#wish I'd written those

[bizarrelittlemew]

pssst hey if you want an Ed/Stede wedding there is one in the epilogue of Something timeless going on 💕 my first multi-chapter fic that i wrote almost a year ago (37k, E, canon divergence/pining while fucking)

[cerise-on-top]

hey!! its me again. your only current madcom requester (as far as i know), i was wondering if you could please write skittles and possibly deimos (seperate) with an artist s/o? specifically one who is constantly doodling them and making art for them? thank you!

-💾

Welcome back! Thank you for another Madcom request, I was looking forward to writing it! This one was also really sweet!

Deimos and Skittles with an Artist!S/O

Deimos: He draws from time to time himself and isn’t even that bad at it either. Sure, it’s never gonna be an elaborate painting or anything, but small drawings of Sanford eating some kielbasa or Hank getting beaten by Doc again. His drawings are usually more on the humorous side since he prefers those. Either way, he’d feel honoured that you like him enough to want to doodle him this much and draw for him. Yes, he knows that he’s hot shit, but it’s still nice. In fact, everyone at S.Q. will know about you being such a wonderful artist since he’ll show those drawings to everyone. You’re such a nice person, and so good at arts, it deserves to be shown off to everyone he knows. Give him enough drawings and he’ll draw something for you as well. As mentioned before, he’s pretty decent at drawing, but he’ll genuinely put in some effort into drawing you, for example. Deimos gets around a lot, and he does loot quite a bit whenever he can, so don’t be surprised if he walks up to you with some art supplies that he got from somewhere. You’re always on his mind, so naturally he’ll get something for you just so he can see you draw. Sometimes you might even get to draw with each other since he would get into it again ever since he received a few doodles from you. Although I should mention that he’ll still draw funny things to get you to laugh, he does want to see you be in a good mood. And if it’s because of him, even better. However, he’ll keep each and every single drawing of yours in a box, they’re near and dear to him. I know he can draw too, but he would love nothing more than to ask you to draw a picture of you and him together as a keepsake. It’s more personal than a picture to him and takes more effort.

Skittles: Like Deimos, he, too, draws from time to time. Unlike Deimos, he’s not very good at it, but that has never discouraged him from drawing a nice scenery. In his eyes, with everything he creates he’s only gonna get better and better at it, so he really doesn’t mind not being the best at drawing. He likely has tried drawing other grunts as well, including you, so you’ll likely see a drawing of you here and there. How could he not, after all. However, he proudly does show you his drawing as well. Hypes you up like no one else when it comes to you drawing. Sure, he’ll be quiet when you are drawing, but he’ll never miss an opportunity to ask you about some new creations you may have made. He’s as genuine as it gets about it too, he really does want to see your drawings. However, he’s not a very good critic since everything you make is the best thing ever in his eyes, so you really shouldn’t ask him for constructive criticism if you want some. He can and will find something good about each and every single one of your drawings, whether you like it or not. He hangs the drawings you give him up as well. Especially with magnets on the fridge since he wants to see them for as long as possible. Also keeps them in a neatly decorated box, and also shows your skills off to everyone willing to listen to him. If you’re ever down to take some commissions, he’s your best bet since he can always find someone willing to buy from you. Very excitable about your skills and loves talking about you in general. Nevada deserves to know about how great you are. Skittles will also come up to you with some art supplies here and there, if he can find some. As long as you’re happy doodling away, he’s happy as well. Gives you a big hug for each and every single drawing you make for him, he wants to reward you somehow.

[lwieserce]

why is gi twitter lately obsessed with discussions on whether what hoyo does with their ships is queercoding under censorship or queerbait

[firstelevens]

hi zainab!!

taylor swift prompt #15 + sambucky? (bc lord knows i've thought about writing a you belong with me inspired sambucky fic too many times)

15. a smile that could light up this whole town

Reading the room is one of Sam’s greatest skills as a teacher. It’s turned around any number of bad days, resolved countless conflicts, and prevented dozens of failed tests or quizzes.

It’s instinctive enough that when he dismisses his Honors American Literature class right as the bell rings, he’s not remotely surprised when the best student in his class joins the cluster of students around his desk, asking about test corrections and extra credit.

Once he’s sent the rest of them off with the answers they’re looking for, Sam turns to Cindy Moon, who’s fidgeting with the cuffs of her sweater and won’t quite look at him.

“Mr. Wilson, do you think you could write me a pass to stay here during study hall?” she asks, her voice shaking a little. “I know we don’t have anything in the works for philanthropy club, but maybe I could do some planning? Or some research, or something?”

Part of Sam wants to say no, because he had very specific plans for his end-of-the-school-day planning period, and having a student in the room will mean that he has to be in vigilant teacher mode for the next hour and a half instead.

The other part of Sam has not missed the fact that Cindy used to constantly be surrounded by a group of her fellow cheerleaders and an ever-present boyfriend—a senior from the football team, Sam thinks, but not one he’s ever taught—and now she’s always on her own, sitting at the opposite end of the classroom to the group she was inseparable from just two weeks ago.

It has to be worse today of all days: between singing candy grams and carnation deliveries and heart shaped helium balloons everywhere, Valentine’s Day has hit Excelsior Academy hard. He can’t blame her for wanting to escape.

Sam is already reaching for the stack of blank passes before he speaks. “I could use some help organizing the classroom library, if you’re up for it? I had freshmen searching for books to write their reviews on, and they basically destroyed it.”

Cindy agrees, her voice still tremulous, and runs the pass down the hall to Rhodey in the physics lab. She comes back in as Sam is erasing the board, slinging her backpack onto a desk before moving towards the bookshelves that line the back wall of the classroom. 

Sam’s class library is his pride and joy, nearly two hundred books that he painstakingly chose and catalogued over the years. The freshmen were enthusiastic in searching for books, but less so in putting them back. Sam had taught them the last period of the day yesterday, and there had been an English department meeting—useless, but then most meetings were, under John Walker’s tenure as department head—so he only had time to throw them onto the shelf and rush over to the other side of the school.

Clearly, Cindy is aware of this on some level, because when he looks back at her, she’s got the first shelf’s worth of books separated across five different desks, one for each genre. He’s about to thank her for taking this so seriously when there’s a knock on the doorframe.

Standing just outside the classroom is Bucky, a handful of students peering around him.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Barnes?” asks Sam, capping his dry erase marker and waving the group into the room.

“They finally got someone in to fix the leak in the AC vent,” says Bucky, “but it means the room is unusable for the rest of the day. Can the yearbook kids and I camp out in here?”

“Of course,” says Sam. He turns to the kids. “I recommend the desks by the bulletin board, if you need to plug in laptops.”

Peter and Ned and Kamala head over to the desks nearest the outlets. MJ and Miles come in carrying a large posterboard, and behind them, America is carrying a stack of shoeboxes.

“Is it okay if we push some desks together?” asks Miles. “We’ll put them back before we leave.”

His question is underscored by the sound of both girls shifting desks and chairs behind him to make a larger work surface, and Miles winces. Sam laughs a little and tells him that it’s fine, and the three of them open up the boxes and start placing paper cutouts on the poster board.

“Testing layouts,” says America, when she sees him looking. “Sometimes it helps to do it physically instead of onscreen.”

“Mr. Barnes suggested it,” explains Miles, just in time for Bucky to reappear in the doorway.

“I’m only taking credit if it works,” Bucky says, turning sideways so he can get through the door with the two overstuffed tote bags over one shoulder and a backpack over the other.

“You see that?’ Sam asks, crossing the classroom to take one of the bags. “You haven’t even started and he’s already abandoning ship. Some captain, huh?”

“I’m a navigator at best,” says Bucky. “MJ’s captain; she’s the one at the top of the masthead.”

Across the room, Peter grins at MJ and gives her a little salute. Sam catches a smile crossing her face before she bites it back.

“Mr. Barnes is a pretty good navigator, though. He brought us cookies today.”

“Oh, shit,” Bucky says, and the kids seem unfazed the mild expletive. “Where’d I put the cookies?”

Sam looks into the bag that he’s holding and pulls out two boxes of pink frosted sugar cookies, complete with sprinkles and little candy hearts pressed into each one.

“Valentine’s themed and everything,” he says, grinning at Bucky. “Mr. Barnes, who knew you felt so strongly about the holiday?”

“He doesn’t,” says Ned. “Or, well, he does, but the other way.”

“Oh?’ asks Sam, as Bucky sets the box of cookies on an empty desk and sets a box of tissues beside them, his back to Sam. “And what way is that?”

“He said it was a consumerist holiday that doesn’t have anything to do with the history of all the different Saints Valentine. And then he taught us about Captain Cook attempting to kidnap people and getting killed for it.” Kamala finally looks up from her laptop. “That part was really interesting, actually.”

“Thanks,” Bucky says drily, opening the second box of cookies. “And I don’t want to see you all making a mess of Mr. Wilson’s room with these cookies, okay? We’re guests here and we’re going to clean up after ourselves.”

The yearbook kids murmur in assent. Sam glances over at Cindy, who’s still quietly sorting the bookshelves. He’s about to tell her to join them when Bucky beats him to it.

“Cindy, you’re welcome to have some, too,” he says. “And if you want any help organizing, you can absolutely conscript Ned and Peter and Kamala, because Michelle didn’t even give them an assignment for today, so I know they’re not actually working on anything for the yearbook right now.”

She hesitates for a moment, then sets down the stack of books and walks to Sam’s desk to use the hand sanitizer. ��I like those flowers, Mr. Wilson,” she says, gesturing to the arrangement that had been waiting on Sam’s desk when he got in this morning. “They’re really pretty.”

Sam can’t help but smile when he looks over at the flowers. “Thanks, Cindy,” he says. Then, to the rest of the classroom: “I think Valentine’s Day is nice. We could all use a reminder to tell the people we care about that we’re thinking of them, even if that reminder is the day that a guy died for being kind to people.”

“There’s nothing wrong with celebrating Valentine’s Day,” says Bucky. “I just thought it was worth the reminder that our cultural traditions aren’t universal.”

“And also that colonizers getting taken out is a net gain, as far as the universe is concerned,” adds MJ, and Bucky’s lips twitch with a bitten-back smile.

“That, I can agree with,” says Sam. “So am I allowed to have one of these not-actually-for-Valentine’s-Day Valentine’s Day cookies?”

Before he can even step towards the box, Bucky is holding one out to him. Sam takes it with a smile and settles back in at his desk, scooting over to make room for Bucky to join him if he wants.

He does, after a moment, pulling over one of the chairs that MJ and America moved.

“Thanks for letting us hang out in here,” he says, pulling out a stack of tests to grade. “If you’d said no, I don’t know who would have let us in.”

“You mean you don’t know who would have let you get a bunch of teenagers hopped up on sugar in their classroom,” says Sam, holding out a red pen. He nods over to where the kids are now sitting on top of the desks, work abandoned in favor of comparing the messages on their conversation hearts. Cindy, he notes with some relief, has joined them.

