#i hate that im enough of a fuck up that literally no one can manage me not even me

[britneyshakespeare]

you know someday i'm gonna feel so good when i have my student loans paid off

that ain't gonna be soon, trust me, but i think about it

[kal-thas]

guys when the disability is disabling 👎

[bo0zey]

when gerard way said “when i grow up i want to be nothing at all” i felt those words in my gdamn soul bro

[wutheringmights]

.

[h3rmitsunited]

I was going back through my old school stuff from like 1st grade and there was this like journal where we had to write like a couple sentences each day to practice writing and stuff and i had this one day where part of what I wrote was "I hate myself today because I had to change my card to yellow" (the cards were like discipline things so you started with green and if you weren't being good you had to stand up and go to the front of the class to change your card) and I don't remember what it was for but I'm sure I was just like maybe talking or something like that.

But like damn. Even just thinking about the times I had to change my cards in those classes makes me want to cry. I remember always being so upset anytime the teachers weren't happy with me and then I think about me now and how I'm always expecting people to think the worst of me or be hiding that they don't like me or always expecting the other shoe to drop even if they've been telling me I'm doing a good job because I'm bad and I need them to just tell me why and what exactly they're holding back

And I've got a review coming up at work soon with my bosses since it's almost my 6 year anniversary of working there and all I can think is oh good now they can stop telling me how great I am and how happy they are to have me there and just tell me everything I'm doing wrong because I know the compliments aren't right and they have to have been holding back what all my issues are.

And I think something in my upbringing may have kind of fucked my head up... just a little bit

[mental-skillness]

i hate the person i am

[our-lady-of-mcr]

.

[reidrum]

like i would | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

a/n: ok im gonna be honest idk how i feel about this one, i just wanted to finish it and put it out so apologies in advance if its not the best lol. this was requested with the prompt "i bet he can't fuck you like i can"! feedback and reblogs are always appreciated ! thanks for being paitent while i got this one out <3

cw: 18+ minors dni, smut, fingering, munch!spencer, jealous!spencer, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you whack it), reader's bf has a name which i hate in fics but its so hard to write this trope without a name so, afab!reader,

summary: a confession about your sex life makes it's way to the one person you'd hope wouldn't hear, and now he's determined to rectify the way you've been wronged

wc: 4.5k

_____________

you were a great asset to the bau. it was why you were personally recommended by emily to transfer out of sex crimes, the skill set you brought alongside the field training you had proved to be vital for the team’s success lately. you were also a great asset to the team. the bau was notorious for having people turnover fast, and you knew they were apprehensive with newcomers. but you managed to hit it off with every single member, one more than others.

spencer reid did not expect someone like you to join the team. not that he didn’t have faith in your talents and skills, he’s read your file and obviously knows you’re more than qualified to be here. he just did not expect someone who looked like you to join the team, someone who didn’t look beaten down by the horrors of the world and still believed in pots of gold at the end of rainbows. 

it didn’t help that you were so beautiful he literally would feel his heart ache when you walked in. like literally, would have to rub his chest to soothe the pain. and as spencer would, he would logic out his feelings with science because that’s all they are, scientific chemical reactions in the body. but what he felt in your friendship, what he felt when he was lucky enough to be in your presence, was something no textbook, theorem, or equation could explain.

so imagine the size of the fucking hammer coming down on his head when he finds out you have a boyfriend who: 1. is not him, and 2. is an actual real life bozo.

apparently you’d been seeing damon from organized crime for about a month now, that’s what he heard from penelope, and you ‘claim’ to be super happy. 

spencer doesn’t buy it.

he’s seen the way your ‘relationship’ operates, and he’s got the facts to back it up. damon never lets you get a word in when you’re in group settings, even purposefully talking over you when you’re clearly attempting to speak. majority of the time he’s condescending about your job as a profiler for the bau, saying that him and his team bring down drug rings, but you guys ‘just read their horoscope or whatever and decide the killer.’

it made spencer’s blood boil hotter than the sun. he couldn’t figure out why you put up with it, and why you continue to.

the final straw that broke the camel's back about his disapproval on your relationship choices, is what he overheard on the jet one time on the way back from a case.

the girls were talking in the back of the jet, unaware of spencer’s very awake mind despite his visibly sleeping body.

“i don’t know guys,” you had started with a sigh, “you think it’s weird right?”

