#breif but still

[brick-a-doodle-do]

For the ask game,

1-22 24-39

I am sorry

-Small brain anon

you're forgiven, it's in the past :)

okay before i get into these,,,, 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 9, 10, 11, 12, 15, 20, 25, 26, 27, 28, 30, 35, and 36, 38, have been answered!

that leaves....still quite a few. god damn.

2 : if you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? if you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

i would try, i probably could it just wouldn't be a very long time, even longer than usual. my hand cramps a LOT when i write (which is a new thing idk why) but my stories are still important :D

7 : what is your deepest joy about writing?

i have a few actually! honestly, starting with the most basic joy, it's really rewarding to remind myself that i have the ability to make a world. i can create cool versions of people i absolutely adore and make totally new people too! and i often forget that if i try hard enough i can make people cry with my writing or make one joke have people go feral,,,

another one is the reminder that god damn. almost eight billion people and i had this idea. i have complete freedom over this. i have claimed the coolest idea EVER out of almost eight billion people.

and i guess just the fact that i can write what people want me to write or what people enjoy. i love taking input from others because i know it'll make one person enjoy something! little details that i remember about someone? throw it into a fic and hope they see it and smile

8 : if you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

bye bye fucking dialogue. i would love to write something wordless and see how it works out, it just sounds awesome tbh, very moody. one of my non g/t wips is like that for a lot of it and it's just really calm to write! i don't have to worry about balancing things or making accurate dialogue, it's just one person in the universe and the vibe of that can easily get through to me. and in my experience, it'll go pretty good!

13 : what is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? what is easy?

ehhh i really hate writing combat or anything fast paced. moving scenes along and changing settings has never been a strong suit of mine imo,,,, like it always feels either really rushed or really choppy imo

and i think mental health is pretty easy for me to write. like that hazy, unhappy mind. it's extremely slow and easy to make long and extravagant descriptions with,,,,

14 : do you lend your books to people? are people scared to borrow books from you? do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? will you ever get them back?

i don't have a large collection of books. i'm never really immersed into actually reading a book which i know is awful as a writer and honestly just a terrible attribute of mine but i'm not a big reader. fanfic tho is my bitch, and in which case i have no experience with any of this :'D

16 : what’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

a piece of lined paper i found in the book, so essentially someone else's makeshift bookmark

i am respectfully gonna skip 17 & 18 because i don't have the energy to really explain any of that and all of my wips are so like not worthy of those questions. the best ur gonna get is the minutiae of tiny workers i'll post tomorrow lmao

19 : tell me a story about your writing journey. when did you start? why did you start? were there bumps along the way? where are you now and where are you going?

it's nothing too dramatic, i started when i was in third grade and wrote a nine page story by hand and my teacher mentioned i was a strong writer for my age. i wrote all the time in school, picked up fanfic in like early 2019 (which also conveniently was my first g/t writing)

and uhh i started just because the feeling of writing was really rewarding and freeing. i loved roleplaying on roblox all the time too i would love making long descriptions of things n such :DD

i think i'm on a good track, i have 42 full-fledged wips that i have some ideas for, 3 book ideas and a cool and supportive community to share my growth with :]

21 : could you ever quit writing? do you ever wish you could? why or why not?

honestly, no, i don't think i ever could. even if i change my mind about pursuing it as a career i could never stop it being my hobby. it's so freeing and a great way to unwind, i love the thought of writing all of my life and the thought of what my writing will be like in a few years if i'm writing like this now (which is such an improvement from 6 months ago, let me say. and yeah i'm complimenting my work for once)

i never do wish i could, because i know that regardless of if i take a break or not i'm never going to completely abandon it. i have ideas that i'm too in to be out of,,,

22 : how organized are you with your writing? describe to me your organization method, if it exists. what tools do you use? notebooks? binders? apps? the cloud?

it depends on my wips, but for the sake of convenience i'll just go off of my aus on here: it is so messy. there is no organization, and if it is there are so many wips of my organization ideas, it's so sad. i have tried so many different ways to organize my thoughts because doing lists and making things look neat and tidy is my favorite, but on the opposite end i get bored countlessly listing out information i already know, so uhh yeah no organization. occasionally i'll jot down like "make sure to add this!" in my notes app or at the end of wtv im working on

24 : how much prep work do you put into your stories? what does that look like for you? do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

i love the thought of prep work, hate actually doing it. i go in head first, usually with a mental map of whatever i want to happen. a lot of the time though i let the story write itself cuz i'm lazy like that :'D

i dislike trying to actually sit myself down to make things all laid out and ready to be written cause..........gagghghhsadskdj

29 : where do you draw your inspiration? dhat do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?

it depends! some of my ideas are directly from a movie or show i watch, usually taking the idea of an "au" not from the fandom but from that show specifically if that makes sense,, other times my head'll give me some three am ideas or random ideas.

i also really like picking a color and making an inspiration board off of it! it gives me some cool ideas cause imagery can tell a big story sometimes imo

when the well is try i usually either work on other stuff or just wait for it to rain again so there's water to run off of.

31 : write a short love letter to your readers.

idk about a love letter but honestly y'all are literally so cool. i know my community isn't remotely close to any big publishers' fanbases but damn it feels so overwhelming in the best way possible to get showered with love by the people i can easily recognize whenever i post something! to have over 100 notes on some of my fics and know that every like on my work is an individual person is just baffling. to know i have almost 200 followers in my corner, even if some of them are bots or following me for other content, it's fucking amazing. sweet comments and questions about my work is just fucking exhilarating!! it's so motivating to hear "write more of this" because damn. demanding. people demand i write more. it's SO COOL. joining social media was probably the worst decision i've ever made but tumblr has singlehandedly fixed every doubt i've had about being on the internet :) <3

32 : what is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? how did you find it? what does it mean to you?

ee passerine & rooftops spoilersss down below :]

i will do fanfic bc. yeah wtv. anyway there are a few, i think that if i'm being actually serious and not doing joke ones, i absolutely love the ending off passerine, it's so perfect. i am tearing up thinking abt it ngl which sounds dumb but damn. "he had a life before this, a mother, a father, a home, sisters and brothers, but what he had now was alright too. he stood alone in his bedroom mirror, combing his hair back from his face to braid it for the day, tucking it behind an ear where a sapphire earing hung, catching sunlight. he paused when he saw it, leaning in close to make sure it wasn't a trick of the light, or the lingering traces of a dream. he blinked once, twice, his mortal heart caught in his throat. there, nestled amongst the pink strands, delicate as a bird's wing, was a single, grey hair. if he listened closely, he could hear his brother coming down the hallway, looking for him. but this moment was his alone, half-sobbing, half-laughing, he fell against his chair and closed his eyes against the sudden sting of tears. he could see in his mind, a field of flowers under an open sky, a place for waiting, where all the finished stories went. where he too would go someday. a knock came at his door, and technoblade began to smile." LIKE DUDE. I AM SUCH A SUCKER FOR ENDINGS TO STORIES. it's so dramatic and so domesicated and passerine is such a short story all in all but it's so perfectly written and captures relationships so well. it shows technoblade's acceptance of death so well, and although he'd been wanting of death for a while it still kind of shows how he is eager to pursue the rest of a mortal life.

also from passerine i like "this is what it feels," someone gasped, "to lose everything" I LOVE IT. tommy is their everything and losing him made the story turn so dull,, it went from silver to grey easily. love it.

ALSO. FUCKING ROOFTOPS. it is such an old fic, but it's the second fic i've ever read in the fandom. “youuu aren’t real. nope! noo, no you aren’t. youu’re not reeaal, you'ree inn my head. my head! geoorge is in my head again!” it's just so sad. i love it. the atmosphere of this scene despite it being out of context here is still just so perfect. the vibes of rooftops have never left my head.

and also this absolutely doesn't count but there's a comment on rooftops that said "this is the same story where they went camping" and i have never gone a day without thinking about that LMAO

33 : do you practice any other art besides writing? does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

hghghhhhh not really, no other art. cooking and baking sometimes but i wouldn't call my skill level art LMAO

but it did start a gbbo au and has helped a lot with terminology and stuff!!

34 : thoughts on the oxford comma, go:

i love it in practice but the second i get reminded to use it i go bonkers and start hitting things

37 : if you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

they would think i am weird as hell bro i keep writing about these people SWALLOWING EACH OTHER ALIVE 😭😭😭

i wanted to do a real response to that but a. its 3 am and b. this was funnier <3

39 : what keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

the atmosphere of the thing i am writing. i can be in the most unmotivated mood but the second i start thinking about how a scene or an au feels i am immediately lightened up and want to write it!

god damn it only took about half an hour but i did it!! thanks for these questions, even if they took like 2 weeks to finish and cut me short of what i wanted to do tonight /lh/nmay

[booksandmore]

i really would not change a single thing about the malec plotline (breakup and all) but sometimes i really do wish we got to see alec date at least one other person yk? and i dont mean that in a pre-cog focing himself to date a woman to hide his sexuality way, i mean in a post-breakup rebound/fling kinda way like i just know the drama would be legendary

[ethecookednoodle]

paper flowers

Couldn't help but think about Wolfwood making paper flowers out of cigarette aluminium foil and think of Vash

[mardytoast]

fandoms where the writers are on crack, write crack treated seriously, and tag it as crack

[roger-paladino]

weird request! but would you ever doodle eric mla0? totally ok if not btw, we just have an alter of him, there's no art we know of and we like your style a lot :)

I really couldn't figure out his look sorry anon

[ashwings-woah]

had an evil idea

what if similar to firescales there were certain "curses" for each clade given how pretty much all of them are kind of enchanted forever. something gone wrong in Permafrost's animus enchantment gives very few dragons powers and abilities not seen in any regular ones. no one really knows the what or how or why, except that it's extremely rare, and these "frost touched" dragons usually hatch before disastrous events to be either the salvation or the doombringer

[chemicalarospec]

this website only having one replacement for deleted images that always says they "violated community guidelines" is going to be its downfall...

[drawnfromthedead]

It's a Terrible Cover Story, Really :/

DP x DC AU where, when trying to make a cover story for why Jason is suddenly legally alive again, Bruce (and the rest of the fam) come up with a story that they had found the body of a child that looked just like 15 year old Jason after he had gone missing and went straight into greif stricken panic and assumed to worst! Jason had come back to them later (let's say he's 22/23 here) after recovering from amnesia, and DNA tests confirmed it's him. They claim they exhumed the body and had the DNA tested and it came back (and they make this name up, completely believing that, since enough people have similar names, this won't come back to bite them) as Danny Fenton.

It's plastered all over the news and it makes it's way back to Jack and Maddie fast: who are now completely convinced their son died on a breif trip they took to Gotham 7 years ago and came back as a ghost who just didn't know he was dead. When they try to bring up the topic with Danny, as gently as they could, they wind up learning that he's Phantom and start to think it's a split personality type deal. One is their son trying to greave his own death and failing because he thinks he's still alive, and the other is their son trying to live up to them as ghost hunters and trying to be the hero his kid self must have thought they were. They're torn up and grief stricken and try contacting Bruce about retrieving their sons body.

Bruce is freaking out because he thinks he just convinced people who may have been looking for their son for years that their kid is dead (and maybe he is! Oh god!) And Amity Park nonsense is keeping him from finding anything about the (half) living Danny, now attending community college.

Jack and Maddie are freaking out because they don't want to let go of their son, but also this can't be healthy for any of them or for Danny's soul, he needs to move on and they need time to rethink everything they've ever thought about ghosts to grieve.

And Danny's freaking out because he thinks Brucie Wayne, ditz extraordinaire (unless his kids are involved), clueless to a fault, Brucie, somehow figured out he was a ghost and outed him to his parents???? Not cool man!

[choas232]

You get injured. G/N! Reader x Steb

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Summary: What was supposed to be a simple club raid goes horribly, horribly wrong. No use of Y/N, neutral terms and they/them is used to refer the reader. I try to be as vague as possible surrounding their anatomy. Set in episode three, season 2, just before and around the Jinx and Vi fight scene. Hurt & some comfort. ANGRY reader as suggested by @f0xtr0x.

CWs: Panic attack. Profanity. Violence. Use of alcohol. Suggestive themes. Vi and Caitlyn are briefly implied to be sleeping together. Nudity. Once again, canon typical Enforcer bigotry.  Mild emetophobia (one, two lines. both breif). Anatomically incorrect injuries. Reader is a bitter individual who needs to go to therapy!!!

Word count: 5.1k

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

You’re alone.

