#clean your binder

[blondewelshhimbo]

A little tip to my fellow trans folks who need to secretly wash your binder. I found this out because I have transphobic parents so I cant hand wash it and air dry. Wash it as a delicate. if your washer/dryer was a delicates setting wash it on that. it usually uses cold or room temp water with like a slower spin. I just go and wash my jeans and my joint braces so it's not just my binder(s) and then put it on a delicates dry which is the same it's a lower temp and a lighter tumble thing. so yeah! there's my thing that I learned and I thought it might help other people in my situation :)))

[dreamertrilogys]

going into instagram comments is crazy it’s like seeing into a (much MUCH) worse alternate reality like You ppl live such unfathomably terrible lives to me….

[zhalar]

hate that i have to come out. i hate that!!! i hate that if i want to experience a modicum of gender peace for these upcoming two years i have to tell my new teachers that im nonbinary and would like to use [this name] even though none of my official papers have it on them, and probably wont, cuz its not A Name that i can confidently believe will pass the naming convention.. laws... of this country. I HATE THAT I FEEL LIKE I HAVE TO PLEAD MY CASE AND EXPLAIN MYSELF. im trying to construct this message that i’ve got no idea will even be read or noted just to have it in my student record somewhere that “hey im SOOOO sorry but if its not a problem to you i would love to feel like a human person even on a name-basis during my studies and im MORE than fine to be otherwise (mis)gendered as long as its not a problem to YOUUUUU also i know that my legal name is literally on show in every school email and profile so whatever i say here matters none cause everyone will only see that clearly gendered name and not give a flying fuck about this “”nickname”” im trying to get going since its not my LEEEGAAALL name but thats also so fine with me if i could Just get the clear to sign my emails and whatsapp messages with my preferred name thankyouuu :)” 

sorry im always complaining here it gets ANNOYING. im mostly trying to get my own brain straight about this matter. uhggh BUT ITS SO AWKWARD TO WRITE THAT MESSAGE. i dont want to explain myself but i also dont! want! to make a scene!!!! im so pissed off at myself for not opening my DAMN MOUTH when the group-wide introductions happened this week. shoulda just bit the bullet and said ive got [this] name in official papers but would prefer to be called särmä. literally could feel the nerve escaping my body when it came to my turn. fucking hell

(EDIT ive calmed down. i didnt send the message fuck this noise, im just gonna hope that i’ll get it out face to face this next week [biting through glass])

[cuntwrap--supreme]

My mom's on the phone with the incredibly hate-filled second cousin of my youngest two siblings. I come in the room to ask her to be quiet because I'm trying to find watch Drawfee - which is important, ok? She's been up there discussing how it's bad that there are so many POC (editing this because she used slurs) on airplanes and how she's scared they'll bomb her, and when I go up they've moved to pronouns of all things. I go to pet the cat, waiting for a time to interject, and she says, "Oh, hold on, I'll ask [Leon]. Hey, what do you think about certain airlines just winning the right to pronouns for anyone, regardless of what they are?"

And I'm just like, "I could not possibly care less, and I don't see how you care."

To which she replies, "Well, I'm sorry that I understand biology and know there's only man and woman!"

And I say: "Sure, if you're looking at biology from an elementary school perspective, there is only male and female. But anyone with an education in the subject knows that there's a massive variety in how people are, and there's more than enough evidence to show that someone's perceived birth sex and the way they think about their own self is not always the same. But again: Why does this matter to you? Who is it hurting if someone wants to go by Twig and use xe/xer pronouns? Because I'd love to hear who this hurts."

And this dumb bitch she has one the phone demands to be put on speaker because she could hear me, has me reiterate "for her clarification" (said in the condescending way Matt Walsh might), and says, "Here's the thing, sweetie. There's man and there's woman. That's how God made us. You can live in a fantasy, but you can't deny that."

I say: "You're ignorant on purpose. God doesn't exist. Your kids will hate you in fifteen years' time because you force them to wear political shirts to school, shirts they're too young to understand."

And she says to my mom, "Oh, god! I see what you mean about having lost that one! She's one of the faggots now!"

And my mom just agreed? And says she's disappointed that she's "losing me." Then asks if I think she's wrong for her opinions and I'm like.. yeah? I tell you this all the time? I'll mention a Mexican guy I work with and suddenly it's "I hate all the immigrants." She'll see a commercial with two women getting married and it's "I can't believe those people are allowed to exist." Like. Of course I think she's a dumb bitch.

And this dumber bitch on the phone goes, "Shell, let it go. She's too far gone. Might as well just disown that one!" And she's taken off speaker and they start talking shit about me with me right the hell there. I said, loud enough that this chick could hear, "You're a sad dumb cunt and I hope all your kids are faggy and you die mad about it."

My mom's trying to force me to apologize now. I had "conceded," only to get on the phone and tell her I hope she accidentally shoots herself to death with one of her like 300 rifles, then said I'd call DCS on her if I knew where she lived.

Anyway. I may be violent, but I'm not in the wrong here, and no one can convince me otherwise. It's been like 5 minutes, they're still talking shit about me. And, like, my mom wonders why I don't share shit about myself with her and why I think she's a bad person. Hmm... Maybe it's because her best friend (who shared her views, just more extreme) is someone who likes to larp as an advocate for freedom while simultaneously believing things such as "only whites should be in America," "liberals shouldn't have the right to vote," and "the fags need to be exterminated." I fucking wonder.

[sonicenvy]

learned a new iconic™ funny bitch fact about my late grandmother this week from my auntie. apparently she hated when people gifted her jewelry because she had specific tastes and people would always gift her jewelry she hated. grandpa, husband of 65 years, partner of 70 years knew this very well and never bought his wife jewelry. some of her other relatives .... did not respect this. Because she, like all of my other relatives on this particular side of the family had dysfunctional communication skills, instead of, like, idk returning the items to the store or telling people not to gift her things in the future or, idk literally anything else.... she .... surreptitiously returned the jewelry to the gifter when she visited them by leaving it in drawers and boxes in the gifter's house; she also did not tell them that the jewelry had been returned to them, and did not speak of it ever again. 😂

rest in peace grandma. the woman, the myth, the acquired taste, the legend.

[paran0rmalphen0mena]

Me taking care of myself because the same guys who aren't even in my contacts but know where I live and my full legal name intentionally triggered my paranoia to force me to?? Perhaps

[5-htagonist]

bro i remember being young and my grandma telling me if i dont learn to clean my room then i wont do it when im older. while there is some truth there what she did not account for was the audhd

[lovebugism]

could I request maybe shy!reader trying to play dnd with eddie but she's suuuuuuper nervous and confused and internally panicking about him not liking her anymore if she can't get into it?? Or if you wanna change it up please do!! love you!!

love you! hope you like it! — you get insecure about not liking d&d when a girl joins hellfire (shy!fem!r, hurt/comfort ish, established relationship, 1.4k)

The Hellfire room is void of the boyish bodies that usually fill it. The abandoned classroom, turned freak sanctuary, is now littered with pieces the rogues, clerics, and bards left behind — in half-empty soda cans and crumbled-up bags of potato chips.

While Eddie packs up his binder, filled to the brim with miscellaneous papers, you wander around the long table with a trashcan in hand. The wild-haired boy squints when you chuck Dustin’s crushed Pepsi in the bin. “You don’t have to do that, you know?”