“that your own boyfriend won’t go down on you? yeah hon, that’s fucking weird.” emily strikes.

“what did he say exactly?” jj asked.

“he said it increases the risk of STIs on the mouth? and doesn’t like the feeling of thighs crushing his head? and that even with all the … grooming … it’s still unnatural ?”

emily gagged while jj continued, “um…but do you like…on him?”

“yes! he literally won’t touch me unless i do!” you rage whisper.

“i am about to give him an organized crime to deal with,” emily half jokes, “what an asshole, why are you still with him?”

“i don’t know, he’s still nice to me i guess, and maybe i’m just being dramatic. or maybe i’m just not someone people go down on, who knows.” you sigh.

spencer stops listening, he can’t hear you talk so poorly of yourself. not when it’s so far from the truth yet you’ve been indoctrinated to think it’s accurate. how anyone could take advantage of you like that is beyond him, but it did light a fire inside of him and made him determined to help you realize you deserve so much better. if that happens to be him, then who is he to fight that?

—

spencer doesn’t get his chance to prove it to you for another two weeks, when you’d come over to his apartment for a movie night after getting in a fight with damon, your date night being canceled and leading you to spencer’s doorsteps, all dolled up with tears lining your eyes asking to come in.

he doesn’t even have time to be mad at your shithole boyfriend when he’s ushering you inside, offering you to sit on the couch while he goes and put a kettle on the stove for tea.

“i’m really sorry to just show up like this, spence.”

he doesn’t even blink before calling out from the kitchen, “don’t apologize, i’m always here for you. anytime and anywhere.”

you give him a soft smile before returning your gaze to the soft glow of doctor who.

he returns cradling two mugs in one hand and a pack of haribo gummies in the other. spencer doesn’t care for gummies, he’s more of a chocolate guy, but he knows it’s your favorite. so he makes sure to keep a couple bags in his apartment for you.

“my favorite!” you gush. his heart warms at your smile as he sits next to you on the couch. you naturally gravitate towards him to lean your head on his shoulder, and it’s automatic for spencer to wrap an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer.

the whirs and whooshes of the tardis fill the silence for the next hour as you visibly become calmer than when you first arrived. he decides this is a good time to ask, “do you want to talk about it?” as he turns his head to look at you.

“i don’t know,” you say quietly popping another gummy in, “i’m starting to believe it's just a me problem. like, maybe i’m just objectively not a great partner, and that’s why we keep getting in these fights. you know this time, he said i’m not worth all the effort and stress i bring him and that because of me he’s gonna bald at 29? i’m not a scientist like you or anything but even i know that, at least, can’t be my fault.” you end with a chuckle.

spencer knows he should probably comfort you in this time of honesty you’ve graced him with, squash your insecurities like a pesky bug on the windshield, and tell you how beautiful you are in as many words it’ll take for you to believe it (and he knows a lot of words).

but right now? he’s just fucking pissed.

not at you, never at you. at your situation, yes. at that sorry excuse of a partner let alone agent, immensely.

so he can’t help what escapes his mouth next, “why do you let yourself get treated like shit?”

you look up at him in surprise, at both the cursing and what he said, “what?”

“you’re constantly talking about how awful he treats you, and yet everyday you still go back to him knowing it’s going to repeat the next day. i just want to know why you don’t respect yourself enough to not let that happen to you.”

pulling away to sit far from him on the couch,  you start letting the annoyance show on your face, “spencer, that’s not fair at all. you think it’s my fault? do you really think i want to feel like this?”

“yes!” he shouts, “you seem like you do with how much you crawl back to him everytime, and everytime you let him back in.”

“okay, i think i should go,” you stand up and grab your things, “it was a mistake to come here, goodbye spencer.”

he grabs your wrist before you can get too far, “i just have to know, what is it?”

“what’s what spence, let me go.”

“what keeps you going back to him, it can’t be because you love him. it’s obviously not because you’re happy with him,” he lets out.

“you don’t know anything about me or my life, spencer!” you snatch away your arm and start heading towards the door.

