#my first time finishing and posting something like this on tumblr i think

[wonderlandsakura]

What if Danny was never drawn to his own haunt cause he had a One True King kind of situation

-

The Keep, the Haunt of the Ghost King has never completely matched the needs and wishes of any of the Ghost Kings.

It has always been too small, too big, too filled with rooms that they never needed the use of, too bright, too dark, too childish, too comfortable, too humble, too welcoming, too filled with little glowing stars for some unknown reason??

While the presence of each new Ghost King did change the place slightly, no matter how long their reign, the place never truly became theirs, the fundamental base of the Keep never changed, never bent to the one using it.

(It was however still used by them, as it was a symbol of their power.)

The more easy-going Kings theorised that it was simply because they had another haunt that had actually formed with them, while the Keep had been through many hands and thus could not be anyone's solely, but was rather the Infinite Realms'.

To truly change the Keep, they theorised, was to irreversibly change the Infinite Realms itself.

On the other hand, the more controlling Kings that passed through the Crown and Ring sought to warp the Keep to their control by force, but all ultimately failed.

There was one among them, however, that managed to warp the Keep the most, whether it was through the awesome and fearful power he wielded against even his own subjects, the amount of change he brought upon the Infinite Realms buy forcing it to adapt to being without a someone specific to do the duties of the Ghost King, or simply the comparitively long rule compared to other Ghost Kings that had been obsessed with some form of control.

Ultimately, however, no one could truly change, control and make the Keep their own.

Why?

Well, simply put, it was because it was not their Haunt.

The Keep was formed at the same time the Infinite Realms itself was formed (before even the first Ghost King was an idea), formed to house the one and only being who would serve and protect It and It's people, protect It's relations with the other Realms it was connected to and simply keep the balance between It and Them, between Life and Death.

It becoming the Keep was something caused by the population of the Infinite Realms, believing their strongest and wisest the one foretold to them in the words they had been formed knowing:

Do Seek our Savior when, The Trials Three are Done, First that of Acceptance, Second that of Conquering, Last that of Self, and then, We Crown our King, the One, the True, And celebrate as all is balanced once more

Well whether they were supported by the population or were egotistical mad men, none of them were that which they believed them to be.

Until Danny.

-

Did you know, did you know?

On the day of his rebirth, the Infinite Realms sung in the Cores of all it's people.

Did you hear, did you hear?

He protects all who need it, even those who were once his enemies, those that are different, those that aren't his people.

He is Kind and Accepting.

Did you know, did you know?

He brought down Pariah Dark, the Tyrant King, one only the Ancients working together could capture.

(But didn't he have help? Wasn't he aided? Two hands closed that coffin)

He fought him alone, without help from any other, with a device that amplifies one's power, like the age he doesn't have.

(He's so young.

Did you hear? Oh did you hear?

The King's a Child.

He's so young, so young, so young.

Did you know? Oh please, did you know?

I know you didn't.)

He is Powerful and Conquers all who pose a threat.

Did you hear? Did you hear?

They say he fought himself, a stronger and greater version that destroyed his world.

A Tyrant King that killed every being.

A true ghost, with power rivaling an Ancient.

The ghost halves of two Halfa.

(Aren't the ghost halves of Halfas more powerful?

Yes, they are.)

One who caused such fear that the Realms rejected him, that the Observants sought to end him before he was born.

(They wanted to kill the King, Our King.

How dare they. How dare they.

He's Ours!)

Did you know? Did you know?

He Won.

The King, (Our King) Won.

He has Defeated the worst aspects of his Self.

Long Reign The King.

(He has completed the trials.)

Long Reign The King.

(He is Just and Kind.)

Long Reign The King, The One True King, Always and Forevermore.

(He is the King, Our King.)

-

When Danny stepped into the Keep for the first time after his coronation, he knew it as his own.

He knew the place, every corridor, every room, like it was a part of him he had always had but never used. (It was though wasn't it? A part of him?)

Unlike every other King before him, the Keep was perfect for him.

Every unwanted aspect left behind by the previous tenants (cause that's what they were, weren't they? Tenants.) had been either removed or shuffled into one of the many storerooms created precisely for that at the moment he had been officially crowned.

(And what a crowning it was, for the moment the Crown and Ring had been put on, something in all the ghosts settled, like a missing puzzle piece, a yearning fed, a prophecy ingrained in them fulfilled.)

The Keep felt to him like home he had lived in every day of his life and yet never been in, a part of himself he was rediscovering after a long time without.

As Danny wandered through His Keep, he knew what lay behind every door, what every room was for, the location of everything in the Keep, like a nostalgic walk through a childhood home that he had not visited in a few years, but yet had not changed.

It felt like coming Home.

[sapphire-to-the-rain]

multicolored nymphia !

-

i don’t even know what came over me but i just drew this in like 3 hours

[taonpest]

Listen. I had plans for them. I worked my ass off to deliver literally the best drawing I ever made in my life but I fucked up so you’re only getting a silly doodle now

[dahldahlbills]

adam sandler yuuji for @mothcryptids happy belated birthday ^_^

[keeps-ache]

[will smith 'here's my wife' pose at this]

[sanstropfremir]

i know the influx of asks seems random but i found a post of yours and i hadnt seen your posts in a while so i read every single ask you answered in the past two months and spammed your inbox oopsie

no it's all good! i figured it was probably someone who was reading through the backlog bc of the order of the messages and who they were about. i don't usually get so many from one person at once but i do get a high percentage of asks probably compared to most other blogs

[torpublishinggroup]

"Warning Signs Your Machines Are Trying to Kill You!" by TJ Klune

(Legally, I’m required to tell you that when smart phones first became popular, I bought one and then asked for the address of the app store because I thought it was a physical location I had to go to in order to download apps and not something already on your phone. Also, I was recently told I speak like an old person so as a warning, there will not be any slang you youths typically hear, especially on Tumblr. Any slang I’ve learned in the last five years has been against my will. I still don’t know what FOMO means, and I don’t care.)

1. Oh no! You and your family are trying to enjoy a movie night, but Overlord Prime (With Free Shipping) wants a sacrifice at the altar of their god, BeeZos. Should this happen, do not attempt to give Overlord Prime (With Free Shipping) a cantaloupe with googly-eyes on it and say that it is your baby. Overlord Prime (With Free Shipping) knows the difference between fruit and children. Instead, ask the machine to order dog food, and it will forget about eating humans for a little while.

2. If you own a very fancy vehicle that can drive itself, always make sure to carry a brick. That way, when the car locks you inside and attempts to drive you off a cliff into a gas station, you can break the window using the brick. You will then have to jump out, but make sure you do so in time so you can watch the wicked-ass explosion when the car hits the gas station, and you can revel in your victory over your car.

3. This one will hurt. I’m sorry, but it’s true. Chances are, you’re reading this on your phone right this second. To be safe, after you’ve finished reading this post and have clicked on the affiliated links to purchase my books, you should throw your phone into a volcano and then move to South Dakota where there are no machines, only wind and cows. That way, when everyone else gets the 5GZombieVirus that people on Twitter (I’m not calling it the other thing, shut up) seem to think is real, you’ll be safe with your cows on a windy day.

4. Get rid of your air fryer. Don’t ask me why, just do it. Red flags all around. Danger, danger.

5. Do you know of the Clapper? That thing first launched in the late 20th century (I wrote it that way to make me feel old) where the commercials showed cranky old people unable to reach their light switches, so they got a thing called a Clapper that turns your lights on and off when you clap? Guess what? Those will be the first things to try and kill you. If you love your gram-gram, save her from the Clapper. When she asks why you are destroying it with an ax, tell gram-gram it’s because you love her.

6. Do you live in a smart home? The kind where everything is connected to the internet, including your refrigerator? The refrigerator that holds your perishable foods? And oh, would you look at that: how many ice cubes have you kicked under it rather than picking them up when they fall to the floor? A dozen? A million? The refrigerator remembers. And it will spoil your food in seconds. What then? What are you going to eat? Canned food? Not if the refrigerator falls on top of you!

Unfortunately for you, this is where it must end. I hope this has given you enough information to help you survive the inevitable. If you do not heed my warnings, well. Who cares. I’m not in charge of you. Do whatever you want. Just don’t come complaining to me when gram-gram gets the clap.