The floor is hard against your spine, your attacker’s bloody lip bubbling down onto your face as they snarl above you. Your own lips are stained with it; as rose red as their lipstick, your bruised cheek as electric blue as the eyeshadow smeared across their face.

They tear your goggles from your face first. Harsh, fingers clashing against the soft skin surrounding them. Your eyes scream, reddened and raw against the hulking shape of the grey— the thick and almost palatable fog surrounding you two. A thin film over your eyes settles, milky and blurry and does not leave you as you thrash.

Their movements are clumsy and feral, blinded by the grey as they go for your mask.

There is a beat to the madness, one you clutch after and hold deep into you. It reverberates, even as panic flairs through you— you grab their skull in yours, and your fingers slide through hair slick with blood and sweat before you find a grip and slam them down onto the beer, plastic, glitter and vomit-stained floorboards.

Their skull makes a sickening crunch, one you hear above the awful club hit, the reverbing beat and your screaming mind.

One thing you can kindly say about Zaunites— they are as persistent as cockroaches.

They heave, pushing themselves back up inelegantly, their fingers gripping your shoulders hard enough the bruise. Cradled against them like a lover, you slam them back down. Once. Twice. The third time they choke. You wedge your knee into their stomach, and they wheeze, a rattling sound from low in their stomach as they inhale Grey.

Underneath you, they heave. For a brief second, panting, you pause, watching the blood on your face dribble over theirs, smear their makeup further.

A knife slots into your back.

The moment is slow, at first. You feel it clink against bone, your feel your flesh pushing against it. You breathe once, and the pain flares bright and bold, a hot flash of white and then you are screaming—

Their hands find your mask and tiredly, eyes red, blurred and unseeing, they pull. They pull and you heave, the choking air spilling into your lungs, slathering itself over your airways.

The lights flash above you. Your blood drips through your uniform, staining their oily fluoro mesh shirt.

The woman behind you, knife still lodged into your stomach, kicks you off them harshly. You hit the floor with a crack. She weakly lunges for them, pulling them away, and then she is on you. You both inhale Grey. You both inhale sickness. Her movement, rough against you, presses the knife further into you.

Her hands are on your throat.

You are going to die on this floor.

Did Caitlyn send you here as you continued your hunt of flashes of blue, pink and a memory of a revolution knowing you would die here? You were always going to be a piece of a game larger than the whole of you— but the sting reverberates through you like the beat of the godawful club music.

When you were fifteen, thinking you owned the world, thinking nobody could hurt you because you could hurt them harder, did the world think, you are digging your own grave?

You can’t breathe.

When you were thirteen, did the Enforcer in her neat uniform hand you a pamphlet thinking, this is my rose on your grave, this is my lit candle?

You can’t breathe.

When you were ten years old, brawling on the golden streets of Piltover, did your opponent know you would die like this? Bloody and dirtied, dressed in your finest as you knocked out his teeth, did he slump down, thinking, good fucking riddance?

Good fucking riddance. Good fucking riddance— your anger is blinding. You will not die like this. You scream. You scream but nothing comes out against the weight of her hands, the Grey, the air sucked out of your lungs.

(You are alone, with her. The grief is heavy in you, almost as heavy as the fluttering of  the oxygen deprived heart in your chest. Are you supposed to be alone? Was there ever somebody else…)

You try to spit on the woman, but all your saliva does is dribble down your face.

A memory, on the edges of your mind. Brown eyes— a streak of orange hair— frills, scales… you grasp for the revelation, but it never comes, or maybe the darkness swallows it before it can. There is something you are forgetting about. There is something— someone forgetting about you… what were you sad about?

The darkness swallows your rambling, and for a brief moment, you cannot feel her hands around your neck.

You cannot feel anything at all.

A shield.

—gleaming against the fog as it pushes your attacker’s neck down into the floorboards with a crack. Screaming— the second person’s, you think, as they stumble backwards.

Loris. It’s Loris. Loris, staring at her splayed-out body. Maddie— Maddie above you, the spinning spotlights hitting her like an angel as she hauls you up. The hand that feeds and the hand that strikes resemble one another. You flinch as she speaks, her words blurring in your ears. You can barely hear. Your mind is so heavy— the weight of it hauling you down.

Somebody else. You are somewhere else. Blue��� blue eyes. Thin lips, twisted downwards, ears pressed to the sides of his head. That upsets you, though you do not remember why. He props you on your side, your lungs heaving, the hole in your back— the gaping wound weeping.

“You left me.” You slur, and then you throw up over his clean, polished Enforcer boots.

࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

You remember now.

A simple club raid. A lousy place situated somewhere close enough to the surface that it had some credit, or at least enough credit that your little target felt the need to stop by. Or maybe Jinx didn’t. Maybe this was just another dead end, and you were barking and snapping at shadows like you had been the past couple of weeks, no closer to capturing her.

That dullard poster— her blown open eyes, blue braids flowing behind her. You saw it when you closed your eyes. How much longer, you wondered, storming in the club, gun clutched in your hands. How much longer until this blows the fuck up in our faces?

It was simple. It was supposed to be simple.

You had a plan— Vi take the front along with Loris, Commander Kiramman trail behind with her rifle, and you Maddie and Steb fill in the gaps left. Stick together. In and out.

Until they left you.

Steb was beside you. Maddie was gone, that was fine, it was fine, you trusted her intellect and pure dog-like devotion to the cause to not impale herself open the nearest bar tap. You watched as your teal-haired friend slammed his baton down, the following crack.

How could such a cruel action be so undeniably gentle in nature? His face was serious, stern. The swing was even, calm, aiming to incapacitate rather than kill. He was no vicious butcher, nothing like the likes of you. How was it that he made every action he took look so… heroic, like the posters they shoved into your hands, like the propaganda you hastily swallowed.

He allows himself to see them as humans and treat them as such, even in his mercilessness. You thought to yourself, very quietly. You could not do that. You could not acknowledge what they are— you cannot. Even thinking of it…

The moment your enemy is more than your enemy is the moment your guilt wraps its arms around you, peels back your skin to reveal your flesh.

Maybe this was your tragic mistake. Seeking to rationalize for a moment and not villainize.

That is why you allowed yourself, foolishly, to be separated, to not shoot first when the Zaunite hurled themself at you. You called out to Steb, but he was already gone, and you shoved them off you and then you were alone, stumbling around in the grey— the gun clutched in your hand suddenly feeling like a children’s toy. Screaming, flashing lights, music— your downfall was that through it all you could selfishly think about was that swing, that gentle movement as he swung down…

You don’t remember how it happened.

Just that it hurt.

࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

You wake with a pounding head and a franticly beating heart.

Take stock of your surroundings. You are in a room. A single, double bed, occupies most of the space, on which you are situated on. There are two bedside tables. There is a counter. The walls are furnished with what looks like cheaply printed artworks, paint slathered over cracks and crumpling bricks, implying this is a cheap motel of sorts. An open window next to the window lets a faint breeze fan your face, cooling the sweat sticking to your limbs and the fever burning low in your chest.

Most worrying of all, your enforcer uniform has been discarded of, leaving you in your slacks and a thin undershirt.

Somebody is writing, a pen scratching against paper in the background. You try to move your head to glance at them, but your temple feels like a brick is being taken to it.

Access damage. Experimentally, you stretch out a finger. Most of your body is simply cramped, some bruised. The movement ends when you crane your neck, and the bruises flare, causing you to shift and in turn hit your back. You try to shriek, but all that comes out is a moan. A pathetic, mewling sound.

The writing stops.

Footsteps, light and even against what sounds like wooden floorboards.

You hate that you recognise them as his.

Steb peers down at you, his frills flaring out for a brief moment before squishing flat against his cheekbones. He’s not in uniform, rather a form fitting long sleeved white shirt, and long dark pants. It's alarming, and although you've witnessed him take a similar form this entire week, you don't think you'll ever get used to the lack of uniform.

Form and take a course of action. “Where the fuck am I?” You scrap the words off the sore surface of your throat. Lord, it feels like somebody has taken a cheese grater to your gullet.

He reaches out a questioning hand towards you, and after a brief pause in which you say nothing, he moves to gently prop you against the bedframe. Out the window, the reaches of upper Zaun stretch out to meet your gaze.

Still in Zaun. Still hunting.

You try to peer closer, take further stock, but dizzily, your head lolls forward with a rush of pain.

Lightly, he puts a hand on your shoulder, and you snap back to attention. There’s a sheet of paper clutched in his other hand, one which he carefully pushes into your hands. Struggling to read with your bleary, red-stained eyes, you squint.

INCIDENT REPORT. The finely printed title reads. The space underneath is dotted with questions,  all of which are neatly filled in, even space between each carefully stencilled letter. Reporting officer: Steb’s full name. Rank: Junior officer, for him. Then, your rank. Issued—

Two days. You were out of commission for two days. You can’t remember the last time you even slept a full eight hours— and here you were, sleeping for two whole days.

Hurriedly, you skim read the rest of the form.

Mild bruising to ribs, bruising to back, severe stab wound in back (no spinal injuries), injury to throat, damage to eyes and throat caused by the grey. 

Compensation requested—

“Why are you showing me this?” It sounds harsher then intended, bitterness settling low in your gut. Perhaps it’s the intimacy, how gross and sweaty you are in your underclothes, or perhaps it’s how his hand is still on your shoulder that makes you snap.

You should brush it away, push him off of you. Pretend this never happened. You don’t.

He looks away, very briefly, and then turning the paper on its front, he places it upon the bedside table. Digging his fingers into his pocket, his pen slots in his hands once more. You listen as he quietly scribbles.

He places the paper before you, tapping the pen on the words he wants you to read.

I’M SORRY.

Sorry for what? You almost say, but it feels like a confession. How little you are accustomed to being apologised to, of all things. The meat does not apologize to the butcher.

You shake your head, ignoring how the movement makes you dizzy and how he flinches, pre-emptively moving to steady you. “Just…" You splay out a hand, waving him away. "...help me understand.”

He swallows, a small movement as he sits down on the bed beside you. His hands neatly fold themselves in his lap. You notice, somewhat dizzily, how his usually neatly slicked back hair is loose today, falling over his scalp in such a way as you can still see the comb lines. Something has been worrying him.

“Where is Kiramman? Or Maddie? Or anybody?” There’s a lapse in his polite posture. His head lolls down, his eyes sweeping the floor, his lips pursing and then he’s back, looking at you. It’s enough to know there’s some tension behind the question.

With a careful hand, he points towards the city.

“They just left?”

He shakes his head, running a hand up to prod his hair into submission as he does.

“Well. Clearly, they did.”

He sighs, probably realizing the need to verbally communicate is growing, and then fixes you with a look that would make any lesser Enforcer squirm.

Don't be difficult.

But you are no lesser Enforcer. You are hand-picked, trained, and a member of Kiramman's strike team.

(Loris's entry was questionable but you ignore that in favour of hyping yourself up.)

Perhaps that was the wrong train of thought to go down, because you stumble. Instead of coolly meeting his gaze, you land on a childish glare, and you've lost before the wrinkles that line his mouth make an appearance.

(Those goddamned wrinkles...)

You lean back, trying to cross your arms. Instead, you hit your back against the wooden headrest of the bed, sucking air between your teeth.

Knowing your position and purposely being difficult, you ask, words stained with pain, “Who took off my clothes?”

He reaches over, barely breaking eye contact with you for a second, to grasp the paper, scribbling down  the words hastily. YOU HAD A FEVER AND ACCESS WAS NEEDED TO YOUR BACK.

A dull sense of joy grapples with you at the faint stress of his words, the smudged full stop. "That doesn't answer my question. Stop dodging it. Who?" you ask, knowing very well who did.

He gestures at himself.

Victory doesn't cradle you in its arm faster than visions of him unclothing you. Those linger. Those sink low in your gut and do not leave you.

“...When will they be back?” You choke out. He mimes a sun setting.

Shit. God, being alone with him is killing you.

Defeated, finally, you slump down.

"God fucking dammit." You mutter. Usually, you would receive a somewhat lecturing look from this, but he ignores you in favour of skim reading the paper and walking back to his prior place, where medical equipment is splayed out on the counter.

You've just dozed off when he returns, sitting back down, a cup of water and a small white pill in hand. "I'm not a child." You say frowning, but you take the glass from him anyways (do your fingers brush? no. see? dealing with this maturely) and you swallow the pill with a quick gulp.

Why are you still mad? A small part of you whispers. He apologized. Perhaps you're mad just for the sake of it. He understands that, you think. (you hope)

You just need to stop thinking about it. (Alone. Their hands settle over your goggles. You deserve this, you think, very distantly.)