Bucky takes the pen and waves his free hand. “Minor detail at best. And you got something out of it, too, didn’t you?”

Sam looks back down at the cookie in his hand and shrugs. “I mean, I’d have preferred homemade,” he says, trying not to grin, “but I guess this works.”

Laughing, Bucky elbows him gently and turns back to grading.

— —

That evening, when Sam’s doorbell rings, he answers it and leans against the doorway, blocking the entrance.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. “I thought Valentine’s Day was a consumerist holiday with no historical merit.”

“Peter and Michelle saw us together at that Italian place last weekend!” says Bucky. “I had to throw them off the scent!”

“Uh-huh,” says Sam, arms crossed and unmoving.

“Did you like the flowers, at least?”

Sam glances over at the vase that he brought home from school, now sitting on the mantelpiece. “Maybe.”

“I love you?”

“Is that a question now?”

Bucky huffs. “I brought you wine from that one tiny vineyard you love, and I have The Princess Bride and The Shop Around the Corner, and there’s no one I’d rather spend the day with, and I love you, Sammy. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

For a moment, Sam considers him. Then, he steps aside and waves Bucky in, shaking his head at the triumphant grin that spreads across his face.

“Fine, but only because I want to know what wine you picked,” he says, and immediately disproves it by leaving the bottle on the credenza and hauling Bucky in for a kiss.

[aggressionbread]

every once in a while i'll stumble across a blog that probably has to be real but just feels so weird and fake? like big paragraphs full of things that barely even scan, that i can barely make sense out of, posted with an almost inhuman degree of frequency, and then there's just normal reblogged posts and memes mixed in which makes me think they're very real people who just write dozens of paragraphs every day

[hp-sauce]

also phoebe waller-bridge can kiss me on the mouth anytime she’d like

[zukkaoru]

going through my google docs and it turns out i remember strikingly little from 2020..

[agentravensong]

two finals in two days left to go 👍🏻 😅

[coldflasher]

thinking about how im literally on like. the 8th draft of my novel, but i've still never actually come up with a full, beginning-to-end readable draft without bits missing or repeated scenes or entire chapters in the wrong order

lol

[reiderwriter]

💢 At Each Other's Throats 💢

Spencer Reid x female! Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Summary: A previous encounter means that you're not the biggest fan of Spencer Reid, and you go to some extreme lengths to prove that to him.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Dom! Spencer, but not exactly sub reader , degradation (use of whore, slut), semi-public foreplay, arguing as foreplay etc, oral sex (m receiving, f mentions, too), face fucking, rimming, nipple play, rough sex/ rough play, spanking, slapping, spitting, choking, messy sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, mentions of painful sex/ pain play etc. some possible CNC triggers/ phrasing.

A/N: I couldn't find a gift of Spencer being bitchy enough, so everyone, please enjoy Kyle Orfman from Life After Beth. This one was a labour of love, if love was actually hate. It's 2am. This is obviously not edited, and may never be.

Masterlist || Bingo Board

You knew from reputation alone that you would have a hard time working with Spencer Reid. Perhaps it was the slew of child prodigy articles that popped up alongside his name. Maybe it was even just your preconceived notion of what men with three PhDs, a badge, and a gun were like. Maybe it was the fact that he'd written to you after one of your first professional articles was published in The American Journal of Forensic Medicine and Pathology and told you a piece you'd worked on for 18 months was just plain wrong. 

Either way, you laid eyes on him, and the hatred was cemented. But fuck was he hot. 

He had no clue who you were as his boss introduced you to him, looking between the two of you as if expecting good things to happen. You should've warned him. 

“Spencer, this is Y/N. She'll be assisting on a few cases from this month onwards.” 

His eyes glazed over as he ran your name through whatever roller index of memories he had stored in there. 

“Y/N is a lecturer at the University of Virginia. She's going to be lecturing at the FBI Academy from September onwards-” 

“You! You wrote an article, I wrote to you about it, did you get my le-”

“Yes, I got your letter. I believe you called my writing ‘juvenile’ and my thinking ‘wishful,’ and that if I had any actual field experience, I'd slowly understand how many mistakes there were in my writing.” 

Agent Hotchner took an almost imperceptible deep breath in, trying to hide the fact that this was all new information to him. 

“Well, here I am, Doctor Reid.” 

The man in front of you gaped for a moment, letting his mouth hang open, closing after a few seconds only to open again. Perhaps you'd disorganized that index of his. You hoped you'd set the goddamn thing alight. 

“Shall we get started?”

To say that you'd gotten off to a bad start was an understatement. Your start had been reversed over by a dump truck with no tires. It had been cemented into the ground with no chance of going anywhere but down into the pits of hell. 

Which is, coincidentally, where you found yourself every time you had to engage Spencer Reid in conversation. 

Your first impression of his looks - his incredibly good looks - was that he was even better looking when he was pensive, and unhappy, and being bitchy. He was positively climbable when argumentative, and you liked nothing more than ruining his day, if just for the fact that he'd angrily loosen his tie and pop open his top buttons, exposing the pale white of his neck, and his sharp collar bones, perfectly ready for someone to suck and nip at. 

He was still an ass, however, and you couldn't bring yourself to sink to those depths.

Four cases in, and you hadn't agreed on one thing. You'd caught a serial arsonist, who he had demanded was most likely an office worker, but you'd countered with college student, and you had prevailed there. 1-0. 

Then, unfortunately, you'd lost back to back cases with unsubs in the trucking industry, unfamiliar with and uninterested in the life of the Jack Kerouac type. 

You'd even the playing field at last with a child abduction. And although you knew you'd both been keeping score, you were so genuinely happy for this case to be over. A child was safe at home, and you'd worked so well under pressure (something he had assured you would change your view of your personal forensic psychology theories). 2-2. 

Of course, those were just the big leagues. You'd fought many petty battles, too, as the war waged. 

You'd accidentally stolen his place on the jet, enjoying the long bench seat for a good few naps. A few times, he'd settled in next to you, trying to nudge you out of the chair completely, but you'd held your ground. 

“This is my seat. Usually. There are like 10 other places on this jet to sit. Why does it have to be here?” He'd grumbled into your ear as you gently elbowed him in the side, accidentally, of course.

“There aren't assigned seats. Maybe you have control issues, Doctor,” you cut back, trying to avoid speaking too loud to avoid the ire of the group. 

While you'd enjoyed bickering with - and intellectually besting - Spencer greatly, it did seem that the sentiment wasn't shared by those around you. 

“You can't be serious, right now,” Morgan complained from a seat opposite. “You're seriously fighting over a seat, right now?” 

“It's my seat, Derek, come on, you know it's my seat.” 

The look returned to Spencer almost had you ashamed of your petty actions. 

“I swear they're just taking every advantage to get closer and closer together. Next thing you know, she'll be sitting in his lap,” Emily said from the corner of the plane, so obviously not talking to you that you were almost offended. 

“Ah, young infatuation,” Rossi replied, still ignoring you. 

Reid slinked just slightly away after that, and you weren't sure if you were more annoyed at the comments themselves or the loss of his annoying companionship. 

You wanted him to bother you because it meant you'd succeeded in bothering him. 

You'd had more than your fair share of rather explosive arguments as well. 

“You can't seriously believe that Thomas Edison did more for the field of engineering than Nikola Tesla,” he'd shouted at you at a bar after a case had landed you in paperwork hell, filling out forms and working into the late hours. 

A drink had been suggested, a celebration after solving four straight cases in a row, and you'd gladly taken the chance to unwind. 

“Spencer, we're literally sat in a bar decorated with multiple light bulbs. Look, there's one. Another! Astounding. Thank you, Mr Edison.” 

“And none of it would be possible without Alternating Current, so yes. Thank you, Mr Tesla.” 

Your teammates had long since abandoned you to your petty bickering and fighting amongst yourselves. They'd stopped getting involved when Penelope had tried to mediate your discussion about Doctor Who, which had quickly devolved into New Who vs Old Who. 

You didn't even care strongly either way, you just cared that he did. And however he felt, you were sure as hell ready to take up arms against him. Because it was so fuckimg hot watching him lose his shit. 

You were a grown woman. You could admit that to yourself. You likely wouldn't admit it to anyone else, even if it was as clear as day that you found him unbearable attractive at times. You sure as hell knew that it wasn't a one-way street, from the way his eyes strolled across your body each morning. 

You wondered if there was a section of his brain that was dedicated to memorising everything you'd said, done, and worn since he'd met you. You hoped there was. 

On your fifth and final case with the BAU team, you felt unmatched in your annoyance. 

You were still drawn with Spencer for case breakthroughs, and you felt the need to beat him once again just to nail the point home. He was just stubborn enough to see a 3-2 win as a landslide victory for himself, though you were absolutely going to frame it that way yourself if you managed to be the one to crack everything. 

All sense of teamwork and camaraderie was off the table. 

You had a murderer to catch.

Three women, beaten, assaulted, and tied up. He'd shorn their hair but bagged them up so they were unseen. Then he'd placed the bags on display. The unsub was caught between two extremes, hatred of his victims, and gentleness, protecting their dignity in death by covering them up. 

Obviously, you and Spencer had to decide which side of the debate you were to land on.

“I think we're dealing with a killer without remorse here. It's easier to explain the covering, the dressing of the women as a ritual rather than guilt.” 

He'd finally played his cards, and now it was your turn to passionately wipe them from the table. 

“Remorse? He's cut all their hair off and beat half of them so badly we needed dental to identify them. And in case you've forgotten Spencer, half of them are prostitutes.”

“You're saying he can't feel remorse for killing prostitutes?”

“That is not what I'm saying. Don't twist my words."

“Well, of you'd said something that wasn't nonsensical, I'd have a better chance of understanding what the hell you're trying to say!’

With every line you'd stepped closer and closer to one another, like two boxers in a ring, sizing each other up before a fight. 

You wanted to take his tie and strangle him with it. You wanted to pull him down for a kiss and force him to shut the hell up. 

“Reid, Y/N, both of you take five,” Hotch called sternly from the other side of the room. Guiltily, you both broke away from one another, his hand brushing your side as you took a step back, almost as if he'd meant to grab you before Hotch stepped in. 

Probably to remove you from the room. 

“Take five?” You said, mustering all the disappointment you could as you silently pleaded to stick around. 

“Go back to the motel and get some rest. If you're going to argue like this, I don't need you at the precinct, and I certainly don't need you on my team.” 

You blanched at that, almost taken aback by the harsh words as you silently nodded and quietly walked towards the door, letting it shut behind you. 

Spencer stayed behind, and though you couldn't hear his arguments, you knew he was attempting to reason with Hotch, as well. It evidently didn't work as he stormed out of the room behind you. 