“It’s okay,” you shrug. “I don’t mind.”

Eddie huffs through his nose, feeling too exhausted now to argue. He slides his binder into his bag and watches you rake Gareth’s chip crumbs into the trashcan. The urge to stop you becomes unignorable then. 

“Okay, well, you know what? I mind—” the boy retorts, striding the very short distance to you and snatching the bin from your grip. He smiles a crooked grin and continues in a fantastical accent. “—‘Cause the Dungeon Master’s queen shouldn’t have to clean up after a bunch of lowborns, alright?”

You roll your eyes with a subdued giggle. “Someone’s gotta do it, Eds,” you insist as you reach for the plastic container he took. You exhale sharply when he hides it further behind him, pulling it further out of your way. “I wanna be of some use around here!”

Eddie’s face twists. “Don’t say that.”

You cower beneath his stare. “Well… It’s not like I actually play or anything. I just kinda… sit around… And watch you guys do everything…”

“Well, why would you play?” he laughs. “You don’t even like D&D.”

Something in the way he says it makes you ache. You’ve always felt distantly horrible about it — failing to take interest in something he holds so close to his heart. Hearing him reiterate that fact twists the knife lodged in your chest.

“That doesn’t bother you?” you wonder, impossibly shy. “That I don’t play?”

Eddie shrugs and sits the bin down again. “Why would that bother me?” he scoffs.

“I don’t know… ‘Cause you like it. And it’s your favorite thing to do in the whole world.”

“Well… Maybe not my favorite thing,” he croons with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Your nose scrunches in disdain. His laughter fills the empty room as his ringed hands spread warm along your sides. “I just feel bad,” you confess, gaze averted to the scuffed tile beneath your feet. “You know, that I can’t get into or whatever.”

Eddie meets your subtle pout with an unbothered grin. “There’s nothing to feel bad about. People like different things, babe. That’s life,” he assures you, squeezing softly at your sides. “I mean, it’s no different than me hating The Smiths, right? I still let you play their cassettes in the van, and you still sit in on all my campaigns— and that, sweetheart, is the meaning of true love…”

Unswayed, you jerk softly back when he leans down to kiss you. You frown up at him with your arms crossed between your bodies. “But Rory loves D&D. And she’s super pretty…”

Aurora Edwards was the newest edition to the Hellfire gang. She goes by Rory for short, though, ‘cause she’s cool like that and everything. Her dyed blonde hair is as wild as Eddie’s, cut into a makeshift mullet that sits sort of shaggy on her head — intentionally messy in a way only she can pull off. 

She likes cool music and cool clothes and cool hobbies — because everything she does seems to have some sort of subverted flair to it. She’s smart and she’s nerdy and she’s beautiful. None of which seem fair. You’ve been stirring with feelings of inadequacy since you met her. 

And Eddie doesn’t seem to get any of it. His brows furrow at your words, like none of them have any sort of meaning to him.

“She’s way more your type than I am,” you blurt.

A laugh sputters from his plush mouth. “You think my love for you is contingent on some stupid game?” he chuckles.

The way he says it makes you shrink. You feel sort of stupid about it now. “I don’t know…”

“Well, then, I have done a very shit job of being your boyfriend.”

Your chest stings. “No, you haven’t, Eddie—”

“Mm,” he hums, half playful, as he tilts his pretty head to his shoulder. “I have, though. ‘Cause if you think some other girl liking Dungeons and Dragons is gonna make me love you any less, then I have done something horribly, horribly wrong.”

You bite back a smile at his words, pursing your lips to the side of your mouth until the beam becomes impossible to ignore.

“‘Cause you’re kinda stuck with me, turns out,” the boy continues. “Unfortunately for you.”

“Unfortunately?” you echo with a scoff.

“Yeah. ‘Cause if some other schmuck comes around who likes listening to The Smiths and sitting in the sunshine, he’s gonna have to go through me.”

You breathe sharply through your nose in place of a laugh. “I don’t want another guy, Eds…” you confess, going shy all over again.

His nose scrunches as he plays coy. “Even if he doesn’t smoke?” he wonders in a sheepish murmur.

“Even if he doesn’t smoke.”

“Good,” he beams, pulling you into him by your belt loops. His breath fans over your jaw in a minty-nicotine concoction as he ducks his face closer to yours. “‘Cause I don’t want anyone else, either, alright? Even if they are almost as good as me at D&D… Actually, it’s kinda a turn-off, now that I’m thinking about it…”

“Is it?”

“Yeah… ‘Cause, like, I love teaching you about it and everything.”

“Even when I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

“Especially when you have no idea what I’m talking about,” he laughs, smiling so hard his cheeks speckle pink. “‘Cause you know how much I like it, so… You let me talk all the shit I want.”

“’S just because you’re so pretty when you talk about things you like,” you confess.

His face twists. “Am I?”

“Well, you’re pretty all the time, but…”

“You flatter me,” he huffs and pulls you closer. He smirks and goes quieter when he says, “And flattery goes a long way with me.”

“Does it?” you hum with a sunshine-coated giggle.

Eddie doesn’t answer you with words. He just presses his lips to your mouth and hopes you get the gist. His tongue swipes against yours, soft and sudden, as he guides you towards the table. You run into a rogue chair before he can get you on top of it. It screeches against the linoleum tile. 

With his face in your hands, you giggle against his mouth. His denim-clad knee slips between your thighs.

The door squeaks softly open then. Rory enters, swift and unthinking. You and Eddie pull apart — one looking much more horrified than the other — as the blonde girl stands frozen in the doorway. Drowning in her sweatshirt and baggy jeans, she points a lanky finger towards the table.

“Sorry,” she apologizes, voice gritty and deep. “I just left my girlfriend’s jacket here, and she doesn’t know I stole it, so… She’d definitely kill me if I forgot it.”

“That’s okay. Come in,” Eddie shrugs with a tightlipped smile, nodding his head in a silent invitation. When Rory plucks the coat from the back of her chair, he says, “Tell Jess I said hi, yeah?”

The girl scoffs as she heads back towards the door again, leaving just as quickly as she came. “She still hates you, you know that, right?” she laughs. ‘Cause Jess was a cheerleader — pretty and sometimes kind, but dreadfully conservative. Her uptight nature often clashed with Eddie’s much more chaotic one. 

“Well, tell her to get in line,” Eddie chuckles.

Before Rory leaves the room, she glances at the two of you over her shoulder. She winks with an eye smudged with black liner. “Have fun, you two,” she croons in a pretty voice before shutting the door behind her.

You stand, still and silent in place, wringing your anxious hands into a knot. Feeling like a total idiot, you refuse to meet Eddie’s gaze. You know he’s got a smug look on his face. You can hear the smirk in his voice when he says, “See? Not my type at all.”