You just need to wait for the medicine to settle in your stomach. Sinking, lower and lower in an ocean of it's own. Ocean? Blue. His eyes are blue. Baby blue—

You just need to stop thinking about him. Him? God, what are you to him? You will always be the butcher. You will always be the blood dribbling down their lower lip. You will always be a pawn. Hero, propaganda posters... he holds the baton and brings it down like the sword of a knight.

You just need to breathe.

Steb is over you before you can think. He's thinking about your bruised ribs, isn't he? When you gape and heave. The damage it might have caused. Is this your ribs, heaving? Puncturing a lung, rupturing a nerve? Are you dying? “I— I can’t—"

You can't breathe. You can feel their hands tightening around your throat. You can feel their blood dribbling down your cheek. You want to reach up to wipe it up, but do not, too scared of hurting yourself in the process.

Steb reaches over, and gently dabs at it with a tissue. You flinch as his fingers near your cheek, anticipating a blow, but none comes. He wipes the substance away gently. His skin, soft, embroidered with little sequined scales, brushes your cheek.

He pulls away. It's just snot. Saliva. Tears.

Are you crying?

Shame boils in your stomach. You. You are crying?

“I— I need a shower—” you need to snap out of it. You try to push yourself off the bed, but stumble. He’s already there, one arm wrapping around your back to support you. You do not look at him. You cannot bare to. You already know his pity will not cleanse you.

He leads you to the bathroom, the tiles cool against your bare feet. He settles you against the grimy counter, before taking a step back. Hovering. Waiting. For what? An explanation?

You feel like a voyeur watching him, finally, even as he meets your gaze. You will always be watching him across your post, the frills on his eyes flaring, his big, doleful blue eyes. You will always be watching the ark of his arms  as he swings down, the gleam of the baton.

 "Do you need to wash me too, now? Just fuck off." You rasp.

He leaves, and you let him.

You lock the door behind him.

࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Later, you hear voices— Maddie, Loris, Caitlyn, Vi.

You do not shower. Instead, you sit on the shower tiles and try to steady your rasping breathing. Each inhale hurts, bruised flesh and achy ribs snapping and scraping, and all you can feel is that blood, dripping down your face.

Loris visits you. He brings the gift of a flask, sitting beside you. He does not ask why you  haven't showered, or why you find yourself on the tiled floor. You hate the kindness in his eyes. You hate the fact you know he will not leave.

The alcohol burns your ruined throat, at first. Then, you feel nothing at all.

Your shame cannot purify you. You already know that. But marinating in it allows, at least, you to bend it into something malleable. Something useable.

You ask him why they left you, passed out in a motel. “There was some… contention on it.” His mouth moves oddly around the words, almost like it tries to swallow them. You get the feeling he is repeating something somebody else said. You frown, and he pats your shoulder, gently. “Your guy wanted to stay with you, and we needed a break anyways. Caitlyn had a new lead. Disagreements.”

You try not to think about, 'your guy,'

Eventually, you push him out, listening as his voice joins those in the adjoining room. You hear him, Vi, and Caitlyn's footsteps as they leave, not some time later.

Take stock of your surroundings. You are in a shower. The tap is not on. The tiles are cool against your flesh. You are wearing a loose undershirt and undergarments. There is nobody in the room with you, but you can hear somebody outside speaking loosely. Maddie.

Access damage.  There is bruising to your ribs and throat. You feel dizzy. You feel childish. You are drunk. Your are in love with somebody who is too good for you. You are always alone. You are beginning to doubt it is external forces leading you to always being alone.

You think you might be wrong. You think you might be wrong about a lot of things.

Form and take a course of action.

You probably need to finally take a shower.

Quickly, you discard of your garments, throwing them out to litter the counter. The relatively easy part done, you claw and grip the smooth tiled walls around you as you stumble to your feet. Your head spins, and you taste blood, harsh and wet on your tongue as you clumsily grapple for the handle, jerking it sideways. Freezing water cascades down to sear your sensitive skin.

You shriek, and hastily, you spin the handle the other way. A somewhat habitable temperature sprinkles from the nozzle, and finally, you stand, swaying under it.

Why did you do this again? Your head pounds, dizziness settling over each crinkle and curve of  your brain and refusing to give itself  a home elsewhere. The alcohol helps it.

 Maybe you should sit down again. You don't. Instead, you lean against the wall, feeling each small start of pain as you breathe in and out. In and out, in... out...

Three, rapid consecutive knocks erupt from the doors place. Your fellow enforcer. Come to check on you after you shrieked like a cat in heat, perhaps.

There is a small pause as they wait for a response, one that drags on, before the door slowly creaks open, slow enough that you could call out if you so wish.

You don't.

He carefully pushes a long, slender teal arm through the gap, his hand pushing outwards to let you know it's him.

You already know, though. You recognised the knocks. How pathetic is that?

"Come in." You croak. He obliges, pulling his hand back, opening the door and carefully, like you are a spooked animal, stepping forward. The burst of teal is garish against the off-white tiles.

He’s not looking at you. It’s polite. You’re unclothed, after all. But you find yourself rather wishing he would as his eyes meet the empty bottle on the counter. A reminder of your exploits with Loris.

His expression changes, subtly. You’re too fucked up to make it out.

You’re looking at him, trying to carve the emotions you know are there out of the lines in his face, when you’re suddenly falling. Your knees hit the tiles with a crack, and you suck in air through your teeth, groaning.

He’s already on you before you have time to process the rapidly blooming bruises from your fall, swinging the shower door open. There’s a lapse, a pause, as he struggles to navigate helping you while not manhandling your drunken naked body, before he’s tilting your head up, glancing down at you, the tiles.

“I’m fineee.” You wave him off, batting his hand away. “All good. All good.”

You swear the look he fixes you with is worse than the pounding of your head.

“Oh, come on. All high and mighty, now?” You grimace. He sighs, still crouched before you. Faint stray droplets splatter across the fins lining his cheeks, and they flicker, shimmering under the cheap motel lights. In your woozy state, you cannot but stare in wonder.

He shifts.

“Don’t leave.” You quickly push out, perhaps sterner than intended. “I’m injured. I might die.” He swallows. You continue. “I— I’m sorry I yelled at you, earlier. I didn’t mean it.”

Carefully, he mimes calming you down, waving his hands out. Then, he shifts so his position is more comfortable looking, more permanent looking.

You almost collapse in relief.

Social etiquette demands you avert your gaze, pretend like you aren’t leaning over to watch him, his little micro expressions, his baby-blue eyes blinking, his second set of eyelids… whoever decided that shit was a rule probably never met him.

“Wash my hair?” You murmur. Is that odd? Are you allowed to ask that?

Conflict dances behind his eyes. You brace for a gentle rejection, and surprise yourself when he, forgoing removing his clothes, climbs in to sit beside you. The water continues to cascade down, though he doesn’t seem to mind.

The shampoo bottles, little cheap things, sit neatly on the floor beside you. He leans over, taking one in his hands and slathering it over his fingers. You lean against him, feeling him stiffen. His muscles lose their tension when you begin the speak, your words slurring into one another.

“God. Calm yourself, fish man. I’m not gonna to tear your face off. I’ve thought about it, though. Don’t get too comfortable.”

You bark a laugh, turning your head towards him. Your faces are close enough that you feel his breathing, warm against your wet skin, before he, gently, mind you, grips your head in his hands and turns you forward.

Fair enough.

Coconut, something rich and creamy, and the faintest hit of orange, drips through your scalp, cool, but not uncomfortably cool, against your skin. It’s nice. His fingers are careful, as always, and you can’t help your mind wondering towards them tugging.

Trying to push the thoughts away from your traitorous mind, you start to stumble over your words. “I think I’m going insane. Really. Jinx’s tricks. Kiramman on my ass. Fucking politics. A curse to live in interesting times, huh?”

God, you are a chatty drunk.

“They’re all worried about civil war, infighting, and shit. I… This isn’t what I signed up for.” Your voice is quieter, now. Too quiet, for your liking. “This… the threat was… it was never…”

You hope he cannot hear you. You know he can.

"Do you think we're doing the wrong thing? We're hunting them like dogs." You say, finally. He hums, his fingers gently massaging the shampoo into your hair before letting you go. You find yourself missing the contact.

Carefully, the lines thick and smooth against the precipitation, he stencils his words against the glass shower frame. YOUNG. STILL TIME.

“I’m young? You’re just like— like thirty? Late twenties? I think? You’re not old.” You drunkenly slur. Is that what he thinks of you? An overeager, ambitious youth? Is that why he cares? Is that why he’s washing your hair?

He smiles, you think, making a small noise. It’s such an odd sight you turn, and almost accidently push yourselves together with your drunken reflexes. He’s tall enough that you don’t smash faces, but your forehead grazes his lips, the warmth of him seeping into you.

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing. Flickers of a smile still dance in his eyes. “Forward. Right, right. Right.”

You turn forwards.

A long pause.

“…does it get easier? I just… I don’t think I’m doing the right thing. The future is so murky, like this fucking grey, and I— I don’t know how much more of it I want to inhale trying to see.”

He doesn’t reply. You’re about to start talking again, maybe turn around again, when you feel it.

He hesitantly, very gently, presses his forehead to your shoulder blade. You feel his skin. You feel his breath, low and hot on your back.

He angles his head up, until his mouth gently pushes against the crook of your skin.

You think you hear him kiss the curve.

“Oh.” You say, very simply and very stupidly.

A moment passes, one you should probably fill. You do not. His warmth leaves you, and then he’s back to washing your hair, massaging the shampoo out of your hair like he didn’t just shatter and then rebuild your heart in your chest.

You take initiative. Your professors back at school always said it was your best trait, after all. You turn, and cradling his skull in your hands, you shift. The soft stubble growing out of the shaved sides he hasn’t been able to maintain brushes against your palms.

“Everybody leaves me. You won’t, right? Leave me?” He nods, and you see something else dip into his expression. Perhaps the realization of your circumstances, how vulnerable you are, drunk, naked and depressed. He's always been such the gentlemen. You hate it.

He gently pries your hands off of him. Fear spikes through you. He cannot leave. He cannot leave, not yet. You grapple for the conditioner bottle. "Hey, come on. You're not done yet, are you?"

He does not leave. What he does is so, so much worse.

He takes the bottle from you and continues. His movement is gentle. His movement is soft. You’ve watched him beat somebody within an inch of their life. You’ve watched him handle a rifle with even-precision. You’ve watched him, stoic and calm under pressure that would have you crawling into your skin.

And yet his hands are still tender.

You don’t know how long you sit there, his fingers threading through your hair, and then you’re up, shivering. A warm towel is promptly wrapped around you. Everything blurs, spins. You don’t think you’ve ever been so tired in your life.

"Goodnight." He whispers to you, his fingers lingering on your shoulder. When did you get here? Pillows, cradling you, the hard motel mattress beneath you…

His hands are gentle, and you are so very wanting, but he still leaves, and you still let him.

࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

You wake remembering every moment of the night before you and hating it.

The open windows breeze carries the cities air, thick with smog, cigarettes, and chatter, into the room. Sleepily, you watch the sunlight flicker across the bedsheets, before you heave yourself up, taking stock of your area.

Maddie is gently snoring beside you, her red hair splayed out around her, uniform discarded. Loris is on the floor, obviously having been kicked out during the night. (You don’t want to think about why your glorious leader and her adoring, yet scary dog might object to company. Grossssssss.)

And Steb. Steb is across from you, wrangling with his clothes. The same shirt from last night, the white, long-sleeved one, is draped across the window to dry, along with his pants. Always the early bird.

You meet his eyes.

He nods once, very gently, before pointing beside you to the bedside table. A glass of water. Pills for your headache.

You take them gratefully and yearn.

࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

You will not be letting them leave. Not again. Not Steb, not Maddie, not Loris, not even Vi and Caitlynn. Not now when you know how far you can fall; how hard you can scrape rock-bottom.

You will not be alone again.

࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Notes:

oh… haha, act 3 happened and i let’s just say… you will be letting them leave ao9jioehfihrfioerhfierfhrfi Suggest any ideas you may have!!! Part two of chatty reader coming next. No more angst!!! AND MORE KISSING (or will I write another 3000 words of yearning… this is my curse)

@skyetheseagull, who asked to be tagged.

thank you all for the kind words! I read and cherish them all

[pulcen]

LATE NIGHT REGRETS! - S. GOJO

BREIF. Spending a rough night at your ex's is only a one time thing—right?