[blacksurvivalnostalgichanges]

I'm pretty sure u know whi this is, but can I request an incorrect quote that involves Chiara?

i usually write quotes just based on anything i found that i felt was quote-worthy or fit a specific character, there isn't a lot i can do on that end aside from, i guess, like, choosing her more often in the quotes that could fit a lot of characters

you can look up (character)blacksurvival in my blog to see all/most of the posts i made that involve that character, though. could scratch the itch if you haven't done that, i'm stating it mainly because i often assume something in my tag system is clear until someone goes "why did you tag this hydrogen peroxide??" and i have to realize i never actually stated it directly

small tip:sometimes when you look it up it displays it in a weird order, if that happens try finding a post with the tag you're trying to look up and clicking it. i don't know why it yields different results but it does. i often look up my own posts when i want some sort of inspiration for any specific character or pairing

[ms-demeanor]

Hello,Do you have any tips for recovering from internet brain rot? It's like my patience has dried up and if there's a huge amount of text (even about topics I'm very interested in) that I have to read, I get annoyed and just don't interact with the material at all.

I have multiple tips!

TL;DR (Because of course I generated a wall of text): Take a break from the internet, create a schedule for getting yourself used to reading longer texts, take breaks while reading, and perhaps reconsider how you interact with The Internet and the world in general.

Here are the basic "to reduce the brain rot just don't interact" tips:

Take a break. Give yourself time off from The Internet (for these purposes The Internet is the social media industrial complex; clickbait news, recommended videos, social media sites, etc. You don't have to totally check out of email or your local news site, just get away from the huge time sucks). I'd say to take at least one day a week where you're online for less than an hour a day, and to maybe work up to doing a week-long break from whatever the main agents of rot are.

Once you've identified the main agents of rot, give yourself a time limit or set up rules for yourself. I don't let myself look at social media in bed, for instance; no staying up late on my phone, no scrolling before I get up and start my day. I don't give myself a strict time limit anymore, but for a while there I was very firm about "you only get to go online 4 hours a day" with myself.

Don't comment (or at least only share the things you really want to share). If you feel the need to argue, or if you feel pressured into sharing something, don't. Step back, maybe even open the post in a new tab or send it to yourself, and come back later. If you've been thinking about it and have decided it IS something you care enough to talk about, share it. If you look at the tab and feel stressed out or still feel reactive, close the tab and walk away.

Go out and interact with the real world in a non-work capacity for a few hours a week; take walks or go shopping or go out and take pictures of insects. Touch grass so that The Internet is not the only thing you're doing with your downtime.

Here are the "work on reading longer texts specifically" tips:

Set a reading goal for yourself. Maybe you want to read one New Yorker article a week, maybe you want to read all the way through news articles, maybe you want to read novels like you used to in high school. Figure out what your actual goal is and articulate that goal to yourself.

Set up a practice schedule and gradually increase the amount of time you're reading. Don't go from short tumblr posts to a novella, go from short tumblr posts to slightly longer news articles, then to slightly longer essays, then to a novella. You can do this in literal paragraphs if you want to - maybe your goal for your first day is to read five paragraphs in a row, and the second day is seven, and the third day is ten, etc, until you are comfortably reading for longer amounts of time without counting paragraphs. (Try this with books from gutenberg.org; read a classic you haven't read a few paragraphs at a time and if you find yourself going over your paragraph count, let yourself run with it. If you finish a book, good for you, find another one and start again.)

Set up a maintenance schedule. If your goal is to read longer news pieces, try to read a longer piece every week and try to read to the end of every news article you open. If your goal is to read novels or longer nonfiction, try to read a book a month (maybe setting aside dedicated time each week to read, maybe Thursday evenings are book time now). If you find yourself falling back into old habits, take a break from The Internet and do some more rigorous practice for a while.

If you find yourself getting frustrated while you are reading you can also take a break! Read until you get frustrated and then *instead of switching to a different page or closing the article* close your eyes or look out the window or away from the screen for thirty seconds (count 'em! count out the time in your head) and then continue reading. You can also take a longer pause and sit and think about why you're getting frustrated. Is it the subject matter? Is it just looking at this text for longer than a couple minutes (if you are experiencing FOMO because you're reading for another few minutes instead of scrolling, the harder tips at the bottom are going to be important to you)? Are you comfortable? Are you reading this text to procrastinate from something and the procrastination is making you nervous? Are you trying to read to the bottom of your dash and reading a long post is taking up more time than you want while scrolling? Are you bored? Genuinely and very seriously: are your eyes straining and does your head hurt (if this is the case when is the last time you had your eyes checked or your glasses prescription updated)?

Here are the much harder "examine yourself and reassess your reactions to things" tips:

Work on re-training your attention span.

Identify something that you enjoy and find deeply engaging, and schedule some dedicated time for that thing. Set a literal timer (it can be a short amount of time at first) and sit down and do the thing without switching to a different website or opening up an app on your phone. This can be re-reading or watching a couple episodes of a show you like or listening to your favorite album while you sit down and draw. What's important is to spend a longer time focusing on doing something you DO like before attempting to spend a longer time focusing on something you DON'T like.

When you're starting on things you DON'T like, start with things you mildly don't like, or that feel tedious but aren't actually unpleasant. One way I do this is by transcribing poetry; I look up poems that I connect to and I transcribe them into a notebook that I have for that purpose. I enjoy having the finished product, but I don't enjoy the process, so it takes some effort to stick with it. Maybe there is a boring book you have been trying to get through, maybe you need to detail your car, maybe you've been trying to take up embroidery - these are good things to make yourself pay attention to (having music or a podcast on can help, but avoid watching videos or opening social apps)

When you're okay at that kind of thing (doing something not actively unpleasant) work on your attention span for things you ACTIVELY don't like. I don't think you should be a masochist about this, but you should work on being okay with doing unpleasant things for a sustained period of time. All of us have to do unpleasant stuff sometimes, and it's better to be able to pay attention to it for an hour at a time than it is to put it off forever.

This leads into the next Big Tip which is:

Work on being less reactive

Find something that you dislike; I'm going to use conservative talk radio as my example.

Expose yourself to the disliked thing for short periods of time (under ten minutes, maybe under five minutes).

Work on moderating your emotions during the time spent exposed to the disliked thing. If it makes you angry, work on intellectualizing the anger without becoming agitated by it. If it makes you sad, work on accepting that sadness without letting it drag down your mood. This isn't precisely about becoming numb to stimuli, but it is about being more in control of how your emotional reactions impact you.

Analyze the disliked thing. Why does it make you angry? Is that on purpose by the creator of the thing? Would it make someone else angry in the same way? How would you explain the anger to a neutral third party?

Consider responding instead of reacting. Let's say you're seeing a lot of very sad and upsetting things online and it's making you sad and upsetting you. You re-share these things because you don't feel like there's anything else you can do or you get angry when you see people sharing incorrect information, perhaps you argue with people about this. Now try looking at the upsetting things through the lens of point number four. This has upset you; how has it upset you? And once you've thought about how it upset you and have articulated that to yourself, find out what you can DO. I cannot make conservative talk radio go off the air, but I can support the groups harmed by conservative talk radio; thus there is no point in me getting upset and angry about conservative talk radio when I could be helping the people they target instead.

And that gets us to the last big tip which is:

Ask yourself if you are spending your time in a way that is enjoyable and edifying.

We all have limited time in our days and limited time in our lives. If you are finding yourself frequently frustrated online, it's a good time to consider whether you want to be spending so much time online.

If you feel like The Internet has become a rat race in which you can't read more than a few paragraphs without getting frustrated, there's a good chance that not only are you spending too much time on The Internet, but you're also spending it on doing things that you don't particularly like.

A realization like yours, Anon, that you are getting frustrated with any longer texts, can actually be really helpful because it provides a good opportunity to look at what you're engaging with and consider the questions:

Is this something I enjoy?

Do I feel good when I do this thing?

And that's a great way to figure out how to get rid of things that are leading to your background frustration. Maybe that looks like paring down the list of blogs you follow, maybe that looks like unsubscribing from some youtubers and podcasts, maybe that looks like uninstalling apps, maybe that looks like blocking a whole bunch of people and terms on your socials.

I don't think that everything we do has to help us grow as a person or expand our consciousness or anything like that, but I do think it's important to prioritize doing things that you like and doing things that you feel good about.

Like, I'm not doing something *wrong* if I spend an afternoon on Youtube watching drama channels every once in a while, but if I come out of a few afternoons of watching youtube drama channels feeling restless and anxious and like I wasted my time - even if I enjoyed myself while I was watching - it's probably a good idea for me to take a break from drama channels and see if there's something I can do instead that will make me feel better.

ALSO, A NOTE:

You are an animal that requires significant enrichment in your enclosure.

Think about tigers. Tigers in captivity are going to be excited to get high-value treats for any reason. They will eat and enjoy the treats. But if a tiger in captivity is only given the treats and never given any other form of activity to engage with, it is not going to be a happy tiger. If you start putting their treats in a pumpkin or a puzzle feeder or giving them toys to play with, that is going to be a much happier tiger.

Please give your brain things to play with that are more than just treats (though it does need some treats!). Make yourself a happy tiger. Your brain need a puzzle feeder, not a treat button.