[honeytonedhottie]

doll hand-book⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🎀

how to feel prettier, some visual interest tips, a beauty handbook and how to glow up without doing something big/extra, little habits and things that u can incorporate into ur life to make u glow up without even thinking about it ✨ (constantly being updated)

double cleansing every morning and night for clean and sparkling skin

BODY GLITTER

exfoliate ur skin weekly (2-3x) 

incorporate pretty words into ur vocabulary 

drinking enough water everyday to be healthy and beautiful 

sweet smelling body butters and body oils to moisturize 

posture is important so sit straight and stand straight 

wear sunscreen on your face and body everyday bcuz spf is important

jewelry to decorate ur body 

carrying lipglosses and hand lotions and perfumes in ur bag for touch ups throughout the day 

meditate, say ur affirmations and journal for a pretty mind 

for journaling, buy a cute journal and journal with scented glitter pens and stickers 

for visual interest 

glitter is very feminine, in makeup, clothing, nails, and on collarbones. when i wear glitter on my skin i feel like a fairy ✨

jewelry makes u glitter (nose studs, stacked necklaces and stacked earrings, rings, belly piercings, and nail gems) 

know what ur undertone is, since i have a warm undertone (gold>silver) 

LONG is the way to go (long nails, lashes, hair, flowy dresses and tops and skirts) 

for the sleek and shiny look (shiny and silky hair, glossy skin and lips) 

glowing up subconsciously

prioritize sleep (sleep 8-10 hours a night)

drink at least 1L of water a day

eat a fruit or veggie with every meal to glow from the inside out

use coconut oil/castor oil on ur lashes and brows every night

facial massage everyday and practice mewing

move your body in a way that feels natural (for example, i go to a school where we have to walk a lot bcuz the campus is big so subconsciously i do LOTS of walking without even thinking of it)

if ur wearing ur hair up/in a protective style, use a hair mask

to look polished and put together

chapped lips are unacceptable, use an overnight lip mask and a hydrating chapstick throughout the day. if u notice ur lips just peeling in general, use an exfoliating scrub/brush ur lips with a toothbrush.

neat hair = a polished look

keep ur nails trimmed, filed, and polished and if u wanna do a little extra get them manicured

address skin concerns so that then you can get glossy skin

make sure all ur metals match and color coordinate

keep it simple

details make a difference

shape ur brows

whiten ur teeth + maintain good oral health

color coordinate

fixing posture

HELPFUL RESOURCES

how to smell dreamy - @flirtygirl-coterie

feminine archetypes - @prissygrlsorority

beauty binder - @prissygrlsorority

maintaining a clean and fresh appearance - by yours truly

makeup tutorial in pics - by yours truly

"your glowing" - by yours truly

general hygiene secrets and tricks - by yours truly

[corvusthecryptid]

y'know what? fuck it! shout out to all my fellow "stereotypes!"

shoutout to my fellow autists who do feel like a kid in an adult’s body because their mind works differently. shoutout to my fellow systems who have alters that lash out, and/or alters of fictives from popular media. shoutout to my fellow bpd folks who get clingy and have abandonment issues. shoutout to the autists who act "robotic" and love trains or dinosaurs. shoutout to the people with OCD/OCPD who do get obsessions with cleanliness and orderliness, who do wash their hands over and over, who do lock and unlock the doors a specific number of times. shoutout to the people struggling with intrusive thoughts that do get the violent ones and the sexual ones, not just the self-injurious ones.

shoutout to my fellow flamboyant gays. shoutout to the lesbians who wear flannel and have buzzcuts. shoutout to the aces who like space and cake and dragons. shoutout to the aces who are stoic and don't have an interest in bonding with people even non-romantically. shoutout to the nbs with neopronouns and names like "star." shoutout to the queers(or otherwise lgbt+ folk if you don't use that term for yourself) who have dyed and cut hair, wear a shitload of pronoun pins, wear a rainbow binder that can be seen, and love talking about how much they love being part of the community.

shoutout to my fellow activists who yell and get mad. shoutout to my fellow activists who bring up the problems in things, even if it means "always making it political." shoutout to the feminists who don't wear bras or shave, and don't get along with men.

shoutout to the men who struggle with emotions. shoutout to the men who love blue and camo and trucks and fixing things and sports and hunting. shoutout to the women who cry easily. shoutout to the women who take hours getting ready. shoutout to the women who love pink and shopping and shoes and cooking and taking care of kids and cleaning.

i'm very white so i'll summarize the next one: shoutout to all the BIPOC fitting into "stereotypes" as well. if anyone who is BIPOC wants to give specific shout outs, go for it!

to anyone who fits these or any other "stereotypes":

You are not a stereotype. You are a person with traits and qualities. You are not doing anything wrong by being true to yourself, whether that means fitting expectations or not.

Anyone who hates whatever group you are in for these "stereotypes" would hate your group regardless; anyone who accuses you of "giving your group a bad name" is deflecting the hate onto you because it's easier to pretend that it's nothing they are doing that gets that hatred; the truth is, bigots are bigots and they will always find a "reason" to be hateful. You trying to avoid "stereotypes" will never change that.

(do not fucking clown on this post. you will not get a debate from me, you will get blocked.)

[elizabethminkel]

Earlier this week I reported on the very depressing for-profit fic pirating happening in certain corners of fandom—but (somewhat coincidentally, timing-wise) I also had the joy of reporting this story on fanbinding, and the work of the @renegadeguild! Featuring the words (and fanbinds) of the brilliant @celestial-sphere-press, @butterfingersbookbinding, and @fanboundbooks (who also talked about Renegade on the most recent Fansplaining episode).

Renegade's binders are strong proponents of the non-monetized gift economy—they truly embody the spirit of fanfiction, in my opinion, both in the communal way they share their work with fic writers and each other, and in the DIY way they approach making books:

There’s a strong parallel between the amateur, instinctive nature of fanfiction and the act of fanbinding. While plenty of fic is penned by formally trained writers, much of it is not. Tiffo, who binds as Fanboundbooks, likens the reverse-engineering involved in teaching oneself both activities. As writers, people try to figure out why stories work. Fanbinders collectively share the process of learning to turn that work into a physical object—tactile, clean, often beautiful. Fic is largely unencumbered by the forms and structures of traditional publishing, and fanbinders approach their work with the same spirit. “People will often say, ‘How do I do this?’ or ‘What’s the rule for this?’” Tiffo says. “The answer that we always try to throw in Renegade is, ‘This is what other people have done, but know that there is no rule to your book—you can make whatever you want.’”

It's a shame seeing people conflate the bad actors of the pirating situation—many of whom don't appear to be in fandom and seem motivated by pure profit—with the work of fanbinders at large, and seeing people scared to try out fanbinding because of the recent news. Not-for-profit fanbinding is just as legal as writing fanfiction, and I don't speak for all fic writers, but if someone ever bound one of my fics, I'd be so touched I would almost definitely weep. 😭

[sinofwriting]

Claiming - Max Verstappen (Dark Fic)

Words: 2,231 Summary: In a world where F1 drivers can claim someone as a wife while at a race, here is Max’s version. Note(s): DARK FIC, NSFW. Reader is essentially kidnapped. I’d like to thank lovey on Ko-fi for commissioning this. I had a lot of fun writing this and oh boy did it take a turn I wasn’t expecting. Takes place in 2023. Also, once again thank you to 🦢 anon for this idea and all your thoughts! Claiming wouldn’t be a thing without you.

Charles’ Version

Masterlist | Support Me! 

Since a month ago the emotion she’s felt most is confusion. From the moment a security guard and an FIA official escorted her from the grandstands to the Red Bull garage, to Max Verstappen’s drivers room. From him gently grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it, to the conference room where the FIA official explained things to her and god, she felt like she had only heard every three words, to now.