WARNINGS. MDNI - 18+ content, fem!reader, p in v, creampie, overstim, kissing, groping, oral (fem rec), fingering, swearing, if you blink nipple play, cutesy love talk, both parties down bad, okay tiny bit of dirty talk, gojo being a needy whiny man.

WC. (1.8K)

When you broke up with Gojo a week ago, you told yourself this was the end of it. No more throwing a pity party for yourself then getting back with him, no more begging for him back, and absolutely no late-night drunk texts.

But, a week after you would've liked to differ.

"I've missed you so much."

His fingers found their way between your thighs, groping and teasing your sensitive flesh till you could hear yourself panting and writhing beneath him. "Gojo." Whining, you weakly push against his large chest, attempting to get any leverage to shove him. "Stop- stop teasing mmn- me—"

Gojo chuckles at your messily attempt, dismissing it while he leans down to whisper into your ear. Pushing your hair behind your ear softly as his hot breath sends shivers down your already curved spine.

"Don't know what you to do me, baby," Gojo breathed against your ear, his voice low and husky with desire. "Every day been thinking 'bout you."

Gojo tilts your chin up, hungry eyes on yours as he briskly moves his hand to grasp your face. "Your lips," he mutters, leaning in to sloppily kiss you slow and deliberate, saliva and tongue so messy as if to make up the lost time on your lips.

His mouth traveled down along with his hand, pressing warm kisses against your neck, making sure to press down on that one sensitive spot. The soft touch is just enough to make you shudder with pleasure. "Your neck," his voice dropped even lower.

Without missing the opportunity, his other hand palmed your breast, thumb flicking over the hardened nipple.

Moving down, Gojo's hands find their way to your waist, fingertips brushing over your stomach before attaching themselves to the side with a possessive grip. His lips now pressing a kiss there with a grin as he greedily looks up towards you. "Your stomach."

His hands slide to your thighs, his touch warm and gentle as he kissed and slightly sucked the sensitive skin. "Your pretty thighs." Now between your legs, a mischievous glint found his eyes as Gojo trailed his hand further down, still maintaining eye contact.

"Gojo, please s'just—"

His hands interrupted you, skimming past slowly and lowered—lowered until they were right above your already slick pussy; pulsing for his hands that you missed so so much.

"M' favorite," He grips your thighs suddenly to push you closer to him with a smack! as you feel your bare heat against his naked lower waist. "this gorgeous pussy—"

You can't recall how this even went down. You were out grocery shopping, and of course, you ran into Gojo. One look and you knew you were both doomed, now finding yourself teleported in his bed. All you pray for is that in the future, you won't regret this, since you definitely don't currently.

Detaching the death grip from the sheets, you grip his wrist; moving him down to the place you wanted him. "Touch me, don't-don't care where n'your tou-" you gasp, being cut off by his fingers swiping up and down your wet slit.

"So wet baby, I've missed her too." Pressing a soft kiss on your clit that makes you squeal beneath his head. His fingers started pressing deeper into your gummy walls, stroking and circling until you were choking out his name.

"Fuckkk, Gojo—more, n-need more," You take ahold of his sweaty white hair, pushing him further into your sex as you ride your hips further up. "missed you, your mouth, h-hahhh—"

You feel hot air hit your cunt as he laughs, in response, thrusting two of his long fingers inside you, pumping them in and out that creates an as his thumb and mouth switch between your swollen nub.

Gojo's fingers curl further deep within you, finding that sweet spot you oh so love—stretching and filling you with his long digits in ways that made you gasp for air. "That the spot?"

"Rig- right there d'stop, ohmygoshdontstop!" Your hips grind desperately against his hand, seeking more friction, more pressure. "So greedy, fuckin' yourself against my hand." He grins, seeing your pathetic attempt to soothe the incoming orgasm that he created.

"Look at you," he purred, his blue eyes seemingly dark with lust as he watched your reactions. "So responsive, so eager for me. Made f'my touch, weren't you baby?"

He punctuated his words with a particularly rough thrust of his fingers, practically hitting your cervix. "Can't—can't anymore—s'too much," you cried out, trying to move back from him, closing your overstimulated legs.

"Not going anywhere baby," Gojo mutters with a pout, snapping your legs open and dragging your pussy back straight to his face—nose bumping into your puffy clit as he devours you, fingers curing against your walls. "Taste s'good—sweetesttt thing." The pleasure was too overwhelming as Gojo practically sucked your whole cunt out. On the border of pain, but you reveled in it.

As Gojo continued to work you over, his other hand detached from your sensitive clit that he switched in between to grip your thigh again, pulling it higher and over his shoulder to grant himself better access, legs spread like a slut, what he might say anyway.

With your leg lifted and spread wide, Gojo's fingers hit even deeper, hitting that spongy spot inside you that made you scream "M'gonna come, gonna come f'you—Gojo!" He pumped faster, harder, driving you closer to the edge with each stroke, continuously pressing against your weak spot.

"That's it, come for me," he groaned, taking pleasure from your sounds. "Show me how much you need this, how much you crave my touch, how you need me."

"Yes—yes, ngh, n-need all of you!" You shattered around his fingers, your orgasm ripping through you like a tidal wave as you cried, feeling Gojos fingers still thrusting while you rode out. Wave after wave of pure bliss crashed over you, leaving you gasping and trembling.

"You're so cute." Gojo smiled, sliding his non-busy hand up and down your waist. As you came back down from your high, he took out his dripping fingers, lifted them to his mouth, and sucked them off with a pop! before using your remaining wetness as lube to grip up and down his cock. "Taste just like how I remember."

Quietly moaning at the sensation of his thick weepy head now rubbing against your still-quivering sex, you slightly close your legs, too sensitive for another.

"Ready for me?"

"Not yet," you managed to whimper, your body still humming from the aftershocks of your climax. "Give me a minute—"

Gojo chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through you. "Can't waste time with you baby. Missin' you for the whole week." With a breathy rasp, he slowly pushed inside you, inch by inch. "Fuck—fuck baby, had me missin' you s'badddd." Groaning with his head thrown back, Adam's apple seen dangerously bobbing.

The stretch was making you go stupid; making you realize how hard it was to adjust to Gojo's real size. "O-oh, feel you—feel you Gojo!" You could feel every ridge and vein of his impressive length, and it was almost too much to bear.

But when he started to move, slow and deliberate thrusts made to rebuild the fire in your belly, you forgot all about the initial discomfort. He moves his left hand to intertwine with the sweaty one beside your head, the action leading you to close your legs behind his waist, trapping him to be with your body.

Each stroke after hitting that sweet spot deeper and deeper within with a plat! plat! plat! coaxing another round of moans and pleas from your and your ex-boyfriend's lips.

Gojo's pace gradually increased, positioning his hips to an angle to grind into you deeper than before. "Always m-mine, can't- won't be apart f'you—" His voice panted out, almost in a cry. "—yours Gojo, jus-just yours!" You cried, trying to stop the urge to bow straight to his chest.

The sound of skin slapping against skin mingled with your ragged breathing and his guttural grunts, creating a nasty sloppy symphony that filled the room.

Your nails dug into his back, leaving crescent marks in their wake as you urged him on, desperate for more of his filling. "Harder," you begged, your voice hoarse with need. "Fuck me— mnghhh, want more!"

With a feral growl, Gojo complied, head thrown back in pleasure with sweat gleaming across his body, continuing to slam his length into you. "Missed your sweet pussy, need alllll of it." The force of his thrusts rocked the bed, making the headboard SLAM! continuously against the thin wall of your apartment.

"Pussy was made for me," Each stroke made your swollen nub drag against his lower waist, sending shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your veins, warm precum sticky to the sides of your thighs. "Made for you, for your pleasure—your love, you."

Unfortunately for you, Gojo's gaze dropped to your midsection. Soon turning widened and a smile broke out to his face. There, was the unmistakable bulge of his thick cock moving inside you with each powerful rock of his hips. "Shittt baby—h-hah, am I right here?"

Without breaking his relentless pace, he reaches down from his grip on your waist to press his palm against the stretched skin, feeling the shape of his shaft sliding in and out of your clenching walls.

"Gojo, your too deep, gonna- gonna cum," Now hiccuping, you feel the pleasure that encases your body.

"Of course baby, m'here." Gojo whined, whined as if he went straight from one orgasm to the next. You feel his hot length bruise your g-spot, trying to draw out the feeling of your hot core. "All mine, allll mine—"

As both your orgasms built, Gojo leaned down to capture your lips in a messy, careless kiss. His tongue dove deep into your mouth, claiming every inch while both his hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

"Come together baby, please." He panted in your mouth, feeling the vibrations within your whole body as you nodded against him. You could feel his smile against your lips, the rough thrusts only bringing you closer together.

"Coming, Gojo, co-coming!" With one final scream from you that managed to overcome the squelching wet sound of your cunt being pounded. "S-shit, coming, bab-" Gojo cried, slamming into you one final time, burying himself to the hilt as his orgasm ripped through him.

His velvety cock pulsed and throbbed, pumping jet after jet of scorching cum deep into your womb. Your climax crashed over you in tandem, your inner muscles clamping down on Gojo's still-spurting member as you milk every last drop into your womb.

Both of you quiet for breath, heaving in the quiet room as both of your slicks run down your legs, overlapping with the preexisting cum from a few moments before, staining the otherwise clean sheets. Gojo makes no attempt to get up or move, clearly comfortable.

A minute or two, he manages to push himself to lock you between his arms, eyes dragging up from your fluttering pussy covered in a translucent sheen to your pretty face.

"So, hah—up for another?"

[thewizardingpost]

Drowned in Desire 

poly!marauders x fem!reader

note ⌇ you’re ovulating and your boyfriends are looking a little too good  warnings ⌇word count 2.1k, smut, established relationship, foursome, breif exhibition (sex in a closet w/ Sirus), oral sex, (v) penetration sex, reader is FIENING, slytherin!reader (only suggested in beginning), many rounds throughout the day, making out, wrap it before you tap it, degrading talk (slut), praise as well, dom/sub dynamics?, not proofread

Desire is a current you can’t swim against, and this morning, it pulls you under.

You wake in the quiet shadows of your Slytherin dorm room, the dim greenish light filtering through the heavy curtains, casting everything in a soft, muted glow. The bed is warm around you, but the air is cool, the stone walls solid and unyielding. The usual comfort of your surroundings does nothing to quell the feeling rising within you—this heat, this restless yearning that spreads through your veins, igniting something deep inside.

Before your eyes even open, before your mind has fully shaken off the remnants of sleep, you feel it. The pull. Desire, like a tide, rises and falls inside you, a constant undercurrent that tugs at the edges of your thoughts. It’s like a magnetic force, drawing you into it, unrelenting, impossible to ignore. Your body reacts before your mind does—there’s a knot in your stomach, a fluttering pulse in your chest. It’s the kind of ache that’s both comforting and foreign, like something you’ve always known but never dared to name.

The bed creaks slightly as you shift, but the feeling is all around you, wrapping itself in the space between your sheets and the cold stone beneath you. It’s an insistent ache, a longing that wraps itself around your heart and doesn’t let go. You try to ignore it, to push it down, but it only grows stronger, more undeniable, until it’s all you can think about. The weight presses against your chest, suffocating in its intensity, like an unspoken truth you’ve been trying to deny.

You know it’s them. You know it’s James, with that reckless smile, the confidence that makes him feel untouchable. You know it’s Remus, with that quiet, knowing gaze, always watching, always seeming to see more than anyone else. And Sirius—Sirius, with his defiant grin, his energy that fills the room, the way his voice lingers in your thoughts long after he’s gone.

It’s not just an attraction. It’s more. Something deeper, more dangerous. Something that catches you when you least expect it, stirs when you’re alone, when you’re quiet, when there’s nothing but the sound of your own heartbeat in the stillness of the morning. You try to push it down, try to keep it contained, but the ache only grows. And in the stillness of your Slytherin dorm, where no one can see you, where the world outside feels so far away, the desire becomes almost unbearable.

You close your eyes, trying to breathe through it, but you know it’s pointless. It’s there. Always there. Like the pull of the Black Lake, drawing you deeper, making you feel weightless and alive, but caught in the undertow. Today, it pulls you under again, and you can’t escape it.

When you were around them that morning, that was when you observed, noticed more. The world seemed to shift, as if everything around you was suddenly clearer, more vivid. You saw them in a different light, through a new lens, one that made the smallest details feel significant, even electric. James’ hands, so effortlessly confident as they gripped his broomstick, or the way his fingers brushed through his messy hair. It made you ache in a way you couldn’t explain, the subtle strength in those movements, the careless elegance he didn’t even know he possessed. 

