.

They’ll offer you a ridiculous amount of money. Usually 100 or 300 USD (EDIT: I know it might not be a lot for some work. What I mean here - way higher than your asking price, 100 and 300 are standard rates they give). They’ll often put in a phrase like “I am willing to compensate you financially” and “I want the best you can draw”, peppered with vague praise. It will most likely sound way too good to be true. That’s because it is.

Where the scam actually happens

If you agree, they will ask you for a payment method. They’ll try to get to this part as soon as possible. 

Usually, they’ll insist on PayPal. And not just any PayPal. They’ll always insist on sending you a transfer immediately. None of that PayPal Invoice stuff (although some do have methods for that, too). They’ll really, REALLY want to get your PayPal email address and name for the transfer - that’s what they’re after. If you insist on any other method, they’ll just circle back to the transfer “for easiest method”. If you do provide them with the info, most likely you’ll soon get a scam email. It most likely be a message with a link that will ultimately lead to bleeding you dry. Never, and I mean NEVER click on any emails or links you get from them. It’s like with any other scam emails you can ever get.

A few things can happen here:

They overpay you and ask for the difference to be wired back. Usually it will go to a different account and you’ll never see that money again. 

They’ll overpay you “for shipping costs” and ask you to forward the difference to their shipping company. Just like before, you’ll never see that money again.

The actual owner of the account (yes, they most likely use stolen accounts to wire from) will realize there’s been something sketchy going on and request a refund via official channels. Your account will be charged with fees and/or you get in trouble for fraudulent transactions. 

You will transfer the money from your PayPal credit to your bank account and they will make a shitstorm when they want their money back, making your life a living hell. They will call you a scammer, a thief, make wild claims, wearing you down and forcing you into wiring money “back” - aka to their final destination account. 

Never, EVER wire money to anyone. This is not how it’s supposed to go. Use PayPal Invoice for secure exchanges where the client needs to provide you with their email, not the other way around.

You can find more info on that method HERE.

What to do when you encounter a scammer:

Ask the right questions: inquire about the style, which artwork of yours they like, as much details as you can. They won’t supply you with any good answers.

Don’t let the rush of the exchange, their praise and the promise of insanely good money to get to you. That’s how they operate, that’s how they make you lose vigilance. 

Don’t engage them. As soon as you realize it might be a scam, block them. The sense of urgency they create with their rushed exchange, and pressure they put on you will sooner or later get to you and you might do something that you’ll regret later.

Never wire money to anyone. Never give out your personal data. Never provide your email, name, address or credit card info. 

Don’t be deceived by receiving a payment, if you somehow agree to go along with it. Just because it’s there now doesn’t mean it can’t be withdrawn. 

Here is a very standard example of such an exchange. I realized it’s a scam pretty fast and went along with it, because I wanted good screenshots for you guys, so I tried going very “by the book” with it. 

Please share this post, make it reach as many artists as possible. Let young or inexperienced artists know that this is going on. So many people have no idea that this is a thing. Let’s help each other out. If you think I missed any relevant info, do add it as an rb!

Also, if you know other scam methods that you think should be shared, consider rb-ing this post with them below. Having a master post of scam protection would AWESOME to have in the art community.

[bunny-jpeg]

thinking about older brother’s best friend!max who takes little innocent virgin you home after you got too drunk at a party. you trust him so much and he’s sooo dreamy but you can’t figure out how you ended up in his lap with his fingers up your miniskirt, other hand locked around your neck and skimpy lace thong stuffed in your mouth. but you don’t want to annoy him when he’s finally paying attention to you, so you furiously nod and drool when he tells you to be his good girl, his stupid little slut, and bullies his big, aching cock into your pussy. it’s soo wet and sticky but it doesn’t matter cause maxie promised he was wearing a condom…right? Right?

thank you so much for sending this to me! this is a crazy ass prompt and i love it. thank you so much! and for the people at home, send me your shit! i love insane prompts to write! give them to me, i need to write! i went with the tried and trued method of a leclerc!reader so add a little extra zest to it. i changed a few things around so i hope that's okay, all the pieces are still there just a few tweaks!! i hope you enjoy <3

max verstappen

cw: smut/pwp, leclerc!reader, drunk sex, dubious consent, lying, unprotected sex, size difference/kink, crybaby!reader, dark-ish fic, missionary position, fingering, (slight) choking, (technical) virgin!reader, filth(!!!)

"thank you so much for doing this. i told her not to go out tonight because i was out of town and couldn't get her if she needed help. you're a big help, mate. i owe you." charles' voice was clear on the other end of the phone.

max was grabbing his keys, "you owe me nothing, charles. i'm happy to help. wasn't up to much else tonight." he got his shoes on and headed out the door, "i'll let you know when i get her." then hung up the phone.

he got in his car and drove to the club you were supposed to be. max had known you for about as long as he had known charles, you were the curious little thing that liked being around your brother. you were close in age, but max hadn't seen you in years.

charles said that university had prevented you from ever really hanging around as much as you used to. which was a shame because max always thought you were cute, even if you were a little bit a cry baby.

he pulled up to the address of where you were supposed to be and got out of the car. it was late into the evening and there were a few people outside. the sight of him turned a few heads and some whispers. but he had to pick you out of the crowd.

he leaned against the car and did the tried and true method of finding a leclerc. he cupped his hands around his mouth and said, "hey! leclerc!"

and then as it had worked a million times with charles over the years, your voice rang out, "holy shit, max! what are you doing here?" and you got out of the crowd in front of the club.

that was when max's heart stopped.

he remembered you in your high school uniform and baggy t-shirts with various bands on them. he remembered when you had braces and that bad haircut in tenth year. but, now, are a twenty-something year old woman, you were beautiful.

you practically stumbled over to him, you tripped over the curb and against his chest. but you clung to the front of his t-shirt, "oh my god, it's you!" you howled laughter, "where's charlie?"

max steadied you back on your feet and looked over you to see the other people who were murmuring. he looked down at you, his hands still on your shoulders, "i'm going to take you back to my place tonight." even though charles said to bring you back to his place, there would be a slight detour.

plus, what if something happened? max needed to protect you, or at least he had self appointed himself with the role.

"god, i haven't seen you in like what, five years? still got those chubby cheeks though." you giggled drunkenly as you pinched at his face.

max could feel the heat rise in his face, didn't help that your plump breasts were pressed against him and he got a good view of your cleavage. he said to you, "c'mon, let's get out of here." he gave you a smile, "i think we're turning too many heads."

you nodded innocently before max helped you into the car. even going as far as to buckle to you in and closing the door. as he rounded the car he exhaled deeply, this was not what he was expecting.

you looked at him and giggled, "holy shit, it's actually you. why are you picking me up? i called charlie?"

max sighed and buckled himself in, he patted your knee, "how much have you had to drink? your brother is out of the country for most of the summer break."

a few seconds ticked by before you made an 'o' shape with your mouth, you snapped your fingers and pointed to max, "i was supposed to call lorenzo!"

max's eyebrows knitted together, "how much have you had to drink?"

you shrugged, "i don't know. there was this nice guy who kept buying me drinks and he was like super nice. but then, my friends kinda got me away from him and told me to call my brother and i said, 'which one?', because you know. i have three brothers and i don't very well want arthur to see me THIS drunk so i called charles... but i wasn't supposed to call charles, i was supposed to call lorenzo."

max wanted to kiss you really badly at that moment. and when he squeezed your thigh for reassurance, you moaned. then max's brain went silent for a moment.

you looked at each other and you felt the heat rise in your cheeks as you said, "sorry.... over sensitive." you licked your lips, "you can still hold my thigh if you want."

this was going to be a long night, and max wanted to see how deep this could go. after all, you both had about five years to make up.

"i hate being this drunk." you whined, as you padded across his home. you were out of the skimpy dress you wore to the club, much to max's pleasure. you looked better in no bra, one of his t-shirts and his socks that you pulled as high as they could go, "i wish i could stop being drunk the moment i got home."

he was on the couch, a glass of water and some tylonel was on the table. he patted his thigh and suggested, "i think i know something that can help." his brain had been trying to think of a clever way to get you closer to him, but you were too easy.

"water and rest?" you asked as you got closer to him. your arms across your chest.

he leaned back into the sofa a little and said, "no. why don't you come here to find out?" he could tell in the slight wave of your stance that you were still quite drunk. he chuckled as he watched you come over to him, were all leclercs curious like cats?

you perched yourself on his thigh and he pulled you into his lap. being so close to you made his cock throb in his jeans. you yelped and admitted, "i'm a virgin!"

"what?"

you looked at him so innocently it almost broke the driver's brain in half. you had your hands up near your face and your bottom lip was wobbling, "i've... i've never had sex before. i mean... i technically let a guy finger me." you swallowed, not knowing why you were admitting this, "but.. but he didn't even make me cum, i lied to him and faked it."

max's hungry gaze remained on you, "so... so no one's actually... had sex with you."

you looked like you were going to cry. you were in your twenties and a virgin (he wasn't going to acknowledge the curl of jealousy in his gut at the thought of some loser at your school poorly trying to finger you). that had all the lights going off in max's brain.

leclerc's little sister was a virgin, drunk and on the verge of tears in max's condo. shivering like a leaf. max never thought of himself in terms of animals, but at moment he felt like a big scary lion. and you a poor little deer. the signature leclerc doe eyes only added to his point.

"it's alright." he said, "how about this, you let me finger you properly. i don't think your technical first time should've been spent with you faking an orgasm."

you had to admit, you had feelings for max. when you were younger and your brother would race him, you'd follow him around afterwards asking about max. it annoyed the hell out of your brother.

even the guy who fingered you was almost an exact fit to max, the blond-brown hair, blue eyes and a big nose. but it didn't quite cut it. max had been the subject of your fantasies for years now.

you blushed, "i mean... i don't want to force you or anything. i don't want it to be a pity fuck."

he laughed and curled a strong arm around you, "no, no, not you. to make you cum would be an honour." catch more flies with honey than vinegar. catch the pretty sister of a fellow driver with soft words.

he got your panties off with a little help and put them in your mouth. the sight of your mouth full of your lacy thong made all the blood in his body pool into his cock. he brushed your cheek and chuckled at your lack of resistance, "aw, does someone like to be roughed up? i bet you're just so used to everyone treating you like glass. the only daughter." he cupped your pussy with his wide hand, "how would charles feel about this? or lorenzo? they'd have my head." he kissed at your neck.

you whined, liquor swam in your head still as you squirmed a little, "don't talk about my brothers while you're fingering me." you tried to say around the panties in your mouth.

max grazed his fingers across your pussy, "alright, alright." his breath was hot in your ear as his other hand came and was placed around your throat. he shuddered a little, oh you were just a perfect fit weren't you?

now max really had to make sure that you weren't going to run off to your private university and fooled around with other boys.

maybe a baby would have to do.

he held you close to him by the throat and played with your pussy. soon he sank two digits into you and you whined around the panties in your mouth. you felt a hot flash go through you.

this was totally different, you felt the pleasure bloom in your gut as he roughly fingered you. you held onto his wrists, but remained pressed to him as he occasionally rubbed his clothed erection against your backside.

"oh, you're beautiful." he said softly, "you are so painfully beautiful. i'm surprised you haven't made yourself a whore at school. why? scared that your brothers would kill whoever touched their sister?" he kissed your cheek as he heard your whimper.

your body felt loose and your brain felt like it was working overtime. it was beyond adorable, the little cry baby with tears in her eyes. don't worry, max will make it all better.

"but you don't want anyone else, do you? you wanna be my good girl? you know so little about sex, poor thing. but don't worry, i'll make you a nice little whore for my cock." he pressed on your throat a little harder as he really started to work his fingers inside of you.

you didn't know what to think, everything around you felt oppressive but the liquor and lust short-wired your brain. you nodded and tried to speak around the fabric in your mouth, but it all came out like a jumbled mess.

max could feel the heat rise in his body, his cock grew more stiff. he liked the sight of this. you in his clothes, letting him explore your body. you were untouched territory. all for max's taking.

you wanted to cover your face from the embarrassment of being finger-fucked by your crush. but max squeezed your throat a little tighter.

"don't hide yourself from me, i want to see it all." he pressed a hard kiss onto your shoulder and watched your shudder. your pussy clenched around his fingers which only spurred him to keep bullying them into you.

you whined something around the panties in your mouth and max continued his kisses. you felt amazing on him. he hissed against your back as you hit your climax and whined loudly. you coated his entire hand in your wetness.

max moved you by your neck and kissed you on the cheek, he said, "good girl. see, orgasms aren't that hard." he let go of your throat and took the panties out of your mouth.

you were panting heavily as you said, "holy shit." your heart was hammering and you felt hot all over. you felt his arms around you waist and his mouth in your ear.

"we're not done yet." he said.

before you knew it, you were on max's bed. the shirt you had borrowed was on the floor and your bra was right next to it. when max took off your socks, you whined and he pressed all his weight on top of you. leaving one sock left on you.

he was naked on top of you, his cheeks were pink and he felt hot all over. you could see your eye bug out a little from the sight of his naked body. he pulled away soon after and grabbed you by the hips then rubbed his hard cock against your slick pussy.

"i wish your brother brought you to the track more." he chuckled as he continued to rub up against you, "you would've been so cute hanging around, you were always so curious. but, i don't know if i could contain myself if you were around often."

you blushed, "oh c'mon, stop it, max. you're going to kill me!"

max was over you, "i would never do that. i like you very much alive. you're perfect. i think it would be the best strategy your brother ever did if he had you around the paddock. i'd have to fight off every other driver to get to you."

you admitted, "i'd only want you, max."

max grinned, "is that why you're letting me take your virginity? giving yourself over to me? i bet a part of you wished i showed up, maybe that was all the plan for you." he pressed the tip of his cock up against your entrance, "someone has a crush." he was teasing, but the look on your face showed that he had you all figured out.

you squeaked, "i do! i'm sorry! i've had one for years!" you looked like you were going to cry again.

max almost came from the sight before him, he swallowed to keep himself together as he reached for your face with one hand and looked into your eyes, "you like me."

in your inebriated state you replied, "more like love you."

he chuckled, "really now? after all the times i beat your brother, you had all these feelings for me." he pressed his chest up against you, as he guided his cock into your slick slit.

you clutched onto his shoulders and tried not too tense up too much. this was a wet dream come true. you croaked, "i've always have."

"well, aren't i lucky." he said as he kissed you gently, "taking the virginity of the most beautiful woman i've ever seen." he was a snug fit in you but, he peppered your cheeks with kisses to help relax you. thankfully you were painfully wet.

he felt a curl of possession in his gut. like he needed to have you by his side. it wouldn't be hard to convince charles to let the two of you date, even if he was protective of you. he knew that max was a good man, he'd be a loving, caring boyfriend. maybe even an eventual husband.

he moved his hips slowly, not to push too much on you at once. you were still painfully drunk, all of these were admissions under intoxication. the consent of the situation was murky at best, but the way you looked at he pushed his cock into you excited him.

"do you want this?" he asked.

you nodded, your gaze unfocused, "of course. why, why would you ask that?" you really were so cute. your brain was polluted with liquor and pleasure, maybe he should've put you to bed before this all got out of hand.

but in all fairness, max was a little too far gone. he always held feelings for you, he was just better at covering them up. but, as he thrusted into you, your legs around his waist as he rutted against you. it was like the little flame from his youth came alive into an inferno.

oh, this was the woman he was meant to marry.

he kissed you once more, and picked up the pace. he held your sides, feeling your warmth against him as he felt the intense feelings bloom in your chest. call him an obsessive freak, but he should've known all those years ago.

stupid teen max, look what was right in front of him! you two could've been married by now. had a family and everything. but as he was balls deep inside of you, he believed everything happened for a reason.

you were now in his arms, under him as he moved against you. the blunt end of his cock, hit against the beginning of your cervix. a promise of what was to come. that you'd get nice and pregnant by him.

by the time he was finished with you, you were going to be at least five percent dutch if not more, you two had a whole week together. this was just the start. you two lazily made out.

the lust throbbed in your head as the liquor still coursed through your system. your mouth felt dry but you couldn't do much else but lie under him. his kisses were domineering and strong. his cock was buried up inside of you like it belonged there.

he believed that you two were two halves of a same whole. he wish he had gotten a glimpse of you sooner. seen how much you matured, he melted a little at the feeling of you. beyond perfect for him.

the pleasure was getting to your head, even in your intoxicated state. you clung to him like a life line as he moved against you. your sweet noises and that your eyes were barely open.