Max is the source of all her confusion, because he is confusing. He’s aggressive and dominant on track. So clearly hates press and events he’s forced to go to. If he likes you, he likes to make you laugh and make sure you're happy. He’s attentive in a way she didn’t know was possible.

As soon as they were in Monaco after the race, after he claimed her, and she fiddles with the heavy diamond ring on her finger at the thought, he had taken her to the grocery store, claiming that his fridge and pantry were empty since he’d just come home from a triple header. She hadn’t realized then but as they walked through the grocery store he had watched her closely. Watched what shelves she paused at, what brands and items she put in the cart versus the ones she made small faces at. Making a note of them all.

It wasn’t until a few days later when someone came by to drop off groceries and she saw all that all the groceries were things and brands she likes that she started to realized that it’s quietness in the grocery store, him following behind her, hadn’t been him giving her a bit of space, some grace, but rather him making notes of what she likes.

She’s unable to hide anything from him, which is even more confusing, because he doesn’t know her. Had chosen her seemingly on a whim. When she was told why she got taken his driver’s room by the FIA official, she had thought it was some sort of prank, a joke, but as three different binders had been laid out in front of her and proof of everything had been shown to her, had proved that she had been claimed, that she was now married to Max Verstappen the odd, weird, confusing reality had sunk in.

She had honestly figured as she laid awake next to Max that night that she would be just kept at his place for quick relief. Asked to undress and roll or bend over whenever he needed a quick easy fuck along with someone to keep his place clean and cooked meals in the fridge. She hadn’t expected for him to not even touch her like that.

He did however like to look at her like that. Eyes darkening, just a little narrowed as his jaw would sometimes twitch, deep breaths through his nose. But he never touched her like that which made her more confused because he did touch her.

He kissed her hand in greeting, put his hand on her lower back, would sling an arm around her waist, put his arm over her shoulders. He’d make their legs intertwine in bed or practically blanket her with his body when he didn’t have her cuddling into him, head resting on his t-shirt covered chest. Max hadn’t even tried kissing her on the lips despite clearly wanting to with the way he would sometimes stare at them as she talked.

Max Verstappen is confusing.

—

Max knows that he was supposed to claim a wife much sooner than he did. He could have done so the day of his first win, when they pulled him aside and told him that he could. He knows that’s what they wanted. They wanted him to claim a wife, to calm down, to bring a little less negative press to the sport. Luckily it was up to him to decide and there was no way in fucking hell he was claiming a wife. He made that clear in his celebrations with the team and his private words to people about how the FIA could fuck off.

He was also lucky that Red Bull backed his decision. He was their first driver since Mark Webber to get to claim a wife, the youngest in the history of the sport. The FIA couldn’t pressure him into it or punish him for not claiming anyone yet, but they could try and flaunt options for him to choose from. And they did. They did every year at nearly every race until finally the start of the 2022 season happened and there was a number one on his car.

That didn’t mean they stopped during the 2022 season, it was just significantly less than before. And now in 2023, just a few races away from winning his third championship, they hadn’t bothered him at all. The end of Monza marked them never being able to bother him again, he thinks as he watches his wife look at the clothes he had delivered for her. His now three championship trophies somewhat framing her with how she stands in front of the large couch.

They were all in her sizes, some from brands that she already had clothes from and other’s from more luxury brands that he had to be familiar with. She liked the one a lot, her fingers kept going back to the two tops from there, rubbing the fabric. He’ll have to take her to their store after COTA, he muses. The heat in Qatar had been too much for his poor wife and it had even got the better of him.

“Do you like them?” He asks, wrapping his arms around her from behind, relishing in the sharp inhale she gives, the slight sped up breathing. “I do. They are all really nice.” He presses a kiss to the top of her head, making a note to not buy her anymore hoodies, or at least buy them for himself and wear them a few times. She had worn so many of his, he figured she’d want one or two of her own, but the hoodie was the only thing her eyes and fingers had not returned to. “Good. I have some jewelry coming for you tomorrow as well.” “Oh, thank you, Max.” “Of course, vrouw.” He smirks at the way her body shivers at the Dutch word for wife.

—

It’s been nearly three months since Monza, since Max claimed her, since she became his wife. Which means it’s been three months since the last time she got off, six months since she last had sex. The sex part she can deal with, but she doesn’t think she’s gone this long without masturbating since she learned what it was and started doing it. And it feels like it’s killing her.

Because Max… Max is handsome. She’s seen tweets and things about how Max is ugly and she can’t even begin to comprehend that. He has some of the bluest eyes she’s ever seen, a nice jaw just barely covered with facial hair, slightly pouty lips and god it kills her that she hasn’t kissed them yet, kissed the freckle that rests on his top left lip. He has broad shoulders, strong arms, large hands, fingers that make her thighs press together when they tap against her hips or press into her. And his thighs. Every time she sees them, whether it’s in shorts or boxers, she can feel herself clench around nothing.

Maybe he wouldn’t affect her so much if he didn’t so clearly want her back. But he does. His eyes more and more frequently watching her, want simmering in them. And he’s never been shy about his morning wood, but instead of tilting his hips away from her, scooting away, or just adjusting her so it’s not pressed against her, now he stays. Lets her choose to move away when she feels him against her.

She never moves away, not until they absolutely have to get up.

She’s reached her limit, however. She constantly feels turned on, a warmth always burning inside of her, sometimes getting stoked to burn a little hotter and she fears that if she doesn’t get off in the next few hours she will jump Max. It’s tempting to just get to it, just lay down and fuck herself quickly, but that won’t leave her satisfied. She needs more than one quick orgasm to satisfy herself and she’s in luck because Max is leaving the house, having been invited to a paddle match.

She accepts the kiss on the cheek he gives her, wishing him good luck and then waits by the front door for a few minutes before turning and nearly rushing to the bedroom. Her arms somehow get tangled in her tank top as she pulls it off and her fingers fumble with her pajama pants and underwear as she tries to push them down. It takes longer than she wants, but finally she’s undressed. There’s an urge to fall onto the bed, but she forces it away, forces herself to take a deep breath as she goes to their closet.

Going to one of her shoe boxes, she lifts the lid, breath shaky as her fingers touch the lace of a La Perla balconette. She had never spent more than seventy dollars on a bra before Max, had privately thought people who spent more than a hundred dollars on scraps of lace and fabric were crazy but as she feels this against her fingers, she understands why people spend so much.

Her fingers are surprisingly steady as she puts on the balconette and matching panties. As she looks at herself in the mirror, hands rubbing at the body, her breath catches. She looked good, hot even. The lace against her skin making her blood rush.

She’s nearly back into the bedroom when she spots the shirt that Max had been wearing to sleep in last night. It’s just barely hanging on the edge of the hamper, about to fall on the floor. Before she can stop herself, she snags it and throws it on, breathing in the familiar and nice smell of Max.

Laying on the bed, she runs her hands over her body, eyes fluttering shut as they go under her shirt. Her breath catches as they trail over her stomach, fingers pausing at the waistband of her panties before moving back. They trace over the lace details of her top, breath catching when the tips of her fingers catch on her pebbled nipples. Moaning as she twists and pulls at them lightly, thighs pressing together.