“it’s definitely not because the sex is good, because i know it’s not.”

any emotion you had on your face wipes away like an etch a sketch, staring blankly at the door, hearing the man you’ve harbored a crush on since you started at the bureau years ago, telling you he knows your sex life is abysmal.

your voice comes out small, “h- how would you know that?” you don’t dare to turn around, knowing that if you did any resolve you held onto, any denial of emotions you’ve stripped from yourself would come pouring out like a broken dam.

the couch groans at a loss of weight, and the floorboards creak closer and closer to you.

“i heard you, on the jet.”

you’re especially glad he can’t see the blood draining from your face. if your heart already wasn’t at your feet, it’s most likely six feet under at this point. 

he heard you?

“when you were talking with the others about how he doesn’t reciprocate, and won’t sleep with you unless you get him off.” he continues.

the room is getting hotter by the millisecond, temperature about to be comparable to the sun’s core. it’s one thing to have just anyone hear the intimate details of your life, but spencer? the man to which you’d been using damon to get over?

the only sound that can be heard is your increasingly heavy breathing, and spencer feels like he’s caught a fish on his line and is ready to reel you in as he inches closer to you.

“you’re okay with that? not being taken care of in the way you deserve?”

his presence is merely nanometers behind you, the ghost of his fingers looking for landing on your hips. when you don’t move away, and he hears your breath hitch at the contact, he sets his hands more earnestly on your curves as he leans down to the nape of your neck.

“just don’t know,” kiss, “how anyone,” kiss, “wouldn’t want,” kiss, “to give you everything.” kiss.

your head lolls back onto his firm chest as he whispers in your ear, “cat got your tongue, sweetheart? you were so mouthy not even five minutes ago. be honest with me, has he even ever made you come?”

the whimpers escape you without warning and you find a single decibel of voice to speak, “spencer…” hoping the whine would dissuade him to let it go.

“uh uh, i asked you a question,” his arm tightens around the front of your waist to press back and fully feel him, “answer me.”

your lexicon has depleted except for the one word you know he’s desperately waiting for you to say, and the one he knows is the answer. yet you know the second it leaves your mouth, everything changes. and maybe you’re okay with that.

“no.”

spencer hums lowly, “has anyone made you come?”

“no.” you say again, softer this time.

“should we change that?”

this was not what you expected when you came to see him after your failed night out. the amount of processing you’d done in the last year to essentially not be thinking about spencer 24/7 was extensive. and you were ready to render it all useless in a matter of seconds.

so you let the strap of your bag fall down your arm and hit the ground with a thud, and finally turned around to look the good doctor in his eyes. while his voice held traces of anger and frustration, you came to see his eyes were full of reassurance and comfort, the spence you always knew to prioritize your wellbeing more than anything.

he looked down at you and slid his hand to up to cup your jaw, and he hears the smallest murmur, so delicate yet so full of want leave your lips.

“yes.”

that was all spencer needed to catch your lips in a heated kiss, moving your body to the closest wall as he places a hand behind your head to protect you from the wall’s impact while the other pins your waist to the wall.

you move your arms to wrap around his neck and keep him pinned to you with no escape, like he’d ever want to. his lips detach from yours and make a descent towards your neck again, taking deliberate effort to locate the sensitive spots.

he finds one just behind your ear and spends time sucking and bruising up the spot, relishing in the soft whimpers leaving your mouth. while you’re lost in the sensation on your neck, you don’t notice spencer move one of his hands closer to the button of your pants, effortlessly (and impressively) opening it up.

detaching from your neck with a heavy pant, he moves back to lean against your forehead with his own and look you in the eyes to ask, “is this okay? we can stop if you want, i didn’t mean to be so forw-“

“please don’t stop.”

he searches your eyes for any conflict and finds none, considering it the okay to continue his downward descent. he returns his lips to the second home they’ve made on your lips and starts to push your pants down over the curve of your ass, leaving your panties on.

the flash of purple lace underwear glares at him when he glances down, and suddenly he remembers what got him in this position in the first place.

“were you wearing this for him?” he lets out condescendingly, “you really think he deserved to see you like this?”

spencer’s fingers brush against your front, leaving your heavy breaths hitting him in the face. you can’t think of anything to say. hell, you’re not even sure if you know any words right now. all you can offer is a pathetic moan, and spencer doesn’t think that’s enough.