[charlotte-zophie]

Therapy conversation

Dear Fandom, dear Mr. Gaiman,

I hope this isn´t weird but i have something to confess.

Since I watched the second season of Good Omens, I've gone through so many phases that I barely recognize myself anymore.

My first reaction after episode 6 was shock, then I was disturbed because I didn't know that it was possible for a series to have such a strong influence on my psyche, I questioned myself and doubted my sanity. Then I was overcome by an incredible sadness and was really heartbroken. I felt like a pubescent teenager, in my mid-30s. I couldn't sleep properly for several days, had nightmares and my thoughts were with these two ineffable loving idiots the whole time.

And the worst thing about it was that for the first few days I was really ashamed to admit to myself and my husband that I was completely and hopelessly immersed in this world. I did nothing but watch videos, listen to sad songs, and read heartbreaking fanfictions for days. And of course I read the book again and watched the series over and over again. All in the hope that it will ease my heartache a little.

But as is often the case in these situations, after a few days in which no real change occurs, you have the thought that you will be lost in this feeling forever. But since I have 3 children that I need to look after, of course locking myself away for weeks with heartbreak wasn't an option, so I had to find an outlet for myself to channel my pain.

So I started painting a picture. By Aziraphale and Crowley. And stroke by stroke I let my feelings flow out of me and into the picture.

It took over a week until I had a motif in which I could see my thoughts and feelings expressed and then it took another week until I finished the picture. On an old canvas with paints that haven't been used for a long time, with many, many layers of old paint underneath.

But when the picture was finally finished, it really took a load off my mind. It was like I had broken a dam and was finally able to let it all out and convert it into creative energy.

But I think the most important thing was that I uploaded the picture to Tumblr and received such a response that I was incredibly touched and immediately motivated to paint more pictures.

Since that day, hardly a moment goes by when I am not holding a pen in my hand or not thinking about a new picture. I'm in one of the most creative phases in a very long time and I'm really enjoying it.

I am so grateful for the wonderful people here! Here I see that I'm not alone with my strange feelings that I still don't really know how to classify. Here I read thoughts that are so similar to mine, here I see works of art that melt my heart, here I feel understood!

And I am so grateful for the pain that showed me the way back to my creative energy!

Thank you Fandom!

Thank you Neil Gaiman!

I would have been lost without you!

Because I don't know my way around here very well, I didn't think about pinning the picture in question as a link when I created this post, but since many people have asked about it, I've pinned it here. Thank you all, love love love

[81folklore]

heaven - OP81 - part 2

pairings: oscar piastri x private!secret!reader (fc: gracie abrams)

summary: a very sweet softlaunch ends pretty quickly

authors notes: first of all a huge thank you to everyone who has liked, reblogged and taken the time to read my works it means so much to me and im so so grateful!! next, this is something i made at 1am so please bear with me😭. i am working on the lando and charles stories i PROMISE but i want them to be special and i currently have zero thoughts about where to take them so it might be a while🫣 also i almost finished this when tumblr DELETED IT?? i want to cry😁 ALSO i started this at like 1am and i cant be asked to do tweets rn so insta smau it is

part 1 part 3 masterlist

yourusername

liked by yourfriend2, user7 and 583 others

ahahah i love the beach and my friends

view comments

yourfriend2: dont be fooled she called me crying after the fourth photo bcs she lost 5 games of uno in a row

yourusername: i called you in confidence and this is how you repay me??

user6: its fine we know how emotional uno can get😁

yourusername: ??

user7: im so single hahahahhaa (im dying inside)

user10: is it confirmed that this is oscar?

user9: im not being funny but oscar doesnt even follow her so i think yous are just reaching

user10: …they have the same dog??

yourfriend6: might aswell post his face at this point

yourusername: leave me aloneeee im having fun!!

oscarpiastri

liked by clementnovalak, paularon_ and 93,357 others

second part of the season incoming 😁👊 (after a very competitive round of uno)

view comments

user7: ready to see you up on the podium🧡

user10: uno you say?

user3: right could they be more obvious😭

yourusername: its race week babyyy

*liked by oscarpiastri*

user17: literally what is happening why are all of the grid softlaunching😭

user8: and why does it always end in the hardest of launches

yourusername and oscarpiastri added to their stories

yourfriend2: 😭😭

yourusername: i am sick and tired i just want to POST him but softlaunches are so fun😔

yourfriend2: its really fun when everyone already knows?

yourusername: no but we are in too deep now☹️

user6: god you guys are insufferable

user23: JUST POST THE CUTE COUPLE PHOTOS ALREADY

user23: i lied please dont im so single it hurts

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 6,572 others

the world through my eyes☀️

view comments

oscarpiastri: i love you sososo much

oscarpiastri: my favorite person in the entire world

yourusername: ur literally my sunshine🫶

yourfriend1: god you make me SICK

yourusername: ..okay😁 oscarpiastri i love youuu🤭

landonorris: i hate people in love (you guys are very cute)

user10: THE NOTE OH

user18: THE HARDEST OF LAUNCHES HAPPENED

user7: he is her world oh my lord

user63: and the fact that hes her sunshine too😭😭

user63: literally crying myself to sleep

oscarpiastri

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 143,572 others

my happiness

view comments

yourusername: teheehee thats me🤭

yourusername: i LOVE YOUUU

yourusername: i didnt know you took photos of me like this☹️

oscarpiastri: of course your my favorite🧡

yourusername: oh could you get any cuter🫠

yourfriend4: thought you should know yn is currently jumping up and down and giggling while looking at this

user23: I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU NOT TO POST THESE?? I CANT HANDLE THIS??

user8: god really saw me sad and said ‘heres the happiest and best couple, wallow more’

user16: YOU GUYS ARE LITERALLY THE CUTEST?? THE NOTES?? THE POSTS??

user1: i cant stand people in love (i want to cry and drown in my tears)

yourusername: oh my god im so obsessed with you

oscarpiastri: i loooove youuu

oscarpiastri added to their story

yourusername: ahhhhh im so☹️

yourusername: osc☹️☹️ur literally the cutest thing to exist

yourusername: my boys🫶🫶

yoursusername: im so in love with you sunshine☀️

oscarpiastri: love you, thank you for showing me happiness🤍

[eaterofman]

Yandere Coworker Harem x New Hire Reader: A Meeting with the CEO

Follow up to this post

Finally fed up with it all, you decide to leave... but you learn it may not be that easy.

Content Warnings: General creepiness, yanderes, financial manipulation, manipulation, power difference, gaslighting

AN: Holy shit the first part blew up, more so than any post I've ever made on tumblr... ever. Thank y'all, and I hope this lives up to everyone's expectations? Had to ignore a few asks since they were essentially the plot to this part, haha.

As nice as Jake is... it starts to wear on you. The seclusion from your other coworkers, Warren and Jax's constant attention, it all becomes too much. This was the easiest money you've ever made, but it almost felt... condescending in a way. Seriously, you feel like you haven't actually worked in months, just given simple tasks to complete so that Jax could praise you. Otherwise, you felt like you were just eye candy set in a pretty office. No more, you figure. You make up your mind to go back to HR, it's been a long time coming. They either fix it, or you're gone.

With your mind made up, you return to Leon. He'd been so kind before, surely he'd help, right? As you explain your problems to him, he nods and gently smiles. In your distress, you don't notice his hand moving to cover yours, massaging yours comfortingly. You welcome the comforting sensation, overwhelmed to the point of not really considering the implications. You look into his dark eyes as you finish, silently pleading with him for help.

"That really is something. I'm sorry to hear your experience with the company has been so distressing. Tell me, do you have any proof?"

His demeanor seems to shift instantly back to the colder man you remember from your first sight of him. His fingers rubbing gentle circles into your palm shift into a harsher grip.

"Proof? I-I mean, the cameras have probably caught something?"

You'd say there were eyewitnesses, but all of your other coworkers had been avoiding you. You barely even knew their names...

"Unfortunately, our cameras have been malfunctioning lately, I doubt they'd catch anything. Without any actual witnesses, I'm afraid I can't do anything for you."

"How can you say that without even looking? This place is insane- you know what? I'm just quitting. I can't take this anymore."

You try to remove your hand but he keeps it there. His gaze is suddenly ice cold. He lets your hand go after a few moments of tension, fingers lingering before you yank your hand to your chest.

"Ah, you could quit... but I'd really recommend against it. You'd of course have to pay the dues you signed in your contract, as well as any additional fees. I'm not in charge of finances, but my estimate would be somewhere around... 200 thousand or so?"

You gasp, blood running cold. 200 thousand?! You don't remember signing that, but you also don't recall really reading over the contract in your excitement. You try to think of a way out, surely there had to be some sort of loophole-

"Of course, there's always the option of asking the CEO to change your contract, but..."