"beautiful." he said, "and all mine."

you swallowed, "you're wearing a condom, right?"

he staggered in his pace for a moment, but he gave you best media smile as he lied through his teeth, "of course, can't have any accidents." he kissed you once more. and you just melted into it so easily.

you then let out a sweet noise as you felt orgasm grip you. you panted heavily as the lust flooded your brain. you held onto him tightly as he continued to move against you. this all felt like a dream, and the noises you made as you came had max panting heavily.

"please."

"i need you." you said with tears in your eyes. the orgasm has torn through you and you were left a sputtering, hot mess under him.

he continued to rut against you, his pace was erratic as he moved against you. his heart raced at the sight of you. he was fully gone for you, he wanted you. tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that. he wanted his cock buried in your sweet pussy.

it was fine, obviously there was a connection. he just had to seal the deal, and with a few more strokes of his cock. he was putting all of his weight on top of him. he finished inside of you and you made a small pathetic noise.

"fuck." he groaned.

you whined, "please, max."

when he pulled away, he wasn't away long. he soon pulled you in for a searing hot kiss while he let his cock stay inside of you for a moment longer. to feel the closeness. you were a lucky girl, you were now max's newest obsession.

he licked the bead of sweat off your neck, his cock twitched inside of you. perfect.

he curled up beside you soon after, his grip on you was possessive at the least and obsessive at the most. he felt like a lion with prey between its jaws, not biting hard enough to kill it. but just to keep it still. you were a sweet little thing in his arms.

maybe it was smart for you not to be around the track as much because of school, because if max had gotten a glimpse of the little crybaby leclerc all grown up, you two would've already been married by now.

but don't worry, be a good girl and you'll have a pretty ring in your future. the thoughts pooled in max's gut and made his softening cock twitch a little.

before he could go another round with you, you were fast asleep next to him. your soft snoring could be felt in his chest. he may have had to a little lying and manipulating before, but he wasn't going to fuck that sweet cunt while you were asleep.

he wasn't a monster. but that didn't mean he got out of your sleepy grasp and grabbed his phone from his jeans pocket to take some photos. not to share of course, he doesn't share. they'll be for his personal collection when you eventually go limping back to your brother.

come morning you were wrapped up in max's arms. you woke up with a throbbing headache and the sun that came through the window made you want to die. when you tried to wiggle in his grasp, he held on tighter.

he kissed you on the back of the neck, "good morning."

the sound of his low voice was like a shock to your system as you woke up quicker. you looked over your shoulder at him and swallowed. last night was barely pieced together. but you were naked next to him under the covers with one of his cats scratching at the door demanding breakfast.

when you tried to pull away he only pulled you back to him. your back against his broad chest. he said, "you're not getting away that easily." he rested his head on your shoulder, his arms around you tightened.

"what happened last night?" you croaked.

"ah don't worry. just tell your brother your safe and sound. you can stay here until he gets back home." he rubbed his cock up against your behind, "a woman like you shouldn't be alone in a city like this. lots of bad men out there that could hurt you."

"but not you?" you felt something bloom in your chest. the familiar pang from your youth.

he kissed your jaw and said, "of course. i'll always keep you safe." as if his cum wasn't dried to your inner thigh. but don't worry, he'll freshen it up once that pesky headache of yours is gone. after all, your sweet older brother was gone for another week.

-

"you know." charles said sometime later, he was in max's drivers room picking at the food on the table, "i feel like i should kill you for fucking my sister."

max was seated across from him, one leg over the other. he smirked, "and what's stopping you?"

charles shrugged, "i don't have to hear her talk about you all the time. i mean, at least i can vouch for you. you are practically family, better than some random guy that she met at school." he looked at his fellow driver, "will not forgive you for getting her pregnant though. and outside of marriage too. you should've heard our mother when she told her." he rubbed his forehead.

max chuckled, "well that'll be dealt with after the season. it feels wrong scheduling it between races. she deserves a lovely wedding."

"good, good. and i better see my nephew! we live in the same city, you better not lock her away!" charles shook his finger at max.

max laughed, "don't worry don't worry. but i cannot promise that he race for monaco when he grows up." then winked at his fellow driver (and future brother in law).

in the end, max hobbled together a narrative of the night you spent together. which led to a week together, which led to you getting pregnant by him. no one could've suspected that he could ever hurt a hair on your head. he was too in love with you, almost to an obsessive degree. he took your virginity and now you were taking his last name. <3

[salemlunaa]

YOU’RE TRYING TOO HARD ꧂

burning yourself out over something so simple never ends well…

If you know me, have been following me for a while or frequent my posts, you might notice a pattern, I never use the word “enter” when it comes to the void/“I AM” state. I always use the words “tap in” or “induce”. Why? because you can’t enter something that IS you. It’s not possible,

you are the void,

you are I AM,

you are pure consciousness,

you are an awareness,

stop trying too hard, as soon as you think too hard about it, as soon as you look for “symptoms” as soon as you ask yourself if you’re “doing this right” youve fucked up. Why? because you are the operant power, let me ask you a question: who do you think you answer to? why are you asking if you’re doing this correctly when YOU’RE the god of your reality?

do you think you answer to these bloggers, including me, sitting back up after 5 minutes of “nothing happening” to go back to tumblr and double check the posts on here to see if you’re “doing it right”? do you think you answer to these success stories of people you don’t even know, copying what they did to the very detail so that you can shift? do you think you answer to the a million and one methods in this community, limiting yourself to thinking you cant shift if you dont do it like they did it, like that video said you should, like this specific blogger said you should? why are you answering to other people if YOU are the operant power, like you say in your affirmations? why are other people controlling you in YOUR reality? you are being sooo pathetic right now…

stop. trying. so. hard. this shit will always be as easy as breathing, this state of pure consciousness is owed to us

as a god you answer to no one, stop asking if you’re doing it right.

there’s nothing to do, just be

fuck methods and just be

get rid of this mindset that you have to work hard to shift/ tap into the void or “I AM”/ induce pure consciousness

get rid of this mindset that you have to put in any effort at all

get rid of this mindset that you need a method

although time is a concept, why are you putting hours of effort and energy into a routine to help you, what do YOU need help with? you’re a god, you don’t need a routine, just be.

As soon as you acknowledge that you are trying too hard to immerse yourself, take a step back for a second and remind yourself of the truth: no effort is needed!! Like i say, you can rack your brain so much that it drains you, trying to find the “cheat code”, and let me tell you, it won’t end well, and you will know that when in years time you are still here, still looking for “instant methods” all while living a life that you dread.

It should never be a chore, the second it feels that way or the second you feel that you’re draining yourself because you just “can’t seem to get it” take a step back, only for a moment, and calm yourself down because something that only takes you seconds is never that serious.

Relax, Deep breathing, Affirm “I AM”, Let go, that’s it. that’s all you need, nothing else, i PROMISE you

JUST BE, SIMPLY BECAUSE YOU CAN. NO EFFORT NEEDED!!🐆💋

also thank you to beyoncé for this gif and for letting me make this post (iykyk lmao)

[gutsby]

Cowboy Killers

Pairing: Cowboy!Joel x Reader

Summary: On a mission to find—and fight—your best friend’s lying, cheating boyfriend at the bar, you end up throwing your drink in the wrong face and landing in a sticky situation with Joel Miller, who never plays fair.

Warnings: 18+. Drunk-Assholes-to-Enemies-to-Lovers. Oral (m!receiving). Road head. Age gap. Daddy kink.

Note: My favorite sub-genre of country music is ‘I’m Gonna Fucking Kill My Husband,’ and I think Miranda Lambert’s ‘Gunpowder & Lead’ is a perfect representation of that.

Word count: 4.1k

Forgive and forget.

Forgive and forget.

Forgive and—

“I’m about to lay this motherfucker out,” you announced.

Across the line, your friend laughed.

“Yeah? You see him?”

Of course you saw him. Who else would be wearing a Carhartt flannel and jeans in ninety-four degree heat? Not a soul in this world but your friend’s own lying, piece of shit, hopefully-soon-to-be-ex boyfriend, you guessed.

The game that Old Fuckstick Miller had decided to play tonight was a dangerous one—he was dumb as shit, and you were drunker than a skunk. He was dating your best friend, and she was not present at the Tipsy Bison to see the barefaced clusterfuck taking place before you now.

She was home, over thirty minutes away. He had told her that morning he would be working late, and not to wait up. You were here, at the bar, approaching one A.M. with a Redbull Vodka clenched in either fist and a Texas-sized frown on your face, seeing the very same man with his hands all over a woman that wasn’t your friend. You’d wanted to puke as soon as you saw them. You knew you could never trust a man who claimed to be an Austin native and couldn’t name a single George Strait song.

Your friend had only been dating the guy for a month, and you’d just seen his face in pictures up until now, but from what you could see less than twenty feet in front of you—slightly blurred from all the drinks you’d had—this guy was him. A dick. There, cheating on your best friend.

And no man would get to do that and walk out unscathed if you had anything to say about it.

Your grip tightened on either one of your fizzy drinks and, barely managing to cradle the phone between your head and your shoulder, you gestured over to another friend.

“Dave. Take it,” you said, words slurring a little.

Dave York cocked an eyebrow but said nothing as you passed him one of your RBVs and shimmied off the barstool. By the time he was able to pose his question, your ass, your phone, and your one remaining drink were already wobbling the other way. Vaguely, you heard him:

“Where ya headed, hon?”

You turned and raised your drink, then seriously doubted he would be able to hear you over the blare of the music, but yelled back anyway, ‘I’M GONNA KILL SOMEONE!’

The age-old pro-forgiveness aphorism continued to thump in your brain as you made your way over and began to contemplate every feasible method of murder.

A gun in the face would’ve been too simple—and besides, you’d never owned or shot a firearm in your life.

Poison could be fun, but from the way you were approaching the man now, you seriously doubted he’d ever let you get within a mile of his drink. You nudged the phone closer to your ear and took a sip from your own.

“Closing in,” you told your friend simply.

She’d already given you the go-ahead to execute the confrontation and beat his ass any way you pleased after the fact. Now it wasn’t so much a matter of ‘if’ but ‘when’ you’d finally get to encroach on this little loved up scene at the other end of the bar. The man had had his back turned to you, and the stunning redhead hanging off his neck, likewise, had no idea what was coming. You smiled.

“Promise you won’t go to jail this time?” your friend said.

“Will you bail me out again if I do?” Your grin got bigger.

“Well, duh.”

“Good deal. I’ll be the shitfaced inmate with ‘Fuck Men’ tattooed on her forehead. Wait for Travis County to call.”

“I love you, psycho.”

“Love you more.”

You ended the call.

And you were fully ready to end this man’s life when you saw him lean in to kiss the woman’s neck—that was sick.

You weren’t thinking straight. You weren’t seeing straight

You yelled out, ‘He-e-e-ey, honey!’ without blinking.

The couple turned.

As soon as the man had done a full 180, you flung your drink in his face and made sure the cup struck his nose.

“You cheatin’ FUCK!”

He flinched, sprayed by your vodka-infused energy juice.

The music overhead was loud, but not so deafening as to prevent the bar from hearing your shriek. From the front of the room, a band was playing ‘Gunpowder & Lead,’ and you couldn’t help but feel the song had been fate.

“What the f—” the adulterer started, evidently stunned.

You knocked the Shiner Bock out of his hand and spat:

“Working late, are we?!”

And spilled another patron’s beer reeling back.

“Got a little caught up on the way home?”

Gesturing toward the green-eyed beauty to his left. At first, the girl fixed her stare on you as if you’d sprouted another head, but then, by turns, she was tilting it to him.

“You have a girlfriend?” she hissed.

Cheater McFuckstick was wiping his beard with his hand

Shaking his head.

“Hell no, I ain’t never—”

“LIAR!”

Channeling your inner Representative Wilson circa 2009, you let your mouth fall open and stared at the big, burly man like the Congressman had once done to President Obama all those years ago. The semi-stranger in front of you was far less composed than his political counterpart.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” he snapped.

You felt your cheeks heat up.

“Is she your girlfriend?” would-be mistress said, shrill.

“NO!” you and been-knew asshole yelled together.

You saw the man’s nostrils flare, and at the same time, the woman beside him departed. Quickly. A few people around you cleared the way, while others still stared, gawked, and murmured amongst themselves. The Miranda Lambert cover band continued on without a hitch, though you could tell there had been a stir in the crowd. They probably thought the worst of it was over.

They thought wrong.

“You’re a dick,” you seethed, unrelenting.

You almost expected the man to turn and leave.

You thought wrong.

“You’re a cunt.”

And the man chucked a stray whiskey sour in your face.

The $15 spirits splattered on your skin like the meanest insult of all. His aim was better. Though he didn’t let go of the cup, as you had with him, he did make sure to coat the whole of your twisted look with the liquor, and once it landed, he had had the nerve to do something else, too.

He brought the glass to his lips then drank what was left.

“How’s it feel?” he sneered.

You stood in wet, sticky silence for half a second; arguably, you’d earned that cocktail to the face.

On the other hand, who the fuck did he think he was?

You grabbed a random can of Keystone Light and flung it at his chest to give him a hint—and catch him off-guard.

“You’re a bitch, Tommy Miller!”

“Wh—”

“Maria’s my best friend, you absolute f—”

“What—”

“—and you cheated on her for what? All so she—”

“What did you just call me?!”

“A BITCH!”

“No, the NAME!”

“TOMMY MILLER!”

“I’M JOEL!”

Oh.

Oh.

You and Joel were shortly escorted out of the bar.

Joel’s name, and a trace of bourbon, were still fresh on your tongue when you found yourself stranded in the middle of the Tipsy Bison parking lot two minutes later. You leaned into a car beside you and held your stomach.

“Someone drop you on the head as a baby?” Joel barked.

Presently, for you, the world was tilting sideways, and your head was throbbing at a nauseating tempo.

“Go around slingin’ drinks at any old man you—”

Green. Green must’ve been the color of your face as you braced your hands on your knees and assumed a stance as if to scream at the ground. Rather than expecting any noise to ring out, though, you had only to squeeze your eyes shut and hold onto a hunch for something much less pleasant. And viscous.

Reeking mostly of Red Bull and regret, if you had to guess.

Joel took a big step back, and then he took another.

“Da-a-adgummit, girl, what the—”

He turned away just in time to miss the sight of you emptying your guts on the ground, but not quite fast enough to be spared the sounds of you retching. They were loud. Joel Miller was known to be a largely imperturbable force around these parts, but even he was made to feel queasy hearing that. Out of habit, he clapped his hand to his own gut and stumbled off. He stared at the bar, then at his car, then at the gravel crushed under his feet for what felt like the longest time. Then his gaze lingered to his lower half, and he thought:

‘Please, please don’t gimme no daughters. Please.’

He was forty-five. The time for making babies and raising daughters to be anything like a woman of your ilk was probably long past him. All the same, he kept his gaze on his crotch and sighed. Balls, you better not betray me.

When he heard the crunch of rocks, he turned around.

“HEY!”

Oh, no. No. Not tonight.