He looked half like a kicked puppy, half like an angry school kid who'd just been scolded by a teacher. 

“Don't look at me like that, this is your fault,” you muttered as you walked away from the room. 

“What? How is this my fault?” 

“If you weren't so goddamn infuriating, we'd be able to get some actual work done.” 

You marched off in the direction of the exit, but he caught your shoulder before you made it that far.

“You're blaming me? This is my job, Y/N, not yours. You get to go back to a cushy little office after this is done to teach the people that are going to end up doing the paperwork that consists of only 2% of our job.”

His finger jabbed at your shoulder as he said the words, and you had to resist the temptation to grab it. 

“Doesn't feel too good to be criticized when you're just doing your job, huh, Spencer?” 

His brows knitted together in a deepened scowl and he took a step forward. 

But there were eyes on you, and whatever confrontation this was, you didn't want to act it out in front of an office full of cops. 

You turned and walked away again, down a seemingly abandoned hall to what looked to be an empty storage cupboard, flinging the light on and waiting the three seconds it took him to catch up with you. 

“What's your problem?” He said, joining you in the cramped closet. 

“You! You're the problem! You're infuriating, and annoying, and most important, you're you!” You poked his chest back, harder than he had earlier, quietly reveling in the feel of his body under your fingertip. 

“Oh, I'm sorry. Would you like me to be someone different? Someone who worships the ground you walk on?” He said, discovering sarcasm for the first time since you'd been introduced. 

“Sure, Spencer, if you can take tour head out of your own ass long enough to worship someone else, then be my guest.” 

With a single push he crowded you against the wall, a hand above your head locking you into position as his other hand held your hip, his own hips joining you at the wall as you sucked in a breath. 

“You're begging to hear praise, right now, Y/N. Do you even hear yourself?” He asked, whispering the words directly into your ear. 

“W-Well, you have me pressed up against the wall like some fucking caveman that needs to breed or die.” You spent half the time you were talking trying to compensate for the stutter, trying not to look weak, that you totally missed the words that came from your own mouth. 

“You think I want to have sex with you?” He asked, chuckling awkwardly, even as his hand on your hip began rubbing circles, his head hanging lower, just inches away from your mouths meeting. 

“I think you'd love nothing more,” you said, finally lifting your hands to his hair and tucking a lock behind his ears. “Such a shame I won't be crawling into your bed.” 

“Is that a challenge?” He asked, and you were taken aback for a few seconds. 

“You want me so fucking bad, you're trying to convince yoursel-”

With a swoop, he cut you off, his lips meeting yours. You gasped and allowed his tongue to enter your mouth, but you came to your senses quickly. You kissed back with all the anger of the last month and all the attraction that had built up since you'd joined the team. Your tongue fought his, your hands tangled in his hair as his pulled them out, pinning them against a wall. But you slipped free and grabbed him again, grabbing the tie you'd wanted to choke him with earlier and not letting go. 

His lips were soft, and his body felt hot pressed against you, and you hated how good he was at all of this, how your body responded to his, how each time you pulled away it was with a small whimper as you begged for more. 

“I knew you wanted me,” he said, between kisses, grabbing your face and tilting it up as he returned his tongue to yours. 

“Oh, shut the fuck up, you kissed me first.” His hands trailed up your hips, untucking your shirt as he pushed his hand under, his cold fingers sending a trail of goosebumps along your skin as you shuddered. 

“I kissed you because you begged me to,” he said, his fingers caressing the bottom of your chest as he tried to press your bra up further. 

You were about to argue back when his lips met yours again, and you were lost in the haze of arousal, leg lifting to his hip to better allow him space to settle against you. 

You grew wilder in your passion, neither of you giving in even for one second as you writhed against each other, begging for satisfaction while denying that you'd ever wanted each other in the first place. Just as it became unbearable, your hands slipping to his belt, ready to pull his cock free and take it, the door opened again. 

“Reid, Y/N,” Morgan said from the doorway as you hastily jumped away from each other. 

You pulled your shirt down quickly, and Spencer stepped behind you, covering up the tent in his pants as you stared guiltily up at Derek Morgan. 

“Hotch sent me after you to give you the keys to the SUV,” he grumbled, making no comment on anything that happened. 

“We were just, um, we were just-” your brain fought for an excuse, but you'd left your brain behind somewhere between joining the BAU and foreplay with Spencer in a closet, so words escaped you. 

“You were just making out in a closet. It's okay, we all know,” Derek said, turning to leave. 

You jumped up, indignant now he'd brushed you off, and followed him out of the closet, an equally shocked Spencer trailing behind you. 

“What do you mean you all know? All know what?” You said, stomping back into the office. 

“That you two are into each other. It's why Hotch sent you away earlier. He didn't want to see the two of you going at it,” he said, pressing the car keys into your hands. 

“We are not into each other,” Spencer shouted back at Morgan as he stalked off, and you glared at him to shut his mouth. There was a crowd forming, and you still didn't need that attention. Not when your hair was matted from seven minutes in hell with Spencer or when his hand had, once again, settled on your hip, pulling you closer into him. 

“Let's go,” you huffed, and finally left the building with Spencer right behind you. 

You didn't talk for the rest of the drive home, even as your brain flooded itself with images of him taking you in the back of the car, your lips around his dick as he drove, him pulling over to bend you over the hood. 

You went straight to your separate rooms when you got back to the motel, though you swore that the walls were thin enough that he surely heard you pleasure yourself, fingers sinking into yourself. You weren't sure if he, too, had his hand wrapped around his cock, or if your brain was just now imagining whatever it liked to spur you on. 

Imagined or real, his moans were delicious, a maddening mix of frustration, exasperation and desperation, whimpers and groans, and small growls until you yourself were cumming, and letting yourself sleep.

You avoided talking, all talking, until the end of the case, even as your head replayed his infuriating words, his moans and the rustling sound of his fingers pressing your shirt up. You refused to talk to him to give his coworkers the validation of arguing with him once more. You weren't into each other. 

You simply wanted to fuck him. You didn't like him as a person otherwise. 

In avoiding him, though, the small taste of release you'd sampled in the closet had your softer parts deliriously wanting more. As much as you hated Spencer, you needed him so bad. 

You'd given him the cold shoulder  but he'd returned it just as quickly, and you were more annoyed not talking to him than you weren't. 

Your last case wrapped up, and you decided it was time to give him what he so obviously wanted. A conversation. 

You sat yourself right back down in his seat as you got on the jet and laid down, pulling his blanket over yourself as you took up the entire space. 

The others shook their heads at you as they walked on, Spencer taking up the rear. His eyes met yours, and he scowled, and you couldn't help but wonder if he'd look like that fucking you, so stern and angry. 

You sighed and pushed onto your side as he stood over you. 

“That's my seat.” 

You smiled in success as you looked over your shoulder. 

“I'm tired, I'm going to sleep.” 

“But that is my seat-” 

“Spencer, you've sat on every seat on this damn plane before, that wasn't your seat until last month, now sit down, shut up and let me rest,” JJ exploded and you suddenly felt bad for drawing him into your argument.  Or you did until you sat up a bit, and he sat himself right down where your head had been. 

“Spencer!”

“I give up…” JJ groaned from the table seats, pulling headphones over her head and shutting her eyes, and the others made to ignore you similarly. 

Not one to be beaten, you pushed the book in his hands off his lap and laid your head down again, now cushioned by his legs. 

“What-” his voice squeaked as you shut your eyes, too, and made yourself comfortable. He didn't push you off, or, heaven forbid, start talking to you again. Shockingly, he adjusted to the position quickly and resigned himself to pillow duty for the six hour flight. 

You, too, shocked yourself by how fast you fell asleep. You woke up with his hands in your hair, stroking your head as he read, book in one hand, you in the other. His hands felt wonderful, raking through your long locks, brushing each errant hair off your face. 

“Spencer?” You said, voice still thick with sleep. 

His hand shot away, and you almost regretted not pretending to sleep for longer, sure that he'd have gone on if you hadn't said anything. 

You straightened and cleared your own throat as you stretched, sitting quietly as you listened to the flight landing announcement. 

“Congrats, Y/N, you've successfully finished your time with the BAU,” Rossi said from his seat opposite you, strapping in for the landing.

“And you haven't been shot, kidnapped, or slapped. That's gotta be a first, right?” Emily joked from the corner. 

You smiled quietly as you strapped yourself down, scooting even closer to Spencer now to get your belt fastened.

Still, you couldn't resist the urge to mumble a retort.

“I'm sure Spencer thought about it a few times,” you sighed, a breath of resignation releasing from your lips dramatically.

The others chuckled, but Spencer sat silently next to you until the jet landed. 

He stayed quiet as he began to pack his things, but it became clear quickly that he was dragging everything out. As the plane emptied, you shot him a curious look, not daring to speak until you were the last two on the plane. 

“You're being slow today.” 

“I've never thought about shooting you or kidnapping you,” he said, voice low and quiet, even though you were alone. 

“It was a joke, Spencer,” you started, so sick of him taking g everything so seriously. You made to walk past him, but as you did, you felt his hand on your waist pulling you back as another hand came hard and fast at your ass. 

“I wasn't finished speaking,” he said as his hand ran over your butt, soothing the pain he'd just delivered. “I have thought about slapping you, though.” 

With that he grabbed his bag and stalked off the jet, not bothering to cast another look behind him. 

Two could play at that game. 

In about the most childish was you could muster, you ran ahead of him, staying three paces directly in front of him as he tried to overtake you. You moved when he moved. You sped up when he sped up. You even stopped a few times, so he'd run into you. 

“Y/N, cut it out.”

“Make me,” you said, throwing a withering look over your shoulder. 

He didn't wither. 

Instead, he grabbed your arm and marched you all the way through the FBI building, down to the parking lot, and into your car. As soon as he had you safely in the driver's seat, he closed the door, pulling off your visitors' pass. 

“I'll return this for you, no need for you to dally.” 

“Fuck you,” you spat out the window as you started the ignition. 

“It's been a pleasure,” he said with a grimace. 

“No, it hasn't,” you said back, wondering how long you'd spend in jail of you just mowed him down then and there. 

“You’re right. It hasn't,” he said, leaning down and into the window so you were now eye to eye. 

“Really? It seems like you got a lot of pleasure out of spanking me earlier. You were certainly experiencing a lot of pleasure when you pushed me up against a wall last week. If it wasn't pleasure, there was definitely something long-”

“Long?” He smirked.

“And hard in your pants.” 

He leaned in through the window, his breath fanning against your cheeks as he whispered into your ear. 

“That was my gun.” 

“And I certainly won't be helping you fire a load,” you said, starting the ignition and pushing him back from the window as you drove away from the FBI and away from Spencer Reid. 

It infuriated him that you'd gotten the last word. You'd spent a month with him and hadn't even given him a chance to show off his good qualities, and then you'd left without giving him a chance to prove himself. 