She continues to play with her breasts, enjoying the feel of them and the lace in her hands. Drawing moans and whines from herself as she squeezes them, pinching and twisting her nipples, grazing her nipples with the tip of her finger. She’s aching for more, her panties damp. Her dominant hand leaves her breast, fingers just about to slip into her panties and there’s a hand clamping around her wrist.

Her eyes fly open, a gasp leaving her. “Max.” Her other hand drops away from her breast. His grip on her wrist tightens, eyes darker than she’s ever seen them. Her name comes out in a near growl. Her tongue darts out, swiping across her bottom lip and Max’s eyes fall to them at the motion and she breaks. “Please. Max, please.” “Please what?” She takes a shaky breath, “Touch me, kiss me. Please, Max.”

It’s like she blinks and he’s on top of her, his hand no longer gripping her wrist but instead gripping at her hip as he kisses her. She moans at the roughness of it, not even noticing him adjusting her until he’s fully in between her legs, one of them hitched around his waist. She only notices when he grinds their hips together, the friction making her break the kiss, panting as her fingers rake over his back.

“Max. Please.” “What vrouw? Am I not kissing you?” He presses a kiss to her neck, over the flutter of her pulse. “Touching you?” He rolls his hips into hers. She throws her head back at the contact. “I want,” a whine leaves her as he dips his head, running his tongue over her still lace covered nipple. “Fuck, Max.” His hand still gripping her at her hip tightens its hold and she hopes he leaves bruises. “What do you want?” “I want,” She nearly loses her train of thought again when grinds into her again. “Want you to fuck me. Please, Max, want you so bad.” He groans, head resting on her chest as he gives a slightly stuttered thrust.

The slight loss of control makes her moan, her other leg moving to wrap around him, encouraging him to grind against her. She wants him. She wants him to touch her everywhere, not leave a single place that hasn’t felt his touch. She wants to feel his breath against her lips, his teeth sinking into her skin. She wants the press of bruises as he holds her tighter than maybe he should. She wants him sinking into her over and over again even though she hasn’t felt it once yet. She wants and wants and she doesn’t think that doing this once, twice, a hundred, a thousand times, will satisfy that want.

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 12 || The First Lesson

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

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, & sexual tension.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 3.7k

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

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——WITH THE MONEY YOU'VE collected from Gojo, you decided to spoil yourself that Friday by going on a much-needed shopping spree.

You didn't do anything crazy with your money like spend it all on ridiculously expensive items but, you did spend it on basically a whole new wardrobe. It felt nice to have money like this-- you no longer felt like you were struggling.

Monday had been filled with so many events that the following days went by in a complete blur. You remember your classes and even having a little movie night with Shoko but aside from that, everything was pretty eventless.

Well, unless you count the way you and Choso text each other in your free time.

He's got a nice vibe to him and you admire that but after every conversation with him, you have to quickly remind yourself that something real will never work out. Even so, that didn't and doesn't stop you from genuinely trying to be his friend.

He's the little light you needed in your life and you weren't about to throw that away, even if it was risky. And boy is that one big risk. From the texting to the few other phone calls you had with the man, you notice two things; one, he really loves his brother and brings him up at least once in every conversation and two, he hates being lied to.

At first, you thought the whole lying thing he'd bring up was just something he said to convince you to tell him about yourself and you thought he claimed to not like liars just to be silly.

Turns out you were wrong about that, Choso hates when people lie to him big time-- he says that he understands not trusting people but you can't expect to trust someone and be untrustworthy yourself.

Not that any of that was going to have you tell him everything about Gojo. You wouldn't even tell that information to Shoko and you tell her nearly everything (not that much happens for you to do so anyway, but still). It'd be shameful for you to voice out loud that Gojo walked in on you masturbating and caught it on camera.

You wish you could say, who would really care that much about it but even if no one batted an eye at the sinfully shameful act, you'd still be embarrassed. It would take some real convincing for you to tell someone about that incident.

So yeah, you have no plans on telling anyone. Not Shoko and not Choso-- no one can find out about it.

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

After that wonderful day of shopping and a weekend you spent cleaning and redecorating your bedroom, the following Monday came around much sooner than you expected. You spent every minute of your free weekend time plotting how exactly you were going to seduce Toji Fushiguruo.

Then before you knew it, you were sitting in the man's class nearly thirty minutes before the class had actually started. You were the first to arrive and it wasn't unusual for you to be there, students come early to class all the time. In your case, you just didn't want to run into Gojo.

Instead of sitting where you sat the first time you attended the class, you found comfort in taking the vacant spot right in the front of the classroom. Mr. Fushiguro's desk was a few steps away from where you sat and if he were to ever sit there, he'd have your pretty face to distract himself with.

This time around, you brought a bag with you so you wouldn't have to carry things in your hand. You still brought the same items as the time prior-- notes, a binder, and some books. Spreading and organizing the assortment across the desk space in front of you, you were trying to rehearse how you expected the next few weeks to go.

Having to seduce a professor is like having an entirely new class added to your schedule. You used to have Mondays free but now you'll have to be here for a while as you try to catch a lustful gaze from Toji.

Today you decided to wear something similar to the week prior-- a button-up blouse that has said buttons undone just enough to reveal only a slither of cleavage and another short skirt with stockings. Is this your usual attire? Who knows but it'll have to do for the sake of getting this man to-

"You're here early," A deep voice suddenly points out. The sound startles you, making you shift slightly in your seat as you look to the direction it came from.

Walking into the classroom is the professor in question; Mr. Fushiguro. His gaze is locked down onto the sleeve of his shirt as he adjusts it over his wrist and you take his moment of distraction to drink in every bit of his appearance.

The shirt he has on has one single button undone at the top, revealing his smooth collarbone and just a bit of skin below that. Then his pants are... well they're practically hugging the man's thighs. Good lord, the sight makes you squeeze your legs together, especially when you focus your eyes on his crotch for a moment longer than intended.

Are you drooling? You hope not because your eyes definitely widen at the visibility of something rather large neatly resting in between his legs. Oh it's big. You can tell from where you are. Toji has a big dick-- fuck, of course he does. You think to yourself.

The male's eyes are on yours before you even realize it. Toji clears his throat to gain your attention and you're again startled. "Eyes are up here, doll." He comments simply.

You swallow and your gaze flies up to his, "Sorry Mr. Fushiguro."

As you look at his face, you notice this little smirk on the corner of his lips as if the way he caught you gawking at him was amusing, "You're fine," He hums as he furthers into the room, "I catch women starring all the time."

After you take a second to collect yourself you scoff at his words, "Do you really?"

"Yep. Especially my students." Toji tells you, oddly bringing you a sense of comfort. It felt good to know that you weren't the only one ogling the man.

He walks across the front of the room and approaches his desk, taking a seat and moving toward his desktop that's off to the side. You keep your eyes on the man and lean forward a bit, moving to rest your chin in the palm of your hand.

"Doesn't that bother you?" You ask innocently.

Toji looks past his computer screen and to you, the eye contact instant. "Depends on the person staring." He tells you.

You flash a little smile, "Interesting." You then tilt your head to the side, "Do you also catch people staring like that during your lectures?"

"Sometimes, why?" He arches a brow.

You shrug, "Just curious."

Toji lets out a sigh and then looks back to his computer, "Am I gonna have to deal with this curiosity of yours often?"