You were staggering to your car, keys in hand.

“Hey!” Joel called again, jogging after you.

It seemed the second shout had done him no more favors than the first. You were fumbling to get the key inside the door, and you looked as determined as ever.

Over your shoulder, you tossed back, careless:

“You ain’t the boss of me, Tommy Miller.”

You got the key to turn. You opened the door. You were just about to climb inside what looked to Joel to be the ugliest Dodge Ram pickup he’d seen in his life, when he grabbed your arm.

“It’s Joel,” he growled. Pinching your elbow tight as he tugged it back, “And you ain’t driving anywhere tonight.”

Somewhere in front of him, tilted away from his line of vision, you must’ve been grinning, because the next thing he heard from you was the scoff of a laugh.

“Oh yeah?”

Joel flipped you around to face him.

“Yeah,” he snapped.

Feeling a bit like a kid for mimicking your tone.

What were you, twenty-two? Twenty-three? You couldn’t have been a patron of a place like Tipsy Bison for very long, or else he would’ve recognized you tonight.

Then again, you struck him as the type to have had a fake ID since you were fifteen, so he really couldn’t know.

“I’m twenny-wuh-un,” you slurred up at him, exaggerated, once he’d made you step down from the running board and onto the ground. Answering his last unspoken question with the same, sleepy grin as before. Then lifting one of your hands to wag a finger in his face, “I can drink legal anywhere I want to in this country.”

“Not there,” Joel nodded to the interstate.

You looked to where he’d gestured and whistled. Standing and staring, like he had done to his crotch.

“Well fuck me-e!” you said next, dragging out the sound a childish amount, “You the law or somethin’, Mr. Joel?”

“Ain’t no cop.” Joel rolled his eyes.

You kept smiling. Then you turned on your heels.

And instead of trying to climb back into your truck, you sauntered off—in what direction, Joel couldn’t tell. You were more so bumbling about, turning in circles like the world’s most scantily-clad, semi-intoxicated ballerina. And then you stopped. You put your hands on your hips.

“‘Cause I’m the law,” you resumed in a slow, deliberate drawl. The twang you used was mostly feigned, “And you cain’t beat the law. Don’t nobody get away with that, not even a bunch’a Alabama smart alecks, believe you me.”

Joel didn’t know what the fuck you were talking about. The man was Texas born and bred, and you knew it.

He communicated as much by pinning you with a wide, bewildered stare, and something in that seemed to amuse. You stared back, making your eyes bug out too.

“It’s a quote from a movie,” you said, after a beat, “You’ve never seen Fried Green Tomatoes before?”

Joel couldn’t say that he had.

Joel reckoned there was a lot more than just movies he didn’t share in common with you. Miss Twenty-One. Barely a year past the age he’d been when he’d moved out of the house and tried to make a living on his own.

This woman, this girl he saw twirling out in front of him now probably couldn’t pour piss out of a boot with the instructions written on the heel if he’d asked you to. Joel shook his head and moved his feet, frown etching deep.

“Alright, princess. Up.”

You didn’t seem to understand, until he’d lifted you. Up.

You were thrown over his shoulder and carried to a truck much nicer than yours in less than fifteen seconds or so.

“Stinks in here,” you said as soon as he’d set you down.

Then, sniffing the air—and grinning:

“Aw, hell, Miller…you smoke?”

Joel wished he’d said no.

Wished he’d rolled his eyes and told you to pipe down, stop asking him questions. It would’ve made the drive a whole lot easier, and more peaceful. Nowhere near as painful, either, if he were being perfectly honest—the strain in his jeans had already gotten to be more than he could bear, and all you’d asked for was a pack of smokes.

“They call ‘em Cowboy Killers,” you said, matter-of-fact.

“I know what they’re called,” Joel grumbled in reply. Flicking the radio on and hoping to find a tune that would drown out the too-lovely, cloying voice you’d assumed as soon as you thought you might win a cigarette off of him. More chatty now than ever.

And for one, blissful moment, Toby Keith had you beat. The calm was fleeting. As soon as ‘Who’s Your Daddy’ started to drift through the car’s old speakers, you reached across and turned the knob to the left.

“Gross,” you muttered.

“What?”

“Got a light?”

“Blow me.”

Joel’s harsh, clipped tone was deliberate. The way he’d made himself mean—meaner than he’d been around a woman in a long, long time—was a choice. He couldn’t let your faux sweetness win him now. Not after you’d thrown two drinks in his face, mocked his truck, and foreclosed any possibility of getting laid by way of all your publicized infidelity philippics and shit-talking. Giving in to your charms from where you sat in the passenger seat now would only sink him further in his own esteem. Simply put, Joel’s ego couldn’t take it.

“Okie doke,” you said presently. Shrugging.

“Now keep your—HEY!”

Joel nearly swerved his truck off the road and into a ditch. Your deft little hands had slipped into his lap—and started palming his crotch through the denim.

He’d just managed to right the vehicle before jerking a look your way, staring at your hand, then your face:

“What the fuck was that?!”

“You said ‘blow me,’ Joel!” you huffed, and you seriously appeared as distraught as he was, “Sorry for listening!”

Joel grit his teeth with all the force of a cold steel trap.

“You’re fuckin’ nuts.” He gripped the wheel even tighter.

“I’m aware.”

“Where the hell do you live, anyway?”

You told him.

Your hand slipped down to the seat beside him.

And just as Joel let out what felt like the tiniest sigh of relief—he knew where that was, and the address sounded vaguely familiar—he yelped again. This time, he managed to keep control of his truck, but it was hard.

Your fingers had returned, and they were kneading the bulge under his jeans. Joel flushed from head to toe.

He didn’t have so much as half a mind to make you stop. He didn’t want to see you slink back over to your side of the car. But you were twenty-one, and he was forty-five. And you were both under the influence to some degree. And he was driving, for fuck’s sake. Shit like that only worked in dreams—not on a highway in a town like this.

He turned the radio dial to 75. At length, he heard it loud:

‘WHO’S YOUR DADDY? WHO’S YOUR BA-A-A-ABY?’

He saw you cringe.

“C’mon, Joel,” you groaned, “That’s…yuck.”

The fingers of the one hand kept digging, rubbing, but the other reached out and turned the music down again.

Joel shifted in his seat, feeling the pleasure start to bloom from the pit of his stomach, but not wanting to let you off that easy. Briefly, he looked from the road to you.

“What? You got a problem with Toby Keith?”

“I got a problem with anyone sayin’ ‘daddy’ like that.”

You unzipped his fly. Popped the button of his jeans from underneath the soft shelf of belly hanging over it, and held him, finally. You could only cup his erection through his boxers at that point, but the friction was enough to send a shiver through the whole of the old man’s body. He hadn’t been touched like that by a hand that wasn’t his own in…he couldn’t remember how long. He sighed.

“That why you’ve got your hand down the pants of a man old enough to be your father?” Joel quipped.

He couldn’t help it.

Your hand only gripped him tighter. From the passenger seat, you’d leaned over and started crawling. Scowling.

Your knees swiftly planted themselves on the old, upholstered cushion of the bucket seat, and you slipped a touch beneath the waistband of his underwear. With a hand that was smooth and soft and eager to please, you wrapped your fingers around that base and leaned in.

“You sound like you want me to say it,” you whispered.

Under your hand, he pulsed. His gaze stayed on the road.

“Don’t make no difference to me, sweet pea,” he said, and was amazed how even he was able to keep his tone:

“But those ‘Cowboy Killers’ you wanted…”

Your fingers curled tighter. Your head sank lower.

“…they don’t come cheap, y’know.”

Oh, you knew. He saw a smile snag at the corners of your lips as you brought them to his lap, and he had to force himself to look at the road again. It was empty and dark.

The tarmac stretched out for days. The fields rolling past warned sternly, ‘Don’t let her win,’ and something more in between each tree seemed to invite deliberation—remembrance, maybe. Joel was far too focused on the feel of your mouth to give the woods a second thought.

You’d worked the first inch between your lips in a slick, obscene sort of kiss; you made room for just the head and then toyed with a bead of precum leaking out of his slit. You licked it, squeezed the shaft in your hand, and hummed while the first real moan rumbled through him.

Joel turned to putty with just that flick of your tongue. He didn’t have to see your face to know he was losing.

On the wheel, his grip grew tighter, and he choked out:

“Ain’t your fuckin’ lollypop, kid.”

Then, dropping one hand to push down on your head—make you take him to the back of your throat in one go.

“Daddy wants you to suck him like a big girl, hear?”

At the base of his cock, he felt you gag. From the bottom of his heart, Joel knew there was no sound sweeter than that. He ran his fingers over your skull and tapped gently.

“If you want those smokes,” he told you—and really, with all the warmth and moisture of your mouth enveloping him now, he’d had to try to sound rougher than he was, “You’re gonna do what daddy says and suck him right.”

You gagged again, then squeezed his denim-clad leg with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around his member.

Joel yanked you by your hair and made you look up.

Your cheeks were already smeared with spit and tears. Much to his surprise, he found your eyes alight and soft.

Suffused with desire, too, from what he could see.

“Yes, daddy.” You grinned up at him.

Joel knew if he let your gaze stay on his a second longer now he’d either crash his car, blow his load, or fall in love—and he simply refused to let you succeed on any of those fronts, so he shoved your face back down.

You sucked him obediently. Greedily. Mouth growing more pliant and wet by the second, as if your jaw and salivary glands had contrived to get him as close to release as possible, as quickly as they were able.

Joel took a left onto a road he had only a dim recognition as being connected to yours, and he got that feeling again. You were bobbing your head, taking him further, flattening your tongue along the bottom of his member when his pleasure swelled inside him. At the same time, he felt a sense of dread. His hands were shaking on the wheel. He didn’t dare steal a look down to the sweet, soaked, perfect little mouth sucking him dry, because he knew that feeling would only strike twice as hard. He had to cum, or make you stop, or bring his truck to a halt.

As it was, he felt five tiny crescents sink into his thigh as you gripped him tighter, and a noise bubbled up in your mouth. Your breathing went shallow, and your lips stretched wide—you were trying, and succeeding, in deep-throating his thick, throbbing, much-too-old-for-a-girl-her-age member down close to your windpipe, and Joel could feel it. He hit his blinker, not thinking, and saw a sign that marked your street. Trepidation hit him again.

Fully, this time, in a feeling that was more like terror.

He didn’t have another second to question it, either. By the time he had the old, lone farmhouse in his sights and his heart nearly halfway up his throat with fear, your own throat pulsed, and opened the last two inches to him in. Your nose found their home in the rough, grey, wiry hairs at the base of his belly, having swallowed him whole, and Joel quickly sensed the start of what he knew too well.

He came down your throat in one, two, three, four, five long spurts, and didn’t let his foot off the gas even once.

He saw your house, approaching closer now, and paled.

No fucking way.

You’d wanted to skip the whole way up your drive.

Spit still drying on your cheeks, cum resting comfortably in your belly, and a smile as bright as the sun on your face as you waved to the F-150 pulling off toward the road, you’d never felt more alive—or smug—in your life.

“Is your dad…Lucien Flores?” Joel had asked no more than a second after his dick slipped out of your mouth.

“The one and only.”

Somehow, his face got even paler. His jaw visibly clenched, and his palm hit the top of the wheel. Hard.

It was then that you’d learned your father had hired Joel Miller on as a full-time ranch hand sometime last week.

He’d remembered the address, vaguely, but didn’t connect the dots until he’d pulled up in front of your house and damn near punctured your windpipe with his pulsing dick from how fast he’d jumped up—and cum.

His spend had almost shot through your nose with the force of it, but you didn’t mind. Once he’d revealed the wild, gory, and admittedly hilarious details of his newfound employment, you were too busy laughing your ass off to care if he’d torn your throat in two with his dick.

“So you really are a cowboy, then,” you’d said, giggling.

Joel had scowled. Rolled his eyes. Practically turned the color of a tomato when you leaned in and kissed him.

Now you were waving to him from your front door.

Joel’s truck was slow to go. The taste of him was fresh.

And there, weighing light in your back pocket while you said goodbye was a brand new pack of Marlboro Reds.

2:21 AM

You were safely in bed. You checked your phone.

Aside from fourteen missed calls, you saw:

1:09 AM – Maria

DUDE

1:09 AM

TOMMY JUST CAME HOME

1:09 AM

THAT’S NOT HIM AT THE BAR

1:13 AM

IT’S JUST JOEL!! HIS BROTHER!!!

1:13 AM

ABORT ABORT ABORT

1:42 AM

DAVE SAID YOU BEAT JOEL UP???? CALL ME

1:54 AM – Dave York

Ur gonna fuck that old dude aren’t u

[obsessedwhyyes]

A Sound Hypothesis

Part 1 of The Scientific Method series.

Summary: Inexperienced in the ways of love, you often find yourself labelled an overthinker. But then again, you are a scientist. When your incredibly beautiful travelling companion proposes a night you'll never forget, suddenly you're left wondering, are you really ready for this? Ever the scientist, you propose an experiment, and get more than you bargained for.

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4762 Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader Content: Act 1, smut with plot, inexperienced nerd reader, making out, oral sex (giving and receiving), hand job, cock worship, blowjob and handjob instruction (ie. Astarion teaches you how to pleasure him).

A/N: Can't believe this got to nearly 5k words, good lord. Actual smut comes in half way through, but it's still rather spicy before then. Also, writing handjobs is hard.

The events of the night prior felt like a dream, yet you remembered each moment vividly.

“I’m beginning to like the whole package, honestly,” he had purred, “and you clearly like me too, so I was thinking…”

You looked into his eyes as he gazed confidently, hungrily into yours. There was only him in this moment. Well, him and the quickened pulse of your heart pounding in your ears. You were certain he could hear it.

“We could take an evening to ourselves. Get to know each other a little more intimately.”

But you were struck with a hit of nerves then. You had lived a sheltered life before your abduction. A wizard and a scholar, your pursuits had been in the sciences and that of perfecting your craft, rather than in stolen moments of lust with beautiful strangers. Not to say you hadn’t experienced a few stolen kisses, however. But to give oneself entirely to another - that was a very different, much more intimidating affair. Yet there was no denying the spark that flickered between the two of you as you spent your days and evenings together, and that spark ignited a growing ache within you that lingered each night you retreated to your bedroll.

“I want to, Astarion. Gods, I really want to, but I’m…”

You hesitated and tore your eyes from him; fiddled with your fingers for a moment.

“You’ve never done this before,” he finished, causing you to look up suddenly from your busying hands.

“I had my suspicions. I’d have already bedded you twice over otherwise.”

You could only laugh, not only at the sheer audacity of his remark, but because of course he knew. Gods, he could probably smell the inexperience on you from a mile away.

“It’s your decision, of course. Should you wish to keep things light between us, we’ll end our evenings together as friends. If you decide you want a little more, however–”

He stepped closer to you - close enough to feel his cool breath on your skin and smell the freshness of his cologne.

“I’ll give you a night you’ll never forget.”

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his hand lingering delicately where your neck meets the line of your jaw. He was playing you like a fiddle, and you knew it. But gods, if his tune wasn’t a siren’s song in the night. You wanted nothing more than to dance to it.

And then he kissed you.

Gods, the way he kissed you.

There was need, yes; a hunger not unknown to you even in your limited experience. But it was a hunger wrapped in a velvet blanket of familiarity, as though he had known your lips as long as his own. He was certainly skilled, there was no denying that.

The chill of the night air felt like a splash of cold water to your senses once his lips left yours, and you found yourself mourning the loss of his touch.

“Think about it,” he had said that night, before retreating back to his tent.

–

And here you are, wrapped in your bedroll, thinking about it. Ceaselessly.

About his voice, laced with the sweetest honey, speaking promises of nights wanton and dripping with ecstasy. About his smile, teasing and rakish, and the feel of his lips against yours which you missed like home.