And, in doing so, you'd told a blatant lie. 

There had been two people in that closet, two people with tongues desperate for contact, eager for battle. You'd been moaning just as much as he had when his hands found your nipples. 

But you'd gotten to drive away without listening to his retort, and it was killing him. 

He sat and seethed at his desk for a while, waiting for the sense of relief that you were gone to wash over him. This had been what he wanted for weeks. Why was he now so discontent? Why did everything feel wrong? 

Abandoning paperwork he knew wouldn't be needed until at least next week, Spencer found your address in the team files, wrote it down, and left his desk. 

When you got home, there was nothing waiting for you. 

It was annoying. You'd spent the last month constantly on the go, always with more work, more cases, more paperwork. You'd killed any apparent gaps with Spencer. 

You could still feel his hands on your ass. You hated to admit it, but in your short acquaintance with Doctor Asshat, you'd grown fond of having him around as eye candy. When he wasn't being annoying (talking, breathing, or generally just being), you could quite happily imagine his head buried between your legs, his tongue lapping up every drop of cum you had to offer. 

There were definitely better things he could be doing with his mouth, in any case. 

Your body felt hot, itchy, and neglected as you got home, running a shower immediately and stepping in. 

The water was hot, and the room steamed up faster than you expected. You washed away the fatigue, and you washed away the dirt of a month of cheap motels.. 

Just as you were about to wash away the memories of Spencer Reid and his stupidly skilful tongue, the doorbell rang. 

It wasn't unusual for you to get visitors at 10 pm, but usually they announced themselves. 

You stayed put in the shower. It was probably a package you'd ordered, and it could honestly wait. 

The ringing, though, didn't stop. Whoever was at your door was insistent. First, the door rang to the rhythm of jingle bells. Then, they moved on to Fur Elise. When they got to Flight of the Bumblebees Levels of bullshit, you couldn't stand it anymore. 

You wrapped a towel around you and pulled the door open wide. 

“Sp- mm?” You said, shocked to see him there, but completely floored by his appearance, and more importantly the two hands he'd planted on your cheeks as he pulled you in for a hot, hard, and fast kiss. 

You pushed him off with a hard slap to his face, and stalked further into your apartment, knowing he'd follow closely behind.

You heard the door slam shut as he made to grab you again, but you stayed just out of reach. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” 

“I came because neither of us will move on without this.”

“Oh, you need me so much you won't be able to move on if you don't fuck me?” You scoffed, expecting a sarcastic answer to a sarcastic question. 

“Yes,” he said, and your shock at his earnestness gave him the moment he needed to grab at you again. 

This time, though, the tiny towel that had been holding your dignity in place dropped to the floor as Spencer Reid pinned you against the wall. 

“Already fucking bare and wet for me, how well-behaved.”

“Go fuck yourself!” you said, even as his hands cupped your breasts, grabbing and pulling both of your nipples, making you moan.

“See, your mouth is being a bitch, but your body is being a whore.” 

“Just fuck me won't you? No need to run your mouth.” 

“I think we're finally in agreement on something,” he said, pushing you to your knees. 

“What? Sp-” 

In one quick swoop he released his cock from his pants and wrapped a hand around all of your hair as he slid it down your waiting throat. 

As much as you protested, your mouth was wide open, and your hands wrapped around him just as eagerly. 

Holding your head still, Spencer began to talk as he fucked your throat. 

“There we go. That's exactly how I've needed you for the last month.”

You glared at him as you sank your nails into his thighs, gagging on his cock as he picked up his pace.

With two taps on his leg, you requested a moment, and he quickly pulled his dick out of your mouth. 

You coughed quickly, then spat out all of your accumulated drool before looking up at him. 

Part of you wanted to force him down next to you, to make him taste your cunt the way you'd thought about earlier. The other part, the larger part, was excited about him using you. 

He grabbed his dick and slapped your face with it, returning your earlier hit. He was waiting for you to open up again so he could cum down your throat and leave. 

“Open,” he demanded. 

You didn't comply, but you stuck out your tongue, lapping at his tip slowly as you sat on your hands. He held his breath as you kissed the underside of his shaft, making his way to his balls. You reached them and finally sucked them into your mouth, making sure to look up and make eye contact with him as you toyed with his private place.

He didn't argue or complain. Instead he fisted a hand into your hair and dragged you to your bedroom. 

Divesting himself of his pants and shirt, he sat down and, still on all fours, pushed your face back into his crotch. Perched on the edge of your bed, he held his cock up and served himself to you. 

“Well? Get back to it, Y/N.” 

Your tongue found his cock first as his hands massaged his balls, playing with them gently as you licked all the way to his tip then buried yourself between his asscheeks. You licked at the skin between his ass and balls, you tasted every inch of him, and you grew angry that he still hadn't done this for you. 

Against his wished, you rose and spat on his cock, before squeezing it hard. 

“Spencer, are you going to fuck me or are you just going to ruin my makeup?” 

“You look prettier with spit coating your face than you've looked with any lipstick,” he said as you pushed him down onto the bed and grabbed his cock. 

Straddling his waist, you were surprised he.let you sink down onto his cock without so much as another word. You felt him fill you up, one inch, then another until you sat fully sheathed on top of him. 

And then he flipped you over so he was back in control. 

“Son of a bitch,” you muttered as he pulled out and thrust back in. 

“You wanted me to fuck you, I'm fucking you.”

You wanted to argue but all you could do was moan yes as he set a furious pace, thumb and forefinger pinching your clit as you bucked into him wildly.

You couldn't stand too much of this, knowing that you wanted to at least outlast him. You wanted to tell him how pathetic he was for cumming first, you wanted to gloat that he'd wanted you more, that he couldn't resist breeding your hot wet cunt. You knew any more of this, though, and you would instead be on the receiving end of those same taunts. 

Pushing against his chest, you used the last of your strength to flip him over again. He struggled, though, stronger than you were expecting, and you rolled together like that for a few moments.

You almost went crashing to the floor as he fought for control, but he pushed a foot off the bed and held you up with his lower body strength. The new position though forced his cock deeper, to just the right angle, and when he thrust into you again, you did something you'd never done before during sex. 

You screamed your pleasure. 

Your orgasm ripped through you, as painful as it was pleasurable, and you grabbed Spencer Reid by the neck and forced his tongue to meet yours. 

He couldn't complain, too busy moaning about your hot, wet, and now tighter cunt to worry about whether he should be kissing you. 

He pulled back and picked his pace right back up, but this time, you resisted less. Hooking a hand under your legs, he pressed your legs up, pushing his stomach and chest down just above your own as he moved slower but harder. 

You wondered if this was what other wen talked about when they said they wanted someone to beat their pussy up, to use them until they couldn't stand. You didn't think you could even think about walking again for the next month as he spread your knees apart and pinned them to the bed, unloading his cum as deep inside you as anything had ever been.

You didn't even know your body bent that way. 

Panting, he collapsed on top of you and buried his head in your shoulder, mumbling and muttering to himself as he came down from his ecstasy. 

He didn't pull out. He barely even softened as he kissed across the expanse of your throat, thrusting shallowly with each nip, until your body couldn't take anymore. 

He picked a spot and sucked, and licked and bit and soothed as he ended one round, and began another. 

“Spencer-” you said, gasping as he sat up, his cock once again standing at attention, filling you still. 

“No. Stop. Don't talk, we're not good when we talk.” 

You nodded and pulled him back for another kiss, wrapping a hand around his throat and pressing hard as he moaned and groaned into you. 

Still wet and slippery and sensitive from your first attempt, neither of you lasted long, falling to the bed when it was all over with a grunt of overexertion. 

“That was…” you said, stopping there, for once totally speechless.

“That was good?” He supplied, but just good wasn't enough. 

“Yes,” you agreed, though, not willing to let your cunt rule your mind when around him.

Anymore, at least. 

“We should… we should probably never speak again,” you said, even as your hand reached out for his, fingers tangling. 

“Of course. I'll leave, and we won't ever speak again,” he said, stroking your hand with his thumb, bringing your clasped hands to his mouth and pressing a kiss to your hand.

“You haven't left yet.” 

“I haven't.”

“I have nowhere to be tomorrow,” you said. “You don't…”

“I won't leave yet. We might as well enjoy this,” he said, propping himself up on his elbows as he looked over your naked body. 

“We should definitely just get this out of our systems now. What's the harm in that?” 

“I agree. If we're committing to a one time thing, we might as well go all in.”

“Exactly,” you said. 

“Exactly,” he parrotted.

Exactly a year later, the members of the BAU received invitations in the post to your wedding. Because the both of you had convinced yourself that that one time had never ended and never had need to. 

[moonstruckme]

hi !! i saw that your requests were open and i'd really love if you wrote something with james (or poly!m !!) with a gn!reader taking up literature in uni who tends to get back pains from being hunched over reading and writing almost all hours of the day (definitely not projecting, hehe!)

i love the stuff you write and everythings just so sweetly written and portrayed so lovely !! thank you for keeping the marauders fandom alive lol

Thank you ml <3

modern au

poly!marauders x gn!reader ♡ 709 words

James plops down beside you on the couch, and when he pokes your spine you straighten reflexively. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, only half in the room as the rest of your brain continues working on your essay. 

“Are you really not done yet?” Sirius asks, putting a bag of popcorn in the microwave. You start typing faster. They’re going to want to start the movie soon, and then your laptop is going to be wrested away from you whether you’ve reached a stopping point or not. “I can’t remember the last time I spent more than a couple hours on an essay. You’ve been laboring over that thing all day.” 

“It’s a long one,” you admit, “but it’s hardly labor.” 

“Sure looks like it, when your back is hunched worse than a coal miner’s.” 

You give him a deadpan look. Sirius glances down at your fingers, still typing rapidly, and shudders. 

“Fucked how you can do that.” 

“Literature students might be the new coal miners,” says James.

You hum dubiously, looking back to your work. “Not sure that’s a super fair comparison.” 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t quite say that,” Remus agrees with you, “but it’s not like you’re not doing yourself any harm when you write all day like this, love. Your back is already hurting you—” 

“You’ll probably get carpal tunnel,” James adds. 

“—and I know looking at your laptop for this long gives you headaches.” Remus’ slow strides into the living room feel like a countdown clock. You manage to hammer out the end of your sentence just before he pulls your laptop out from under your fingers. “If you’re not careful, it’s gonna fuck up your sleep. That’s enough for tonight.” 

You sigh but don’t complain, rolling back your shoulders to ease some of the tautness there. Your spine crackles, quicker and louder than the popcorn popping in the kitchen, and James flinches away from you. 

“God, make it stop,” he pleads. 

You ignore him and roll your neck to the side, eliciting a series of cracks from there too. James makes a dramatically horrified sound and squeezes his eyes shut, and Remus grabs your head in both hands, restraining you. 