"Because I like studying people and the way they think, yes." You utter sweetly, looking down at the paper in front of you and going to jot something down.

The man lets out a simple hum in response to that and the room falls into a comfortable silence. After you wrote down your little note to yourself, you kept looking up from the paper and to the professor ahead. He looked so focused as he gazed at the screen in front of him.

In a way, you could almost see the underlining stress hinted in his eyes-- the true effect of being a teacher, you suppose. Even so, the man is addicting to stare at, though you don't mean to. You find your eyes lingering on him for long moments at a time.

The way you can see subtle veins poking out along his jawline, trailing down his neck and disappearing into his shirt... The way his lips part to sigh when he spots something incorrect on whatever it is he's looking at and the way he rolls his head back slightly to crack his neck are all so damn attractive.

And his shoulders... they're so broad and muscular, outlined nicely by the shirt he wore. You catch yourself biting on your lower lip as you imagine what it'd be like to have this man over you. Fuck, you're slowly having lustful thoughts like a true whore.

Then again, you can't help yourself; look at him. He knows what he's doing. You can tell by the way he dresses, the way he stands from his seat and rolls his shoulders back, and the way he carries himself around the classroom.

Even as minutes fly by and class eventually begins with the students having entered already, including Gojo Satoru whose gaze you ignored entirely as he passed by you, Toji so obviously knows how attractive he is.

You do the same things you did the week beforehand and take notes normally, finding yourself paying way more attention in this class than you have in any of your other ones. This time, the lecture doesn't last for a full three hours but you didn't even notice because you were glued and hanging onto every word that left Toji's lips (kinda).

You know what the lesson was about and you think you're getting a decently good grasp on economics but at the same time, your mind was constantly drifting away.

At one point, Toji had moved to hand out articles for everyone to read over for a few minutes and when he got to you, he handed the paper to you directly while staring down into your eyes. Maybe it was the angle or the brush of his fingers over yours but looking up at the man felt sensual already.

When the class had finally ended, he walked over to the door and gave one last goodbye to everyone as they left and then shut the door behind all the students.

By that time you had dove back into your prepared notes, trying to figure out how you could interview the man for the 'project' you had in sociology. Luckily, you'd spent a good amount of your weekend hours on this so you considered yourself well-prepared.

"Alright, where do ya' want me for this?" Toji asked, making your head fly up from your notes. He was suddenly standing in front of his desk, his lower back rested on the wood behind him and his large arms folded over his chest.

You blink, "Uh, right there is fine Mr. Fushiguro. Unless you wanna sit?" You tell him, gesturing your hand to the nearby extra chair off to his right and your left.

"Depends, how long is this gonna take?" Toji asks you.

The question makes your brow raise, "Do you have somewhere else to be?"

He pauses, eyes low on yours before saying, "No."

A cute little smile takes over your face, "Then this'll take as long as we need it to."

Toji appears to be bored or annoyed already. Some kind of disturbance is written on his face as he goes to ask you more questions, "If we take long this week, will this be shorter next week-"

"Sir, unless you have somewhere else to be," You cut off sternly as you gaze right up into his eyes. "There's no need to rush this. All I'm doing is asking you a few questions, if there's a problem with that I could always just find another professor."

His lips shut in an instant and he stares right back into those serious eyes of yours. You technically don't have the freedom of finding another professor for this imaginary project of yours but, he doesn't need to know that.

The man then scoffs and cocks his head back a little, "There's no need for that. You're here now, aren't ya?"

You beam, "Exactly. So let's go ahead and get started then."

With that, you begin to start questioning the man on some of his background as a teacher. At first, it was nothing too serious or intimidating. As you questioned him, both of you held eye contact like it was nothing and Toji was sure to answer every question to the best of his ability.

It's not like the questions were difficult though, majority consisted of how he thought about things and why. You got from his answers that he was a very confident man and hardly made any regrettable decisions, even learning that he chose to teach economics because he used to be a man who lacked financial stability.

That was one thing you admired about him too, whenever he started speaking about money you could instantly tell he came from a humble background and slowly the interview felt more like you were getting to know him rather than using his answers for a project.

And it was all going oh so smoothly until you asked a question you were sure was going to make him halt in his answering. "And what about your sex life, Mr. Fushiguro?" You asked shamelessly, looking him dead in the eyes as you did so.

Toji had been in the middle of sipping on water and you watched the way your question made him choke. He coughs loudly and looks off to the side, avoiding that all too innocent gaze of yours as if you didn't just ask that question.

For a moment, after he catches his breath, he looks at you to see if you'll rephrase what you just said. You don't.

"Ahem," He clears his throat, "My... My sex life?"

"Yes sir," You grin at him, "What's it like?"

"Wh-What would you need to know that for? Is that a question you have to ask??" He stammers.

You can tell you've got him momentarily flustered. "Well, my Sociology professor typically prefers that we pick out the questions to ask in most of our assignments, and since the point of this project is to see how environments affect the way people think; it isn't uncommon for me to ask about your sex life, sir."

Again, he just stares at you. After a quick huff, Toji clicks his tongue, "Yeah, no I don't get that explanation."

"Mr. Fushiguro, so far I've asked you nearly everything about your work life and home life. The only environment left for me to question you about is the sexual one." You explain further, "If the question makes you uncomfortable, I understand, we can move on from it but... it would make my final project better."

"Right, okay," Toji sighs, visibly still thrown off by the initial question.

And he has every right to be thrown off, it's like you said-- every question before that one was normal and manageable. He didn't know it but you had him exactly where you wanted him. There's nothing more satisfying than seeing such a large and somewhat structured man lose his composure.

"The more uncomfortable the questions I ask, the better my project results will be." You add on, your voice sweet.

The older man raises a hand to his forehead and you watch him wipe his face, his hand slowing along his jaw as he rubs his fingers against it in thought. "Alright, alright." Toji says, "What was the question again?"

You chuckle, "Can you tell me about your sex life?" The way your voice hits the man and the way you're looking at him makes him fidget where he stands, especially when you go on and add a little, "Please Sir?" at the end.

Toji would be lying to himself if he said he didn't see or feel the very obvious tension between the two of you at that moment. "I don't really know how to answer that. What am I supposed to say, it's active?"

"Well," You let out a little snicker, "Is it?"

His brows furrow at you, "You don't think it is?"

"I'm asking." You utter firmly. Then, you lean back in your seat a little, crossing your arms under your chest and causing the area to be more unavoidable to the eyes. "Is your sex life active, Mr. Fushiguro?" You question.

"If I want it to be, yes," Toji answers vaguely.

A giggle leaves you and you playfully roll your eyes. "If you want it to be, huh?"

He tilts his head, "Yeah, somethin' wrong with that answer?"

"No, no, not at all." Your gaze drops down to your paper and you write something down while speaking, "Just a bit cocky, is all."

You thought you imagined the next thing that would come out of his mouth because of how focused you were on writing and how low his voice got.

"'Could show ya' somethin' cocky if that's what you're askin' for here," Toji tells you.

On instant, your thighs draw closer as you squeeze them. Your head remains angled downward at the paper in front of you but you shift your gaze upwards to him, "Are you offering, sir?" You ask in a sultry tone.