You think about the times you let him feed from you; the gentle way he held you, one hand cradling your head. The soft, pleasured noises that would rumble from his chest as he grazed over the soft flesh of your throat - and sunk his teeth into it. Then, greedy, he would begin to pull you close, your chest flush against his own. Every time he fed, it was as though the gates holding back the flood of every primal vampiric instinct within him were unleashed at the taste of you; the ambrosia that is your life essence which you willingly gift to him. And every time he fed, before you reached the point of no return, you would break him out of his trance - a simple series of taps on his shoulder - and he would release you from his predatorial embrace.

It was in those moments, you would see the look in his eyes: ravenous, pupils blown, boring down into you as you lay there beneath him, vulnerable. Your gazes would linger and gods, how you imagined what it would feel like to be entangled with him; for him to take his pleasure from you.

No, you tell yourself. This has been going so fast. Your time together has been so short in the grand scheme of things yet, with the threat of ceremorphosis looming over you, your time on this mortal plane may be fleeting. One might argue that now is surely the time to experience that which you have not… isn’t it? 

But what if this isn’t what you actually want and this aching need within you is simply a manifestation of the stress your increasingly bizarre situation has brought you? It is not unknown for one to develop bouts of hypersexuality in times of stress, or so you have read in books detailing such occurrences.

Suddenly, an idea presents itself. A scientist such as yourself requires a chance to gather all available evidence before coming to a conclusion. A little experimentation, perhaps. Then, you’ll know for certain if your attraction runs deeper than you give your body credit for. Your honed mind will not be governed by a set of primitive bodily urges - you’re better than that. You won’t allow it.

For now, sleep beckons. Tomorrow, you shall put your idea into practice.

– 

The next day passes as swiftly as you had hoped. You’re eager to welcome the night. You and your companions had seemingly settled into a predictable routine when it came to your evening endeavours: your fellow wizard and friendly rival, Gale, would slave over the cook pot with the limited items you had procured over your journey, while the Blade of Frontiers himself regaled your group with stories of his adventures, punctuated with commentary from your remaining companions, ranging from crude to complimentary. Food would be eaten and domestic duties fulfilled, after which, everyone would begin their journeys to their bedrolls. Well, everyone bar you and Astarion. As the resident elves, you require far less rest than that of your travelling companions. It was in these moments, where the camp lay dormant and the two of you sit against a fallen log by the campfire, that you had developed something resembling a rapport with Astarion. You have become rather fond of your night time talks.

Tonight, however, you have plans beyond repartee.

You feel emboldened by your plan. Where before, you were thrown into territory unknown, unprepared and anxious, now you have the comfort of scientific method on your side. You know exactly what to say - you’ve thought of every possibility after all.

Sitting side-by-side, you turn to him, determined.

“I was thinking about your little proposition last night.”

“Were you now?” Astarion replies with a smirk on his lips and a gleam in his eyes.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself just yet. I always imagined that the first time I, um…”

“Did the horizontal dance with an esteemed companion? Engaged in amorous congress? Fucked?”

“Had sex,” you quickly correct, halting his attempts to fluster you further. “I always imagined the first time I had sex would be under slightly less unusual circumstances. We’ve been under nothing but stress ever since we got off that damned Nautiloid. I can’t tell if this desire I’m feeling is because I truly want to spend the night with you, or because my body just wants a distraction.”

“Is that such a bad thing? We’ve worms in our brains and danger is lurking around every corner. Our time is short, darling. If I can provide our dear leader a little respite in these tumultuous times; offer up my services in her time of need, that sounds like time well spent, does it not?”

He shuffles closer to you, resting his arm behind you on the log which you both lean against.

“Besides,” he continues, his voice low and close to your ear, “you’ve been so good to me, offering up your neck for me to savour. It’s only fitting that I offer you a little distraction in return.”

“I don’t want to just… use you as a distraction, Astarion. Gods, I offered you my blood because I wanted to help you, not because I expected a favour.”

For a fleeting moment, his expression shifts. And just as quickly, his smirk returns, embodying a practised sultriness that has surely wrapped many a soul around his fingers.

“No,” you continue, “if I have sex, it will be because it’s something I truly want to do; that I’m ready for. Not just a fanciful distraction. I hope you feel the same.”

That expression again, barely noticeable. You can’t quite decipher it.

“So, darling,” he purrs, “what do you suggest?”

“I was wondering if I could kiss you.”

“Ha! Can’t get enough, eh?”

“I just think that, with a little more evidence, I might be able to see if this is something I’m truly ready for; to discern whether this desire is real, or simply a physical response to this gods-awful situation we find ourselves in.”

He laughs, seemingly amused by your reasoning, and your heart flutters at the sound. Unexpected.

“Gods, are you always such an overthinker?”

“I just think it would help me come to a decision.”

“Is that what this is then? Your little experiment?”

“I’m nothing if not a scientist,” you tease back.

“Alright, my dear. Your terms are acceptable. A kiss, for scientific reasons, of course.”

Of course, you say to yourself. That… is what this is, isn’t it? Simple evidence gathering?

You have no time to consider this as Astarion places a finger under your chin, lifting your gaze fully to his, and suddenly, you hear your pulse pounding loudly in your ears once more. Gods, his eyes are beautiful.

An easy smile, a tilt of his head, and he presses his lips to yours, delicate and familiar. He’s gentle, at first: his lips linger on yours a moment before kissing you again, a tender sensation. As you close your eyes and immerse yourself in the feeling, the world around you quietens. No longer do you hear the crackling of the fire as it dies, the chirps of insects, or the rustle of leaves in the breeze. 

At this moment, all you know is him.

You succumb to the coolness of his touch, the smoothness of his skin, the freshness of his scent - sensations so overwhelming that your body responds of its own accord, letting free a soft moan into his mouth.

As though in response, Astarion’s hand lowers from your cheek and trails from your neck, your shoulder, to your waist, as though committing each dip of your body to memory, before pulling you closer to him. Your hands, in return, plant themselves against his chest. His body feels hard and angular against the softness of your own.

As his tongue seeks permission to dance with yours, there is a hunger; a fieriness that threatens to engulf you. The kiss deepens, and you realise with a start that your legs have entangled themselves with his.

Pull yourself together, your mind screams. You’re meant to be in control of your body, not the other way around.

Or so you think, when suddenly, Astarion’s hand moves to your arse - the cheeky sod - and he skillfully, seamlessly rolls you onto his lap, taking advantage of your entangled legs, purposefully positioning you so that you’re straddling him.

Shit.

You gasp. You had forgotten to breathe. He notices and, gods, the smug look on his face. He knows he’s taken you off guard, and worse still…

He knows the effect he’s having on you.

The wall you had carefully constructed between your mind and body begins to collapse, brick by brick. As you kiss, the final fragments fall away, and everything that was once separated threatens to come together in a powerful, unified surge of desire if not for the final threads of your self-restraint.

His body desires this as much as yours, it would seem. As you straddle him, his hands caressing you as they drag up and down your back, you notice a distinct hardness digging into you, oh so close to your core. It takes more willpower than you’ve ever known to not grind into that hardness, seeking the release which you ache for. You are a tautly drawn bow, the tension between your mental focus and physical yearning almost unbearable.

Noticing how stiff you become, Astarion retreats from your lips, tilting his head in playful curiosity.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, darling?”

“I… I…” You barely recognise your own voice as it strains to come out of you.

The bowstring snaps.

You yield.

Your mind and body merge into a mess of lust and desire, and you kiss him hard and greedily. He returns the enthusiasm in kind, releasing a groan into your mouth as he does so. You want this. You want him.

Astarion pulls himself from your lips and turns his attentions to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses where, other nights, he had sunk his fangs. As he does so, you hear his voice, husky in lust.

“You know, if you still need a little more “experimentation,” I have a couple more ideas for you…”

His voice gives you goosebumps.

“... I’m particularly skilled with my tongue, after all.”

You nod.

“Your tent or mine?”

–

As you’re pushed against the bedroll within the privacy of your tent, you’re overwhelmed by a desire to feel every inch of Astarion’s cool, hard body on yours. It was such a primal need, to be enveloped by him; an urge beyond anything you’ve experienced, causing you to wrap your arms greedily behind his neck as you kiss each other, pulling him closer, but never close enough. His hips grind against you slowly, deliberately, granting you a brief, delicious friction which sends shivers up your body and fuels the incredible ache between your legs.

Astarion sits back up on his knees, admiring the mess of you, a smile on his pretty lips. You can only imagine the state you must be in: hair wild, eyes wide and hungry, clothes dishevelled. But your appearance is a distant notion in the back of your mind as Astarion lifts the hem of your skirt and removes your undergarments, sopping wet from your arousal.

You feel vulnerable, exposed to him like this, your desire on full display in front of the very man who you spent nights dreaming about. While his lustful gaze lights a flush of red across your cheeks, it doesn’t cause you to recoil; instead, you find yourself emboldened as he lowers himself between your legs, holding your gaze with eyes hungry and hooded.

He drags his lips up your thighs, leaving kisses so teasing that brings forth the neediest of sounds from your chest. When he reaches your core, he slides a tongue up the slit of you, agonisingly slowly, painfully gently.

Head rolling back, you anticipate the feeling of his tongue within you, but then…

He diverts his attention back to your thighs.

Bastard.

“Astarion..!”

“Eager little pup, aren’t you? Don’t you worry, darling - you’ll get what you desire. Once I have my fun with you, of course.”

He shifts, propping your legs over his shoulders as he grants you an audacious glance and grazes his tongue over you once more, sending a wave of tingles radiating across your body.

You begin to pout at his teasing action, and–

His tongue enters you.

He glides it firmly from your entrance to your clit, lapping you up in one motion, releasing the most wondrous groan, as though the nectar of your arousal is sweeter than any honey.

And so, like a man starved, he devours you, gauging quickly the sensations you prefer, alternating skillfully between firm strokes of his tongue, and the most teasing of flickers across your clit.

Your back arches, and you can do nothing but grasp at the edges of your bedroll as he works at you, leaving you in a state so blissful that you don’t notice the wanton sounds being cried from your lips.

“Easy, love,” he purrs, the loss of his tongue against you causing you to whimper. “As much as I enjoy hearing those delectable sounds of yours, let’s not wake the others, hm?”

You can only cover your mouth with your hands in a feeble attempt to hush yourself as he continues his ministrations. As your eyes meet and the pleasant ache in your core begins to swell into an all-encompassing warmth across your body, you wonder if this is what it feels to be revered as a deity would, your every sensation treated with the kind of awe that only a god might know.

It is when he enters you with his fingers - first one, then two, thrusting in rhythm with his tongue - that the warmth, now an inferno, reaches its peak. It surges through you like a divine crescendo, each wave of your climax a new blessing that floods your senses with a celestial rapture, singing his name like the sweetest hymn.

He caresses your thighs as he brings you down slowly from your high, grounding you.

As you return once again to this mortal plane, the lingering euphoria elicits a fit of giggles from you.

“Well,” Astarion smiles in return, removing himself from the home he has made between your legs, “you certainly seemed to enjoy yourself.”

“I did. I really did. Thank you.”

As you both sit yourselves upright once more, he presses another kiss to your lips. You taste yourself on him.

“I hope our little experiment was very informative for you,” he says with a wink. His words are teasing, but spoken with a gentleness that surprises you.

The truth is, you do have one more idea.

“Can I, um… Can I do the same for you?”

“What?” He says a little too quickly. Noticing this, he brushes his hair back with his hand to a more presentable condition, regains his composure, and continues. “I mean, you don’t have to. To see you squirm under my touch, that’s pleasure enough for me.”

“I want to make you feel good too.”

“You want to?”

That same indecipherable expression. A man with as many notches on his bedpost as he claims must have had some less than favourable conquests every now and then… Perhaps he’s had some bad experiences when receiving too? You suddenly find yourself cursing your lack of experience in these matters. You’re not exactly brimming with social expertise either.

“I probably won’t be the best - not as good as you - but I want to try. I always find that the best way to develop one’s skills is to practise under the guidance of a trusted expert. So… could you teach me how to make you feel good?”

Your gazes linger for a moment as he seems to assess your resolve.

Seemingly satisfied, he smirks, a well-practised aura of sultriness fitting back into place once more. All traces of that mysterious expression dissipate before your eyes.

“Well, darling, if you’re so eager to please me, who am I to stop you?”

You slide up to sit next to him as he begins to unlace his trousers, and suddenly you find yourself unsure of where to look. You’ve a scholar’s knowledge of the physical form; men’s anatomy is no stranger to you from an analytical perspective. And yes, you’ve fantasised about Astarion’s… parts before, as much as you have tried to deceive yourself into believing it was nothing more than a passing, intrusive thought. Yet, now that you’re here, about to perform the most intimate of acts to your beautiful travelling companion for the first time, you become bashful. You can’t quite believe the situation you’ve gotten yourself into tonight.

Yet, as he lowers his trousers and underwear to his thighs, revealing himself to you, all thoughts of bashfulness, of anxiety, cease to be for a moment.

“Hells, Astarion.” You look upon his hardened member with disbelief, measuring its girth against your arm. “How is that going to fit inside me, exactly?”

A slip of the tongue.

He grins, very pleased with himself. “Getting ahead of ourselves, are we?”

… And there returns that familiar flush of heat to your cheeks. Shit.

His chuckling lets you know that he has, in fact, noticed your embarrassment.

Seeking to swiftly change the subject to the much more pressing matter at hand, you ask, “can I touch you?”

In wordless agreement, Astarion guides your hand to his cock, which glistens slightly from the beads of precum elicited from the head. As you hold it, his hand remains over yours, coaxing you to move up and down the shaft.

His cock isn’t warm as you would imagine a regular man’s to be, owing to his vampiric nature, but you note its hardness; the way it pulses beneath your touch; the way his foreskin glides over the head so seamlessly. You squeeze him, fascinated.

“Gently, love. Like this.” He demonstrates by applying a light pressure to your hand and twisting ever so slightly as you both reach the tip, then loosening his grip as he slides you back down his length. You repeat the motion, tentatively. Gods, you hope you're doing this right. He made you feel incredible. You want him to feel incredible too. But oh, what if you hurt him, what if you–

“A-ah…”

The softest sigh of pleasure from your companion interrupts your thoughts. It sends wonderful shivers throughout your body. You find yourself eager to coax more of those little sounds from him.

A newfound confidence flares within you, and you gradually increase your pace, up and down and up and down the shaft, squeezing and twisting lightly as your beautiful instructor taught. In a sudden bout of curiosity, you glide your thumb over the head on your way back down and–

“Ah!”

There it is again. That most delicious sound.

“Exactly like that, darling. Exactly like that.”

He removes his hand from yours as you continue to pump him - you are a fast learner, it would seem - and moves it to reach your cheek, turning you to face him. As he leans his forehead against yours, you notice his breathing has become heavier, just ever so slightly. Instinctively, your breathing begins to match his, and you feel an intensity in the air that gives you goosebumps. Then he kisses you, and it is hungry. Ravenous. Greedy. His hand moves from your cheek to the back of your head, gripping your hair lightly, pressing your lips firmly against his.

As you continue to pleasure him, you find yourself becoming greedy too.

You want to taste him.

Between gasps for air, you ask him, “can I use my mouth on you? The way you did for me?”

“Mmhm,” he says into your kiss. It feels almost a shame to remove yourself from his lips, but you have greater plans yet. 

You both reposition yourselves. He turns to lie himself back on the bedroll, and you crawl down his body to position yourself between his legs. So close to his cock, you find yourself admiring it, taking in every detail: the thick vein on the underside of the shaft, the way the head throbs a colour darker than the rest, eager for release.

You're overwhelmed with a primal desire - a need - to please, to give.

To worship.