“Don’t,” he tells you severely. “We’ve been over this.” 

“Freak,” Sirius says lovingly as he pulls the bag of popcorn from the microwave. 

“It hurts,” you complain. 

“Sounds like it, fuck,” James agrees emphatically. Now the danger has passed, he leans towards you again, splaying a protective palm over your mid back. “Sirius, could you grab my icy hot from the fridge? Here, lovie, lie down.” 

Remus lets go of your face somewhat reluctantly, letting James help you lay across his lap. His hand smooths up and down your spine, pressing down lightly upon muscles rigid with tension. You sort of wish he’d just crush you. You’re sure he could, he doesn’t spend all that time at the gym for nothing. 

“I’m gonna get you a back brace,” Remus mutters, fondness under the veneer of resentment in his tone. 

“That'd be kind of hot.” Sirius lifts your feet, dropping down onto the couch before passing James the tube of cream. “Those are the strappy looking things, right? I’m for it.” 

“I do not consent,” you say clearly, then hiss as James applies the cool balm to your lower back. 

He and Sirius laugh. Remus reaches over to press your shoulders back down. 

“Easy, angel,” says James. “It’ll help.” 

“I didn’t know it’d be this cold,” you defend yourself, a little laugh tripping out of you as well. “You do this voluntarily?” 

“You’ll see why in a bit.”

“If I were spending all of my Saturday hunched over my laptop and a bunch of books,” Sirius says, “I think I’d at least use the right ‘your.’ What are they teaching you, babe?” 

You suppress a groan. You’d sent Sirius a grammatically incorrect text two days ago, and he’s yet to stop lording it over you. 

“That was autocorrect,” you tell him again. 

He hums noncommittally, tracing a path up your calf with his forefinger. “I’m just saying, can it really be worth it if we’re making those sorts of mistakes? Will they even still give you your degree?” 

“Sirius, their back is getting tense again. Knock it off.”

[iloveboysinred]

You've been missed [Saturo Gojo]

18+ mdni | Gojo x fem! reader

sypnosis; you and Gojo have a complicated relationship. During the day he would act like he didn't know you existed, then at night he would be in your sheets. He constantly lead you on with promises and sweet lies, but despite knowing your "relationship" wasn't going anywhere, you still answered his late night calls.

cw; situationship, fingering, oral (fem receiving), mirror sex, degradation, riding, back shots, spanking, squirting, anal fingering, just nasty ass sex. written by an amateur smut writer at 2 a.m :') not proofread as much as I'd like. MDNI!!!!!!

4k words and some change

inspired by this song for some reason

masterlist |

You glared down at the thread of messages on your screen— all unanswered; not even read. “Today 12:36 A.M” was the time of the last text you had sent him. Resentment settled in your stomach, turning your phone off and lightly tossing it onto your bed. He always did this. Gojo would ignore your calls, & he would leave your texts unread. Even worse than that, he walked past you everyday like you weren’t even there, sparing you half a glance from under those stupid sunglasses he always wore. You didn’t even know why you tried anymore; worst of all, you didn’t know why every time his notification popped up you would open it and respond at lightning speed. The custom ringtone you had set for him made your heart skip a beat. Gojo had a hold on you that you couldn’t free yourself from. It was sad, the way you answered his every call when he would take his sweet time before responding to yours. You supposed these things only occurred because you allowed them to– basically sending the message that no matter what he did, he would still have exclusive access to you whenever he so wished. 

You hated him for it, but who else could you blame but yourself? He told you from the beginning that your little “situationship” wouldn’t be going further than casual sex. But at the same time he constantly blurred the lines he had set. When he would press soft kisses to your lips, whispering to you about how beautiful you are, telling you that you were made for him; that nobody else was allowed to have you the same way he had you, under him, hips pushed against yours, his forehead brushing against your neck while he emptied himself into you. It was making you feel delirious, the weight of his body pressed so deliciously over yours as he took everything your body had to offer. Then he would remind you of where you stood in his life, when you would wake up and he would be gone, his spot on the bed long abandoned and cold, the only evidence he was ever even there was the mess between your legs and the ache in your body. 

Your phone pinged, the familiar sound of his custom ringtone urging you to pick it up and see what he said, even though you didn't want to. You wanted to leave him on delivered for days like he did you, ignore his calls and act like he didn’t exist. It was petty, but you felt as though it was the only power you really had against him, knowing that he could make you crumble with as little effort as using his hands.

 It was unfair, really, the effect he had on you. He could bend you to his will anyway he wanted, and you would always comply, indulging in the meaningless pleasure he would give you, a piece of you going with him every single time you would wake up to an empty bed. Your heart is growing colder for him every time he leaves your messages delivered, every call unanswered. 

The notification lit up your screen, his contact name and your own curiosity tempting you to open his message quicker than you would’ve liked. You rolled your eyes as the text swirled around your whole screen. He loves using those stupid message effects, you guessed he was trying to be playful. Maybe buttering you up by playing on your feelings of fondness he knew you had for him. “Hey pretty, what are you up to tonight?” your stomach fluttered at the pet name, swallowing down  the irritation you also felt at him ignoring your previous string of messages. You typed out a response, “Nothing.” It was purposely curt. Trying to at least somewhat convey that you were unhappy with him. 

“You mad at me or something?” 

“No, not at all”

“You’re sooooo dry 🙁”

“Oh.”

Text bubbles appeared on your screen for a minute, before disappearing. “Read 3:45 A.M” you sighed, shutting the phone off again and laying down. It was late, and you had to be at Jujutsu tech early tomorrow, already tired of Gojo’s antics. Right when you started to doze off your phone pinged again. Groggily you picked it up, clicking it on. Already knowing who it was. “Unlock the door pleeeeease 🙂” you stared at the message for a second, blinking the sleep from your eyes. You didn’t move, hoping he would just go away and think you were asleep, but then you heard rapid knocks at your door, and you reluctantly got up,not wanting your neighbors to be disturbed by Gojo’s childishness. Cracking open the door you glared at him, your irritation growing at the stupid grin on his face, your sleep deprivation not making it any better. 

 “Heyyyy y/n” he pushed past your door, allowing himself in. He took a moment to look you over, your satin robe hugging your body perfectly. The top sagged down your shoulder, the stretch of skin leading to your chest making his eyes wander. Your nipples perked under the thin fabric and he couldn’t help but run the tip of tongue along his bottom lip. You just look so appetizing.

 “What do you want, Gojo?” He leaned towards you, leaving just a few meters of space between you. He searched your face, amusement glinting in his eyes. “Hmm so you are upset” he tilted his sunglasses down, irises locked onto yours now. You said nothing, turning away from him and walking to your kitchen, shaking off the warmth crawling up your spine. You already knew what he was here for, but you weren’t giving in, not tonight.  “Oh come onnnn, pretty girl. You know how busy I can be.” His voice was barely above a purr, and you scurried away, his breath on your nape making you almost drop the glass. “Gojo, back the fuck up!” You snapped, shoving him back by his chest, turning away to hide your warming cheeks. “Back up huh? That’s new.. You must really be pissed” he snickered. You scowled at him. He turned away from you, nonchalantly shoving his hands in his pockets, waltzing out of the kitchen and down the hall to where your room was. He knew your house inside out by now, the many nights he had visited had made it easy for him to memorize every turn. 

He smiled at you when you followed in. Not even bothering to look at him, you turned on a lamp, the dim light illuminating the look of irritation on your face. “Gojo, it’s late. I don’t know why you’re here, but I think you should go.” You wanted to punch him, the cocky bastard had already begun to take off his outer layers, getting comfortable in his designated spot on your bed. He didn’t say anything, instead opting to watch you walk around the room. You stopped in front of him, your arms still crossed over your chest stubbornly.

“Hello! don't you hear me talking to you? I said leave” you tried to conceal the waiver in your voice. It was hard to pretend that you had such resolve, especially when he looked so tempting. He was stretched out on your bed, a plain black t-shirt hanging off his lean body. His eyes were partially covered by his hair, brilliant blue standing out against the white. He smiled when he caught your stare, slowly standing up. Your breath caught in your throat as he walked over to you, his tall frame taking up your line of sight. He backed you up into the full body mirror you had in your room, leaned idly against the wall. You felt it shift backwards. Gojo’s body caging yours, blocking any means of escape. He stared right into your eyes, searching your face. “Is that what you really want?” His voice was warm, almost a hushed whisper. “Tell me you really want me to go, and I'll leave right now.”

 Your breath hitched, the proximity making you nervous; warmth starting to swarm in your core. You loathed the way your heart picked up speed. Your words died in your throat, mouth drying when his hand came to caress your face, teasingly leaning forward to brush his lips against yours. “What’s wrong? Cat’s got your tongue?” you shuddered when he pulled away, running his fingers down the fabric of your robe, nudging it aside and dipping his fingertips underneath to caress the warm skin of your breast. “Hmm, I guess you don’t want me to leave after all, huh?” he whispered, pushing the top of your robe open, exposing your skin to the cold air in the room. “Toru..” your voice was a soft murmur, but you knew he could hear the pleading in your voice, that same resolve you tried to keep up crumbling under his very fingertips. “Yeah?” he leaned down, pressing wet kisses down your neck, covering the span of your chest with his lips. You sighed, feeling his warm lips wrap around your nipple, his tongue swirling around the bud, slightly flickering and turning the other with the tips of his fingers. He hummed in satisfaction when your hands found him, grabbing at his hair by the root, pushing his head harder against your chest. 

He knew he had you.

 “We can’t keep doing this.” you muttered, staring up past his head, urging yourself to say what you need to say. “You? Me? We’re not going anywhere. You know this and I know this.” Gojo grunted, leaning up to suck on the skin of your neck. “You don’t talk to me, you act like I don’t exist… then you just show up like nothing happened and we do this. What’s the point?” Gojo pulled you against his body, bringing you away from the mirror. You stared up at him, and he smiled at you, squeezing your sides. 

“Why’s there gotta be a point? Can’t you just have a little fun?” his voice was taunting, making anger course through you. Yet again, he disregarded everything else you said, and it was infuriating. “You’re such an asshole, you know that?” you shoved him away from you, making him stumble for a second, that stupid smirk still on his face. “You just use me, you don’t give a fuck about me- “oh spare me the bullshit y/n” You gaped at him when he cut you off, fists clenching at your sides. “You know as well as I do what this was from the beginning. Stop trying to make it more complicated than it needs to be.” You glared at him, your heart turning to steel at his blatant disregard for your feelings.