You'd tuned anything after that out, insisting to meet with the CEO as soon as possible. Which, to your surprise, was almost immediately. Almost like he'd been... waiting for you? Leon himself lead you to the CEO's room, at the very top of the skyscraper your office resided in. As you're let in, you're met with the biggest office you'd ever seen. It composed of the entire top floor of the skyscraper, massive windows encircling the entire ornate office.

You really try to ignore the feeling that you're walking into a trap.

The CEO was patiently waiting for you. Like a king on a throne, he sat in the middle of the room in front of a surprisingly simple desk. You'd heard of the CEO, Kennedy Grey, but you'd never met him in person before. He had an air of sophistication around him, an older gentlemen with salt and pepper hair and a well trimmed beard. His suit was pristine and looked expensive, probably costing more than your entire yearly salary. He smiled, urging the two of you to sit. His eyes glanced over to Leon's, a slight smirk on his face as if the two were in on a joke you weren't.

"So, what brings you two here? I've heard very good things about you from Jax. Things are going well, I presume?"

You fidget, despite his welcoming tone, he felt oddly... menacing. Like you weren't supposed to disagree with him, even if he asked you a question. You begin to explain your issues, but are quickly stopped with a firm look of disapproval when you bring up the idea of leaving the company.

"Now now, we can't have that, can we? With your contract, that wouldn't be a very smart idea, would it?"

Before you can even respond, he simply continues to talk over you.

"No, no it wouldn't. And you've just been such a good worker, we'd just hate to lose you."

"Well, I was actually hoping we could talk about the contract, I just don't think it's fair-" you can barely get your thoughts out as he cuts you off again.

"Unfair? But my dear, you signed it. I'd just hate to get my lawyers involved... they're top of the line, y'know? Besides, you don't actually want to leave, you're just... stressed. What do you need, a paid week off? A bonus for your hard work?"

"No-"

"Well, now that that's done, let's get back to work, shall we? You'll have a bonus on your next pay-"

You've had enough of his condescension and interruptions, it's time for you to interrupt him.

"You know what, I'll take the lawsuit. You people are insane. You can have the money if you want, but I'm out of here."

As you get up, you find you can't. Leon has moved behind you, surprisingly strong arms holding your chair in, preventing you from moving. You look up at him in angered confusion, but he's sharing a look with Kennedy. You once again feel like you're missing an important part of an inside joke again. You try to struggle, but you're stopped as Kennedy interrupts.

"Apartment 101, Evergreen Apartments, right?"

"W-wha-"

"You know, I've been venturing into the rental market recently. Very profitable at the moment. I actually just bought a few buildings in your area, including your little apartment. Such a shame, you know you could do better, right? All you have to do is ask..."

He smiles at you as if this was a normal conversation to him, like he was doing you a favor.

"I guess that makes me your landlord now, if you think about it!" his smile turns colder, eyes crinkling like he's laughing at you, "That being said, I just don't see how you're going to pay for the rent increase without this job. I hate to do it, but it's a necessity, y'know? Cost of living and such."

He waves his hand like it's no big deal, like he isn't playing with your livelihood and threatening you.

"You could move out, of course, but well, word gets around, and I just don't know how the other investors in the area would react to your... history."

You feel dread well up in the pit of your stomach and tears in your eyes. He... has you. What could you even do? Moving out of the city would mean starting over, and that's if you could even find a place and a job to pay for said place, and paying for the lawsuit-

In your panic, you can only whimper, "I just... why? Why me? i don't understand-"

"That's the beauty of it all, you don't have to. All you have to worry about is coming in and doing your job. We'll handle all the rest."

You jump, having almost forgotten Leon was behind you in your panic. You go to open your mouth-

"Wonderful insight, Leon. Now that we're all on the same foot, let's get back to work, shall we?"

You can only numbly nod your head, too overwhelmed to continue fighting.

You're finally allowed to sit up and begin walking towards the door, trying to speed walk out of the huge room that somehow managed to feel claustrophobic. You just wanted out at this point, you needed somewhere to think.

As you step into the elevator, Leon staying behind in the office-thank god-you're interrupted one final time.

"Oh, and I meant what I said. If you ever need any assistance, anything at all, just come to me. All you have to do is ask."

[toxicanonymity]

You can totally say no if your not comfy doing it but maybe you can suggest another writer who you may think might? But if yoir request are open is there anyway I can convince you to write on the topic of reader being Sara's best friend and has tried to come onto Joel multiple times (ie sneaking into his room etc) and then escalating to slipping a roofie into his drink one night while her and Sara are home on winter break from college? If you're not comfortable i totally understand and im sorry if I made you uncomfortable its just your writing for the darker stuff is so amazing 💖

locket.

2k, joel miller x dark f!reader | master list A/N: here's your 🕊️ in a pear tree 🖤 in a way, it's kinda the inverse of night talks 😅 didn't overthink this one, so FIWB. this is my 3000th tumblr post! WARNINGS: I8+ big girthy age gap (44/21), drugs, dosing, f masturbation, dubcon unsafe p in v, somnophilia-ish, choking adjacent move, degradation (both), cum, dead dove december ig (idk if i'll do a deader one this month).

You're tired of her hot Dad playing hard-to-get, and you're going to put an end to it tonight. You've come home with your college roommate, as you often do since your family lives far. Once again, her dad is dressed like a piece of meat. Tight, white, ride-me t-shirt. Cock bulging in his slutty joggers. He’s walking around double cheeked up on a Friday night in front of his daughter’s best friend. His daughter’s best friend who thinks about him every time she touches herself. 

Sarah falls asleep fast, and you can still hear the TV downstairs. You put on your locket, take off your underwear, and adjust your oversized, wide neck t-shirt to make a wardrobe malfunction inevitable with the slightest movement.  You creep down the stairs and pause at the landing, where you lightly caress your nipples, bringing them to full attention. You’re already tingling downstairs. You creep up to the edge of the living room with your arms straight down, pushing your boobs together, hands clasped together near your crotch as if you're cold. And to be fair, the air is a little cool on your bare cunt. You’re dripping for him, and the shirt barely covers your asscheeks.  Joel barely glances, then does a double take.  

His eyes fall on your breasts before reaching your face. His jaw clenches. After a few seconds, he asks, "What?" 

"Sorry to bother you. I couldn't sleep."

"What am I s'posed to do about that," he grumbles, looking away from you, resuming his focus on the television. 

You shiver and briskly rub your arms, feeling the air hit your exposed nipple for a moment, and you ask about changing the thermostat. He sighs, braces his hands on his knees, and gets up. You shamelessly ogle the bulge in his gray joggers. While he's on his way to adjust the thermostat, you open your locket and drop a little medicine into his can of beer: half a sleeping pill and half a Viagra. 

In the corner of your eye, Joel is lingering in the hall. He rubs his beard, looking at you while you pretend to look at the TV. He slowly walks forward. "Goddamn slut," he mutters under his breath, and you force away a smile as you sit down.

When Joel returns to the sofa, you're sitting next to his seat.  You bring your knee up to rest on the sofa and feel your pussy exposed.  He picks up a blanket off the other end and sets it in your lap.

"Take this with ya." He picks up his beer, and moves to the easy chair. You don't miss the way he adjusts himself as he settles into the chair. 

You make yourself comfortable, and when you just sit there, he says, "thought ya said ya were cold.”

“I'm comfy now.” 

You sit there in silence watching TV. He finishes his beer and gets another. You keep an eye on him. The sleeping pill seems to hit him first. His eyelids get heavy and he rests his head back on the chair. His breathing is steady. You think you see him getting hard. Yeah, something definitely moves in his joggers. He’s nodding off and jolts awake. He grabs his crotch and mutters, “fuck,” before he remembers you're there. You shift positions to lie on your stomach, facing him, with your ass exposed so he can see your butt cheeks. 

“Go to sleep, darlin’. God damn.” Your heart flutters. Oh, now he’s done for.

“You sure?” You ask and go into a cat pose with your ass higher in the air. 

“Yeah.”  His eyes are half shut. He tries to be subtle about slowly rubbing himself for relief, but you can see just fine.  “Fuck-” he interrupts himself with a yawn.  He shakes his head at you. “gave me somethin’, didn't ya?” 

You wet your lips and look down. “What makes you say that? Do you feel funny?”

“Like you don't know.”

In for a penny, in for a pound. You shift onto your side, then swing your legs around in front of you as you sit up on the sofa. “Well. . .I feel funny, Mr. Miller,” you purr as you spread your legs for him. “Yeah, I feel funny right here.” You slowly, lightly caress your mound near your clit with two fingers, then spread them to trace down your outer lips. 

“Somethin’ wrong with you,” he shakes his head. His brow furrows and he swallows. But he doesn’t leave. . .He looks back at the television. Your body is churning out slick, getting ready for him, but right now it’s going to waste on his sofa. You gather some from your hole and bring it up to your clit. You grab a breast and begin to touch yourself. He’s sleepy, but he's hanging in there. The heel of his palm is planted in his lap. 