“Gods, it's beautiful,” you think aloud.

“I know,” he remarks confidently in return. You roll your eyes at his arrogance, but in this moment, in your eyes, even you can't deny that his cock is perfection. Your mouth waters at what is to come.

You hold his member delicately, like a jewel most precious, planting kisses up his length. A soft sound escapes from Astarion’s lips and suddenly you are emboldened, determined to gift him with bliss as he had gifted you. To do so, however, you would need a little instruction.

“Tell me how to please you,” you plead, and you feel him twitch at your words.

“You are eager,” he purrs, propping himself up with his hands to gaze down at you. You notice a shiver and a sigh, ever so slight, when you trail a line of wetness from base to tip with your tongue.

“In that case,” he continues, brushing a strand of hair from your face, granting him a better view of you, “lick your lips and hold it at the base. Then I want you to get to know it a little, so to speak. Use your mouth around the head and start slowly - there's no point in rushing in, eh?”

You obey, shaking off the lingering feelings of bashfulness at the directness of his words, and wrap your lips around him. Out of curiosity, you swirl a flattened tongue around the head and gods, his skin is so smooth, still slightly salty from precum. His cock twitches and you hear him gasp above you - he’s especially sensitive there, it would seem. 

Where are his other sensitive spots, you wonder.

Time to experiment. You are nothing if not a scientist.

You bob your head and relax your jaw to the best of your abilities, taking in just a little bit more of him each time your mouth glides up and down, keeping your tongue flat against him to flick against the sensitive tip each time you glide back up the length. The sounds he makes - oh, those sounds. His moans are like velvet, a soft, deep timbre that caresses your senses and makes your loins ache once more. Every murmur seeps into your being, igniting your senses and fuelling your need to explore every inch of him. You continue your journey down and down his length, savouring the taste and the texture and–

You gag as his cock touches your throat.

Astarion recomposes himself. “Easy, darling. Use your hand where your mouth can’t reach.”

“Like this?” Your hand pumps the shaft in rhythm with the motions of your mouth and tongue, and Astarion’s head rolls back for a moment.

“Like that,” he exhales heavily, “and suck gently.”

There’s a certain sense of empowerment, unravelling him like this. You relish in every moan that escapes his lips, every twitch and pulse of his cock as you attend to him. The lewd, wet sounds emitted as your hollowed cheeks suck his length. His hand finds its way to your hair, fingers weaving through the strands with a gentle authority, pushing you hard enough to guide you to an ever-quickening rhythm, but gentle enough not to force himself down your throat.

“Use your other hand,” he says between breaths, “hold the balls softly.”

You do as he says, giving them the gentlest of squeezes as you attend to him, and his breaths grow deeper, uneven. You sense the rising tension in him, a tide gathering strength beneath the surface.

He gives one final instruction.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes meet with a stormy intensity and, as you pump up and down with your lips and fingers at a dizzying pace, the intensity seems to surge through him with the force of an ocean swell, powerful and all-encompassing.

With a tremor and a groan so delicious that you find yourself moaning instinctively in response, his cum fills your mouth. Your eyes water, taken by surprise by the force of his release, but you do your best to swallow each wave, releasing him with a wet pop as his climax subsides.

Some moments pass and, in the afterglow, the tent is filled with a comfortable, profound stillness, and only the sounds of heavy breathing - yours and his - as you both return to your senses.

“Did you just..?” He asks, breaking the silence.

“I did,” you reply with a grin, showing him your tongue to reveal that not a drop went to waste.

He laughs warmly, and your heart flutters.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” He kisses you deeply as he sits up, seemingly undeterred by the taste of himself.

“I think I’ve gathered enough evidence to consider your proposition,” you say teasingly.

“Tomorrow night then, darling?”

Bastard.

But yes, you think to yourself. Tomorrow night. You’re ready.

Part 2, An Empirical Study, can be found here!

Masterlist can be found here.

[nezuscribe]

𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞?

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

part two of wanna be yours

summary: the aftermath of you and your husband's arranged marriage, but the better side of it. gojo satoru just loves you so much, that he's willing to bring down armies just for you

warnings: 18+ mdni, arranged marriage, very brief misunderstandings but they work it out, eating out (fem!reciving), fingering, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, he doesn’t pull out

word count: 6k

note: part two is finally done! and i think this is gonna be the last installment for this so don't ask for another part bc i will cry. as always, thank you to @jadeisthirsting for beta reading, she's the loml <3

jjk masterlist

there were a few things that changed after your night with satoru. 

as he promised, he got a bigger bed for his room. he promptly ordered all your things to be moved in with his, and it didn’t take long for all your belongings to melt with his. it was different from what you were used to, but you welcomed those nights when you’d curl into his chest, tracing patterns on his bare skin as his fingers ran up and down your back as he listened to you speak. 

mornings you would find him littering kisses all over your naked body, or you’d find him in between your legs, waking you up in his own unique (much appreciated) way. satoru was insatiable and you couldn’t find a bone in your body to deny him.

he smiled more, his eyes bright as he woke up to your cheek smushed into his pecs on other mornings, not wanting to wake you up as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and pulled you closer to his body. 

everybody around you two talked in hushed tones whenever you’d pass by, obvious confusion laced in their tones, but somewhat glad to see the tension between you and your husband had simmered down. 

“he seems happier,” suguru told you one day as you leaned over the balcony, watching satoru spar with one of his men, your arms crossed over the railing as you glanced over at the man. 

“really?” you felt a faint smile tug at your cheeks as you tried to contain yourself. 

he hummed, his back to the railing, his legs crossed. he was dressed in his clans’ colors, a black tunic embroidered with red stitching covering his chest. he had come around more often ever since the feast, and he seemed more open to talk to you. 

the winds were picking up, the seasons were changing. it had been weeks since your night with him, but it felt like a lifetime had passed since then. satoru spent less time training and fighting, making as much time for you as he possibly could. you had your chair moved so that you could sit next to him during dinners, and in his free time he’d take you around the land on your horse, his face relaxed and gleaming whenever you’d turn around to look at him.

“well,” he turned to look over his shoulder, looking down at satoru, his white hair turning into a blur as he rhythmically and methodically moved, evading the wooden swords’ jabs with the agility only a seasoned fighter could have, “not right now. i think he’s trying to show off.” you snorted, rolling at your eyes at his statement (which was most likely the truth) and continued to watch him spar. sometimes you forgot of satoru’s rank amongst the other men, and watching him in this sort of state reminded you just how much he must have picked up on those years spent apart. 

“i’m happy for you two,” he said after a beat of silence passed, offering you a genuine smile as he said it. he was usually more stoic than your husband, never giving too much information off from his face unless it was absolutely necessary, and catching him in these moments would always startle you. 

“thank you,” you murmured, heat blossoming across your cheeks and neck as you kept your stare focused on your husband, not wanting to come off as too giddy. truth be told, you’ve never felt happier. 

you couldn’t remember the last time you woke up with a smile and slept with one on your face. every day it seemed that satoru was trying to win your love in different ways. he was so different from what you had seen from him the last few months, but just like the old satoru you remembered. he was teasing, always finding ways to make you laugh. 

“he told you he was going to be gone for a bit, yeah?” suguru readjusted his hair, making it so that it didn’t keep flying into his face. you nodded, holding tightly onto your clothes in hopes of preserving more heat. 

“yes,” you blew some hot air into your hands as you rubbed them together, “he said you’d be going with him.” 

“he’ll be needing as much help as he can get where he’s going,” suguru murmured, but didn’t try to hide his words as he tapped his fingers on his wrist. 

“what does that mean?” you balanced your elbows on the stone railing beneath you, brows furrowed as he shrugged nonchalantly.  

“he didn’t tell you what it was for?” if satoru was one who wasn’t above gossip then suguru was one who stirred it up. 

“he said it was a meeting with one of the eastern clans,” you say, rubbing yourself. your nose was freezing. suguru nodded, which made you feel a little more at ease. 

“did he tell you why?” you shook your head, indifferent as you looked back at your husband. he was shaking hands with the poor kid who went against him, barely breaking a sweat as he threw his sword to the side, a wide smile on his face as he looked up at you. 

“business,” you murmur, not quite giving him your full attention anymore because satoru was walking near where you were standing, craning his neck to look up at you as he grinned. 

“is he bothering you?” he called out, his chest moving up and down with labored breaths. he tried to make it seem like sparring didn’t take anything out on him and you nodded, smiling back at him. 

“i’m about to throw him off!” you called down, leaning on the railing as you gripped it tightly to ensure your balance and satoru gleamed, suguru scoffing at the interaction. 

“did you see me fighting?” he asked, and you wanted to chuckle at his words, the hopeful smile on his face as he wiped at his nose, the cold getting to him as well. 

“you fought very valiantly!” and suguru thinks that without your words and your praise, satoru would be a mess, not able to function. he wasn’t sure how he did it months without it, because he doesn’t seem to live without it.

his cheeks flush a cute pink, and you want to bottle up the way his smile grows.

“you two make me sick.” he groaned, pushing himself off the railing as he made his way inside, throwing you a playful wink as he shut the doors. the sun was beginning to set and you could see the bits of night peaking through the sky. 

you watched as satoru disappeared through the stairs, likely coming up to see you and you drummed your fingers on your arm as thoughts traveled through your mind. 

despite his playful tone, suguru’s words left a bitter taste on your tongue. even as satoru found you, pulling you close to him as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips you couldn’t get it out of your mind. he led you back inside, talking nonstop about what his men needed to improve on, but your mind began going blank.

---

dinner that night was just as it always was, but you still couldn’t find it in yourself to push past what you’d been told earlier. 

“i’m thinking of having a winter feast during the solstice,” satoru said, drinking his wine as his fingers played with yours, running down the skin of your palm as he absentmindedly pressed his thumb to the back of your hand. 

“sounds good,” you said, not quite listening as you pushed some potatoes around your plate. you should have gotten past this awkwardness to talk to him about these things, but that must have just been wishful thinking. 

“this year seems to be colder than the last, so i’ll ask shoko to see if she can bring back some furs from her clan.” he continued, oblivious to your state of being. 

“okay,” you blankly said, giving him

a short glance only to see him in his own world, plotting. 

“i’ll have one of the southern tribes see if they can bring any pomegranates in, and…” he trailed off, noticing your stare boring into the table. his fingers squeezed yours, bringing your attention to him. 

“are you alright?” he asked, and you quickly nodded, plastering on a false smile as you picked up your spoon, wringing your hand out of his. 

“mhm!” you scooped some vegetables into your mouth, spending an excessive amount of time chewing as you felt his eyes bore into the side of your face. 

he didn’t seem convinced in the slightest, a brow raising at your strange behavior. if you were trying to be funny you had an odd way of showing it. 

“do you feel sick?” he moved closer, his hands finding your forehead, pressing against your cheeks as he felt for your temperature. 

you gently pushed his hand away, holding his wrist as your feet moved quickly in anxiousness. 

this should be easier than you made it out to be. 

he looked worried, finger itching to feel you again despite your silent pleas. it was second nature for him to care about you. if he didn’t spend half the time hopelessly in love with you, he spent the other half hoping that you were doing alright. he wanted only the best for you, and vehemently tried to make up for the months he didn’t do so. 

“no, i feel fine. but,” you sighed, rubbing at your eyes as he patiently waited for you to find your words. you knew he wouldn’t lie to you, he didn’t have the ability to, but the way suguru spoke to you made it seem like there was something he wasn’t telling you, “why are you leaving? i feel as though,” you swallowed thickly, “as though i don’t fully know why.”

satoru sat back in his chair, his eyes squinting as he looked at you. it’s not like he didn’t like being asked things, but normally you didn’t seem this apprehensive about talking to him. he welcomed your queries, answering them to the best of his abilities, but he couldn’t remember the last time you seemed this nervous to talk to him about something. 

and he knew that he should have told you this before you asked, but he put it off. his fingers ran through his hair as he breathed deeply through his hair. 

“it’s with one of the eastern clans,” he started, taking another sip of his wind as his hands found yours again, as if he couldn’t breathe without having you near in some way, “do you remember that girl, the one from the feast?” 

despite him not being very specific, there was only one memorable girl from that feast. the one that he disappeared with four half an hour before he came back. your jaw clenched, nodding stiffly as you moved in your seat. he noticed your shift in emotions, trying to hide his own as he continued.

“i told you what she had tried to do, hm?” satoru seemed a bit awkward in his wording, and if it were in any other case it probably would have made you laugh. but you can only nod again, his words nothing new. he had told you about it after he spent the night with you, answering your questions as to why he had left with her. 

you could barely remember her name, but you distinctly recalled what satoru had said about her. how she had tried to come onto him, how he had forced her off. you hadn’t seen her around since, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t fully stopped making her way into your mind at random times during the day.

“ i had her clan cut off from trading with ours.”

if you were expecting any response it definitely wasn’t that. 

“…what?” you gave a startled laugh, blinking as you tried to make sense of what he had just said. 

he shrugged as if it didn’t mean much, as if that was the least that was expected of him. 

“that’s why our import of sweet potatoes and eggplants has been lower than usual. but it’s alright, i’ve already ordered for the seeds to be planted in our garden. her father is seething at the moment, it’s why i have to go see them.” he cut away at some meat, glancing at you as a smile was forcing its way onto his lips. he kept it down, watching for your reaction. 

you swallowed thickly, a feeling growing in your chest as you glanced up at him, only to find him staring back at you, a little smile on his face. 

“she had the nerve to ask to be a concubine. i’m only hoping that in this meeting we’re able to get some more of their silk imports in, it shouldn’t take too long.” 

you couldn’t find any words to respond with, but could feel a smile growing on your own face. you were the more compassionate one out of the two of you but hearing this felt like a whole different experience. 

“that’s,” you tried to hide your giddy feelings, “new.” 

satoru rolled his eyes, hooking his hands underneath your chair to pull you closer to him if it was even possible. 

“and well deserved,” he commented, kissing your cheeks as you laughed softly, his lips soft against your skin as they found their way into the places he knew you loved most. 

you tried to push him away, feeling embarrassed at the guards that stood by the door, knowing they were able to see all of this happen before them. 

“suguru was telling me about it,” you felt his hands shift, lifting you over the armrest, his strength godly as he shifted you to sit on his lap, “i just thought that something else had come up.”

gojo hummed against your skin, your dinner promptly forgotten behind you as his nose nudged at your jaw, “yeah, like what?” he enjoyed hearing your shuddering breaths, the way your fingers automatically went to tangle themselves in his soft hair. 

“i-i don’t know,” you felt weak from being breathless from so little, and we’re glad your back was to the men behind you, “but definitely not that.” 

“it was the least i could do,” he said, “i wanted her banished but my advisors warned against it. said it would cause too much chaos,” his eyes flicked to yours, inviting, challenging, “as if i wouldn’t go to war for you.” 

you felt the air in your lungs squeeze out, your hands gripping his shoulders, anything to bring you back to reality as his tongue poked at his cheek, debating some things in his head.

“out,” he spoke, loudly now so that the guards could hear, his voice commanding and starkly different from how he talked to you, “get out.” 

while he liked showing you off, but there were things only meant for his eyes and his ears.

you could hear them shuffling to leave, looking over your shoulder as you giggled at their hurried movements, the door shutting behind them as they left you and satoru alone in the dining hall. 

you turned back to him, his eyes twinkling in the faint candlelight, his hands running across your back, up and down your arms as you shifted across his lap, your clog rubbing on his hard-on as he sucked in a deep breath. 

 “you’d go to war for me?” you teased, your sweet breath fanning across his lips as his tongue poked out, his eyes glazing over as he scoffed at your ridiculous question. his hands settled on your waist, your skirts hitching upwards. 