Then there was Remus. The way his neck flexed when he turned toward you, the subtle movement as he shifted or spoke—it was like everything else faded, and all you could focus on was the delicate line of his throat, the quiet strength in it. You couldn’t help but trace the curve of it in your mind, feeling your pulse quicken with a desire you couldn’t explain. Every movement, every tilt of his head, left you breathless, as though the very air was thickening with something unspoken. You had a desire to leave a darkened remnant of said desire on his skin there, make it obvious for others to notice. 

And Sirius—his morning voice, lower and richer, still thick with sleep. There was something about the deep rumble of it, the way it held a quiet power, that made you wish he’d speak to you in that tone, right in your ear, letting the warmth of his voice settle close to you. 

Of course, it wasn’t surprising that they noticed. It was hard for them not to, especially when the air around you felt heavier, charged in a way you couldn’t hide. Your gaze, a little too intense, lingered where it shouldn’t, catching their attention in ways you weren’t sure you wanted. It wasn’t just the way your eyes followed them—it was the weight behind it, the way you couldn’t quite look away, even when you knew you should. The silence between you and them stretched a little too long, and every glance you threw felt like an unspoken invitation, even if you didn’t mean for it to be. They had to have known.

It all started in class. Remus was sitting beside you, his presence almost too close, and the professor’s voice barely registered as you became aware of the tension that had begun to stir. Then you felt it—his breath, warm against your ear, as he leaned in. He seemed to notice your focus on something you shouldn't be focusing on during class. 

“Careful, you’re staring,” he murmured, his voice low, teasing, with that signature smirk you couldn’t see but could feel in his words.

Your chest tightened, a knot of heat curling in your stomach. You didn’t dare turn to look at him, your focus forced to stay at the front of the room. But the words, his breath, the proximity—it all pressed against you, making the air feel thick and suffocating. You tried to ignore it, but the feeling lingered, a quiet pulse beneath your skin.

Usually, you shove him and move on from his teasing. That’s usually what happened when he teased you, but today–you ran with it, and who was he to turn you down. 

After class had ended the both of you were shoved inside a tight and dark room. A hand was twisted in his tie, tugging him in to press his lips to yours. His hair became a bird's mess with how you had weaved them in, tugging on the locks each time he bit down on your bottom lip. You’re both gasping against each other’s lips, bodies firmly pressed together–squirming. 

“Remus, love,” you gasp, nothing but a needy whisper, “please. Please, do something. Need you.”

With a curse under his breath he was moving you so your back pressed against the cold wall. A leg was hiked up on his shoulder, opening you up so he can press himself under your skirt to smother himself against your throbbing core. With the way you were practically leaking onto his face, it didn’t take but maybe five minutes and your thighs are shaking around his face–legs becoming akin to rubber. You walked out of that closet feeling as if nothing had happened, the need in you still firing off as if you hadn’t just orgasmed a minute ago. 

It just worsens from there, the moment in the closet opening a floodgate.

Before James' Quidditch practice, you sit on his bed, watching as he stands in front of the mirror, pulling his shirt off to change. For a second in time, you catch a glimpse of his back, the sunlight catching every ridge and divot of muscle. On impulse, you reach your hand out, brushing against the vast expanse of skin there. He glances back over his shoulder, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

"Got your attention?"

Similar to Sirius, you grabbed a hold of his jersey and tugged him down to connect your lips together. He ended up late to practice. The way you were licking a stripe up the side of his length drove him insane, whiny sounds escaping him as you sink his length further past your lips.The way he arrives at practice—paint on his clothes, hair a mess, sweat glistening on his skin—makes it look like he’s just finished. It’s just the effect you have on him.

Yet again, it didn’t seem to cure your heat-like state. If anything, it worsened it. 

With James at practice and Remus in another class–Sirius was left. You found him in the library. A smirk graced his lips when he noticed you, setting his book down beside him. Getting him on board was easy. Just a whisper in his ear and a little hand weaving in his black hair was enough. He pushed you back against the bed, taking off his top before crawling on top. 

The way you were grinding your hips in tandem, heavy moans mixing together–it sent a dizzying swirl through your mind. His lips drag down your throat as he works your uniform open, showing your bare self to him. 

“Slut,” he comments when he sees how blissed out you look, his hand between your shiny thighs. “So sensitive and I’ve not done anything yet.”

You nod, another choked gasp escapes you when his thumb presses against your clit–another pushing in. He holds back a moan when he feels how tight you grip him, how warm you are. He moves his fingers in and out fast, turned on by your expressions and the dirty sounds coming from where his fingers and your cunt intertwine. 

“Siri, Sirius please,” you beg, nails digging into the back of his neck. “Please!”

He moves fast, removing the rest of your clothing with a smirk on his face. Flipping you onto your stomach, he pulls your hips back to meet where he stands at the edge of the bed. When more than a minute slides by, the impatient whine you let out is pathetic. Sirius laughs breathlessly, patting your ass that’s saying back and forth as to entice him, “shh, I know. Give me a second, love.” 

Your eyes flutter shut when he does begin to push in, each inch pulling you further and further into this floaty, desperate headspace. Your hands grip the bed sheets, trying to stabilize yourself when he begins to set a pace. Each time he pushes back in, it pulls another whimper from your lips. You repeat his name, random pleas until it all becomes incoherent babbles–just desperate in making sure he doesn’t stop. That’s how you came the second time that day, squeezing around his length and bringing him to his orgasm as well. 

He pulls himself out and you protest, reaching a hand back to pull him back. He grins, “so damn needy. You can’t have that, but you can have my fingers.”

It’s enough for the time being, up until the other two guys return–walking in on you under Sirius in the sheets. His fingers pumping in and out of you, pulling such heavenly sounds from you. Remus shuts the door behind him quickly, not wishing to share such a view with anyone else who might walk by any second. 

James walks to the bed first, sitting down and watching the entire moment. How tight you’re gripping the sheets, how focused you look, the way you are circling your hips around his fingers. Sirius grins, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “need more, mm?”

Seeing how you nod, he continues, “I believe James and Remus wanna help you, okay gorgeous? I’m gonna take my fingers out.”

He knew you would, but he still grinned all the more when you whined in protest. 

Three more times you came. Five in total that day. Once on Remus, couldn't help yourself with how you sat on top of him–slamming your hips down on his length. Another with James. Again, how couldn’t you help yourself when he fucked you so good, so deep–body hovering over yours. The last time was from a moment of full stimulation. Siri pushed between your lips, Remus and James sharing your cunt. They had pushed you not to come, playfully trying to see if you could hold out. It was so incredibly difficult, but somehow you pushed through. The last time you came was when you were gripping Remus’ length again, moaning around Sirius. 

You looked wrecked. Your eyes are glossy and far-off, a thin layer of sweat around your body–glistening. 

Remus hums, thumb rubbing your hip, “lovely, we can stop, you–”

You pull off of Sirius, eyes slightly wide, “no!”

It was going to be a long night.

[nanaslutt]

ngl i've only been thinking about cock warming nanami while cuddling and its really soft and sweet 😖😖

also what would you think of having designated emojis for anons 👉👈

i love the idea of designated emojis!! did you want to be 👉👈 annon or??

contains: fem reader, established marriage, sooo many pet names are used for reader, cockwarming, dirty talk, teasing, fingering, breif hand job, somnophillia at the end if you squint

MDNI

Nanami had taken some time off recently, telling his boss and coworkers alike that he was going on some exotic trip with his wife (you). When in reality, he just needed some consecutive time off with you, just completele uninterupted wife time. He didnt even neccisarily have anything exciting planned for the two of you on his vacation, you went out to dinner a couple times last week but he really just needed you close to him, even if you were doing something mundane.

The two of you sat on the couch together, the tv droning in the background while kento read his book. Your legs were laid across his lap, and his free hand that wasn't holding his book was rubbing patterns into your calves soothingly. He needed this so bad. Your skin was so soft and warm under his palm, your presence in the room was all he needed to relax, he wished this vacation could last forever.

Your husband kept stealing glances at you, studying your sleepy face and the way your hand slipped under your his shirt and rested on your tummy. Every move you made had him seemingly stuck in a trance. When your show went to comercial break, you sat up and started to slide under nanami's arm to sit on his lap. He cradled your body against his, resting his big palm on the small of your back as he slipped his own hand under your shirt and scratched your back.

"Mmmmm." you moaned in appreciation at his antics, his trimmed nails felt so good on your skin while the warm heat of his body radiated through your own, making you feel dizzy. "Feel good, sweetheart?" He asked, smiling at your reaction but keeping his eyes glued to his book. "Yes, feels so good Kento, wish time would stop at this moment forever." You mumbled into his shoulder, stealing the words from his brain. "Me too, my love." He said sweetly, making you hum at the nickname.

You were pressed impossibly close to him, chest to chest, you could not be closer and still; you needed more. You wished you could become one with him, so you would never be apart. Your own unrealistic thoughts made you sigh out loud as you slumped against him. “Something wrong my love?" He asked, setting his book down open faced on the coffee table as to not lose his spot, before he brought his other hand to join in on scratching your back.

"Mhm, just wish I could be closer to you." You whined into his shoulder, making your body jolt as he laughed at your needy words. "I have just the solution if you're up for it." He said, sliding his hands down the side of your body before rubbing them back up, and repeating the process. You tried to blink away the sleepiness his soothing touch was bringing, whispering out an 'okay' as your eyes fluttered shut.

He pulled you off of his chest, keeping his large hands on your hips as he stared at your sleepy face fondly. "How do you feel about keeping my cock warm inside you? Hmm?" He asked, making your eyes flutter open as a smile crept its way onto your face. "Sounds perfect, Kento." You smiled, cradling his face in your hands as you brought your face towards his, and connected your lips softly.

The two of you kissed slowly and passionately, your sleepiness really being evident to him at how lazy your lips were against his. "You can fall asleep just as soon as I get inside you, okay?" He spoke against your lips, his warm breath tickling your face as you nodded. You gave him one last peck on his soft lips before your hand dropped to his crotch to get him hard.

You were surprised to feel that he was already one step ahead of you, which made you giggle as you rubbed your hand along the length of his cock through his pants, "Kento what's this~" you teased, making his jaw drop in a small o as you continued rubbing him, "What made you get so hard, huh?" You asked, smiling against his face before you pulled your head back, looking between the two of you.

You would never not be shocked at the sheer size of him. The way your hand barely fit around his cock when you jerked him off, the way he stretched you open when he fucked his cock inside you, each and every time. "Just your face gets me erect." He said, all too formally, making you giggle. "Well, I'm glad." You said, leaning down to leave a peck on his forehead before you dropped both hands to his pants and started unzipping his slacks.

You looked at him from underneath your lashes, and he nodded his approval at you, silently telling you to keep going. You continued unzipping his slacks and pulling his pants slightly down his thighs, just a couple inches so you had an easier time pulling his cock out. Nanami lifted his hips to aid your efforts, sighing in relief when your hands slipped into his boxers and pulled out his fully erect cock.

You were already only dressed in a t-shirt and panties, which would make it so much easier for you to get him inside you quicker. The sight of his unobstructed cock made your mouth water as you gave him a couple strokes before pulling your panties to the side and revealing your dripping cunt to his eyes. "You were teasing me for being aroused when you're this wet yourself?" He smiled, reaching his hand between the two of you to rub his fingertips against your hole to feel your wetness.

"This is your fault!" You exclaimed playfully, your laugh getting cut off with a gasp when he slid two thick fingers into your hole, keeping his eyes on you and dropping his mouth open, mimicking your own. "Yeah?" he smirked, "Thinking about cockwarming your husband get you all wet?" He asked, making you nod as your eyes rolled back in your head, lids falling shut. "What was that?" He repeated when he didn't hear your verbal answer.

Nanami was very adamant about you using your words when you wanted something. You should never be embarrassed to ask or tell him anything, he was your husband—of course he would cater to your each and every need, but how would he know what you wanted if you didn't use your voice?

"Yes, thinking about your dick inside me made me wet." You said. As he could see throughout your time together, his way of making you verbalize your needs had resulted in his pretty wife having such a filthy mouth. "Good girl." He praised, making you smile as he started to scissor his fingers inside your hole, stretching you out to take his cock.

"F-cuk, Kento-" You wined, squeezing your eyes shut as he opened you up for his cock, simultaneously rubbing your g-spot to get you even wetter. "Feel good, honey?" He asked, smiling at your pleasured face. "Yes, P-please, put it in now." You said, impatiently. He was working you over so well, but you just wanted him inside you already. Your heart was about to burst out of your chest with the need to be one with him. "Not yet, you're not prepped enough." He said as he continued to fuck his fingers in and out of you, creating lewd squelching noises that reached your ears and made you even more aroused.