“come on, don’t get all shy now. what were you expecting him to even do, hm? thought you said he didn’t care about making you feel good.” he taunts as his middle finger traces the outlines of your cunt through your panties.

you shudder at the contact, leaning your head back against the wall as he refuses to break eye contact. he’s waiting for you to say something, raising his eyebrows expectantly as he’s slowed down his movements on you. taking a shallow breath you open your mouth, “h-, he didn’t care, just thought if i ke-, kept looking nice he’d wanna, fuck, do something.” you moan out.

“and did he?” he moved his hand back up to slowly slip into your panties.

his finger dips all the way down to your entrance to gather your wetness and spread it all the way back up to your clit, your mouth dropping open as you let out a whiny, “no.”

“what a shame.” he dips a finger into your hole and you let out a pornographic moan.

he drags his finger in and out slowly making sure to watch your face as it contorts in pleasure. once he feels you’ve gotten used to it he slips in a second finger, increasing the pace and moving his thumb to circle your clit again.

“oh fuck,” you cry.

“baby, you’re so tight.” he whispers. the way you clenched around his two digits made feel almost pussy drunk, and he wasn’t even inside you yet. he starts to wonder if damon was doing anything really to prioritize your pleasure, and it only just worked him up more. he felt more determined to bring you to finish, so he picks up the pace and increases the pressure on your clit.

you drop your head to his shoulder no longer being able to hold yourself up anymore, the sensation of his fingers on you taking over, loose whimpers and moans falling out of your mouth every other second.

“spencer…shit, i’m gonna come…”

“let go for me, baby.” he whispers in your ear.

the pleasure barrels through you like a wrecking ball, knocking the wind out of your mind and body. your legs turn into jelly and you almost fall before spencer holds you up. you try to regulate your breathing into his shoulder, hoping to calm down before you look up and meet his eyes again.

he makes that choice for you when he gingerly lifts your head up, his eyes silently asking if you’re okay. you don’t even bother responding before softly pressing your lips to his again, hoping he can feel your response to his silent question.

the kiss picks up in urgency, and soon his hands are back to exploring your body again. they slide down to the backs of your thighs while he murmurs a small, “jump.” and lifts you to wrap your legs around his waist. without breaking the kiss he walks you both to his bedroom and places you on his bed with care.

his fists flank you on both sides as he leans down to kiss you, and he moves further down kissing along your neck and chest. you reach down to the bottom of your top to pull it over your head, leaving you in the purple lacy bra that matches your panties.

he detaches from you and stands at full height, gazing at the sight of you spread out on his bed with your hair framing you like a halo. he can’t even help himself when he says, “you look so beautiful, angel.” the blush rises to your cheeks, and you beckon him to come back down to which he happily obliges.

spencer moves down further towards your hips, and his lips ghost over the lace band spreading along your waist. his fingers play with the fabric and he moves his face to be directly in line with your clothed cunt. your breathing gets heavy, and you anticipate what he’s about to do.

“wait, you don’t, you don’t have to do that, spence. i already came.” starting to feel a bit guilty at the man above you potentially feeling obligated to do this, as you realize that if he heard you on the jet, he heard about the one thing damon refused to do for you.

“sweetheart, i’d love to keep making you feel good as long as you let me, okay? you gonna let me make you feel good?” he breaths, pressing chaste kisses to your inner thighs.

you give a slight nod and he gently pulls your panties off your legs, marveling at the light glistening off your cunt. he kisses up the plush of your thighs before pausing right where you need him the most. you look down at him and meet his unwavering eyes full of love.

he places a long kiss to your core before licking a long stripe. you moan out languishly, the euphoric feeling taking over every sense in your body. you’re unable to comprehend how you went so long without feeling this, it almost feels criminal. and the way spencer was eating you out, felt like this was doing it for him too even though you were the one getting pleasured. 

it turned you on even more to know he was getting off on how much you were enjoying this. your head was spinning off into another realm, and the only thing tethering you to this reality was the grip of your hands in his hair. his tongue made circles and shapes all over your cunt before dipping down to thrust into your hole.

your thighs shake and threaten to clamp shut on his head, and he uses his wide hands to wrap around your thighs to hold them in place. “oh my god fuck, that feels so good…spence…please..” you’re not even sure what you’re begging for, but of course, spencer does when he adds a finger into your hole and moves his tongue to focus back on your clit. the combined sensations were enough to tip you over the edge for the second time tonight, your release glistening on his chin as he moved back up to kiss your lips again.

your heavy panting tries to bring you back down from your high, a mix of sweat and the taste of you lingering everywhere. 

spencer smooths your hair back as he moves his body to lie next to you, “i think, damon’s a fucking loser, if he doesn’t think that’s worth doing.” he says between pants.

you hum in agreement, or just in acknowledgement at whatever he said since you’re still reeling from the endorphin release. hiking your leg over his body to straddle him, you clumsily reach for his belt and attempt to undo the clasps to reach his growing member. you pull his pants down and palm him through his boxers, reveling in the broken moans falling from his mouth. you start inching downwards when spencer grabs you by the forearms and flips you over so you’re back on the bed staring up at him.