When he begins to nod off again, you get up and approach the chair. He stays seated, awake but sleepy, and his breath deepens as you brace your hand on one arm of the chair. You wedge one knee between his outer thigh and the chair’s arm. Then the other side, so you're straddling him. You both look down at his visible erection. He looks up. His lips form a subtle pout, then part slightly. His brown eyes glaze over as he studies your face. 

“Dress like you want it,” you whisper. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. You reach for his cock and he gently stops your wrist. 

“I could be your dad,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

“Please,” you whisper. Your hand doesn't stop, and he doesn't try to stop it anymore as you reach. You grab the rock hard protrusion and he silently grunts from the back of his throat. He’s throbbing against your palm through the thin cotton. Your breath hitches at the first contact. You twitch and ache for him. His brow furrows. 

“‘If you’re gonna do it, do it,” he challenges you in a near whisper. He must be painfully hard. He can't take it. You massage him through the soft fabric. 

Your lips part, and you tilt your head as you read his face. 

He mumbles, “Gonna pussy out?” He cracks a little smile and adds, “with your pussy out?”

You sigh. “You’re so fucking cute.”

“Such a rotten girl,” he murmurs with half lidded eyes as his hands come to your thighs. You shiver in a bolt of pleasure as his hands wrap around the backs of your thighs and slowly run down to your knees, then up to your ass. He squeezes your cheeks, and his cock throbs in your hand. 

“Coward,” he whispers with a snarl and takes his hands away, resting his arms on the chair. 

You brace one hand next to his head on the back of the chair, and your heart shaped locket dangles as you take down his waistband with your free hand. His cock slaps against his white t-shirt, making a wet spot. 

Good Lord. Your mouth falls open. You tug the joggers down more. He grunts softly when you cup his soft, fuzzy balls. Then you release them, grab his shaft, and hear yourself moan. Never felt anything stiffer. It's angry and now the tip is actively oozing. Your mouth waters and your body opens up for him. 

He watches your face, then yawns again. You rub yourself and gather your slick, then wrap your slippery hand around his cock. You scoot your knees forward and hover over it. He inhales through his nose as you lower yourself to make contact. You pause with the tip just inside. It's already a stretch, but deeper inside,  your core is begging for more. Your entrance spasms around his tip.  He gasps and tenses, gripping the arms of the chair as you begin to sink down.  He closes his eyes and winces as his cock divides your walls and you moan as your bodies become flush. You sit on his dick while your body makes space for him and you get even wetter. 

“Fu–ohh” he tilts his head back. His neck veins strain. He's so goddamn hot. 

You slowly tilt your hips and let out only an inch of him before bottoming out again. His cock takes up so much space inside you. You look down between  your bodies. His white shirt has ridden up to expose the happy trail and the slight pudge of his lower belly. His stomach heaves with deep breaths. You begin to move on him, slowly. 

“Ahhh, fuhh-uhhhk,” he sighs. His brows knit together and he watches you ride him. 

You tilt your hips, seeking the pressure of your clit nudging his body. “Yeah,” you breathe and move a little faster. Your necklace swings, the silver heart getting closer and closer to him. Then his hand flies up to wrap around your neck, trapping the chain. His grip isn’t firm, but the presence of his hand around your throat is enough to freeze you on his cock and give you a surge of need. Your pussy spasms, your slick walls begging for the friction they've earned. 

“You’re sick,” he mutters, then his hips punch up and he sighs. He lets go of your throat, then tugs your shirt down under your tits. 

“Fuck,” he sighs, the corners of his mouth glistening with saliva. He reaches out and palms your breasts, then hooks his hands under your arms. He watches your tits move with your rhythm. 

“How many times have you thought about this,” you ask. 

“I don't think about it,” he claims, but his face says constantly. You massage your own breasts as you ride him, and he sighs. Hopefully he can't get enough. Hopefully he comes back for more. You roll your hips with a moan. That's why you didn't use a roofie - He needs to remember this. He needs to need it. “Mmm.” Maybe he’ll be desperate, mad. As he watches you ride him, his eyelids begin to droop again. Maybe he’ll be mad enough to take it. 

You gently slap his cheek. “Stay with me,” you command, and begin to ride him harder. You slot your fingers into his hair. “When's the last time you came,” you ask, massaging his scalp as you move on his cock. “Hmm?” You pause with his cock all the way inside, and he twitches inside you. “Hmm?”

“Days,” he whispers. You start rolling your hips again. “Been days, ohhh–fuck.”

“You're gonna come inside,” you nod. His cock twitches again. 

“Ohh, fuck. Are you–ohhh,” he sighs, “are you–ugghh.” 

“It's okay,” you reassure him, “It's okay.” God, the thought of Mr. Miller nutting in your cunt has gotten you over the edge so many times alone. You're close. You bring your body closer against his and grind your clit into him, your body moving his swollen manhood, subtly rocking it as your clit presses into his pubic hair and your insides swell with the pressure of pent up pleasure. “Ohh, God,” you sigh and feel your body tighten, tighten, almost there. “Ohh, fuck,” you pant. 

“Ohh,” he moans and his hips lift under you. The tension snaps and your clit pulses, making you whine. You grind into him as you pulse, release pressure, pulse, release more, losing yourself in waves of release. 

“Oh, God,” you moan, fluttering around his stiff cock. 

“Ugggh,” he groans and his hands come to your ass. He begins to move you on his cock as your climax wanes. He moves you harder and moans unrestrained. He grits his teeth, and his fingertips dig into the plush of your ass. ”Ohh,” he sighs and fucking erupts. 

“Oh shit,” you whine, and keep clenching around him with warm bursts of him flooding your core. “Ohh God.” 

“Oh, fuck,” he pants, bursting again and again, filling you with his seed. “Ohhh,” his pulses fade and you come to a rest in his lap. He lays back against the chair breathing heavily. You lean forward and hug him. He doesn't have the energy to push you away. Soon, he's snoring and you're just sitting there enjoying the fullness of his cock and cum. 

“Mmm,” you sigh softly and begin to push yourself up. You let his cock out and some of his cum comes with it. You scoop it up from around his tip and draw a heart on his shirt, imagining how cute it'll be when it's dry and hard. Then you get off the chair entirely and draw a few small hearts of cum on his joggers. You pull the waistband up for him, then plant a kiss on his lips before leaving him there. Then you go back upstairs and put on your underwear before you get back in his daughter's bed. 

-----

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Thank you so much for reading, ILY 💖 If you really like dark reader, you might wanna try my ghostface series every inch (there is also some power struggle/shift).

---

I hear you about notifs not working, i hear you about tags not working (i'm not receiving a lot of my tags either). consider checking my fic notifs blog @toxicfics or the "latest fics" link on my profile header once in a while to see what you might have missed.

: @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @may-machin @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

[vivwritesfics]

HIIIIII

Frist of all love yoz

Second of all, need thus fro my sick ass lol

SO THINKING

Multiple drivers, seb, fernando, max, Charles, carlos,Liam, logan, lando and oscar?

Yeah

Aftercare, like after sex lol.

Like how would they all ve

Would someone be like wipe her off then make sure she nevers leaves the bed cuae snuggles??

Who would be the one that has a whole ass routine and makes it into this thing??

You cna add some other 🫶

Love xoz

ngl i think i hate doing multi driver fics like this -- like i don't feel like im putting my best work forward because im doing several different scenarios

also i couldn't think for all of the drivers so i've only done the first four

warnings: smut, aftercare, daddy kink + sub space mentioned (fernando),

Seb

firstly, i think seb would make sure his partner has cum multiple times by the time they finish

and i think that we can all agree that seb is something of a rough partner

dominating and rough, in just the way she liked it

the very first thing seb does is wipe her off and get her into the bath

while she's bathing he gets her water and tea and sets up the bed so that she'll be comfortable

he's so fucking sweet after being so rough

would kiss the bruising his grip caused

Fernando

y'all don't understand how badly i wanna be railed by this man

i think the tumblr community is quite unanimous in the fact that he has a daddy kink

if anybody can make their power drop into sub space

most of his aftercare focuses on pulling his partner out of sub space

his touches are soft and he makes sure she's had something to eat and drink

makes sure she's in expensive pyjamas and that she's wrapped up in a blanket

that being said, the most important part for Fernando is that she's eaten something

he sits her down after he's cleaned her up, gets her something to drink and cooks for her so that her post sex meal is fresh and hot

Max

omg just imagine a quickie with max

like instead of opening FIFA packs before a race, he's fucking her

aftercare isn't all that practical when he's about to get into a car

but he cleans her up as best he can

usually using his tongue

saves her hair from public scrutiny by giving her one of his hats to wear

she's on shaking legs when she heads into the garage to watch him race

Charles

scenario for this is fucking Charles on the yacht

the first thing this man does is kiss all over when he's done

any hickeys and bruises get the most attention

but then he's cleaning her up with a wet cloth

and she's putting on a fresh bikini

the two of them lay close together in the sun

her arm and her leg over his as he checks through his messages

but soon she's back on top of him

and they're kissing again

and they're ready to go all over again

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

Grand Line Crew Modern Au Gang!

i hope yall enjoy, this took a while to get all together, here

ASL post

East Blue Crew post

Friends we made along the way 1 post

Friends we made along the way 2 post

i dont have many additional headcanons for this lot, but i did write a short story with them :) enjoy

Brook only wears the absolute grooviest of clothing at all times.