He didn't even mean to let that slip in the first place so the last thing he was expecting was for that to be your response. The man surely thought he had lost his job with that comment right there but when you respond with the same energy as him, he's truly surprised.

Toji simply decides to go with it, y'know, entertain you. "You couldn't handle that kinda' thing, sweets." He claims.

You scoff and return your eyes to your note-taking, "You'd be surprised."

"You wanna surprise me, then?" He challenges.

Slowly, you place the pencil in your hand down and sit back in your seat again. He's still standing across from you, arms crossed and large body leaning back against his desk. Your eyes lock onto his and you move your two hands up to your shirt.

Toji's brain nearly malfunctions as he watches you unbutton two buttons on your shirt, the crease of your cleavage now fully visible. You don't miss the way his eyes drop to the exposure.

Your fingers then teasingly stop at the next button-down, "Sir," You call, causing his gaze to snap up to yours. "My eyes are up here."

Toji scoffs, "I know."

You move a hand to fan yourself off, "Anyways, it's a bit hot in here, no?"

The smirk that goes on his face is instant, he's finally starting to catch onto your advances. He then pushes himself off the desk and instead of walking toward the direction of the room thermostat, he walks right over to you, stopping directly in front of your desk.

Toji leans down and places his hands flat against the surface, looking you dead in the eyes as he speaks to you in a tone so low you grow aroused by the sound alone. "Couple of words got you all worked up or somethin'?" He questions.

Again, you squeeze your legs together and swallow deeply. Okay, you couldn't deny the fact that you were kinda horny now. Part of that could be because of the way you kept imagining lewd things as he talked through the lecture but now... it's hard to control yourself with the man right in front of you.

"N-No." You squeak out.

Fuck, all that confidence you had completely disappeared.

Toji tips his head to the side and his eyes dip down to your lips, "You're lyin' but, alright." He says, leaning back up and standing straight in front of you.

It took nearly every ounce of your self-control not to peek down at his crotch, you wanted to take a peak so badly. You begin to fiddle with your fingers in your lap, "Mr. Fushiguro..." You call out softly.

"Hm?" He hums, the sound vibrating deeply against his throat.

"Can I ask you one more question...?" You request, eyes up on his with this little needy and lustful gaze you could no longer control.

Toji stares down at you, his eyes are completely unreadable. Fuck, again you found yourself looking at him from this angle. You had this sudden and odd desire to be on your knees right now with your throat stuffed full of his c-

"No." The man answers, cutting off your horny imagination and surprising you.

"N-No?" You echo.

He shakes his head and turns away from you, "You heard me, no. Nine times out of ten, that next question was going to be all too inappropriate." Toji assumes as he walks around his desk and takes a seat. "I think we've done enough for today anyway. You can go now."

Your throat runs dry. Damnit, Gojo wasn't lying when he said this man was going to be very difficult. Slowly, you stand to your feet and grab your things. After which, you walk around your desk and as you pass him, your pencil slips out the side of your bag.

Quickly, you bend over and pick the item up, standing straight up afterward and turning your head back to Toji with an embarrassed expression on your face. "Sorry Mr. Fushiguro." You apologize lightly.

He doesn't even respond with words, giving you nothing more than a hum in response. After that, you hastily exit the room.

The very second you close the door behind you, Toji tosses his head back, "Fuck." He groans.

He'd been able to control himself so perfectly up until you just bent over with that short skirt of yours. He looked before he even thought about it, his eyes all over the curve of your thighs leading up to your ass and even focusing on the way those little stockings hugged your legs.

Toji's hips raise up as he shifts in his seat and then he spreads his legs. The man looks down almost tiredly at his crotch.

The sight of the annoying outline of his now hard cock made the man shake his head in disbelief. "Damn woman," He mumbled to himself.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ✔︎

TOJI FUSHIGURO ☐

KAMO CHOSO ☐

NANAMI KENTO ☐

??? SUKUNA ☐

??? NAOYA ☐

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

[moonstruckme]

Hellooo!!! I have a Spencer Reid request, but feel free to ignore it if you're not up for it hahaha! I was thinking about BAU!Reader and maybe her and Spencer starting to mimic each other because they've been together for a while and spend so much time together? Like the way they talk, etc! I think it could be so so cute, especially if they don't realize they're doing it and the team noticing it for them? Thank you so much, I love everything that you write 🤍

Thanks gorgeous!

cw: discussion of tongue preservation methods? sorry in advance

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 560 words

You gaze lovingly at your boyfriend as he goes into detail about how to preserve severed tongues. 

“So the fact that this unsub is purchasing equipment actually shows a lack of medical expertise, since he seems to be going overboard with preservation measures.” Spencer’s nodding as he talks, a tiny scrunch between his brows. “It’s pretty silly actually. It’s probably only a matter of time until he figures out he just needs to keep them on ice.” 

Rossi’s eyebrows raise, and Morgan chuckles quietly. 

Spencer blinks, eyes refocusing as he comes out of his brain and back into the conference room. “What?”

“Did you just say the unsub was silly?” Prentiss asks, and his eyebrows refurrow. 

“Did I?” 

“Let’s stay on task.” Hotch is all business. “If he were as inexperienced as that would suggest, he probably wouldn’t make clean cuts. This skill level indicates some level of expertise.” 

“Well, actually, I’m not sure it would necessarily be medical expertise,” you say, cringing at your own knowledge. “The process he’s using doesn’t sound dissimilar to how I think they preserve cow tongues. Maybe he’s preparing them to eat.” 

You’re doing your best not to squirm, and Spencer can likely tell, placing a slender hand on your leg under the table. “That’s a good point,” he says, “he could have experience as a chef or in the meatpacking business.” 

Prentiss frowns. “Yeah, but how many chefs know how to preserve tongues?” 

“Maybe we could start by looking into restaurants that serve those kinds of delicacies,” JJ suggests. 

“Good.” Hotch closes his binder, standing. “Garcia, you get started on that and we’ll touch base with you from Atlanta. Wheels up in two hours.” 

“Yes sir.” Garcia looks a bit green—you sympathize—as she hurries out of the conference room. 

Morgan’s giving you one of his knowing looks, collecting his things extra slow, until finally you sigh. “What?” 

“Well, actually,” he mimics, lips curving into a grin. “You and pretty boy must be getting serious if you’re taking on his signature phrase.” 

You roll your eyes, but Spencer smiles, looping his crossbody bag over his head. “Actually, language style matching is only one form of mirroring. If you’re paying attention, people who spend a lot of time together can mirror each other down to their breathing rhythms or how many times they blink within a minute.” 

You look at him interestedly. “So what does that mean? Just that we’re spending too much time together?” 

The look Spencer gives you threatens to liquefy you with its softness. “There’s never too much time.” 

Morgan’s laughter is hooting, and you want to find that as cheesy as he does, you really do, but the place within yourself where you usually reach for sarcasm has gone mushy and useless. You rearrange some things in your bag unnecessarily, head down to hide your blush.

“Wow,” Morgan sighs happily, “I don’t know which one of you is more whipped.” 

This would normally be your opportunity to think of a retort, but luckily you don’t have to. JJ pops back into the room, looking frowny. 

“We just got a call from Atlanta. The unsub killed again overnight.” 

Spencer grows serious. “He’s accelerating?” 

“Yup.” She nods. “Hotch wants us there now, so it’s wheels up in twenty.” 