“not tonight, sweetheart. it’s about you right now, wanna make sure you know what you deserve.”

“but…” you pathetically respond.

“i don’t know what that neanderthal tells you, but sex is not transactional. i think if i ever see that guy again, i’d punch him for making you think otherwise.”

the words go straight to your core, turning you on even more. spencer takes note of how your pupils widen and your chin tilts up towards him.

“besides,” he presses his crotch to yours, “the sex wasn’t even that good with him, right?”

you moan out again, unable to find words to satisfy his question. he leans back up and off the bed to fully remove his boxers and you finally get a good look at what was underneath.

holy fuck, he was huge. you propped yourself on your forearms to get a better look at him, and watched as he lazily stroked himself while he sauntered back over to you. the image was so lewd, you hoped you could borrow some of his eidetic memory so you could hold on to this moment forever.

his face held a smug smirk at your awestruck one, and he felt his ego inflate even higher, “by the looks of your reaction, i’m guessing he’s never been much of a, challenge, for you in bed has he?”

you dumbly shake your head no, “definitely not as big as you.” you whisper, more to yourself than him.

his smirk grows wider, “don’t worry, baby, i’ll take real good care of you.” he says as he climbs over you to line himself up to your entrance.

you feel him slowly start to push in, the sensation of being split open growing bigger by the second. your brows furrow and your eyes are shut tight as you wait for the pressure to turn into pleasure.

if spencer thought you around his fingers had him pussydrunk, what he’s feeling now has to be close to pussy poisoning or something because he cannot think of anything in existence that feels as good as the walls of your cunt clenching around his cock. it’s taking everything in him to not break, to just fuck you senseless and reach his peak.

once his hips are flush with yours and he’s fully settled within you, he waits for you to give him the okay to move.

you, on the other hand, have never felt more full ever. damon was not nearly this big, nor has any other guy you’ve been with. it’s a bit of a miracle on how it fit inside you, and how it felt better than anything you could’ve imagined. the pressure and slight pain subsides, and with a slight nod spencer takes the cue to start moving.

the first thrust has you both moaning out in harmony together, and he sets the pace nice and slow so as to make sure you’re comfortable.

but it's not enough for you, you need him to fuck you.

“spence…harder.”

he stills at your word, leaning up so he’s perpendicular to you.

“whatever you say, princess.”

and he starts pounding into you, hips rutting at a pace you can’t even keep up with. the whimpers and moans gush out as the familiar coil begins to build within you. he taps your leg to lift it up over his shoulder to allow him deeper access, and he’s able to reach that one spot you’d heard about from all your friends, on reddit, in movies. you had no idea this type of feeling even existed, and spencer was hitting it with precision every single thrust over and over.

“fuck,” you whine.

“that feel good, baby?” he teases, “the way you’re squeezing my cock so tight, i doubt that fucker ever made you feel like this, huh?”

your tits bounce with every thrust, and the deepened angle has you reaching your climax fast. spencer feels it too and drops his head to whisper in your ear.

“i bet he’s never fucked you like this,” he continues his taunt, “he’d never be able to fuck you like i can, make you come three times in one night like i can.”

you whimper, “spencer,”

“say it, sweetheart. say no one’s ever fucked you like me.”

he was trying to kill you, death during intercourse would be a crazy way to go out but it’s a fate you’d be willing to accept. nonetheless, you comply.

“never ever, fuck, been fucked like you, baby.”

spencer has never felt more satisfied, “good girl, now come.” and with a final thrust he lets you reach your peak as he releases himself into you.

in the midst of groans he gingerly pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss.

the next few minutes are just filled with the sounds of yours and his heavy breathing, before spencer leans over to you, “was that too much?”

still in your daze you let out a soft giggle, “spencer, i think you’ve ruined all men for me.”

he smiles back, “i meant what i said, damon’s really stupid if he’s not willing to do all that for you.”

you intertwine your hand with his, “you know, i never really liked him anyway. i was just using him to get over you.”