“i’d do anything for you,” he whispered against your lips, hovering above them as his eyes held yours, “if you told me you wanted me to ransack that clan dry i’d do it.” though he was a joking sort of person, you knew his words were nothing but the truth. 

if you wanted, he’d burn down villages for you. he’d make sure that when the stories were written, your name came first. he wanted the masses to know that he was yours and that his every waking moment was spent in your presence. 

satoru was sure the stars were shifting to accommodate for the two of you, and that it would only take years before he’d look up to see you there with him, splattered across the night sky.

“as much as i’d like you to,” you kissed his neck, enjoying the way he writhed beneath you, knowing that only you had the luxury of seeing him like this, “i wouldn’t want any spillage of blood to be traced back to me. i’d like for you to come home alive.” it’s not as if you doubted his talents, nor his strength, you doubted others. 

“i’ll always find my way back to you,” he promised, tilting his head to catch your lips in a searing kiss. 

it was slow, as if he wanted to savor every moment with you. satoru was cheeky, smiling whenever he’d pull slightly away to hear your sweet whines. your fingers tugged at his hair, warning him to stop. 

his tongue pushed its way into your mouth, and it didn’t take long before the kisses turned sloppy, spit staining your chin as you slowly move your body up and down on his. 

“you drive me to shambles,” he said against your lips, a train of spit connecting the two of you together, and it was sinful the way he looked right now. lips rosy and plump, his hair messy and his smile cocky. 

“me?” you ask slyly, coyly moving up and down his dick, enjoying the way he sucked in a breath through his teeth, his fingers digging into your ass as you tilt your head to the side, “really?” 

his hands hiked up your skirt so that it bushed around your thighs, his fingers pressing against your heat as he felt the dampness seeping through your underwear, his own victorious grin plastered on his face. 

“really,” he confirmed, grabbing a hold of your wrist as he guided it to his bulge, watching your eyes gloss over, your pupils widening at the feeling of him, never really getting used to just how big satoru was. 

his finger hicked your underwear to the side, letting it sink into your warm walls, your eyes rolling back, your slick staining his skin as he brought it out, tapping your lips as he motioned for you to open your mouth. 

you did, watching as he pushed his finger in, his eyes darkening at the way you closed your lips around him, sucking him hard as you tasted yourself on him, your hips shifting to ease your aching clit. 

“taste yourself? see why i can’t get enough of you?” he prompts and you slowly nod, not breaking eye contact with him as he feels pride swell in his chest, as well as something else a little bit lower. 

“see how i can’t get enough of you?” you ask, motioning towards his hand, and he chuckles darkly, drawing his finger out as he presses a short kiss to your lips, taunting you.

“be patient,” he murmured, fully enthralled with the way your tongue moved around him, his dick straining against his pants, painful as it wanted to be let free. you could feel him twitch beneath you, growing harder, if it was even possible. 

he couldn’t even be patient himself.

“then hurry up,” you whisper, biting his ear as he groans, pushing all of the silverware and cups out from behind you, lifting you up by your thighs as he made room for you on the table, setting you down as he settled in between your legs. 

he pushed down on your chest and you followed his movements, laying down on the table, your chest heaving up and down, the feeling something you’ve never experienced before. sex with satoru was unlike anything human, and he always left you with a taste of wanting more. 

your top fell loosely against your shoulder, almost undone from all of his ministrations, and some of the wine from his cup had spilled, soaking your white fabric red. it was hard to come out of this dining hall without hiding what had happened inside. 

his hand fisted the top that covered your chest, yanking it off with a swift motion, tearing it off of you in a split second. you didn’t have time to scold him for ruining yet another one of your shirts, taking in the way his breath came out in little puffs at the sight of your naked breasts. 

“‘toru!” you yelled, swatting his hands away as you groaned, looking at what was now rags, not knowing how you were going to be able to leave this dining hall with your dignity intact. 

“what?” he looked as if he truly had no idea why you’d be mad, and then looked at the remains of your top, sheepishly scratching at his jaw as he leaned down to peck at the corner of your lips, and you begrudgingly let him. 

“‘m sorry,” he whispered against your lips, but he didn’t really sound like it, “i’ll cover you in my robes, yeah?” you rolled your eyes, flicking at his forehead. he whined, back caught your hand, kissing just above your wrist as he winked at you. you could never stay mad at him for too long because he knew just what to do to make you forget about it.

“you owe me a new one, alongside the four other ones you’ve ruined so far,” you say, eyeing it with a hefty sigh. satoru nodded insistently, his hands wandering down your torso as he got himself distracted. his hands were so large, and you would never get tired of the way he looked at you.

“how ‘bout i make it up to you, hm?” and you didn’t have any restraint in you as you nodded slowly, knowing that you were the only person who could make him like this, the only person who could have the gojo satoru in such a vulnerable and loving way.

he began bunching up your skirt once again, sinking down to his knees as your back arched off of the table, using your elbow to stabilize yourself as your head tilted backward at the feeling of his fingers pushing past your walls. 

your underwear was thrown to the side, disregarded as his tongue poked at your entrance, his thumb flicking over your sensitive nub, knowing just the way to make you go crazy. he slurped up all you had to offer, the sounds too much for you to handle, cheek heating up. 

he took his time, wanting to make you feel every pleasurable feeling known to man as he ate you out. you would never get tired of the way he could reach that spongy spot inside of you that your fingers never could. 

“you taste like so fucking sweet,” satoru’s eyes found yours, glinting as his nose nudged at your clit. it was too much, the way he ate you like he had never tasted anything better. he hadn’t and he was sure that sin was below you. 

his other hand found your tits, palming them, squeezing at the flesh as he rubbed at your nipples, hardening against him as you whined, fisting the tablecloth beneath you as you panted, it was just so hard to get used to this. 

“f-fuck, ‘toru, please…” you could barely muster up any words, his thumb swiping at your clit in a delicious way, his tongue prodding at your walls. 

“please what?” he teased, enjoying the way he could make you unravel, the way that nobody else could hear the way you’d sing just for him. 

“faster, mhh, shit!” you liked the way he obediently listened to you, his tongue and fingers moving per your request, and you felt your stomach clenching, your release threatening to come at any moment.

it was embarrassing just how fast he could bring you to this sort of state, but he reveled in it. he knew what you liked and disliked, how to tease you to make you cry even louder for him. he was a master in everything he did, and he wasn’t one to fail. 

“who does this to you?” he asked, knowing he was fucking you dumb even without his cock. 

“y-you, you ‘toru,” you couldn’t look at him, everything hot as sweat dotted at your forehead, “only you.” 

a cheshire grin found its way onto his face. 

“come on, know you can do it,” he pushed you further, his fingers joining his tongue, and it was just too much, prodding at the place that made you see stars. he looked just as wrecked as you, with your own essence smeared all over his chin, mixing with his spit, but he couldn’t have had it any other way. 

“‘m ‘gonna…fuck, ‘toru, i’m ‘gonna come…” you breathed out, and it didn’t take long till you did. 

the feeling was unlike any other, your walls clamping around him, your release gushing out, your stomach clenched, and your back arched, spasming around his fingers. he didn’t stop until he was sure you had ridden out your orgasm, watching the beautiful way your tits moved up and down with your every breath, the way the light bounced off your skin. you were a heavenly being and nothing you told him could convince him otherwise. 

he slowly stood up, his hands finding purchase on your hips as he gently pulled you closer to the edge of the table, giving you some time to come back down to earth as he slowly tapped his fingers on the expanse of your naked skin.

“you good?” you groaned, hitting his chest lightly as he chuckled, his eyes softening as he looked more at you. he was so sure that the love he held in his chest was going to seep out that it made him worried, knowing that others could love you the same way, selfishly wanting you just to himself.

“you’re so annoying,” you say, rubbing at your face, eyeing the bulge in his pants, feeling your mouth salivate at the sight. 

“you love it though,” and you couldn’t even argue because you did. you loved all the little things about him, the things he hid away from the public eye and saved just for you. it reminded you that he was yours and you were his and nothing was ever going to change it. 

“i put up with it,” you say, watching him pout, his white hair all messy and his cheeks rosy. 

“you’re so mean,” he whined, but only kissed the tip of your nose as he said it. his swift fingers made use of unbuttoning the buttons of his pants, hooking a finger around them as he tugged it down, his cock springing free as it hit his chest. 

he was long, curving to the right. his dick was pretty, just like the rest of him, and you would never get tired of seeing it flushed red, leaking pre as he shuddered against the cold, biting air. his mushroomed tip was aching to push past your walls, and you obliged him, slowly moving so that your hands found him. 

he sucked in a breath as your fingers wrapped around his length, expertly moving up and down in a teasing manner, your thumb swiping at his head as his pre stained your skin. his chest was moving in a crazed pattern, as if his lungs weren’t working properly, and he watched as your hands moved up and down, up and down. 

“s-stop, i don’t want to,” he scrambled before he embarrassed himself and finished from just your hands, tugging your fingers away from his aching cock as you looked up at him through your lashes, knowing just what made him go crazy for you. 

“hurry up ‘toru, i need you sooo bad,” you whined, your voice laced with something that made him lose all sense of control, and he quickly nodded, his hands gripping your thighs as he tugged you closer to himself. 

it would have been easier if he had you perched on the table with your back to him, but he couldn’t risk not being able to see your face, the way your mouth opened and your eyes squeezed shut, so he lined himself up with your entrance instead, knowing this was the only way he could fuck you. 

his dick prodded at your entrance, his bulbous head pushing past your walls that were still tight, squeezing him as he slowly inched your forehead, the two of you moaning in unison at the snug fit. 

“shit, you’re so tight, how,” his lip caught between his teeth, and his eyes flickered over to yours, “how are you so tight?” his grip on your hips was bruising, but you welcomed the marks, loving the fact that when you woke up the two of you would carry each other on your skin.

“stop talking ‘toru,” your hands hooked around his neck, tugging him in closer as your lips slotted against his, your teeth clashing as your pussy fluttered against him, your noses rubbing against each other, “fuck me…please.” 

and he did, pushing all of himself in, and your head tipped backward at the sting, gripping onto his arms as he let you adjust to his size, his cock twitching in your heat, and his jaw clenched, refraining himself from moving just yet. 

when you gave him the nod to move he slowly inched out, his dick shining in the light, before he slammed himself back in, your cries filling the vast space as he began to fuck you the way he wanted, his lips finding your neck as you thrust your hips against his. 

it was always delirious when the two of you fucked, your bodies meeting at one point that drove each of you to your own euphoria. satoru tried to be slow and gentle, but after a bit, he couldn’t anymore, picking up his pace as his head kept hitting your g spot. 

“love you s’much ‘toru,” your fingers curled in his hair, your other hand scratching lines down his back as the squelching sound resonated around you, “f-fuck-” he cut you off with a chaste kiss, dropping his head to your breasts as he sucked at them, positioning himself in and out of you with all his strength. 

“i know, i know sweetheart,” he murmured against your spit soaked skin, rubbing gently at the marks he left, “i’m yours, all for you,” he promised, his thumb finding your clit as he swiped at it, enjoying the way you mewled for him to go faster. 

your eyes fall all over his naked skin, at the way sweat dots on both of your bodies, and the way satoru can’t contain his moans and whines when he sinks in and out of you. the sounds he makes are for you only, and you want to damn anybody who longs to hear them too. 

“you feel s’good,” you kiss at his chest, his tunic slipping down him as the buttons and knots become undone, your fingers tugging them down so you could have more area to kiss and suckle at, “s’big ‘toru.” 

he loves how your voice gets breathy, the way you can’t keep your hands to yourself and can barely formulate a thought. he fucks you like he hates you, but that’s only because he doesn’t know how else to show you just how much you mean to him. 

“yeah? this dick makes you dumb?” you nod helplessly, feeling like you were going to go insane with the way his veins dragged alongside your walls, at the way your pussy was molding to the shape of him. 

“yes!” you cried out, nails digging into his skin, and he encouraged you to leave more lines, knowing that once he had to take off his shirt for training and the men around his eyes the scratches on his back they’d know who left them. 

“are you ‘gonna come? come with me, know you want to,” his hips are shuttering as if he can barely keep his release at bay, “know you can sweetheart,” and you whine even louder, his thumb relentlessly attacking your clit as your legs wrap tightly around him, keep him from straying too far away from your body. 

“mhh fuck, ‘toru m’gonna, fuck…!” you felt your release come before you could even stop yourself, spasming around his dick as you wailed, creaming around his dick as the tablecloth bunched beneath you, the wine spilling everywhere as your husband came just seconds after you. 

you felt his hot release in you, your walls hugging him in as your eyes rolled back, white dotting your vision as he pumped himself inside of you, keeping his dick in for a little while longer. your orgasm was so powerful that you wondered if you were going to be able to walk after this, feel yourself pulse around nothing as satoru slowly pulled himself out of you, his cum seeping out and sticking to your doughy thighs. 

it was a mess; wine and cum everywhere, but your laughter slowly filled the heated room, laughing at the entire prospect of this. 

“what?” he nudged at your jaw, kissing your cheekbones as he smiled at the sound, “was that not to your liking?” 

you snorted, shaking your head as your legs dropped from his waist, leaning back on your hands as you looked around, taking in the mess as you heaved out a sigh, knowing that there definitely wasn’t any way to hide what you had done now. especially since you were sure that anybody within a twenty-foot radius could have heard you as well.��

“it was fine,” you teased, watching him huff in annoyance because the two of you knew that it was far from fine. 

“just fine?” he asked, scooping a finger into your pussy, watching the way your head fell onto his shoulder, smearing his cum around just for extra measure, chuckling to himself when he felt you lightly bite his skin. 

“you’re painfully full of yourself,” you comment, your skirt falling back down as it hid your fluttering pussy, making it seem as if he hadn’t just fucked you dumb seconds ago, and satoru tugged you closer to his chest, his hands sprawling across the naked expanse of your back. 

“only because i love you so much,” and he wasn’t lying, but you knew that his cockiness stemmed from himself. 

the two of you smiled, your rings shining and you looked out the window to see the moon up, a chill running through the curtains, ruffling them as it hit your skin and you shuddered. 

as if he suddenly remembered your top was ruined, now resembling cleaning rags, he shrugged off the robe that was resting on the back of his chair as he settled it across your chest, buttoning up the buttons for you as you let him work. 

it had some of his military rankings on it, a deep blue that resembled the clan's colors, and you instantly felt warmer in the wool. 

“‘toru?” you twirled some of his baby hairs around your fingers, your voice hoarse but soft. 

he looked up, feeling awestruck by the way you looked right now. he loved the glow you radiated after a round of him pounding into you, the way your skin was shining and you had a content look on your face, resonating deep within him.

“hm?” his thumb ran across your face, tracing your features as he did every night, committing them to memory. 

“come home safe,” you whispered, lashes fluttering against your cheeks as you held his unoccupied hand in yours, your fingers cradling his larger ones, “don’t do anything stupid, please.” 

he went to make a joke but stopped himself when he saw your serious stare, his mouth opening and then shutting until he nodded, smiling carefully, holding heavy emotions as he gave you a smaller, more understanding nod.

“okay,” he murmured, but you shook your head, not satisfied with his answer. 

“promise me,” and he hated and loved the fact that he couldn’t deny you anything. 

“i promise,” he whispered against your lips, bringing you closer as his tongue swiped against yours, your lips swollen and plush, just the way he liked it. 

and he held true to his promise, returning only a week later with a promise of no sort of war between the eastern clan. but according to suguru, your husband had shed off his clothes when he had to fight one of their men, everybody around him, including the girl, had seen the scratches and bruises you had left for him, 

just as he intended.

taglist: @chieeeeeee, @yxnjvnnie, @ladytamayolover, @iheartlinds

[thetriumphantpanda]

be my Venus of the stars | general marcus acacius

Summary | He's been visiting you for months, fresh off the battlefield, to be cleaned and reborn, but this time, something is different, this time, he might finally touch you back.