"I'm fine, promise I can take it K-ken, please, just give me your cock, please." You begged, opening your eyes as you reached your own hand between the two of you and wrapped it around his cock. Your slow strokes must have convinced him because he let out a defeated sigh and removed his fingers from you. You smiled watching your husband suck his large fingers into his mouth and lick off your cum before he popped them out, completely clean of your juices. "You're so dirty, Kento." You giggled watching him lick his lips clean. He made sure to swallow every last drop of you before he spoke. "It's not my fault my wife is so sweet." He praised.

You continued stroking his cock, before you wadded up a glob of spit in your mouth and let it fall against the tip of his dick, easing the slide and wetting him even more as you lined his member up with your cunt. "Easy." Nanami reminded, to which of course you listened. Nanami was constantly bending his own rules for you, so if you hurt yourself by putting his cock inside you right now-- with you not being as prepped as he would like-- you knew he would get frustrated, and you didn't want that. You enjoyed teasing Nanami, but right now you didn't want to ruin this sweet and intimate moment.

He trusted your judgment though, if you said you were ready, you were ready. You winced when you started sitting down on his mushroom tip, his girth stretching you out and causing mild discomfort. Nanami moaned in tandem with you as you sunk lower and lower on his cock, his length seemed to go on forever. "Almost there, doing so good for me, sweetheart." He praised, holding the sides of your body in a tight but loving grip to take some of the pressure off your thighs and keep your body hovering over his lap while you took his cock.

"F-fuuuuuck." You moaned, letting your head tip back when you sat flush against your hips, his cockhead pressed snugly against your cervix. Nanami let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when you bottomed out. He started rubbing his large hands on the sides of your body, caressing you before he moved his hands to your back and pressed your chest against his, making you lean forward and lay your head into the crook of his neck. "Good girl, good fucking girl. His soothing voice vibrated through your body.

You wrapped your legs comfortably around his hips, whining briefly when his cock was jolted even deeper inside you at the new angle. Having his cock inside you like this, pressing up against all of the right places, and feeling his warmth from inside you now, was doing all the right things to your body. Your eyes started feeling heavy when Nanami once again started scratching his nails over your back. "Are you okay, my love? Does it hurt?" He checked, looking down at your form that was attached snugly to his. "So f-full, but It feels perfect Ken." You said, pressing small kisses to his neck in between your words.

"You're so good to me." He said, letting his own head tip back as your light kisses turned into sucking, his eyes rolled back in his head when he felt your tongue poke his neck between your plush lips in between your sucking. You felt his cock twitch inside you at your antics, making you beam with how easy it was to rile him up. You left one last kiss against his neck before returning your head to lay on his shoulder, heaving a relaxed sigh. "That should be my line," You said, giggling, "You always know just what I need."

Your husband hummed against you as he continued to draw shapes and patterns directly against your soft skin, making you hum and moan in appreciation every so often. "Ken," your soft voice started, "'M sleepy." He smiled and hummed in acknowledgment before he spoke, "Do you want to move to the bedroom?" He asked, waiting patiently for your answer. You took a couple beats to respond, the sleepiness making you ponder his question for longer than normal before you nodded against his shoulder.

"Alright, baby." Nanami reached over to grab the TV remote and turn it off, turning off the side table lamp as well before he scooped you up in his arms, holding you up from your thighs and keeping you snug around his waist as he walked the two of you to your shared bedroom. His cock slid in and out of you a couple inches when he walked, making you moan, and making your cunt drip out around him.

"Sorry sweetheart, almost there." He spoke a fake apology through his teeth. He loved the way you felt inside when he held you up like this. The way you squeezed his cock while he made a path for the bedroom made his legs weak, biting his lip when he felt your cum drip down his balls, begging his legs not to give out when he was so close to your shared room.

Your chest rising and falling steadily against him made Nanami's heart flutter in his chest, he knew you were waiting for him to get the two of you situated in bed before you fell asleep, and he thought it was the most precious thing in the world. How did he end up with such a sweet wife?

"Gonna take it out for a second, okay?" He said, making you whine at the loss as he picked you up off his cock, still holding you in his arms as his girth popped out of you, hanging heavily between his legs as his hard-on had gone down slightly from being still inside you for so long.

"Kento.." You sleepily wined, your cunt clenching around nothing at the loss of him. "I know, I know, patience." He reminded when he sat you down on the end of the bed. You sat obediently, your eyes fluttering open and closed as you watched your husband and waited for him to pull back the comforter for the two of you. "Alright, come here." He said, picking up your body from under your arms he situated you under the soft sheets, sliding in behind you. He pulled the comforter over the two of you before he snuck his hand underneath them and gave himself a few quick strokes on his cock.

Once he felt he was hard enough to put it back in, he slid your panties to the side once more and slipped his cock back inside your warm walls, making you both moan in unison as he did so. "Yess, 's good~" You slurred against the pillows. His cock had gone in so much easier this time around, he had your soaked pussy to thank for that.

He pressed his hips flush against your ass, groaning at how deep he reached in this position before he wrapped his big arms around your torso snugly. He humped his hips against yours slowly, massaging your sweet spot with the head of his cock as he fucked you into dreamland. "K-Kento, l-love you." You whispered, words broken up by your soft moans at the feeling of his cock slowly fucking you. "Love you more baby, go to sleep now, I got you." He hushed, rotating his hips against your ass. You relaxed against him, your sleep coming on so much faster thanks to how he was literally rocking you to sleep with his hips.

The two of you continued to moan softly together in the protection of your bedroom. No one to bother the two of you as you cuddled each other intimately. You rubbed patterns into his arms that wrapped around your torso, and his lips pressed soft comforting kisses against your back, shoulder— wherever they could reach, he kissed.

When your whimpers died down and your breathing evened out he knew you had drifted off to sleep. He stilled his hips against you, feeling the own throbbing of his cock start to cease as he got sleepier and sleepier himself. The way your cunt pulsed and squeezed around him every so often was so relaxing, the dull pleasure was lulling him into what would be the best sleep of his life. "I'm the luckiest man alive." He whispered into your hair, before he pressed a soft kiss onto the back of your head and let himself join you in dreamland.

[alizestvrnss]

𝑯𝑶𝑳𝑳𝑶𝑾𝑬𝑬𝑵 𝑯𝑰𝑮𝑯 🂱 𝓒.𝓢

ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ» 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓. 𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 (if you squint). 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞! 𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐥! 𝐎𝐫𝐚𝐥(𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠)! 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐱(Dont be silly wrap your willy!)! 𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 (𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥)! 𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬! (𝐌𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐬, 𝐦𝐚, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭) 𝐏𝐍𝐕! 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐘/𝐍, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞! (Alot of slutty shit idk just anything that comes to mind, im spitballin here💀)

ᵖᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ» 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐭!𝐃𝐨𝐦!𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 x 𝐒𝐮𝐛!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫/ 𝐰 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞..

ˢᵘᵐᵐᵉʳʸ» 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮. 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔.. 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘! Creds to @raestromboli (𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 "𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐞𝐭"!) 𝐏.𝐒. 𝐈 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐓! 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫.

✰

You and your sister, madi, had about 30 more minutes to get ready for your bestfriend, Nicks, party. You put the fake tattys on your thighs for the look of your harley quinn costume, then put the fishnets on with the short, red and blue, booty shorts, sure the costume was basic and common, but who gives a shit?

You sprayed the washable spray paint if your two messy pigtails. You grab your phone and got to your sister room to see her in her black angel costume. "Ready to go?" Madi asked grabbing her keys on her big white bed, but not before looking at her self in the mirror checking her ass.

"Yep, lets hit this shit" you throwing your arm around her shoulder as you mwalked out.

✰

As you guys stepped into the house your breathes get hit with the wiff of Pure alcohol and weed, a smell youve grown to love being friends with nick and his brothers. "''m gonna go get a drink!" You yell to Madi over the pounding music in your ears. "Ill be with nick and Matt!" She yelled, walking to Nick, Matt, and some other dude on the couch.

You walk to the kitchen looking for a drink, she knew their had to be some other type of alcohol like tequila or hennesey, it was chris's house obviously. You looked up at the drinks that were, sadly, out of your reach

You slowly climb onto the counter, almost falling due to your heels. You grab a small bottle of tequila that was stashed, curtesy of yourself, behind a bunch of other bottles or liquor. You come down from the counter as you feel strong arms wrap around your waiste.

You turn around, finally off the counter, jumping, startled, when you see a ghostface mask with a jojnt in one hand and a drink in the other. "Lord!" You yelp, and you hear a familiar, hot, chuckle under the mask as he took the mask off, joint still in between his veiny fingers, Revealing Chris. "Gotcha."

"You dickwad!" You say playfully pushing his naked chest, that you hadnt noticed before, "Hey Scarlett, Look good" Chris said, as his eyes scanned over your costume, preferably your 'tatted' thighs in the fishnet stockings. "Hey chris, Thanks you too" You kept the conversation short, cause as of right now your probably blushing at how good he looked, and how he was looking at you. Your eyes go up looking at him, scanning over his naked chest, and his clavin klein breifs sticking out of his baggy black jeans, seeing a fake, but very sharp, knife in his front pocket, he had a drink in one hand and a joint in the other. He looked good, 𝑡𝑜𝑜 good. You felt a wetness between your thighs.... 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑡.

Chris licked his lips and bit his plump bottom lip as he looked down at you slightly. You were quick yo walk away before you did anything youd regret.

You make it to one of the uptairs rooms, you look around the room taking in your surroundings, the room familiar, its chris's room.

"Why are you in here Scarlett?" You jump hearing his dark, taunting voice, also hearing the door click, shutting and locking. "Are you that desperate?" he smirks walking towards you blowing some smoke in your face, the pool between your legs getting dangerously bigger, as you stay silent.

You guys were now real close, you look up at him biting your lip that has smeared red lipstick on it. "Have i told you how hot you look in these shorts?" He asked grasping her waist, feeling the harsh leather clothing under his fingers. "Nope" You taunted, trying to keep your cool acting as though your not pouring right now, as you grab his joint putting it in between your lips, ghosting the smoke and blowing in his face.

You guys sat down on the bed passing the joint, "Lets play a game.." Chris said in a whisper, blowing smoke in your face again passing you the joint, as you shudder "Lets play a little Q&A yeah? who ever gets a question wrong.. has to take off a layer of their clothing" He grinned tauntingly, You shook your head "Nuh uh." you mutter. "No?" he taunts. "What about truth or dare?" You ask, quickly continuing. "But our clothes are staying on."

"No fun." he whines, brows knitted. "Ill get out" you teasingly get up off he bed, and he pulls you back down by the hips, you hitting the soft bed with a grunt. "Stay. Ill play."

You smile as you got your way. "Okay. Truth or dare?" You ask him, "truth" he bluntly said as you guys continue puffing and passing the joint. "Craziest place youve fucked someone?" You ask taking a hit off the joint "Youd like to know that wouldnt you?" He smirks as you roll your eyes "Under the bed." He states shortly, sipping his glass of bourbon. "Truth or dare?" He asked looking into her eyes "Truth"

He thought a bit before smirking turning back to you "Best place youve got Ate out?" You stay quiet after that, he grinned knowingly "Have you never-" "Shut up" you cut him off "Oh my God" He gasped laughing tauntingly "Youve 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 been ate out?" He asked shocked laughing, you look around at anything but him, embarressed. Seeing all the smoke in the room.

He grabbed your jaw bringing your faces together looking into your eyes.

"Can i show you?" He moved to your ear whispering.

You took a look into his beautiful blue eyes for any hint of jokes, finding nothing but desire, you slowly nodded. "Good" he picks you up laying you on on the bed harshly, not before getting the fake but sharp knife out of his pocket setting it beside your face.

He looks you in your eyes before kissing you passionatly. Seconds later that same "passionate" kiss turned hungry and needy. You moaned into the kiss "Fuck ma..do you know how hot you are?" Chris looked down at you before attacking her neck. "fuck..chris, please" You moaned, as you felt him smirk into the nip of your neck

"Mamas..your being so needy" he groaned, sending vibrations through not only your neck but through your whole body. You feel the pool in between your thighs only grow as you moaned.

"''M wanna taste you ma" He voiced, groaning as he took his head out of your neck crook.

"Taste me. Feel me.." You reasure him as your brows knitted, watching him make his way down your body kissing and rubbing every one of your curves needly. "Fuck" You huff playing with his silking brown hair as continued the needly kisses he placed on your stomach.