Brook only wears the absolute grooviest of clothing at all times.

Brook only wears the absolute grooviest of clothing at all times.

That’s just gonna have to be there 👆 tumblr likes to glitch out my posts.

Dont give chopper caffeine. He’ll either have a heart attack or operate on 5x speed, its a gamble every time.

robin and franky love watching home improvement shows, house hunters, how its made, myth busters, and other technical shows together.

When Luffy shows robin memes on his phone, she takes out her reading glasses and holds the phone like a mom does. Ya know that squint. You know.

Jinbei used to be a trucker and had a convoy with s bunch of his truckin’ buddies. They had matching leather jackets with “the sun truckers” embroidered on the back

Franky has a wig closet. It is vast. If you went in there you'd think you were in Narnia or something

Chopper is BEYOND CONVINCED that Sabo is a vampire.

One day, sabo volunteered as an assistant in a medical class chopper was taking. He was acting as chopper’s patient as he was learning the patient procedures of a checkup.

It was all going fine, chopper got all the patient identification out of the way and next was to acquire blood pressure, breath count, and heart rate. But the stethoscope and pressure monitor wasn’t working, and it make it seem like Sabo,,, didnt have a pumping heart,, or blood,,, or really breathed at all(he doesnt take very visible breaths).

Chopper was stricken with fear at this and assumed the absolute worse as he looked in horror at Sabo’s naturally pale complexion and long canine teeth. Chopper simply jotted down the average count of each recording instead of getting new equipment, and tried not to think about it, but

“huh, all of those numbers are usually lower than that. Maybe all that Special Concoction™ i drink is finally catching up to my heart rate.”

“how much have you.. drunk?”

“like for today? Or since I woke up.”

Chopper is fucking horrified. Sabo woke up to being a vampire and drinks blood as a special concoction. He cannot believe this.

”Never mind, I don't need to know, its all normal, you're normal.”

“Wow… that's the first time a medical practitioner has called me normal. My brothers are gonna get a real kick outta this.”

CHOPPER IS FUCKING HORRIFIED. HE HAS BRETHEREN??? Chopper just keeps his head down and finishes up the check up practice as Sabo remarks he has another class in the blood bank, which was lemon in the paper cut for chopper.

For a month or so after that day, Chopper didn’t see Sabo at all, and he forgot about his fear for a little while. However one night as chopper was hanging with Luffy and a few others in the straw hat friend group, there was a knock at the door. Chopper happily said “I’ll get it~” as the rest of the group continued in conversation.

Chopper skips over to the door and when he opens it, he sees the figure of Sabo standing in front of him. Tall and opposing, smiling a big toothy grin with bright blue eyes shining from the overhead lighting. He’s wearing a long trench coat with the collar popped and an ascot was wrapped around his neck.

What chopper was seeing before him.

Was the vampire.

He let out a scream right out of a horror film and promptly fainted.

A minute or two later, he awoke laying on the couch, feet elevated and vest unbuttoned, to his friends looking at him from the foot of the couch.

He goes to stand up, but a strong gloved hand stops his movement and guides him back down

“Don't get up too quickly, little man.”

Chopper looked next to him and saw The Vampire. What was he doing in his house?!?!?

“Are you alright, bud? You opened the door for me, screamed in my face, and then passed out.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Chopper said with the highest voice-crack to word ratio in his entire life.

“Right. Well again, dont get up too quickly, if you need water or anything let your friends know. I just came here to pick up Luffy cuz some family stuff came up. Have a good night!”

“…you too, and thanks for taking care of me…”

“No prob!”

“One last question?” Inquired chopper.

“What's up?”

“Did someone invite you in?”

the end

PS: Sabo's "special concoction" consists of Red Bull and Espresso. He hasn't slept in 72 hours. This will have lasting effects on his health.

thats all for now! thanks for reading~

[reidbae]

Ecstasy

summary: You’re always nervous around your professor, which he has taken note to, but had chosen not to speak on. It’s not until you come to his classroom late to turn in a missing assignment that he decides to ask you about it, and he’ll do anything for the answer.

warnings/mentions: dom!spencer x sub!reader, teacher x student relationship, tall x short, reader is 22+ and spencer is 32+, age gap, AFAB reader, use of Y/N in slowburn but pet names used during smut (sweetheart, baby, doll, honey, etc), degradation, praise, choking, fingering, rough sex, hair pulling, vaginal sex, office sex technically lol, literally just filth dude

wc: 4.4k

a/n: hey, i’m kit! i write a lot in my free time and i think it’s high time i made a tumblr. this is my first post and the first smut i’ve written in a while. this is partially slowburn but it’s MOSTLY smut. anyway, hope you enjoy and also know that i take requests!

You knocked on the classroom door before entering it, shutting it quietly behind you. “Professor Reid?” you called out, unsure if the intelligent doctor was even here so late.

He looked up from his desk, his nose previously buried in paperwork. He was no doubt grading assignments, and you felt a twinge of guilt for interrupting him.

You nervously cleared your throat, beginning to approach his desk. “I’m sorry for interrupting you. I- I know it’s late. I just have that missing essay you wanted me to make up?” you explained, holding out the essay that you had finished shortly before you got here.

You noticed Spencer’s eyes darting to your clothing, lingering there for a few moments as he seemed to be taking in the view of you. You’d pulled on the first thing you’d found in your closet, a skimpy red dress that was tugging forcefully against your body. Ultimately, however, Spencer didn’t say anything and cleared his throat, then accepted your paper from you.

He looked it over for a second, then spoke up. “This is a lot of work, Y/N. It only needed to be two pages,” he pointed out to you.

You began to sweat at that comment, gazing at him with an apprehensive expression. “I- I know, sir. I just wanted to make up for the fact that I’m turning it in late. I hope you won’t take points off,” you explained. He may have made your palms sweat, but you did still care heavily about your grades.

“I’m not going to,” he said with a soft smile, placing your essay down on his desk. “Your essay seems to be well written, as usual, from what I’ve read so far.”

You could feel your face heat up at his praise and you gently nodded. “Thank you. And thank you again for giving me an extension.”

He nodded, too. “You’re welcome. But I hope you’re aware that I won’t always be so understanding, Y/N. I was glad to give you an extension this time, but I won’t shy away from taking points off if this happens again. I want you to learn to be more punctual,” he sternly continued.

It was conversations like these that made you heavily aware that no matter what you felt, Spencer was still your professor, and he wasn’t afraid to remind you of that. Shyly, you nodded your head, becoming more nervous as the seconds went on. “I- I understand, Professor Reid. I promise that it won’t happen again,” you could barely stammer out, coherent sentences beginning to fail you.

He smiled up at you and gave you another respectful nod. “Good. Make sure you live up to that,” he said firmly.

Did he have to be so overly stern? “I will,” you simply returned. You weren’t really sure what to say at this point now that the reason you’d come here had been addressed. You took a shaky breath, then nodded in finality. “Well, um, I guess I’d better get going now. Again, sorry to disturb you so late, Professor. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you timidly told Spencer, turning on your feet and starting to walk towards the door.

Spencer’s husky voice stopped you dead in your tracks. “Can I ask you something, Y/N?” he asked you. Nervously, you turned back around, looking at him.

“What is it, sir?” you politely responded, giving him your best innocent smile.

“Why are you always so nervous around me?”

Your eyes widened as your cheeks flushed red, caught off guard by his sudden question. You knew that, at some point, he would confront you about your continued nervousness around him that had started the second he became your professor three months ago. You were awful at hiding it: You blush and sweat, you stutter and stammer, and you toy with your hands and hair when he talks to you. You couldn’t be blamed for your attractiveness to the handsome doctor, but, really, you wish you were better at burying it.

“N- nervous?” you responded, in a feeble attempt to sound clueless. “I- I’m not- What makes you say that, Professor?” you asked, knowing exactly why he was asking.

“You seem much more nervous and tense when you talk to me as opposed to when you talk to others. It’s something I’ve noticed since the beginning of the semester,” he explained to you, folding his hands atop his desk.