He sat down on your bed, leaning his head on his hand and studying you, drinking in your reactions with an amused look on his face. “I’m the strongest sorcerer in Jujutsu society, did you honestly think I have time to worry about  feelings ? don’t be stupid.” His voice was so condescending, it was making you angry. But you didn’t say anything, staring down at the floor. “And who said I didn’t care?” he was standing in front of you again, grabbing your chin and forcing you to meet his gaze. “I care for you just like I care for everyone else. I keep the world safe. Isn’t that enough?” you glared at him with resentment and pain flickering in your eyes. It wasn’t enough. You didn’t want him to care about you the same way he cared about everyone else. You wanted to be special. His words stung your heart in a different way than anything else had. It solidified who you were to him, just another person he needed to protect. Just another weakling he felt somewhat responsible for. It was then you decided to indulge him for the last time, only for tonight you would be weak for him. 

Smashing your lips against his you pushed him backwards, taking him aback with the haste in your movements. But it didn't take him long to recover, grabbing a handful of your ass, kneading the flesh in his hands, pressing you up against his body, deepening the kiss when he shoved his tongue in your mouth, meeting yours. You felt his other hand shift to tangle itself in your hair, grabbing at your scalp, pushing you harder against his lips. Your bodies pressed against each other, the temperature in the room increasing. Panting you pulled away, face flushed and heart beating miles per hour. By now the robe you adorned had basically slid all the way off; your hair a mess and still in Gojo’s grip. He tugged the belt holding your robe together, leaving you completely bare. His eyes drank you in like he’d never seen you before, holding you close to his chest as his hands wandered, gripping your soft skin. Grabbing him by his shoulders you pushed him in the direction of the bed, climbing over his lap, and pressing your bottom to his crotch. His hands settled on your hips while you fumbled with his pants, unbuttoning them and snapping them open, his bulge straining against the fabric of his boxers. 

He shifted his hands to his sides as you went for his shirt next, pulling it off, taking a moment to study his build. Lean and muscular, his milky skin inviting you to mark it up with blooming red. You pressed your lips to his neck, ignoring the deep rumble of amusement in his chest as you sucked marks into his flesh, nipping him less than gently. His hand came up to squeeze your hips, grinding you down lightly against his clothed bulge, grunting at a particularly rough bite you landed just under his adam’s apple. “So needy, aren’t you?” you pulled away, glaring at him. “Shut up for once, Saturo. All you do is talk. Aren’t you tired?” He laughed, pushing you off his lap and onto the bed. Gojo leaned over you, pressing a heated kiss to your lips, his hands coming down to hook under your knees, pulling them apart and upwards, folding you in half against his body; Your dripping pussy open and on display for him. He pressed his crotch against it, your wetness warm and inviting. It left a stain right over the fabric covering his bulge, making him groan, grinding into you. “Stop teasing.” you grunted, bucking your hips up towards his, searching for friction.

“Oh come on, pretty girl..” he purred, reaching down to run his fingers up your slit, catching a few drops of your arousal and spreading them over your clit, rubbing small, lazy circles over it. “Let me take my time with you..” you watched him, eyes half lidded, your legs aching from the uncomfortable position he had you in. “All wet..just for me.” he muttered, his tone conveyed that he was distracted, watching how your folds glistened with your arousal.

He slipped two of his fingers into you, curling them inside; stroking your walls. Moaning quietly you reached down to your chest, rolling your nipples between your fingers, basking in the gentle pleasure he brought you. He pumped his fingers inside of you at a steady pace, the push and pull of his movements making your stomach twist. His finger tips curled up inside of you once more, rapidly stroking at the spongy surface of your g-spot. Your hips arched into his hand, chasing the sensation.

Your legs were numbing, slowly starting to drop in his hold. “Toru, please.” you whined, rolling your hips against his hand again, trying to urge him to go faster. “I know baby… let me just-” he seemed entranced by your body. The sounds of your pussy sucking in his fingers were obscene. He leaned down and swiped a line up your slit with his tongue, moaning at the taste of you. You gasped, clenching your teeth and shutting your eyes tight when he placed his lips right on your clit.

The sensations coursing through your body had you trembling, legs dropping from his hold and onto his shoulders. He continued to eat you messily, pulling back to spit a fat glob of saliva on your pussy before diving back in, feasting on you. His tongue twisted inside of you, lapping up all your arousal, moaning against your pussy. He sucked on your clit, bringing his fingers back into you, rubbing at your spongy walls once again. You gripped his hair as you came, shoving him deep in between your thighs, grinding your hips against his face, savoring the pleasure shooting up your veins. Your chest heaved, Gojo continuing to suck on your clit, overstimulating you. It got to the point where you felt another orgasm building up in your abdomen, the familiar warm pressure washing over you as you came a second time, squealing his name and weakly pulling him away from your pussy. 

He was panting, lips glistening from your juices, his pupils were shot, a wild look in his eyes you were well acquainted with. Your hand still buried in his hair, you pulled him up towards you, smashing your lips against his, tasting yourself. You moaned into his mouth, sucking his tongue into yours. Flipping you both over you sat on his navel, pulling down his boxers just enough to free his pulsating length. It stood proud, pretty pink tip flushing, glistening of precum. You grabbed it, scooting back to slide it into you. You stared into his eyes as you slid down, taking him in his entirety. The look on his face almost made you laugh, his eyes were blank and unfocused, mouth hanging slightly open as your warmth surrounded him. Tight, wet walls massaging his dick as you rode him, your ass meeting his thighs as you bounced. You threw your head back, hands coming up to tweak your nipples, his dick filling you to the brim. 

You looked down at the man beneath you. His jaw was clenched as he watched you, white hair starting to stick to his forehead with the sheen of sweat above his brow. “Ride it..ride it baby, fuck!” he whined, words a jumbled mess. His hands came up to your sides, rubbing up and down your hips, trying to ground himself. You glared down at him, slapping his hands away, increasing your pace. You saw his stomach constrict with every deep breath he took, staring up at you in awe when you rolled your hips into his once more, grinding down on him roughly.

He gasped when you clenched against him, your pace not letting up for a second. “Oh fuck…oh fuuck!” his moan was low and drawn out as he came, body tensing under you, his hands gripping at your hips. You rolled your hips a few more times, grinding him against you g-spot, the feeling of him spilling inside of you making your clit pulse with anticipation. He panted your name, his head thrown back, exposing his neck, pretty red marks adorning his skin. When you had enough you pulled off of him, his cum dribbling out from your pussy and down your thighs. He looked at you, panting, watching you collect some of it and bring your fingers up to your lips, sucking them clean. 

He sat up in a heartbeat, grabbing your wrists and pulling you onto him, shoving his tongue desperately into your mouth.

Obviously, you had set something off in him, making him feral.

He flipped you on your stomach, grabbing your hips to lift your lower half up to reach his, hard dick poking at your thighs. Your upper half teetering on the edge of the bed. You looked up at the mirror in front of you, getting lost in the sight of Gojo behind you, your ass propped up against his pelvis and his hands securely holding on to your waist. “You look so pretty like this..” you heard him breath, one of his hands sliding down the span of your back, coming down to wrap around your hair and forcing your head up, meeting his eyes in the reflection of the mirror. “Such a pretty slut. You gonna watch me fuck you, baby?” he whispered, taking his dick in his other hand, teasingly rubbing the tip up and down your sopping wet folds, not giving you so much as an inch.

“Y-yes Toru.” you whined, pushing yourself back on him eagerly. “Hm.. if you look away from the mirror, i’ll stop, kay?” you nodded, rolling your hips back against him in need. “Just fuck me already.”

Gojo pushed into you, his hand letting go of your hair and coming back to knead your ass, his pace unrelenting as he beat into you, hips meeting your backside with every thrust. You gasped, hands gripping the sheets under you to hold yourself still, trying not to fall off the edge of the bed with the force of his movements inside of you.

“Oh my god Saturo- yess” you keened. Your pussy felt so full of him, his dick stretching out your walls, pumping you full of his length. He watched you through the mirror, piercing gaze not wavering from your body for a second, enjoying the way your ass bounced against him, taking all he had to give.

 “Look at you, taking my dick like a slut” he growled, spreading your ass cheeks with his hands, staring down at your tight ring of muscles, twitching with every thrust of his hips. He ghosted his fingers over it, making you shudder. “I think I'll play with this one next. What do you think, love?” his voice was sickeningly sweet, a hard contrast to the rough pace he had set inside of you, beating your walls loose without a care.

When you didn’t answer he delivered a stinging smack to your ass, making you yelp. “I’m talking to you, baby..” you nodded your head, your mind fuzzy from the white hot pleasure coursing through your body. “Use your words, pretty girl.” he grunted, shoving his whole length into you, hips pressed flush against your ass. “O-oh fuck! Yes Toru..yes!” you cried, back arching into him, feeling the tip of his dick kiss right against your cervix. He hummed in satisfaction, his thumb coming to his lips, wetting it with his saliva before bringing it back to your ass, easing in the tip of his thumb past the resisting muscles of your sphincter.

The pain only enhanced the pleasure in your abdomen, letting out a wanton moan as he slowly pushed past, thumb now fully breaching into your ass. “That's it baby.. Fuck, you’re so sexy.” He moaned, engrossed in the way you wrapped around his thumb, squeezing his dick with your pussy at the new sensation. He swore he could see stars, a white ring of cream accumulating around his base, getting thicker every time he pushed back into you.

You were struggling to hold your composure under him, glassy eyes trying to stay focused on the mirror in front of you, knuckles turning almost white at the tight grip you had on the sheets. He was fucking you dumb, your words coming out in babbles of his name amongst other words he couldn’t understand. Above you, he was losing his mind, the vice grip your creaming pussy had on him paired with the erotic sight of your asshole hugged around his finger driving him crazy.

He almost felt dizzy, reaching down to messily toy with your clit. Pinching, rubbing and flicking the bud, groaning when he felt you flutter and clench around him. You threw your head back when you felt warm pressure build up in your stomach, it was different this time though, it was more intense than the others and you couldn’t help the cry of his name from deep within your throat when he hit a particular spot inside of you.

“Just like that baby, moan. My. fucking. Name” his thrusts accented every word, hitting that sweet spot inside of you over and over again. Your body shook as your vision blurred, your core trembling with the force of your orgasm racking through your body. You squirted all over him, coating his lower stomach with your essence. A mix between a moan and a scream of his name being ripped from your chest. “Ohh fuck. Oh shit, baby.” He gasped, hurriedly pushing against the pressure of your orgasm, forcing himself back inside of you, dragging out every last drop from your pussy before he came undone, emptying himself deep inside of you, moans falling from his lips as he rode your orgasms out inside of you, weak whimpers escaping you from the overstimulation. 

He pulled out slowly. Earning a hiss from you, your body trembled, weakly dropping onto your stomach, your arms and legs aching with exhaustion. “C’mon pretty girl, don’t lay down just yet.” you felt him tug the bedsheet from under you, making you lazily roll onto the bare mattress, too tired to care anymore. You watched from the corner of your eye as he picked up his boxers, dragging them up his legs and back on, disappearing out of the room and what you assumed to be the bathroom.