Pairing | General Marcus Acacius x F!Reader

Word Count | 2.8K

Warnings | Set in a bath-house, it is suggested that reader is a sex worker, The General™️ is dirty and needs a bath, as historically accurate as I could make it, use of Latin terms of endearment, explicit smut, handjob, fingering, oral sex (f), unprotected PiV, creampie, marking during sex, mention of ancient roman methods of.... not getting pregnant, no use of y/n, reader is a blank slate but does wear a dress.

Authors Note | Listen, I know we know literally nothing about this man, but what I do know is that he looks like a needs a bath and a nice lady to help him destress... so here we are. Leave it to the archaeologist to fall head over heels for the roman general, right? Whilst my ancient archaeological interest has always been Greece, you best believe this is right up my street. We won't talk about the amount of academic papers I read to make this as historically accurate as possible. I hope you love this, and if you do, please consider reblogging, commenting and screaming with me in my ask box!

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Divider by the ever wonderful @saradika

He’s weary, his body drooped from the weight of his armour, but you suspect there are other things that are weighing him down too.

He’s been gone a while, sent away to some far-fought battle, never knowing if the view of his back when he leaves will be the last you ever see of him or not.

As he always does, he drops a coin purse onto the table, sliding it across to the bathhouse owner, before he turns, eyes scanning the room until they land on you. Always you, only you, he’s never paid attention to anyone else in this damned place and he never will. His face is covered in dust, dirt and grime, his clothes in no better shape - you know you have your work cut out for you, but you find that when it’s him, you don’t mind at all.

It’s a familiar dance, how he follows a few steps behind you, the clinking of armour filling the hallway as you lead him to the private bath. You do as you always do, and open the door, letting him move inside as you let the door click shut behind you.

The hour is late, candles the only source of light, the sounds from the street below filling the silence as you ready the water for him. Warmed already, you drop a few rose petals into the water and pick out the oil you know he likes. It strikes you then that he’s not undressing, something he normally does himself. Instead, he stands at the window, staring out into the darkness.

“It is ready, sir.” You speak softly, motioning your hand to the bath when he turns around.

“Come,” he all but whispers, “Help me.”

You step closer, following his lead as he starts to undo whatever straps keep his heavy armour in place, dropping his hands when he knows you’ve got the hang of it. You take it off, piece by piece, setting it gently on the ground until he’s just in the under layers he wears.

Night is falling, and the candles in the room and the orange light from outside bathe him in gold as he motions for you to do the rest. Your hands, trailing up his body, lifting the tunic he’s wearing under his armour, over his head. There’s a hiss of pain as he lifts his arm, then a sigh of relief his tunic is gone, and it’s at this moment, that you realise he hasn’t stopped looking at you.

This man, born and bred for the fight, with brown eyes softer than you’ve ever seen staring down at you as you undress him.

“You can touch me.” You offer.

You look at him, eyes through eyelashes, as his roam across your body, draped in cotton and pinned in just the right place to accentuate every inch of you - it was a gift from a wealthy customer many years ago, a traveller who had taken to you, promised to take you with him but left you with nothing but a nice dress.

He goes to reach out, but stops short of touching the material, “It is such a pretty dress,” he muses, stepping back from you to let the final garment he’s wearing drop to the floor, “I must bathe first.’

You aren’t shy in the way you look at him, you’ve seen him without clothes more times than you care to admit, you’ve touched him, made him sigh, made him cum more than once, but he’s never once reached out to you. But there’s something different tonight, something charged, and as he walks towards the bath, muscles in his back rippling as he does, you wonder if tonight might be the night you finally know what it is to be touched by him.

He lowers himself into the warm water, groaning as he settles his back against the metal, warm from the water and from the fire lit to keep it that way.

You do as always and kneel beside it, picking up the small bowl on the table next to you. You scoop some water into it and let it drain across his curls, his head tipped back because he knows this dance. Fingers run through his wet hair, freeing his locks from the weeks of dirt and sand and blood and fight, until the water runs clear.

Then, you move onto his body. It’s arguably your favourite part, letting your hands run across his skin. He rests his arms on the lip of the bath, a well-rehearsed dance now, and lets your pour the scented oil onto his skin. You massage it in, thumbs digging in where his armour has left marks, easing weeks of tension with firm presses. You use the strigel to scrape the oil and the dirt off until his skin is clean.

Only once you have used your hands to rinse him off do you consider moving lower. You always do, run oil soaked hands up and down his legs under the water, feel his muscles tighten when you drag them higher, which is how it always ends up with your firm hand wrapped around his cock. Your fingers dip below the water but his strong fingers grip at your wrist as they go to drift lower to his legs.

You let him guide your hand, your eyes meeting his own chocolate-brown orbs, which are blown wide and dark, as he shows you what he really wants. No preamble this time, as your fingers meet the skin of his semi-hard length.

“I haven’t finished.” You purr at him, letting your fingers close around him anyway.

“I find I don’t care,” He speaks back, tone low, “I have been gone for weeks, this is all I want.”

You watch as his head tips back and his body lowers into the water when you start the languid pumps of your hand up and down his cock, gripping tighter when you reach the tip, loosening when you move down. You’ve seen him for years, you know how he likes it, slow to start with, faster to bring him over the edge.

There’s something different this time though, of all the years he’s seen you, he’s never once touched you, only ever a tight grip on your arm as he comes, or a drag of his thumb across your cheek when he leaves. His grip tightens around your wrist enough to still your movements, then, he’s dragging your hand away. You wonder for a moment if you’ve done something wrong, until he shifts and stands.

You’ve seen him without his clothes enough times to know every dip of his body, ever mark and scar that he’s accumulated, but as he stands now, water dripping from his skin, cock hard and heavy in front of you, he looks nothing short of God-like. All the statues in all of Rome could never compare to this man in front of you.

Standing from your place on your knees, you watch as he steps from the bath, water pooling on the floor as he walks towards you. He lets a hand drape across your waist, palm flat against your back as he pulls your body to his own, wet skin against dry garments, head dipped so his mouth is a whisper away from your own.

“Tell me I can,” He asks, “I want to kiss you.”

You let your hands entwine at the back of his neck, wet curls locked between fingers, so you can drag him closer to you. When his lips finally meet yours, all the years of wondering what it was like prove worth it. They’re chapped, dry from whatever battlefield he’s been within, but it’s perfect, as they slant across yours and he pulls your body tighter to his own. He’s gentle, unlike other men, his tongue is tentative as it drags across your bottom lip, mouth opening against your own as his tongue melds with yours behind your teeth.

There is movement that you only register at the last moment, when the backs of your knees hit the bed in the corner of your room. You tumble down upon it, lying and watching as he watches you, fist tight around his own cock as you start to undrape your dress from your skin. His eyes rove across your body when you finally reveal yourself to him, spreading your legs for him, letting your hands cup your breasts.

“You do this for everyone?” He asks quietly, settling himself between your open legs, his cock resting against your mound.

“Maybe,” You respond, “But you’re the only person I want to do this for.”

“Do they treat you well?” He murmurs, laying his body across your own, the weight on him on top of you making your cunt pulse.

“Some do, some don’t.” You shrug, cupping his face with your hands.

“Any of them make you come?”

You shake your head against the bed, “They come here for their own pleasure, sir.”

“My pleasure is your pleasure,” He whispers against your ear, “Tell me, has anyone ever kissed you here?”

One of his hands drags down your body, his hips lifted enough to let his hand cover your cunt.

“N-no,” You choke, the heat of his hand stifling against you, “They h-haven’t.”

“Would you let me?”

You nod, words failing you, as he lets his mouth drag down the naked skin of your body until his broad shoulders are settled between your thighs, pushing them apart, spreading you obscenely wide for himself.

His mouth is hot as it kisses the skin of your pussy, soft feather-light touches to every inch of skin. His thumbs pull your folds apart, baring every intimate inch of you to him, and then it’s all ecstasy as that wonderful mouth clasps around the bundle of nerves that you know so intimately of yourself, but others seem to forget.

It makes you buck your hips into his mouth, pressing further into the feeling of absolute bliss as the tip of his tongue flicks fast and then slow across it in undeterminable patterns. One of his hands splays across your stomach to keep you still, as he switches from the tip of his tongue to the flat. You can hear the slurping from between your legs, can feel your slick leaking from your cunt at his ministrations, the moans he lets out when his tongue dips lower to taste you - he’s enjoying this just as much as you are, a man committed to making you feel good before anything else.

There a knots twisting in your stomach, a fire that you know only from your own hand spreading across your lower body, you’re close, and you think he knows it too.

He brings his mouth back to your clit, lips enveloping it whole as he sucks it into his mouth, rolling his tongue across it as you feel two of his fingers slip inside your wet cunt, curling upwards almost immediately.

“Gods,” you breathe out, letting fingers tangle in his quickly drying hair, “I’m- oh fuck - so close.”

He continues just as he is as your body starts to convulse. Your eyes clamped shut, sweat pooling in crevices you didn’t know you had, until his tongue flicks just right and you’re snapping, coming undone. Body arched into his mouth as your cunt clamps tight around his fingers, as pleasure bursts across every inch of your skin. His tongue doesn’t let up until you whimper quietly that it’s too much, chest heaving and vision blurry.

His body clambers atop yours once more, hot skin against hot skin, his lips at your neck as he fumbles between your bodies, hand guiding his heavy, hard cock to nudge at your leaking centre.

“Tell me it’s okay,” he breathes against your skin, “Tell me I can have you like this.”

You moan, hips moving upwards into his own, heavy arms wrapping around his neck, “I’ve wanted this for so long,” you whine, feeling the tip of his cock right where you want it, “Please,” you beg, “Please, put me out of my misery.”

One of his hands grips your chin, turns your face to his. He’s so close, his eyes burning with lust you’ve never seen before, his forehead pressed to yours.

“Look at me,” he begs, shaking your head a little when you close your eyes at the feeling of him starting to push inside, “I want to see you when I do this.”

So you do, eyes open and boring into his own as he slips his cock into you. He’s big, bigger than you think you’ve had before, your mouth drops open as he slowly feeds every inch of himself into your cunt, stilling and sucking in his breath when he can go no further.

“I have dreamt of this,” he speaks softly as he drags himself out of you, “Wondered what you would feel like,” then he pushes back in, all at once this time, “It is nothing like I imagined.”

His face is buried in the crook of your neck now, his hips pulling back only to push back in again, tip of his cock brushing against that spot inside you that makes you keen, fingernails digging into his arms as you hold on.

“Is it better, General?” You ask in his ear, “Am I all your dreams come true?”

He answers with a hard thrust of his cock, causing a shrill shriek from your throat as the tip bruises at the very depths of you.

“It is everything I wanted and more, carrisima.”

He pushes himself back from you, cock still buried deep, and gathers your legs, hooking them over his arms before he presses forward again, bending your body in a way you know will make you ache tomorrow.

His hips pull back, before the slam back into you, his heavy balls slapping against your ass, as he sets a pace that you’re not even sure the God’s could keep up with. The room filled with nothing but the sounds of his skin slapping against yours, the wet squelch of your cunt sucking him in on every thrust, and the hot pants and moans from the two of you.

You let your arms reach around, palms against the toned muscles of his ass. You squeeze and dig fingernails into skin on each bruising thrust, head thrown back to let him press forward enough to suck at your neck, teeth nipping and tongue soothing. No-one but him would get away with marking you.

“I’m close,” he manages to choke out, “Tell me I can fill you.”

You’ve waited too long to feel him like this to deny him. You would go to the healer in the morning for a cyreniac balm, but all you wanted right now was to feel him claim you, to make you his in every possible sense.

“Fill me, General,” you moan, “Let me feel you, please.”

It does take long, his hips faltering, stilling into your on one final thrust. He growls into the night air, his cock throbbing within you, the feeling of his seed painting your walls makes you hungry for more. He collapses on top of you, softening cock still deep inside you, as you wrap your arms around him, run comforting fingers through his hair as he recovers his breath.

Finally, he slips himself from your heat and rolls onto his back, dragging you with him to drape across his chest, one hand on your lower back, the other placed atop yours on his chest.

“I go back to war soon,” he speaks quietly, mouth pressed to your forehead, “I-“ he stutters for a moment, “I’m not sure I will make it back this time.”

You lean up and press a soft kiss to his jaw, “You are lucky, Sir,” you speak, “I think the Gods look upon you.”

“I feel a premonition,” he explains, “I couldn’t go back without knowing what it was to have you.”

You move the hand you have on his chest to entwine your fingers with his own, “You must come back, I cannot live without you now I know you like this.”

He smiles a little, shifts the two of you so you are both led on your sides looking at each other. His big palm traces down your side, resting at your hip.

“I will try, mea columba,” he whispers, kissing the tip of your nose, “But for now,” he rolls you gently to your back, fingers trailing back through your folds, slipping inside you, gathering his come and your slick on his fingers, dragging it up to circle your clit softly, “We must make the most of the time we have left together.”

[enderlovez]

It's Okay

Spencer Reid x BAU Reader WORD COUNT: 1000+

Summary: You and Spencer have to comfort a little girl after she finds her parents dead in her home, and your odd tactics work surprisingly well.

Content Warning: guns and violence, mentions of murder, blood, strange methods of calming a child down, dead bodies mentioned, broken glass, scared children

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

The house is unnervingly silent.

Bloodstains and shards of broken glass litter the carpet around the bodies as you carefully step around them, you and Spencer moving cautiously towards the bedroom.

From inside comes the faint, muffled sound of sobbing. Through the cracked door you can see a little girl—Harper—curled up tightly in the corner, clutching a worn stuffed rabbit as though it's her only lifeline.

You glance at Spencer, your expression heavy. This is always the hardest part of the job: dealing with the survivors, especially ones this young and scared. Spencer offers you a faint nod, his own nerves masked by his calm demeanor.

You open the door slowly, kneeling down to meet Harper's line of sight. "Hey there," you say softly, careful not to startle her. "I'm Y/N, and this is Spencer. We're here to help you."

She doesn't answer, her tear-filled eyes darting between the two of you. Your chest tightens as her tiny frame trembled, her grip on the stuffed animal tightening further.

Spencer kneels beside you, his voice just as soft and measured as he addresses the young girl. "We promise, we're not gonna hurt you. We're here to keep you safe."

Her bottom lip quivers, but she doesn't speak. You can practically feel the weight of her fear, and your usual comforting words don't seem enough right now. You briefly look at Spencer, then back at her—time to get a little creative.

You stand and cross the room, kneeling again when you're right in front of her.

Reaching for your holster, you carefully pull out your sidearm and hold it up in a non-threatening way, your finger nowhere near the trigger. "Do you know what this is, Harper?" you ask, your voice calm and steady.

Please don't backfire on me...

Her sobs pause for a moment, her wide eyes fixed on the gun. "A... a gun?" she whispers.

"That's right," you say, your tone light as if you're discussing her favorite toy. "It's my job to use this to protect people, to keep them safe. And right now, I'm here to keep you safe. Me and Floppy," you add with a smile, nodding toward her bunny.

Spencer glances at you, his eyebrows raises slightly in surprise, but he doesn't stop you. You know what you're doing—or at least you hope you do.

"Can I see it?" Harper asks hesitantly, her curiosity momentarily overpowering her fear.

"Not this one—it's very grown up," you say with a small chuckle, slipping the gun back into its holster. "But maybe someday, when you're older and want to be a hero too. For now, just know that it's here, and it'll keep you safe."

Harper blinks, her tears slowing as she processes your words in her little six year old brain. "You'd use it for me?"

"Absolutely," you say firmly without hesitation, leaning in a little closer. "You're really important to us, Harper. We're going to make sure nothing bad happens to you."