“Uh, well, you know,” you nervously laughed, avoiding eye contact with him at all costs. “I’m just shy.” Yeah, right.

“You’re loud and exuberant around your other professors, along with your classmates. I’ve heard you laugh and joke with quite a few people. It seems like this nervous demeanor is only saved for me,” he pointed out, sounding completely convinced that he was correct in his observations. He paused for a brief moment before continuing on. “Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?”

Your expression turned shocked at the fact that he could possibly think that anything he did would make anyone uncomfortable. “No, no, I swear, it’s not like that,” you mumbled shyly, shaking your head.

“Forgive me for thinking so, Y/N, but my words do hold some truth to them. You are aware of this behavior that you’ve constantly displayed towards me over the last few months, though, correct?” he asked. His words came out so fluently, as though he had been meaning to come to you about this for longer than you’d anticipated. In regards to how you were speaking at the moment, you wish you could say the same.

“S- Somewhat,” you admitted.

He looked more intrigued now that you had confirmed the fact that you were nervous around him. He leaned back in his chair now, hands in his lap as he stared up at you. “Then, tell me what it is that’s making you nervous. I’d like to clear up whatever it is.”

You immediately shook your head, eyes still averted from the brunette professor. “I- It’s nothing.”

“It’s not ‘nothing’ if you’re constantly stuttering when you talk to me, or fidgeting with your hands when I walk by your desk,” he said, his stern tone growing increasingly prominent with each word he said. “I want to know what’s going on, Y/N.”

“Nothing’s going on,” you instantly defended. You were not in the mood to blow your cover about this. Not today, and maybe not ever.

“Oh, really?” he asked you in return, cocking an eyebrow. “You just told me you know that your behavior has been odd over the last few months,” he sighed. He grabbed a pen on his desk, clicking it a few times before continuing. “You and I both know there’s something wrong. This issue will never be resolved if you don’t discuss it with me. I promise that it will be to your benefit.”

You couldn’t help but remain silent. If you spoke, you’d stutter, only further proving Spencer’s point. You didn’t shake your head or give any sign at all that you’d heard him.

At this, he sighed again, shaking his head from what you could see out of the corner of your eye. “Am I going to have to figure it out for myself?” he asked you in a genuine tone. His voice, you noticed, was notably lower than it was before.

You only rolled your eyes in response to that. The fact that he had asked why you were nervous was one thing, but the idea of him attempting to figure it out was much more daunting, and you weren’t looking forward to it.

“Don’t give me that, Y/N,” he demanded when you rolled your eyes, tone fierce. “If you can’t verbally tell me what’s going on, your body language will.“

“My body language has nothing to tell,” you tried to correct him, trembling hands finding your hair and messing with it anxiously, eyes still torn from Spencer’s.

“You seriously believe that?” he almost scoffed, shaking his head. “I teach you how to read this stuff. Your body language has nothing to tell? You mean your shaky hands, stuttering, and red face have nothing to tell? Or, what about the fact that your hands are tangled in your hair? Or, that you can’t even look at me?” he went on, and he didn’t stop there.

“Do you want me to list every possibility I can think of until you tell me why you’re so nervous?” he asked. There was no tone of joke in his words: You knew that he would do it, and he’d do it with pride, at that.

“No,” you told him, the first word you’d said since the beginning of his ramble.

“Are you sure? Maybe that’s what you need.” Maybe it was the hour or the context of the situation, but you could swear for a second that this sentence had some air of teasing to it.

“I- I don’t, Professor Reid,” you stammered out.

“Tell me something, Y/N. Why are you the only student I have who still calls me ‘Professor Reid?’” he questioned.

“It’s respectful,” you tried, but it sounded like bullshit even as the words left your tongue. Spencer wasn’t that far off your age. Every one of your classmates called him by his first name, as he had said he was comfortable with several times. But you knew that calling him by his first name would put him on the same level as you, and if you didn’t see him as your professor, you weren’t sure you’d be able to control yourself.

“I’ve said several times that it’s okay to call me Spencer. All of my students do, and some even call me ‘Reid,’ they’re that comfortable. Yet, you only use ‘Professor,’ ‘Professor Reid,’ and ‘sir’ to address me,” he went on. You slowly started to realize that he was profiling you, and you felt your face grow redder, already knowing the outcome: He would figure you out.

In hopes of making yourself seem clueless, you shrugged. He wasn’t buying it, and asked, “Does this have anything to do with your continued nervousness around me?”

“I- I’m not nervous,” you could barely manage to get out, let alone lie properly. Deflection was your last hope of getting Spencer to drop this topic, a hope that you were almost positive would not be worth hoping for.

“Look at me, then, Y/N.”

No. Immediately, no.

“If you’re so ‘not nervous’ around me like you say, then look at me. If you’re not anxious, or shy, you should have no problem doing so,” Spencer said in a confident tone.

“I- I can’t look at you,” you immediately returned. You wanted to, but given the context of this situation, you knew he’d easily get you to talk if you did.

“Why?” he asked, his tone one of pure and utter confusion. Because I’m afraid of what I’ll say if I do.

“I just can’t,” you repeated, rubbing your eyes.

He sighed again, sounding genuinely exasperated. “Do you need me to profile it out of you, Y/N? Because I have no trouble doing that,” he said sternly. “I want you to feel comfortable around me. But I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on with you.”

When you didn’t respond, he took a deep breath, tapping his fingers on his desk before standing up and continuing. You were really looking away now. The fact that he was at least five inches taller than you was not helping.

“You show common signs of tenseness when I’m around you, like a stiff jaw, sweating, shaking, and, above all, avoiding eye contact,” he started, and you scoffed. Fucking profilers.

“Your body language offers common tells of your continued nervousness around me, like touching your face, constantly fidgeting with your hands and hair, and turning red when I say your name.”

“Stop,” you managed to say, your face growing darker at his words. But he continued.

“You’re talkative and open with others, but closed off and shy with me. You talk with your hands during class but they find their way into your hair the second I’m in your presence,” he went on.

“Stop,” you tried again, your voice growing quieter and your singular word coming out in a low whisper.

“You’re my only student who seems to refuse to call me by my first name. You can present in my class without flash cards but are unable to form clear, coherent sentences around me-“

“For fuck’s sake, Spencer, I’m attracted to you!” you finally blurted, unable to take any more of this.

He stopped talking, looking at you as if he was physically unable to process what you had just said. “What?”

“I’m attracted to you,” you repeated again, finally looking up at him and now realizing how hard it would be. Your cheeks were clearly flushed red, and your body was trembling.

He chuckled for a second, then immediately stopped. “That’s what this is?” he asked you in disbelief, his tone evidently amused, as if this was something he heard on the daily basis. “Attraction?”

“Yes,” you returned.

“And it makes you this nervous to talk to me?” he asked you genuinely, but his voice still showed underlying tones of amusement.

“Yes.”

He thought for a moment, truly taking in your words. Then, a faint smirk danced across his face as he walked around his desk with his hands in his pockets, stopping a few feet away from you.

You refused to give him whatever satisfaction he seemed to be gaining by teasing you and looked away as he looked at you. He chuckled, stepping closer. “You’re nervous because of a little crush? Come on, Y/N. How old are you?” he teased.

You rolled your eyes again and remained silent.

“Look at me,” he said sternly, taking another step closer. There was now minimal distance between the two of you. It would be easy to lean and kiss him. What the hell is he doing to you?

All you did was shake your head. Absolutely not.

He reached out to cup your cheek, caressing his thumb over it as he looked down at you with a smirk, from what you could see out of the corner of your eye.

“You’re always so good in class. Be a good girl for me now, won’t you, Y/N?” he cooed, continuing to smooth his thumb over your face. You felt yourself growing redder by the second.

You shook your head, not at him, but at yourself for what you were about to do. You were too easy. You made eye contact with him, gazing lewdly up into his auburn eyes.

“That’s it,” he murmured. You were correct: He was smirking at you. He spoke up again. “Three months is a long time, sweetheart. How many fantasies have you had about me in that time?”

You blushed harder at that, stuttering out, “A lot.”

“Voice one to me,” Spencer continued in a raspy tone. His voice was riling you up, and you were almost unsure of how to answer. “What’s on your mind?”

“I- I’ve thought about-,” you tried, but you stopped, unsure if you should even speak the explicit fantasy that came to your mind first into the universe.

Noticing your hesitation, Spencer said, “You can say it, sweetheart. What have you thought about?” he demanded, although his words were almost sweet.

You took a breath of courage before replying, “A- About you, bending me over your desk,” you barely managed to stutter out.

He chuckled even further at your shy admission. “Doing what to you?” he asked in his teasing tone.

You let out a small frustrated groan. Isn’t it obvious?

“Fucking me.”