You and Spencer nod in tandem. “Sick.”

Morgan’s eyes roll straight up to the ceiling.

[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

Dick had to give it to the kid, he'd somehow thought of everything. It was a little concerning, actually, but the kid had brushed off every attempt had probing for answers. Who trained him? If he was trained at all. ...had the kid gone into vigilantism alone? Oh, dear. THat's not good fro Dick's current worries.

Reading the file Danny had handed him, Dick had to wonder how long it had taken him to put together this cover story. Also, where he'd managed to get the equipment to do it. At a glance, the kid didn't seem to have much on him. Not even a phone!

He closed the folder and set it back down on the table. "Really?" he asked, "'Congratulations, it's a boy'?"

Danny's cheeks turned a bit red as his gaze shifted to the folder. "Well, yeah. You're stuck with me now until I can get you into good habits and a healthier schedule."

"That implies that you're planning on leaving."

Danny shrugged, all his confidence now fading away. Is this what he's really like? "Well, I mean, I'm sure you don't want me sticking around at all, let alone for a while."

Dick frowned and looked back at the black folder and the binder sitting on his coffee table. God, his apartment's a mess! He smiled at Danny. "My name's Richard, but everyone calls me 'Dick'. You can stay in the guest room."

Danny lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. "Really?"

"Yep. You went to all this work, it'd be a shame if it all went to waste."

The grin on Danny's face was more than worth the security risk that he now posed. "You won't regret it, Mr. Dick!"

Dick smiled back at him, "Please, drop the formalities. We're cousins, apparently."

Was he attached? No. He wouldn't allow himself to get attached. Sure, maybe he was letting this kid - he really needs to start calling him Danny - stay with him for a while, but he wasn't going to get attached. Getting attached meant losing him. Dick wasn't sure he'd be able to survive if he lost someone again.

...damn it.

***

First order of business, now that Danny was officially Dick's - why would he willingly go by that nickname? - ward/cousin, Danny was going to make sure he got some sleep. Today was Dick's day off, so Danny had sent him to his room to take a much needed nap. The man was basically dead on his feet and Danny would be damned if he let him wander around this mess of an apartment with blurry vision.

The second thing he did, once he was sure Dick was asleep, was start to clean up. The place was a stereotypical bachelor's pad, complete with questionable stains in the carpet, rips in the cushions, dishes piled up in the sink, and old take-out on every table and counter. Gross.

He made quick work of the old take-out by throwing it all away and hitting it with a very small and controlled ectoblast. He was so glad Dick had disposable gloves on hand.

The dishes were the next thing he handed. The water was cleaner than in Gotham, so he didn't worry about washing the dishes by hand when they all didn't fit in the dishwasher. He dried the ones he'd hand washed before putting them away. Dick had no organisation in his cupboards, so Danny fixed that, too.

The fridge and freezer weren't too bad. Sure, the dairy products had all expired and most of the food was freezer bitten, but none of it was moldy yet and the appliance itself was in perfect working order. He'd have to go shopping later.

Danny had never liked cleaning, but he'd had to when his parents refused to follow any OSHA laws or Lab Safety courses. So, when he found the cleaning supplies, he took a deep breath and began scrubbing the bathroom. It wasn't too bad, thank god, and was already fairly clean. It was quick and he was able to move on very quickly.

The counters, tables, walls, and tile and wooden floors were all easy to clean with a wet rag and a broom. He wasn't going to even try saving the rug because it looked well beyond the point of no return. The couch and chair cushions could be sticked up, but he didn't have a sewing needle and thread with him.

The last thing he did before taking his backpack into the room he'd been given was to write down a shopping list and leave it on the counter. It wasn't a lot, just food and some dishes and toiletries. He'd have to figure out with Dick a way to pay rent, too, but that was a later Danny problem. He'd tired himself out and was still running on pretty much empty. So, he allowed himself to fall asleep. He'd check on Dick when he woke up.

Part 4 Part 6

Tag List:

@flame-343 @ghestie93 @anarinette @aglmry @peachtreewriter @evix-syne666 @loudlypanickinginvenezolano @lumosfeather18581

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

is it gay to collect lots of lore on your new girlfriend, make it into a binder, and then hide it under your shared bed where she will absolutely never find it???

Vaggie: "Charlie? Uh, quick cleaning question."

Charlie: "Hmmmm yeah??"

Vaggie: "So I was looking under the bed-"

Charlie: "Under the b-" (LEAPS across the room) "-NO WAIT LEMME DO THA-"

Vaggie: "-and there's this binder, with my name on it."

Charlie: "AHH!!"

Vaggie: "In your handwriting?"

Charlie: "AAHHHH!!!!"

Vaggie: "It's about the size and thickness of a telephone book-"

Charlie: "AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH....!!!!"

Vaggie: "Babe. Do I wanna know."

Charlie: "IT'S NOTHING CREEPY OR WEIRD I SWEAR!!!!!"

Vaggie: "... that honestly just makes it weirder. What's even left?"

Charlie: "Normal stuff! Just, normal everyday Vaggie-related observations! In alphabetical order. And. Cross filed by category and sub grouping, for quick reference."

Vaggie: "..."

Vaggie: "You've made a reference book on me."

Charlie: "Okay, now when you say it like THAT it sounds WEIRD!"

Vaggie: "Any, uh, particular reason you're doing this?"

Charlie: "My brain likes knowing things about you. I mean, I like knowing things about you."

Vaggie: "What... kinda things?"

Charlie: "Can I see the binder? Thanks." (pages through) "Ah-hem. Things Vaggie doesn't like! Not having wings, back pain, back pain from not having wings anymore, people being rude to me, not stabbing people who're being maybe a bit rude even though she really wants to, leaving her spear at home on dates so she doesn't stab people with it, stuff being messy even though she tries to hide how grumpy it makes her when I don't fold the towels up again, guitarists, swords, angels, any mention of heaven-"

Vaggie: (sweating) "H-how 'bout some examples from another category, sweetie?"

Charlie: "Right! Ummm- okay. Things Vaggie likes! High places! Backrubs- especially after she's slept wrong again because we cuddled the wrong way during the night oops- the way her hair looks now it's growing out long! Long gloves and thigh high stockings! Cleaning! Doing stuff together- like tidying up our room! Buying me binders so I can keep my notes together instead of stacking them piles in our room! Threatening people! Threatening people specifically with-"

Charlie: (growling) "Her. Spear."

Vaggie: "What?"

Charlie: "Nothing!" (goes back to smiling) "Holding hands!- with me. Snuggling!- with me. Kisses!- again specifically with me. Staring up at the light of heaven from high places-!"

Vaggie: "And you."

Charlie: "-and me! ...And me?"

Vaggie: "I like staring at you, too."

Charlie: "....."

Charlie: "Can you- hold on just ONE moment I- I need to make a note and, for that I need a glitter pen..."

Vaggie: "You're writing all this down in glitter pen?"

Charlie: "I want it to be cute! Like you!!!"

Vaggie: "And I kinda wanna kiss you."

Charlie: "You- because of the, weird non-creepy binder thing??"

Vaggie: "Yep."

Charlie: "....Noted!!!" (snaps binder SHUT) "I can totally make the actual notes later though, you know, if you want to do the kissing thing right now inste- Mmf!"