Spencer finally chimes in, appearing beside you, his voice gentle but slightly amused. "And I can vouch for Y/N. She's a very good shot."

The faintest ghost of a smile crosses Harper's face, and your shoulders relax slightly. "You're like superheroes," she says, her voice so quiet you would've missed it if you weren't paying so much attention.

"Exactly," you say, grinning. "Superheroes with badges and really big teamwork. And guess what? Superheroes are really good at making sure kids like you are okay."

Harper nods, her fingers loosening their death grip on Floppy. "Okay," she murmurs, edging closer to you, "but I'm still scared."

"That's okay too," you assure her. "Being scared just means you're brave enough to face things that are hard. And right now, you're doing and amazing job, Harper."

She hesitates, then leans forward slightly, her small frame still trembling but no longer frozen in fear. She wraps her little arms around your waist, face pressed into your stomach. You take her into your arm, tracing shapes on her back with your pointer finger.

You glance at Spencer, who's watching you with a mix of admiration and mild disbelief. He mouths, Really? The gun?

You shrug subtle in response, your lips quirking up.

After a moment, Harper looks up from your stomach, her eyes still red but clearer now. "Will you stay here?" she asks.

"We'll stay as long as you need us," you answer instantly, tone as warm and reassuring as you can make it. "You're not alone anymore, Harper. Are you tired?"

She nods, so you lift her up off the floor and lay her down on her bed, only laying beside her when she gently tugs on your shirt. She immediately snuggles up against you, clutching onto you with one of her death grips, but you don't care.

Her breathing starts to even out, and for the first time tonight, the tension in the room begins to lift.

When Morgan peeks into the room a few minutes later to check in, he raises an eyebrow at the sight of you—Spencer sitting at the end of the bed, you actually laid down with Harper's arms wrapped tightly around you, tight enough to actually make breathing a little difficult.

"You two good?" he asks, glancing between the three of you.

"Superheroes don't leave their missions unfinished," you reply with a wink, gently stroking Harper's hair, and Morgan shakes his head, muttering something about your methods as he leaves.

One Harper is finally asleep, Spencer leans towards you, his voice low. "You know, not every kid finds guns comforting."

"Worked on her, didn't it?" you whisper back, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

Spencer rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of a smile on his face. "Only you would use a weapon as a comfort object."

"She needed to feel like we can keep her safe," you reply, looking down at Harper's peaceful face, "and I think we nailed it."

He chuckles softly, his hand brushing against yours for a brief moment. "You're not wrong." A brief pause. "Wait, how'd you know the rabbit's name?"

You silently gesture to a drawing on the wall, a little girl and a rabbit holding hands, Harper and Floppy written in blue crayon beneath it.

[extinctlesspains]

Can I request like a Jun-ho x reader fic? If like in season one where everyone was let go the reader tries reporting the games to the police like Gi-hun and decides not to go back to the games.

𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑒 [𝐻. 𝐽𝑢𝑛-𝐻𝑜]

.・。.・゜✭・

.・。.・゜✭・

ʀᴇᴏ̨ᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ:ʏᴇs ᴏʀ ɴᴏ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʜᴡᴀɴɢ ᴊᴜɴ-ʜᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ғʟᴜғғ, ᴀɴɢsᴛ.

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ʀᴇʟᴇᴀsᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀᴍᴇs ᴀʟᴏɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀs, ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴘᴏʀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏʀʀᴏʀs ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪᴛɴᴇssᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇ. ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ɢʀᴀᴘᴘʟɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ғᴇᴀʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴜɪʟᴛ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴊᴜɴ-ʜᴏ, ᴀ ᴅᴇᴛᴇʀᴍɪɴᴇᴅ ᴅᴇᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ɪɴᴠᴇsᴛɪɢᴀᴛɪɴɢ sɪᴍɪʟᴀʀ ᴅɪsᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇs. ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ, ʏᴏᴜ ғᴏʀᴍ ᴀɴ ᴀʟʟɪᴀɴᴄᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢʀᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ɪs ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀs ʟᴜʀᴋɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ sʜᴀᴅᴏᴡs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛs ᴊᴜɴ-ʜᴏ ɪs ᴋᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ.

ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs: ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛ ᴋɪᴅɴᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ?

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

The neon lights of Seoul blurred together in the rain, streaking down the bus window as you leaned your forehead against the cold glass. Your stomach churned as memories of the games clawed at your mind—the screams, the blood, the deafening sound of the gunshots. You gripped the strap of your bag tighter.

You had tried to forget. You had tried to convince yourself it was a nightmare, but the numbers tattooed in your mind—263, 157,403 —were proof it was all real. Now, with the bus rattling beneath you, you were heading to the only place you thought might bring justice: the police station.

As you stepped into the brightly lit station, your damp clothes clung to you, but you didn’t care. Approaching the counter, you cleared your throat, your voice trembling. “I need to report a crime.”

The officer at the desk didn’t look up. “Fill out a form and wait your turn.”

“No, you don’t understand,” you insisted, your voice rising slightly. “This is serious. People are dying. They’re being killed in some kind of… twisted game!”

That caught his attention, but the skeptical look on his face made your heart sink.

“Listen, we get all kinds of stories here—”

“It’s not a story!” you snapped, desperation creeping into your tone. “I was there! I saw it. Hundreds of people died, and there’s a man—he’s organizing it. I don’t know his name, but he—”

“That’s enough,” a firm voice interrupted.

You turned to see a young detective stepping out from the back room, his sharp eyes locking onto yours. His presence was commanding, yet there was something about him that felt steady, grounded.

“Detective Hwang Jun-ho,” he introduced himself, extending a hand. “Let’s talk in private.”

You hesitated before nodding, following him to a small, cramped office. He gestured for you to sit, then leaned against the desk, arms crossed.

“All right,” he said. “Tell me everything.”

You recounted the games in halting detail—the masked figures, the deadly competitions, the promises of wealth that lured everyone in. Jun-ho listened intently, his expression unreadable but his questions sharp.

“Why didn’t you go to the police immediately?” he asked.

“I…” You faltered. “I was scared. They let us go, but they’re watching us. I know it. If they find out I came here—”

“You did the right thing,” he said, his tone softer now. “But you’re not the only one to come forward with a story like this.”

Your eyes widened. “You’ve heard about this before?”

“Not exactly,” Jun-ho admitted. “But my brother disappeared months ago. All I have is a card with a strange symbol—circle, triangle, square. It sounds like what you described."

Jun-ho’s jaw clenched, and he turned away for a moment, breathing deeply. When he faced you again, his resolve was clear.

“We need to expose this,” he said. “But I can’t do it alone. I need your help.”

The weight of his words pressed down on you. You wanted to run, to forget, but something in his eyes—an unyielding determination, a flicker of vulnerability—kept you rooted.

“I’ll help,” you said quietly.

In the days that followed, you and Jun-ho worked in secret, piecing together the fragments of the puzzle. He was methodical, relentless, but he had a way of putting you at ease when your nerves frayed.

One evening, as you sat in his dimly lit apartment poring over documents, he glanced at you. “Why did you go back to the station after being dismissed the first time?”

You hesitated. “Because if I didn’t do something, all those people… they would’ve died for nothing.”

Jun-ho nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You’re braver than you think.”

You looked away, heat rising to your cheeks. “I don’t feel brave.”

“Courage isn’t about not being afraid,” he said. “It’s about acting despite the fear.”

His words lingered in the air, unspoken emotions swirling between you.

The night the masked men came for you for going to the police, Jun-ho was ready. They underestimated him, just as they underestimated your resolve. Together, you fought back, and though bruised and battered, you managed to escape.

As you leaned against the wall of a deserted alley, catching your breath, Jun-ho reached for your hand.

“You’re safe now,” he said, his voice steady despite the chaos.

You met his gaze, tears welling in your eyes. “What about you? They know who you are now.”

“They’ve known for a while,” he admitted. “But I’ll keep fighting. For my brother. For everyone they’ve hurt. And for you.”

His words broke something inside you, the dam of emotions you’d been holding back. Without thinking, you threw your arms around him, clinging to him like a lifeline.

Jun-ho hesitated for only a moment before wrapping his arms around you, his hold firm yet gentle.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he murmured.

[hoe4hotchner]

Heyyy, I have a request, for HotchxReader in a established relationship, and i don’t know if you have tiktok but there are these tiktoks I watch about scenarios with a healthy relationship after a toxic one, and I think it would be really cute if you did that with Hotch or reader!! If not I totally understand!!! I love your work and can’t wait for more!! 🫶🏻

Dirty Laundry | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader | WC: 0.8k | CW: Hurt/comfort I guess, trauma response, previous toxic relationship, implied abuse i think it qualifies as. Hotch being the best man ever.

You stood by the dresser, carefully folding the last of the laundry, a rhythm you’d long since perfected. Each item was handled with accuracy, creases smoothed with your fingers before you folded and refolded until the edges were perfectly aligned. It was calming, in some way, a way to create order out of chaos, to make things look perfect like they’d just been pulled out of a bag.

Aaron appeared in the doorway, fresh from his shower, wearing a washed-out t-shirt from law school and sweatpants, his hair was still damp and slightly messy. He paused, leaning one shoulder against the frame, watching you silently for a moment. His gaze softened as he took in the way your hands moved, delicate but methodical, almost like folding laundry was some kind of sacred ritual to you.

His own instinct would’ve been to hang the shirt on a hanger or toss it in a drawer, where it’d wrinkle anyway. Besides, he would iron it in the morning before work anyway, so he didn't see the big deal in folding it as neatly as you did. But you folded everything with such care, as if giving even this small task your full attention.

“Do you always fold like that?” he asked, his voice soft and curious.

You froze.

Your breath hitched, your mind stumbling over itself to process his words. Was that judgment? Was I doing it wrong?

“I—” Your voice stuttered, and you turned around to face him, holding the neatly folded shirt against your chest like a shield. “I’m sorry,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t mean to— I can stop doing it like this if you don’t like it. I swear, I wasn’t trying to—”

“Whoa, whoa,” Aaron interrupted, his voice was low but firm, his hands already reaching out as he closed the distance between you. “Hey, sweetheart, slow down. It’s okay.”

You couldn’t stop, the spiral pulling you under as memories of sharp words and cold glares from someone else—someone from the past—filled your mind. “Why do you always do things like this? Can’t you just listen for once?” The panic bubbled up, it was hot and suffocating.

“I’ll change how I do it,” you promised, your voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to upset you—”

“Stop,” he said, his hands gently but firmly finding your shoulders. The weight of his touch anchored you as his thumbs brushed soothing circles against your arms. Aaron moved his thumbs a little harder, putting pressure into his touch as he tried to ease the tension in your muscles. “That’s not what I meant at all.”

You blinked up at him, tears already pooling in your eyes, making his concerned face blur. “I thought—”

“I wasn’t criticizing you,” he said cutting you off before your thoughts took over completely, his voice was gentle yet steady, and his eyes locked onto yours with care. “I wasn’t upset. I was just curious. That’s all. I think it’s sweet how you fold everything so perfectly.”

Your lips trembled, and you felt yourself start to crumble under the overwhelming kindness in his tone. “I just— I didn’t want you to think I was doing it wrong,” you whispered, the words fragile, as if saying them aloud would somehow break the fragile peace you’d found with him.

Aaron’s chest ached at the raw vulnerability in your voice, at the way your shoulders had tensed till you were stiff board, as you had braced yourself for some imagined backlash. He hated that the scars from your past had you doubting yourself in the safety of his home, in his arms.

“You weren’t doing anything wrong,” he said softly, pulling you into him, wrapping you in his embrace. His hand smoothed over your hair as he kissed the top of your head, murmuring against it, “You don’t have to change anything, okay? You’re perfect just the way you are.”

You let out a shaky breath against his chest, the knot in your stomach loosening ever so slightly. “I don’t know why I reacted like that,” you admitted, your voice muffled by his shirt.

Aaron tilted his head to rest his cheek against the crown of your head. “I do,” he said simply, not explaining it further—you both knew what he meant—his voice carrying no judgment, only understanding. “And I wish I could take away all the hurt that made you feel like this. But you’re safe now, with me. I promise you that.”

His words cracked something open inside you, and the tears spilled freely now, soaking into the soft cotton of his shirt. He didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away, only held you tighter, as if he could shield you from the echoes of your past with the strength of his embrace.

“Thank you. I love you,” you whispered after a moment, the words coming easier this time, carried by the steady beat of his heart under your cheek.

Aaron pulled back just enough to frame your face with his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears on your cheeks. “You never have to thank me for loving you,” he said, his voice low and full of conviction. “But I love you too. More than you’ll ever know.”

His words settled into your chest, soothing the ache you’d carried for so long.

As he leaned in to kiss you, his lips soft and tender against yours, you finally felt the weight of your past ease just a little more.

"C'mon, let's go lay down a little." He smiled, dragging you towards the bed in an attempt to move your mind away from the chores that still needed to be done and relax for once. After all, you were two to take care of the house.

[pineapplepr1nc3ss888]

distracting yourself really works wonders, learn about the different states your brain goes into to help you achieve pure consciousness cos it really is that easy. just make sure you are relaxed first you want to enter this meditation with a clear mind so do some deep breathing first i promise it will help just do anything to take your mind off whatever u are stressing/thinking about when you feel more calm do your meditation!! ✨ i like to do alpha state first and i think the key (key for me anyway) is to set intention you are doing it for relaxation it will help you enter it knowing ur not trying to force it because you want instant manifestation that can be achieved ONCE ur aware ur in it, intend to yourself that you are doing it solely to relax that way you won’t keep focusing on your 3d or your senses you are purely focused on your mind. lie where you feel comfortable, personally i like to lie on top of my sheets i think it’s more of a subconscious signal if im getting into bed that im in there to sleep, i like to levitate my body against the pillows a bit to keep myself a bit more awake but not enough that it’s uncomfy for me🌟 have read many success stories about yoga nidra which first time i attempted i felt myself properly float it felt like i floated up to ceiling in my room was so freaky but i kept calm, second time i got to a point my heart accelerated so fast i couldn’t feel anything but my own heartbeat but i was also too tired to focus so fell asleep. but last night i purely did this for relaxation cos i already had the knowing i can manifest what i want when i enter, if i try to force it with the intention of manifesting i know ill keep focusing on my senses and 3d too much so i decided to just relax and not care which i think helps, reading upon your states help but delta state is probably the closest state to pure consciousness and yoga nidra helps with that. obviously you can do whatever you want, this is just what works for me, but don’t sit and read upon methods and methods i promise. you will know what works for you. do you prefer visualisation/day dreaming? is it something you’ve done since u were a kid to a point u forget about all ur surroundings? or do you prefer affirming? affirming to the point you focus on nothing but your affirmations? of you prefer just focusing on your breath? or do you like counting? point is you HAVE to find what works for you not trying to attempt what someone else did. i just happened to find yoga nidra really works for me cos i have adhd so i can’t focus on affirming for too long and this also just REALLY helps to relax my mind to a point anyway last night i actually forgot the video was even playing 😭 i was so relaxed i just started day dreaming, you know kinda how you fall asleep during a movie and wake up and realise you have missed part of the movie. yeah felt like that for me, i was so zoned out on imagining stuff i forgot the video was even playing and pretty sure i couldn’t even hear it either i also was sure i was in void state i just wasn’t aware of it i was only aware of my day dreams that i came back to my senses and was confused how it was near the end of the video it felt like i fell asleep for 5m but i wasn’t asleep i was aware. you all will be able to induce pure consciousness stop stressing, find a comfortable position, set your intention to do it for relaxation, breathe/affirm/daydream whatever u want and you’ll forget your surroundings completely! i was there last night i just wasn’t even aware of it i was too focused on imagining stuff lol and boom you will induce it!

the distraction method by @luckykiwiii101 works wonders as well omg 🤭