He gave you a flirty smile at your words. “What do you want, sweetheart?” he now asked you in a raspy tone, the distance between you becoming too hard to resist closing.

“To take you across this desk,” you openly admitted, finding it difficult to stare at his eyes when his lips were so close.

“Then do it.”

His words mixed with his proximity gave you the confidence to finally pull him in, wrapping your arms around his neck and fervently kissing him. To your surprise, he reciprocated instantly, roughly grabbing your waist and backing you into his desk.

He lifted you up with ease and sat you on the only part of it that wasn’t filled with papers, his lips never leaving yours as his tongue explored your mouth. After a few minutes, there was nowhere his hands hadn’t roamed, as he shamelessly grabbed your neck, cupped your tits, and squeezed your ass.

His fingers found their way under your dress, his cold hands meeting your warm skin. You shuddered at the contact, moaning surprisedly into your kiss. You could feel him tugging at the hem of your panties as he pulled back from you, breathing heavily.

“Professor,” you breathed out, calling him ‘Professor’ out of habit. He shook his head at you in response to it.

“Say my name,” he demanded of you, continuing his movements with his hand as he looked down at you.

“Sp- Spencer,” you stammered out, breath quickening at his dominant tone.

“Attagirl,” Spencer praised, hands dipping suddenly into your panties. You gasped, looking up at him with a sultry stare. His fingers slid in between your soaked folds and you involuntarily let out a whorish moan.

“Fuck, doll, you’re already this wet?” he asked you in a tone that was a mixture of both surprise and excitement as his fingers felt all of your built up arousal. “Is this all for me?”

You didn’t know what to say, in pure and utter shock that this was even happening.

He gave you a look that screamed both pleading and demanding at the same time. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he cooed, moving his fingers in no particular direction, which made you moan softly anyway.

“I- It’s all for you, Spencer,” you stammered.

“There you go. I like hearing that pretty voice of yours,” Spencer cooed. He buried a finger into your cunt, and you groaned at the sudden intrusion. He started slow, making sure you were comfortable with this sensation, then stuck another in, quickening his pace.

You arched your back as he curled his fingers inside of you, hitting a spot that you had never been able to reach when you were touching yourself alone. He knew exactly what he was doing, using another finger to rub slow circles around your clit. He pumped his fingers in and out fast, eliciting several moans of pleasure from you.

You leaned in to fiercely kiss him as he continued to finger you, sliding your tongue into his mouth. He accepted it gladly, gently choking you with his other hand as the two of you kissed. You groaned into it, his use of force getting you closer and closer to your high.

He pulled away, then started on your neck, kissing and sucking harshly as he continued to finger you below. His pace was getting faster, pushing his fingers deeper with every second that went by. When he curved them further than he had before, he found exactly where your pleasure point was: Your G-Spot.

“Fuck, Spencer,” you groaned out, your climax directly around the corner as he left kisses and no doubt hickies all over your neck.

He payed close attention to your reaction, making sure to continue to finger you directly where you needed him and continuing to rub your clit in quick motions. You were nearly there, and he surely knew that. However, suddenly, all movements ceased, and he pulled away from your neck to lustfully look down on you, retracting his fingers from your wetness.

You looked up at him with a mirroring lustful expression, but only because you were so close to releasing, and he had just taken that away from you.

“Sp- Spencer? Why’d you stop?” you stuttered out a little frustratedly.

“Because that’s not where I want you to finish,” he said, like it was the most simple thing to humanly comprehend. He backed up a step, then lifted you from his desk, spinning you round and bending you over it in one swift movement. You gasped as his hand found your lower back, his crotch pressed up on you and his bulge pressing into your ass.

“Spencer-“

“You said you saw me bending you over across my own desk, right?” Spencer reminded you in a low voice.

“Y- yeah,” you returned in a needy voice.

“Thought so.”

You could hear him unbuckling his belt from behind, working quickly to undo it with his only free hand. The sound was followed by that of his zipper, and then of him shrugging his pants partially down. He then turned his attention to you, pulling your dress up and revealing your red panties that matched the color of your dress. He chuckled, no doubt at that fact, then pulled them down.

He took his cock out of his boxers and pumped it up and down a few times. You tried to turn your head back to look, but he used his free hand to turn your head back around. You were about to say something about it, until he suddenly thrusted deep into your cunt, and you let out a whorish moan.

“F- Fuck, you’re so big, Spencer,” you couldn’t help but moan out. He was far inside of you, and his throbbing cock was no doubt seven inches minimum.

“You can take it,” he groaned back, placing his hand on the back of your head as he moved slowly but deeply into you. His hands roamed your body again, settling on your tits. He used a hand to grab one, eliciting a mewl from you. He fondled it with force, running his thumb in forceful circles around your tit as he pounded into you relentlessly.

“You like being fucked like this, sweetheart?” he cooed in your ear, voice audibly raspy as his movements didn’t cease.

“Yes, sir,” you responded in a slutty voice, calling him ‘sir’ for the first time in what felt like years.

“Such a, fuck- Slut for me,” he said in between thrusts. His pace was getting faster now as he rammed into you from behind, going at a speed you were finding difficult to not readily climax from. His words only enhanced this feeling.

He grabbed the back of your head by your hair, turning you to face a part of the classroom to your left.

“That’s where you sit in my class. Perfect view of my desk. Do you fantasize about this when you look at it?” he asked. His words came out in groans as he tried to both talk and maintain his quick pace.

“Maybe,” you breathed as you looked at your own desk where you had been sitting mere hours beforehand, never in a million years anticipating this.

“That’s not an answer,” he forcefully said, ceasing his movements and beginning to pull his cock from your cunt.

“Wait- Fuck,” you sighed, whimpering when you no longer felt him inside of you. “Yes, I do,” you admitted, telling him exactly what he wanted to hear.

He chuckled at your needy attempt to feel him inside of you again, teasing your wet entrance with the tip of his cock. “That desperate, huh?”

“Y- Yes, sir,” you said softly, finding it hard to get any words out as you took note of his teasing. He thrusted back into you, pushing hard and fast.

“Slut,” Spencer grunted. He pulled your head back by your hair, managing to grip it gently despite his rough pace. “My fucking slut.”

You moaned at his use of degradation, feeling your climax beginning to bubble up inside of you again, but you held it back, wanting to prolong the pleasurable feeling that you were receiving.

“Such a, fuck- Slutty dress,” he suddenly commented, toying with the hem on your dress. “Always wearin’ skirts hiked all the way up to your ass. Hoping I’d notice that, sweetheart?” he asked, the hand that was pulling your hair roaming over to your neck and choking you.

All you could do was nod as your words failed you, coherent sentences vacant in your head and absent from your mouth, as they usually were regardless.

“Use your words, baby,” he demanded of you, squeezing down harder on your neck.

You groaned out, complying and stammering, “Y- Yes,” in response to his question.

“That’s a good girl. Doin’ so fucking good for me,” Spencer praised you.

You were moaning loudly now, the sound of both of your grunts filling the air as Spencer continued at his quick speed. You could feel your eyes watering at the pressure and size of his cock that was deep into your cunt, and your climax was approaching as fast as his pace was going.

“Spencer,” you whispered, cheeks hot and absolutely flushed.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Spencer groaned back.

“I’m close,” you breathed, words breaking.

He let out a soft moan at your words, then moved his hand away from your neck and down to your clit. He rubbed it in quick circles as he had done before, gladly helping you to reach your high. You bit your lip, loud moans and whines falling from your mouth.

“That’s it, doll. I want to hear you,” he demanded of you in response to your moans, his long fingers moving on your throbbing clit as fast as his cock was pounding into your cunt.

You happily complied, continuing to moan out as broken murmurs of his name fell from your lips. He let out his own moans as he chased his high, too. He used his free hand to grip your ass, holding you roughly as he groaned behind you.

“Come for me, sweetheart. Let it out,” he groaned.

His words pushed you over the threshold, being all you needed to finally moan out his name loud as waves of pleasure crashed through you. Spencer groaned out your name, too, as he finished inside of you, gripping your ass as roughly as he possibly could.

When you were both done, he pulled out, breathing heavily as he returned his cock to his boxers. You pulled your panties up and your dress back down, breathing heavily too as you looked back at Spencer with tousled hair.

Spencer stuck the two fingers he’d used to finger you into his mouth, sucking away whatever elements of your release he had managed to get on his hand. You let out a soft moan at the view as Spencer looked down on you. He moved his other hand on your waist.

“You taste sweet,” he whispered to you, caressing his thumb over your hip. Your legs were shaking, and, taking note of this, he picked you up and sat you on his desk. You smiled tiredly up at him as he did.

“I take it this means I’ll get a good grade on my essay?” you joked, giggling.

He smiled down at you, planting a sweet kiss onto your forehead. “A+, baby. A+.”