He came back with a pack of wet wipes and a warm rag. “At least he has the decency to clean up..” you thought bitterly, letting him spread your legs open, gently wiping the mess down from between your legs. When he was done he laid next to you, his chest open and waiting for you to curl up into his arms, but you turned your back to him instead. Grabbing the duvet and pulling it over you.

Gojo snorted behind you, just crawling over to you and bringing you into his arms. “Still mad at me, pretty girl?” he murmured into your hair, cuddling up to you. You didn’t respond, staring into the darkness of your room, the lamp barely illuminating. “I’m sorry, okay?” you still didn’t respond, opting to ignore him and just go to sleep. You felt the bed shift and groaned when he flipped you on your back, staring down at you with an intensity in his eyes you’ve never seen before. “Y/n. I’m serious. I know what I said came off as harsh but I have no other choice, okay? You know the kind of work we do. Feelings can’t get in the way for people like us.” He was right, but the sting of his words still ached in your heart, and you avoided his gaze. “I know Toru..” you mumbled, glaring at the ceiling above you. “For what it's worth… I do care about you, y/n. In another life, You could’ve been mine.” he whispered, coming up to curl his fingers in your hair affectionately. You closed your eyes tight, trying to stop the warmth of your feelings for him from creeping into your heart. No, he always said stuff like this. He always gave you little promises, just to treat you like you didn’t matter, just to treat you like you were weak. You rolled onto your side, refusing to give him any more of your attention, you felt Gojo flop onto the bed again, this time leaving you be.

When you woke up the next morning you were surprised to see him still laying there, blissfully asleep and snoring like a hog. You glanced at the alarm clock on your nightstand, “10:00 A.M” you were late, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. The ache in every nook of your body convinces you that Yaga will just have to make due with other teachers to show the new first years around. You glanced behind you to Gojo’s sleeping form, He looked so peaceful, his beautiful white hair framing his face perfectly. You got so lost in thought that you almost missed the twitch of his eyelids, brilliant blue irises peeking out from underneath. You averted your gaze, looking down at your hands before he could notice.

But of course, he already did. “Staring is rude, you know.” he rasped, sitting up and turning his body towards you, his neck littered with blooming red and purple marks from your handy work. You scoffed, rolling your eyes as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Hey.” you turned to face him again, blankly looking into his eyes. “I meant what I said last night… I just need you to be patient, okay?” he looked at you with as much sincerity he could muster, making your heart twist. “Gojo…” “I know, my words don’t hold a lot of weight to you.” you almost wanted to snort, “that's an understatement.” “I know, and that’s my fault. But I promise, I mean it when I say that I care.” you stared at him for a moment, finding it hard to believe anything that came from his mouth, all the painful emotions swirling around in your mind. You nodded your head, not fully believing him. “Okay.” He smiled at you, and you couldn’t muster the energy to smile back.

You would be patient, but until then you wouldn’t wait on him hand and foot anymore, it was an even playing field from now on. If Gojo didn’t prove himself, you would move on to better things. Life didn’t stop at Saturo Gojo, and that proved true when you didn’t look to see if he read your message; when you didn’t waste your time calling him.

West District, part 2

[annerbhp]

If you would but indulge this fandom elder for a few moments, I'd like to point out a few things that I think can make all of our fannish experiences on this hellsite (affectionate) so much more joyful.

Try not to treat yourself or others as "content-providers."

This happens when you allow yourself to be influenced by real or imagined expectations and demands of others. "But I know people want..." "But people would expect me to..." "But they might not like it if I..." "It's been too long since I've written/posted anything..." "What if people get upset if I..." These are the joy killers. The only questions you should ask yourself when posting stuff to tumblr (or not) is "does this bring me joy right now?" and "would this cause harm?" That's it. You can also tag liberally so people can block stuff if they want. That's also a nice thoughtful thing to do. But try not to let the nebulous concept of "people"--your followers, your readers, the internet at large, or whatever--become a bogeyman in your own head. Most of us already have enough internal critics trying to trip us up at any given moment. Try not to invent more.

Treating others as "content-providers" happens if you send asks or comments to someone on this site demanding more content of a specific type, or insinuating that you are entitled to something from that person. You are communicating to that person that they only have value as a content-provider, and only when providing whatever it is you want. This is dehumanizing and ignores the thousands of reasons that person might choose to be here. Tumblr is not a subscription service. No one is paying for anything here. Most people here are just doing stuff that makes them joyful and we are lucky enough that sometimes they share it with us too!

2. Fandom is not a marriage.

The concept of "being in a fandom" is actually incredibly nebulous, as it should be! There is nothing you need to do or declare to be "in a fandom." There is no minimum threshold of love, or time, or interaction, or "production." It's just a feeling. A place. A space that brings joy. (And sometimes, heartbreak, but that's another topic all together.)

Fandom is also not a marriage. You can't cheat on a fandom. You do not have to have formal divorce proceedings and let go of one fandom before messing around with another one. There's no such thing as fandom infidelity. Neither is fandom a job. You don't have to give two weeks' notice. You don't have to post public intent on the town hall. You're not banned once you step out, never to return. You can "take a break" without any moral implications or risk of becoming the focus of a pop culture debate about whether or not you were justified to mess around with another fandom during that time. You can leave a fandom and never go back, all without having to consciously decide to do so. You can fall out of love with a fandom and then fall back in love with it later. It's not a marriage/job! There are no rules!

3. Take ownership and curate your own experience.

If there is a thing, or a blog, or a person who once brought you joy, but on balance no longer does, or makes you more disappointed or annoyed or upset than not, you do not have to keep interacting with them/it. Following someone on tumblr is also not a marriage. You can follow/unfollow as you like, no harm, no foul. It's just curating your personal joy, and I hope we will always wish each other the best with that. If you are scared of "missing out on something," then you will either need to block tags enough to make it enjoyable, or decide unfollowing is worth the risk if it makes you too unhappy to keep following!

The ultimate thing is, it's up to you to curate your fannish experience. It is not up to the person you are following to change to fit your expectations or hopes. (See point #1.) You can feel ways about this, of course! But those are your feelings, which are yours to handle. Do not put them on the other person. Do not send them asks demanding things or lashing out. It won't make you feel better and it definitely won't get you what you are looking for, unless your actual aim is to kill the joy of another person so you are not upset alone. In that case I'm not sure what to tell you other than you might want to spend some time meditating on that one and think about if that's really the kind of person you want to be. Or if this kind of space is actually good for you.

That's it for now. Thank you for indulging me. Don't be a dick on the internet, friends. Take no shit and do no harm. Take care of yourselves! 💕

[kikitakite]

I saw your callout in the Gale tag for that one user (no comment on them, tho ty for the callout bc i'd seen them in the notes of my fics) and was curious if you could elaborate on some of the Mystra incidents you described towards the end of the post? I'm new to the lore of the setting and find it hard to research (which makes sense given its importance to dnd), so I've heard a lot of conflicting things about Mystra's portrayal in the wider series. No pressure, obviously!

No problem! And yea, I've seen her arguing in the posts of a few people I follow or just Gale-related posts I find interesting. Usually I don't get involved in stuff like this, but I noticed a constant pattern and then all the homophobic shit so I went off a little.

Unfortunately it's hard to find exact examples of the Mystra lore because certain modules aren't very popular or even free to access, but if you're interested the best way to learn about her is by reading the Elminster novels. There's twelve total, dating all the way back to 1994, and they detail Elminster's adventures. I'll be honest though, some of them are a hard read and written through the lens of a man who's admitted very creative, but also has a lot of problematic ideas.

In the first book Elminster is a child. His entire town gets wiped out by mages, thereby making him hostile toward magic. He sneaks into Mystra's temple to deface her statue one night, but she appears before him and basically gaslights him into learning magic and becoming her rare Chosen. He becomes a wizard and cleric basically overnight, until eventually he multiclasses into pretty much every class type in DnD. As you can imagine a lot of players aren't too fond of Elminster, as he's a well known self-insert of the author and pretty annoying to run into during campaigns. None of my dungeon masters like him anyway.

He also becomes one of Mystra's most loyal followers, but she fucks with him over and over, turning him into a woman to teach him a lesson and SLEEPING with him in that form, berating him when he struggles with the torture he endures when he gets stuck in the hells, making him reproduce without his knowledge and getting jealous when he gives his partners more attention. Because she's a very jealous goddess, which I think the game vaguely touches on but not really.

I wish I had the time to flip through all the novels and give exact citations but the best I can do is suggest them, because they're so eye opening. She's considered a neutral good goddess, but neutral gods often do terrible things for the sake of their domain. I think it needs to be noted that Mystra, as with all gods in the pantheon, only cares about her portfolio. She isn't wrong for that, but it doesn't mean she's blameless when she messes with people's lives. She's done a lot of good but she's also made horrible decisions, especially where her followers are concerned.

For example, Elminster having children he doesn't know about. He has a daughter named Narnra. Her conception was... pretty fucked up. Basically a song dragon named Ammaratha Cyndusk was an occasional lover of Elminster's (he has a lot of those because of course he does) and she wanted to bear his child, but since he's a Chosen of Mystra he can control his fertility. Magic birth control, basically. He didn't want a kid so Ammaratha went behind his back to learn a counterspell that would make him fertile during sex. The man she asked refused to teach her because...duh that's messed up, but then Mystra intervened and told him to teach her the spell because she wanted Elminster's "seed to spread". Ammaratha never told him and neither did Mystra. No matter what the reasons, that was NOT consensual on Elminster's part, and it happened two more times, resulting in two more daughters with different women. If I remember correctly Elminster did eventually find out waaaaay later when they were all adults, but it never amounted to anything.

The sisters I was taking about are the Seven Sisters, Mystra's "daughters". And I put "daughters" in quotations because Mystra possessed the body of a woman named Elué and impregnated her without her consent. She slept with the woman's husband (again, while possessing her body) and made them sire seven children. This of course lead to Elué's death because the constant flow of magic in her body was too much for her to handle. Her grieving husband broke after she died and eventually left, abandoning his daughters and earning Mystra's scorn...as if he was in the wrong. The sisters were then orphaned and raised by foster families.

That said, most of the awful things anyone can say about Mystra were the doings of her previous incarnations so ultimately it doesn't apply to the Mystra of BG3. In fact, this third Mystra is supposed to be a new and improved goddess who's nicer to her followers. So her portrayal in BG3 annoyed a lot of DnD fans. I should also point out that Mystra has two types of fans: ones who will defend everything she does, even when it's fucked up beyond all comprehension, and the ones who will tell you she's a true neutral goddess capable of good and bad. I'm the latter. There are plenty examples of Mystra sticking her neck out for innocents, but there's also examples of her doing the most horrendous shit imaginable.