Chris's soft plump lips mad their way to the cold, silver, of the belt that you have on for the costume. He unbuckled the belt, studying your facial expressions for any sign of discomfort, when all he seen was neediness and desire.

He took the red and blue costume in a swift movement as you gasped he threw the shorts somewhere in his hotboxed bedroom.

"Chris..you have to promise me you'll never tell madi and nick about any of this." You whispered sternly. Chris looked up at you as he tried to take the fishnets off, he brough his pinky out. "I promise. Itll be our little secret" he smirked. You lock your guys pinkys together.

Chris had finally got your fishnets off, they ripped just a bit. You were now only in the top and your black thong, You decided to take off your top, revealing your ocean blue, lacy bra. "So beautiful.." Chris groans coming back up to you uncliping your bra, rubbing your tits as you moaned softly.

He moved his hands down to the wet spot of your thong "Fuck baby.. so wet i barely even did anything" He rubbed your clit gently through your lace panties as you moaned "More.. please- fuck" you moaned as he kissed your soft tits.

His lips glide down your body smoothly as he kept his eyes on yours. His face was met with your soaking wet pussy as he played with the hem on your thong looking up for permission. You nod feeling the air hit your throbbing mound.

"Such a pretty pussy" he rubbed his long finger in circles on your clit as you closed your eyes with your brows knitted together. He grabbed the fake knife gently rubbing it up and down your chest as you suck in your chest biting you lip harshly.

He dragged her flat body down to the edge of the bed where we was on his knees. You felt him enter a digit into your pussy as you cover your mouth so you dont scream to loud.

"Fuck Beautiful.. your so tight around my fingers" he moved another digit in your cunt as your velvety walls tightly wrapped around his finger like a ring. He brought his mouth to your clit licking up and down before sucking on it. "Fuck dont stop-!" You moan out, back arching as your toes curled into the white sheets.

You brought your thighs around his head suffercating his into your pussy as he took his fingers out of you, he entered his tongue into your hole as you grabbed his hair. "Oh my god..fuck.."

As you felt a feeling building in your tummy you groan "Fuck chris.. im so c-close..dont stop" you plead as he continued to eat you out. He brought his lips off of your pussy putting his chin on it to look at you "good girl.. doin' so good f'me.. you wanna cum?" He smirks as you nod viciously. His lips go back to attacking your pussy.

The bubble in your stomach continued to grow before it bursts, Your silking cum spreading onto chris's chin as he continued to take you down from your high with his tongue. You panted "fuck.."

Chris came back uo from between your legs, "dont think were done here little slut" He grinned. He unbuckled his jeans taking them off along with his boxers

You watch as his bulged cock sprung free from his boxers. Your eyes widen at the size, he laughs tauntingly "Like what you see mamas?" he smirks grabbing the fake knife that was left on your stomach. "Y-yeah actually i do.." you manage out watching as he grabs the knife.

You take big breaths, moaning as you felt him run his dick up and down your wet folds a few times, before he ligned himself up with your entrance. You nod to him. He slipped his cock into your entrance as you gasp "fuck.."

He waisted no time as he pounded into you harshly, not letting you adjust to his size "Fuck chris-!" You moan, he grabbed the "knife" putting the tip of it under her jaw.

You close your eyes moaning loudly as you arch your back "Open your fucking eyes..i want you to see me making a mess of you- fuck" he gritted his teeth as he groaned.

You bring your fingers between your two bodies as you rubbed your clit. Chris sped up his pace as he groaned throqing his head back. "F-fuck" he moaned "Such a good girl, taking my dick like a good little slut" You moan as he degraded you.

"Fuck chris-! Im cumming" Chris grabbed your throat, choking you slightly "yeah? You gonna cum around my cock?" He groans, his dick hitting the one place in you that made you burst, cumming "Fuck im cumming ma" he said, his grip on your throat tighting, making your eyes roll back. You felt his hot load shoot through your aching pussy, he pulled out then pushing the mixed cum back into you.

Chris quickly through you in a "Face down, ass up" postion. He rubbed his hard length against your asshole, "Spit" he commands putting his hand out for you to spit on, you obeyed spitting what ever was in your mouth in his hand as he fisting his spitted in hand on his dick, lubracating it. Once his dick was wet enough, he slipped his dick into your ass roughly, making you ass recoil "Chris-!"

Chris grabbed both of your pigtails in each one of his hands, your head being thrown back. "Fuck.. yeah- take my cock in your pretty little ass" He gritted his teeth slapping your ass. Your eyes going in the back off your head.

"Can i cum your pretty ass baby?" He groaned asking you, you nod as your hair got pulled harder, as he pounded into your ass faster.

"Fuck im cumming!" He called out loudly, you hoped no one heared, very big doubt cause the music was loud. You felt his hot load shoot through your ass as he pulled out hissing, he let go of your, now, messy pig tails.

"Fuck ma.. i love seeing you like this" he panted gripping your ass softly neading at it. His cum spurted through both of your holes, if you were being honest, you looked like his personal cumbucket.

"Lets get cleaned up before we get caught" he said grabbing our costumes.

As you stand up your legs almost guve out in you as you grab onto chris's arm. He smirked as if he did a good job.

"shut up"

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑺:

@fratbrochrisgf @scarlett-or-wtv @new2024cats4life

[atxxokirina]

Unspoken Words PT. 2 — (18+ MDNI)

Neteyam x Mute fem Metkayina reader

part one here

contains: SMUTTY SMUT SMUT, dom Neteyam, p in v, degrading, tummy buldge, oral (f receiving), creampie, very slight aftercare

author's note! (italic is used to symbolize when you, Neteyam, or anyone else are using sign language)

Your eyes flutter open, the bright sun shining through your Marui waking you. You look your your right, seeing Neteyam's body sprawled out on the cot, your head rested on his arm as it was wrapped around you. Carefully, you lift his arm over you, placing it back down softly to ensure that he stays sleeping. You stood up and stretched your limbs, quietly yawning as you keep your eye on Neteyam laying on his back, mouth wide open as he snores.

Since it's early, you figure you might as well get something to eat while you still can. Grabbing your gear, you throw it around your shoulder and give your mate a tiny kiss on the cheek before leaving. "See you soon, my love."

You make your way to the water, stepping in knee deep as you scope out for fish, readying your catching net just in case. As you continued to carefully examine the clear water, your eye catches something. A fully blue fish with with multicolored fins, floral flushed orange and yellow. You throw out the net, scooping it up and holding it to your face as you studied it's properties.

It was an interesting shape to say the least, large pincher's at it's mouth, while it kept an oval-like shape. Sloapek. You don't see these around too often, but you're happy to have caught it for you and your mate.

As you were traveling back to the common square, you hear a faint calling of your name. "Y/n!" Your ears twitch back, looking around, but you still didn't see anyone. That was, until you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around in an instant, you're met with Tsireya who's beaming at you."Tsireya, hello! It's nice to see you." You sign, smiling wide as your tail stills in content.

"It is nice to see you too, y/n! You are never out this early, is everything alright?" She asks, concern written all over her face. You nod. "I am fine. I just wanted to get something for Neteyam and I, see?" You hold up the net and her face drops in awe. "Sloapek!? Oh, I'm so jealous! I never see them anymore!" You held back a giggle as she spoke, nodding with a pleased look on your face. "You must have worked hard for this, I'm proud of you!" You awkwardly smile, knowing that it took you less then 2 minutes. "I should get back to Neteyam. He's might be missing me right about now."

"Oh, mhm! See you later, y/n!" You wave before going back to your Marui. As you approach the entrance, you get a glimpse of Lo'ak inside, he's sitting on your cot while Neteyam stands. As you were about to step in, you hear one of them speak.

"So, does she really not talk?" Lo'ak asked Neteyam.

"I mean, no. Not really.. She speaks with her hands."

"Shit, man. That's so weird.. how do you guys fuck?" You winced at his words, feeling shameful for yourself. "I don't know how you do it bro." He chucked.

"Don't say that." Neteyam defends. "..and we don't fuck, honestly. I don't know how to tell her and, plus, I don't wanna hurt her." He playfully scoffed, folding his arms. In all honesty, you wanted to expirience such things with him, but you never had the courage to ask. Your relationship consisted of pristine love, and though you have been together for a few months, neither of you made a move.

Not wanting to hear any more, you finally walk in. Greeting Lo'ak with a small head bow as you set down your net. Giving your mate with a short, but passionite kiss. "Y/n, hey baby." He pulls you into a hug, wrapping his arm around your waist. "Hey y/n." Lo'ak mumbled. "I'm gonna get going but, it was nice to see you- y/n. And, talk to you later bro." Before leaving, he pulls his brother into a breif handshake. "Tell her." He whispers in Neteyam's ear, gone right after.

Neteyam's body flushes with anxiousness, rubbing his hands together. You took the rest of your gear off, wrapping your coiled curls into a low ponytail and bending down to reach for the fish that sat in the net. "Wait, before you do that-" Neteyam starts. You freeze in your position, turning your head to look at him and holding your palm out. "What is it?" His mouth opens and closes before speaking. "Y/n, are you.. a virgin? Like, have you ever had sex before?" A lump formed in your throat as you gulp. You weren't quite sure what to say, you didn't really want to answer him. "No." You avoid eye contact, looking down as you go back to your standing position. "I have not."

Neteyam seemed taken aback by your response, his lips quivered for a moment. "Do you, want to?" He blurts out

You instantly shot him a look, the breath you had being sweeper from your lungs. A part of you wanted to. So badly.. but the other part was petrified of how it might turn out. Would it hurt you? Would you hurt him? What if you do something wrong? He holds your chin with his two fingers, turning your head to him as he stares down at you.

"I'll make it easy for you.. we can even go slow, how about that?" His melodic tone filled your ears, practically making you melt before him. You blink a few times, feeling like your heart was going to shoot out of your chest. He was patient with your response, letting you take your time before making this important decision. Hesitantly, you nod. He smiles and kisses your forehead. "Great," he starts. "You'll feel so good, I promise, okay?" Neteyam kisses you again. "Okay" Even though it was sign, he could tell that you were still scared. He reassures you by pulling you into a hug, you buried your head in his chest.

The scent he gave off never failed to chill your nerves. "I love you, y/n. I would never do anything to hurt you, okay?" He softly pulls back by your shoulders, facing down. You held a hand up, closing your middle finger, but keeping your pink, index, and thumb up. "I love you too."

"I have to get to my training session, but I will be back at eclipse." He ruffles your hair, earning a warm smile from you as he rushed out of the Marui.

Several hours have passed. It's almost eclipse and you can't stop your anxiety from building. You pace around the room, trying to take deep breaths and focus on anything else, but it was damn near impossible. You sit down as your mind raced, nervously fiddling with your hands. Closing your eyes, you inhale through your nose and exhale with your mouth. After a few huffs, your rushing heart starts to slow down. You lay back now, sighing and looking at your ceiling. And just as you started to relax, "Hey baby.." You ears perked at the deep voice your hear. Sitting up on your elbows, you try to smile, Neteyam sets his gear down, slowly walking toward your small frame. There's a certain look in his eye, it's dark, and it scares you.

He climbs onto the cot, hovering over you. "Are you ready for me?" He says lowly, and you can almost feel his arousal. You nod twice, slight fear in your expression. Neteyam brings his head down to your chest, tugging at your top with his teeth, causing you to shudder. "Don't be scared," He licks a stripe and your breath hitches. "It's just me." Right after saying that, he tears your top with his fangs, your pupils dilate in shock. He was an entirely different person.

He snakes his hand up to your hard nipples, squeezing your right bud as he spit on your left one, toungue circling your areola. You close your eyes, soft pleasure begins to overcome you. You've never had the urge to make a sound until now, you don't want to, but it's almost impossible to control. "H-hmh.." You mewl. Neteyam notices and his ear twitches, you felt his grin as he continues to suckle on your tits. He now brought his hand down to your loincloth, rubbing your cunt through the fabric as he grazes the formed wet spot. "Already so wet, hm? Such a good girl." He hums, words vibrating your sensitive nipples. Expertly, he unties his own, throwing it off. He comes up from your breasts, and you're met with his large, dark blue cock. Purple veins protruding as it twitches for more. It almost looks.. painful?

Your eyes were wide. "You can touch it, it's okay baby." He reassures. You slowly reach out to his member with your index finger, the second you touch the tip, it twitches again. You quietly gasp, he chuckled at your reaction. "That's how it reacts, pretty. Don't worry." He cupped your cheek, kissing your lips with desire. "Take this off for me", he tugs at the waistband of your loincloth. You comply, lifting your hips to untie it, trying to ignore your shakey hands.