A lot of veteran players, at least the ones I know, are upset with the portrayal of Mystra in BG3 because her plan to end the Absolute is, quite frankly, stupid. Your party is the best chance anyone has of ending the threat, but she asks Gale to nuke himself and possibly tens of thousands, which makes no sense because she could've just sent her mages/clerics to deal with the problem. And there was no guarantee the bomb would've worked anyway. She put all the responsibility on one man and it DEFINITELY comes off as vindictive. That isn't out if character for her but she's not SUPPOSED to be that bad anymore. For a lot of DnD players it felt like she was reverting back to her old habits.

I think there's also a part in the game where you can directly ask Gale why she doesn't just blip the Absolute out of existence and he says something like, "She could but Ao won't allow it." That was also really strange for a lot of veteran players to hear because Gale drops Ao's name like it's nothing. Most people (especially if they're new to the franchise) wouldn't know this but most people in Faerûn don't know who Ao is! Because he wiped people's memories of his existence! I suppose it does make sense for Gale to know that name, since Mystra probably explained the pantheon to him, but it's VERY unlikely tav would know it. So during that conversation all I could picture was tav tilting their head like, "Huh? Who? Whaaa?"

And on top of that......Ao absolutely WOULD allow it because the Absolute effects the Weave and every other god! It had the potential to ruin the balance of the universe, which makes Ao a very angry boy. Balance is one of the ONLY things he cares about. The Dead Three were stealing souls and worshippers, which gods needs to survive, and dying gods disrupts the balance. It's a whole circle of chaos. So the only conclusion left for me to extrapolate is this: Mystra just really, really wanted Gale to kill himself to prove his devotion to her. Which...isn't great. Bad look for her.

It's kind of like how Raphael thinks the Crown of Karsus is going to help him end the Blood War and take over the hells. DnD players laughed during his epilogue because...no it won't lol. He doesn't stand a chance even with the crown. He's arrogant and he's gonna get slapped by his daddy and all the other archdevils, the same way Gale gets slapped by Mystra if he ascends. Even the Absolute ending of the game wouldn't last long because the gods would go to war with the Dead Three, wipe them out and rebuild Faerûn, which has happened many times in past DnD campaigns. Mystra alone has torn worlds apart and glued them back together. The main crisis of BG3 is saving the world you live in or everybody dies. For the gods it's just a Tuesday. I mean look at how Withers owns the Dead Three with a wave of his hand at the end of the game. Mystra COULD'VE killed the Absolute, just as she could've removed the orb from Gale's chest the moment it happened. She just didn't WANT to. She wanted him to die. She wanted him to chastise himself. She wanted him to suffer and come crawling back to her as an obedient follower. She wanted him to learn a harsh and honestly unfair lesson, which is a terrible throwback to her previous incarnations.

[elitadream]

Hi guys~! ⛅👋

Long time no see! Much longer than I ever intended, in fact. Truth be told, I wanted to make a public post sooner, but I've had a lot to catch up on in terms of notifications and messages since logging back in a few days ago. I've also made some changes that I will address shortly, but first of all I wanted to thank those of you who have reached out with so much care and understanding during my absence. Adjusting has been a slow and fragile process for me -still is-, and I sadly haven't responded directly to everyone yet because of it, but I wanted to say how much I appreciate your patience and support nonetheless. 🥹 🙏

Long story short, I was gone for five months due to a huge burnout, then progressively found my spark again somewhere along the way and have since mostly recovered. It was my wonderful friend @drones-of-innocence who reached out to me outside of Tumblr, and her sense of initiative is largely the reason why I managed to make this post in a somewhat reasonable delay. 😅💖 With that said however, I must also mention that I've deleted a lot of stuff from my page and have removed most of my work from the public eye as well. This may seem quite drastic and frankly a little unsettling, but I assure you that it was a thoroughly considered and reasoned decision! The thing is that I was still getting lots of notes on these drawings everyday and… To put it simply, I didn't want that anymore. 🙇‍♀️ Experiencing popularity was very detrimental to me in the long run and I needed to put an end to it for the sake of my own wellbeing; at least for now.

Which brings me to my next point.

After mulling it over for a while, I've decided that I would not be returning as an active creator in the Mario community this time around. 👐 Making fanart for this franchise (with such a high and continuously maintained degree of involvement) had a lot to do with my health's decline and I've come to realize that I wanted to direct my focus elsewhere going forward. For that reason, there are things which I know will never be repeated again in the future, both in regards to my art and online presence in general, but that's alright. Things change, as they do and should. I'm looking forward to reuniting with folks and would be very happy to stay in touch with those of you who wish to message me privately. Like my lovely pal @istadris said, what matters most about any fandom are the friends you make in it. ☺️

And speaking of which-

@ody-and-fanatu That's so sweet of you, thank you! 💗 I'm glad you've enjoyed my contribution to the fandom. It was fun while it lasted! 💫 My visual ideas may be gone from my page, but most of my written posts and replies are still there for anyone who wants to revisit those at least, so there's that! And I'd also like to answer some of the asks I still have in my inbox at some point. Knowing that you hold my art in such high regard makes really happy! 🥰 Unfortunately, the other account that I have is reserved for my professional work and I prefer to keep them separate from one other, but the good thing is that I intend to go back to this blog occasionally. Hoping to see you around! Cheers! 🥂

@heiressofdoodles Thanks, I appreciate that! ✨ I'm honestly doing much better than I was earlier this Spring. Back then, I was running on empty and on the verge of crashing without even knowing it. Being in constant physical pain was one thing, but feeling mentally and emotionally drained on a daily basis was another entirely, and something had to be done. It took me a moment to really figure out what was wrong, but thankfully I realized very quickly what was causing it and applied the breaks with all my might. One of my main priorities now is to be more alert and respect my own boundaries to make sure that this never happens again. 🥲

@keakruiser Thank you. 🙏💐 I'm just glad to have found my footing again. Feels good to be able to create freely.^^ Hope you're doing well too!

Special thanks also to @pianokantzart, @jelly-fish-wishes, @katlyntheartist, @triniji and @wahooitsamee for their kind words. 🫂 Your graciousness and consideration means a lot to me. 💝

As for all the nice people who sent me anon comments and well wishes, I tried to summarize my thoughts as best I could in this update, but if there's anything else you'd like to say or know, don't hesitate to ask me anytime! Now that I feel like myself again, I think I'm gonna hang out on Tumblr for a little bit. I'll be excited to see what you guys have been up to in the meantime! 🤗 Wishing you all a very good day and pleasant Fall. 🍂

-elita 🌸

[nottsbitch]

My Star- Theo Nott

Harry potter au singer girlfriend X theo nott Italics are flashbacks

✩✩✩✩

"June it's almost time for you to go on"

Since you were younger you had always known that you wanted to be famous. Whether it came from acting in front of a camera or singing on stage. While most people thought that was an out-of-touch dream you knew it was exactly what you wanted.

"I'm almost ready!" That was a lie.

You weren't ready. Tonight was the last show of your first tour and you were supposed to be excited but for some unknown reason, you couldn't be. Of course, that reason wasn't actually unknown.

Your long-term boyfriend, Theo, had been your biggest supporter and your biggest inspiration. You were so blindly in love that every milestone in your relationship had become a song.

Your first song that took off was called "Spring into Summer" which you wrote after your first fight.

"All I'm saying is you could've told me. You know gave me a warning instead of me being blindsided when my friends are texting me telling me that they see my girlfriend out to lunch with her ex-boyfriend who she told me stopped bothering her." In all of their relationship June had never seen her boyfriend this upset before.

She went to try and explain herself but before you could get her mouth open Theo was talking again.

"You know I love you but when you do things like this I have to wonder if you feel the same way about me."

A shot to the heart was all that June felt.

"Theo... Don't say that." You paused "You know I love you"

"So you have a good reason for why you were with your ex?" You stayed silent. "That's what I thought"

With that your boyfriend stormed out with a slam of a door leaving you with his scent and your thoughts.

That night you wrote the lyrics

"If I could jump into the past I'd only change one thing, I'd never hurt you first, I'd never let you leave"

Your next song that blew up was called "So American" and once again your boyfriend was the center of that one. This one was written about your first day all those years ago.

"So you're saying that every morning you wake up and choose to eat beans on toast?" Maybe not the best thing to say on a first date but you were so stunned you couldn't hold that in.

"You're so American and it's showing. Yes, I wake up and eat this." He muttered while chuckling "And yes I enjoy it very much."

After breakfast, you guys walked London getting to know each other. And when you were getting dropped off back at your aunt and uncle's house Theo handed you flowers he had bought just moments before and kissed your cheek. Once inside you quickly whipped your phone out texting your best friend:

"Oh god I'm gonna marry him if he keeps this shit up"

"So it went good then?"

"He laughed at all my jokes"

After many years together and many songs written, He had become a safe place for you. When you decided that you were going to go on tour Theo was almost as excited as you. Swearing that he would be at every show. But when his mom got sick he had to take a flight home missing over half the tour, and you couldn't be upset. But in moments like the one you were currently in you selfishly wish that your boyfriend could be right there with you.

"Okay, June you've got this. It's just the biggest show you've ever played. Don't let this psych you out." You looked a little crazy talking to yourself in the mirror like that but that was the least of your worries.

"Wow, Lucky Star. I haven't seen you for a few weeks and you're going crazy, Talking to yourself and all. Should we have you checked out?" Theo had been standing behind you for longer then you had noticed and decided that he should make himself known.

You turned around hopping out of your chair knocking it over in the process as you ran to your boyfriend. You jumped into his calming arms in silence just to make sure this was real.

"what are you doing here?" You uttered just loud enough for him to hear

"You think I would miss your last show?" He raised his eyebrows, smirking, like something was funny.

"what about your mom?"

"She'll be fine for a night although she wishes she could be here" He set you down moving his hands from your waist to your face "Enough about me how do you feel?"

No matter how long they had been dating he never failed to make your heart flutter.

"I'm a little bit nervous"

"I brought you something maybe this can help you calm down" He pulled something out of his pocket

"A keychain?"

He rolled his eyes "Flip it over"

YOU ARE MY LUCKY STAR

"Just so you never forget" He started quickly noticing the tears forming in your eyes "Don't cry you just got your makeup done. What youre gonna do is go out there and kill it like you always do"

✩✩✩✩

"Send her up" You heard in your earpiece as you started getting raised to the stage.

As you came into view all you could hear was cheers.

"Hi! Everyone!"

Cheers

"Thank you all for coming tonight. I know most shows I've stayed true to my setlist but tonight we're gonna switch it up a little bit. As most of you know most of my songs are written about my lovely boyfriend Theodore Nott."

You paused while everyone cheered as you put your guitar on

"Well, he's here tonight for the first show in a little bit so I'm gonna sing his favorite song I've written about him... So this one is called So High School."

With that, you started playing your guitar as the crowd got silent. Looking over to the VIP tent you saw your boyfriend smiling at you with his phone out recording like a proud mother.

"I feel so high school every time I look at you"

✩✩✩✩