Neteyam shimmy's your cloth down, bringing his head to your wet and glistening heat with a deep inhale. He slides his finger up your folds. "Mm.. so fucking wet baby, I think you're ready for me, wouldn't you say so?" He teases, scissoring you open with his digits as he makes out with your clit. Pleasure overwhelms you, hips subconsciously bucking up to him as you held back your noises, but he could fainty hear you. "Yeah? You speak now, hm?" Your eyes squeeze shut as his pace quickens, now shoving his two fingers inside of you and pumping them with a fast pace. "Uh huh.." You quietly whimper, he feels more than accomplished at the dirty sounds you make. "That's fucking right baby", he curls his digits, massaging your spongey walls, earning a gasped "Nghh!" from you. "Juust like that." He pulled his fingers out, sucking them clean with a pop.

Neteyam pulls your hips toward him, fisting his cock a couple times before aligning it with your entrance. He notices the twang of worry in your face. "You'll love this baby, I'll make you scream my fucking name." He promised. It made you quite nervous, but nonetheless, you nod at him and close your eyes. Without warning, his fat cock is forcing it's way inside of you, inch by inch, knocking the wind from your lungs.

Your eyes flew open, mouth agape at the feeling. He grunts, enjoying the way your delicious pussy is wrapped around him. "Mhmm, yeah.." Neteyam moaned while grinding his hips into you. "Am I making you feel good? Huh?" He growls. You can't sign, and you can't respond in any way. He uses this to his advantage, pulling out and plunging himself back into you, a loud and long moan escapes from your mouth, he smirks as he pumps his cock upward, hitting your sweet spot. Every. Time.

You squeeze your eyes shut, quietly cursing and whining under your breath. "Fuck! Oh fuck, Neteyam.." You repeat with a quiet breath, followed up by another moan, unknowingly making such lewd noises. "You can do better than that." He groans, fucking you faster as the sounds of your bodies coming together filled the room. "Hmmmh, so good! Sosososo g-ood.." You whimper, no longer caring about whether or not you speak, you just need him. More than you ever have before.

You wrappes your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. "More. I need you." You mewl. "Beg." He demanded, slowly fucking up into you. "P-please.. Nete.. yam." You moaned, "I want you, I want you! S-so fucking bad!" You cry out, breath shaky. "That's what I wanna hear." He huffs, pace increasing gradually. Your pussy clenches around him, exuding wet squelching noises. You whine, begging for something, but you don't know what.

He fucking loves the way you've let go. The intimacy and tension is building between the two of you. He scoffs at how you're still trying to supress your moans, as if you weren't just begging him to fuck you harder a minute ago. "Cmon, let me hear you." He thrusts harder, looking down at your tummy to see his cock poking out with each thust me makes. "Don't try to be all quiet now, you're not so innocent as I thought, huh? You're still a slut. A nasty slut who just needed to be fucked like this, aren't you?" You whine, moans coming out even when you try to stop.

He grabs your hand, placing it on your stomach. "Look at it", he grunts, holding your hand on the reappearing buldge. You watch the way his cock made contact with your tummy, pressing down on it at every chance you get. You felt so incredibly full, each pump in your pussy leaving you breathless. "Mmm.." Neteyam moans through gritted teeth. "Yeah. Keep your hand right there, don't you dare fucking move it." You whimper in response, tears forming in your eyes from the pleasure.

An unfamiliar feeling forms around your core. Your muscles tighten as you feel light. "Uhh! Nete- Neteyam.. I feel weird", You whine, pleading for him to stop whatever he was doing to make your body react this way. "Shh, shh, shh, baby, it's f-fine." His hips staggered inside of you. You truthfully felt like you had to pee. This can't be right. The feeling grew stronger, you can't control your body in it's essance anymore. You need something, some kind of relief. It's building up and it won't stop. "Ngghhh, more! Fuck! Harder, faster!" You moaned, fucking yourself up again him. He picks you up, holding your ass and making you straddle him as his hips slammed back into you. Making you scream and cry in pleasure as you meet his thrusts.

"Almost. Almost, almost, almost", you repeat like a mantra. "Me too baby. Fffuckk, I'm almost there. Gonna paint your insides, give you my seed." Neteyam gracefully moans, it was music to your ears. Suddenly, your pussy clenches around him. Way tighter than before. You gasp and wince. "Ah! Neteyammm!!" You moan your mates name, squeezing your arms around him. Just in time, he stops his movements all together, bursting his warm load inside of you with a low sigh, followed by another small thrust. You felt a heat form in your womb, pure bliss as he filled you up.

Your body goes limp, falling back down on the cot and curling up into yourself. Feeling worn out, like all of your energy had been drained from you. Out of breath, Neteyam lays beside you, gently running his hands across your curves. "You okay baby? You're not hurt or anything?" He checks. You answer with a quiet hum. He turns your face to him, pecking your lips as he briefly glanced down at your cunt, looking at his cum slightly pouring out.

He sighs in content. "Come, let's go get you cleaned up." He stands from the cot and slips his loincloth back on, then bending down to pick you up, throwing you over his shoulder as he secures you "I'm tired, Teyam.." You mumble quietly. "It's alright, I'll take care of you. Just rest." He reassures, tone soothing and low as he brings you to a secluded cave to clean you up.

[miley1442111]

regrets- s.reid

--------------------------

--------------------------

summary: spencer comes back from prison and your grief and his cause the collapse of your world.

pairing: spencer reid x fem reader

warnings: suicide mentions, death, fighting, break-up, breif spencer in prison mentions (nothing about the storyline though dw)

--------------------------

Spencer had always been skinny. He’d always been last picked for sports, and at the beginning of your relationship, he was nervous to be naked in front of you.

Were you two still even in a relationship? 

He’d been in prison, then he was out and saving his mom. Now he’s home. 

And you’re not. 

The first thing to do in his mind is to shower. He wanted to wash the last few days off of him. He hadn’t been in a comfortable place in a long time, so the shower seemed different, the products you used to use were gone, replaced by others. Did you even live here anymore? 

Getting naked was too difficult, every time he saw what he’d become, he felt the uncontrollable urge to vomit and not stop until he passed out. He sat in the bathroom for a long time, he wasn’t even sure how long. 

The front door opened. Your voice to someone over the phone, a rustling of bags and a sigh once the call was over. 

He had so many questions. Why hadn’t you been there? Where were you? You sent him letter after letter (ones he couldn’t bring himself to respond to) about not being able to wait to see him, about missing him, chewing him out for not letting you come see him. 

So where had you been?

“Fuck this fucking funeral,” you mumbled to yourself as you walked through your kitchen. “Fuck my life.”

You grabbed a cup of water as you felt the familiar sting of tears in the back of your throat. Spencer listened close to the bathroom door as you slowly broke down. It started as just a single sob. Then it progressed until you were fully crying on your kitchen floor and dialling someone’s number. 

“Y/n?” Penelope’s voice said from the other side of the line. 

“Hey,” you sighed. “I’m so sorry that you couldn’t reach me for the past few days, I was back in Vermont and I had no cell service. Anyways, any news on Spencer? I know that Diana got moved to a facility, any news from him? Did Luke or Jj visit?”

Spencer’s heart broke as he listened to you put everything aside just to ask about him. 

“Babe… Spencer got out three days ago,” she admitted.

Another stab to your already bleeding heart. Spencer watched as your face broke from the crack in the bathroom door. 

“Oh,” your voice broke. “Good.”

There was a long silence. 

“Do you know where he is?” You asked, ashamed that you had to ask someone else for the whereabouts of your fiancé.  

“I’m not sure, I’m so sorry girl-” Penelope’s comforting voice was cut off by you hanging up. The sobbing started again and Spencer just couldn’t take it anymore. He opened the bathroom door and revealed himself, tears in his own eyes. You scrambled up to your feet and approached him cautiously. 

“Hi,” he said, just above a whisper. 

“Hey,” you said, lip quivering. 

“What happened in Vermont?” He asked.

Your eyes dropped to the floor and he saw some tears fall. “My little sister killed herself.”

Spencer wanted nothing more than to grab you and hold you, but a voice in the back of his head told him that you’d reject him and call him disgusting. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” you shook your head. “I should’ve been here.”

“You didn’t-”

“I missed you so much Spencer,” you sighed, a watery smile on your lips. “Why didn’t you respond to my letters?” 

Spencer felt a weight on his chest tighten. “I-I couldn’t.” 

“You responded to everyone else's.”

“You’re different-”

“I’m expendable. I’m just here, all the fucking time, aren’t I? Do you even want to get married?” You demanded. 

Spencer brought a hand up to your cheek and wiped away a single tear. “I would marry you right now.”

You closed your eyes, pushing his hand away. “I’m sorry,” you cried. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

--------------------------

Spencer was quiet and allowed you your space, but still stayed close enough to be around. The following weeks were full of ups and downs, one of which ended with you sleeping on the couch. 

He’d said something stupid about you not trying hard enough with taking care of yourself, like he had any weight in that conversation. He couldn’t even look at himself. 

He didn't take kindly to that comment.

--------------------------

“You think it’s easy for me?” He asked. “I was in prison for-”

“You think that was easy for me? I was alone-”

“I never asked to be put in prison!” He shouted. 

“I never asked for my sister to kill herself!” You screamed. 

There was silence for a moment. 

“I’m done with you,” Spencer snapped. “We’re done.”

And your heart broke for a second time. 

--------------------------

“What happened?” Penelope asked, opening her door to you.

“We broke up,” you shrugged. “I need somewhere to stay until I can get an apartment.”

--------------------------

Penelope watched in horror as you went about your days as normal for the next three weeks. Acting as if nothing had even happened.  

Something had happened. Your life had changed in two major ways. You weren’t a fiancé anymore. You weren’t a sister anymore. You were nothing. At least, that’s what it felt like. 

And nothings aren’t FBI agents. 

--------------------------

You sat in Emily’s office with a sullen look on your face. Her’s had drained of all colour when you handed in your gun and resigned. 

“You’re serious?” she asked. 

“Deadly.” 

“You’re happy?” she asked again, meeting your eyes. 

“No.” 

She nodded, understanding your issues and pulled you in for a motherly hug. “We’ll miss you a lot.”

“Don’t be a stranger,” you sighed, lying to both of you. The phone would not be working both ways. She’d call and leave voice notes, and you’d listen to them but never reply. But it would be enough for the both of you. 

“You’d never be a stranger to me,” she smiled sadly. Emily had been like a sister since the beginning. She’d always looked out for you. She’d always been there for you. “I’d suggest cleaning out your desk before Reid comes in next week,” she nodded, wiping her tears. 

“It’s done.” 

Emily nodded, then smiled at you. “You’re going to do something so special.” 

“Thank you,’ you whispered, your emotions getting the better of you. 

--------------------------

“Where’s Y/n?” Spencer asked, sitting at the roundtable. “Her desk is empty.”

“She left last week, Spence,” Jj admitted. “We thought she’d told you?” 

“What? No, she didn’t tell me?” 

“She’s your fiancé Spencer, she obviously had to tell you.”

Penelope and Emily made brief eye-contact. Spencer looked down. 

“We broke up.” 

Jj’s jaw dropped, Luke’s jaw dropped. 

“She’s gone,” Emily sighed. “Sorry Spencer.”

--------------------------

Spencer’s world was in black and white. You were gone. You’d left. His love was gone. 

How would he survive?

--------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)

[uselessmicrowave]

hey its me again 😼

imagine Graves walking past your room and hearing your moans and whimpers as you touch yourself... i bet he cant help but lean against the door and jerk it to your pants hehe

GGRHRR BARKBARK

Graves hated the way you tempted him. Without knowing, too. That was the worst part, you acted all innocent about it.

He, in the hallway, walks past your room’s door, hearing a whimper from inside. The pang of arousal he felt in his core from that alone could’ve sent him to his knees. Graves leans against the doorframe, frustrated, he fumbles with his belt.

He can practically feel his jeans getting tighter around his waist when you let out another whine, he attempts to unbuckle his belt without the clanking sounds of the metal. Graves could hear you panting behind your door, he wouldn’t be able to look you in your eyes the next day in a mission breifing.

“Fhhck…” you whine, probably biting onto something, your blanket, a pillow, maybe even your sleeve, that had him going. He’s just throbbing now, dick still in his boxers, his jeans peeled back just enough for him to trace around his tip.

If only you could see what you do to him, he's pressed himself against the wall outside your door, shaking, practically needing to cum in his pants like a fucking schoolboy.

God dammit.