“me?” he says incredulously.

you nod, “i didn’t know if you would’ve felt the same so i just tried to move on to someone else, stupid i know, but i don’t know it made sense then.”

he pulls you closer to rest in the crevice of his chest, “i have been into you since the day you walked into the bullpen, and letting you slip through my fingers is a mistake i will never make again.”

you hug him tightly before groaning out loud, “shit, i have to tell damon it’s over now don’t i.”

“i mean, i could tell him if you want.”

“spence, no. i think you might kill him.” you laugh, “i can do it, i just don’t want him to get all ‘organized crime’ on me.”

“just tell him i have a gun.”

“so does he?”

“mine’s bigger.” he smirks.

you roll your eyes, “well, yes.”

[xazse]

Hello! I'm a new reader and I fr love your writing, especially the scara x bunny girl!! Please need more🥺

Maybe when bunny girl got in heat while scaramouche is on a business trip. She kept touching herself but she can't cum. The best she can do probably is hump the stuffed toy scara got for her so she calls scara. However, scara kept on ranting about his day, making bunny needier so she continues her shenanigans while scara is talking. He catches her eventually and punishes her. You can be creative with it.

(I can't really depict scenarios I'm so sorry shshshshshh)

SCARAMOUCHE X BUNNYGIRL!READER

Notes: HI IM SORRY THIS IS SHORT I DIDNT WANT YOU TO THINK I WAS LIKE IGNORING YOU ITS JUST BEEN IVE BEEN IN A WRITING BLOCK SORTA 😭 I’m sorry I didn’t exactly follow the prompt I just wanted to get this out to you, again I’m extremely sorry for the lateness.

I’m so happy you love my writing and our cute bunny girl reader and scars

Pairings: Scaramouche x BunnyGirl!Reader

Tags: Humping, Scara being mean and bossy, just really filthy, hybrid!reader, Fem!Reader, NOT PROOFREAD

It’s been pure torture for you, your body feels like it’s constantly on fire and like you’re carrying a heavy weight as you go from room to room smelling various things Scara owns whilst he’s on his trip. He left you because the doctor assured that your heat wouldn’t come for at least another two weeks, he couldn’t have been more wrong.

The only things keeping you comforted and relieving your body is the stuffed animals that you insist stay on the bed when you and Scara are sleeping, he despises the things but keep them as to not upset you. So they things are filled with his scent, his lavender hair wash and woody smell lingers. You can’t help but inhale the scent in the plushies every so often.

You’ve already called him and told him about how it came earlier and the sneer that came upon his face did nothing but make you twitch, you know he’s enjoying how you’ve been suffering, he is ultimately getting off on the fact that you can’t have his cock to fill you up, it’s so frustrating but he looks so good while scolding you on how you did this on purpose, even though you literally can’t control when your heat decides to come.

One night you’re tossing and turning, when your heat finally hits you full on, moans slip from your lips as your clit throbs with need, you get a whiff of Scara again in the stuffed animal you’re currently whining into, and instantly your horny mind shifts to dirty thoughts, thoughts of his long cock battering your sensitive walls whilst he groans in your ear.

A few moments later you’re dragging your whole cunt against the poor stuffed animal, you feel bad but your hips won’t allow you to stop, won’t let you stop feeling that slight drum in your little clit. You reach your fingers down to add a little more stimulation to find your completely soaked. By now you should’ve cum, but you’re left whining into the pillows as you keep trying to hump away. His smell isn’t nearly enough your heady head deems.

You successfully managed to grab the phone and call Scara, already begging him to accept the face-call. He does and props his phone up so you can see him completely in his element, buried in paperwork with a scowl on his face, so pretty. He’s already ranting about how he hates this place and all the people in it, angry about the annoying escorts they keep sending to his room that he’s meant to fuck, he’s already said he wants nothing to do with them because they think he’ll eventually change his mind.

His eyes glide to the camera, seeing you flushed and naked? He can only see your face and shoulders.

“Are you clothed woman?” He says while closely inspecting the camera again.

Did he completely forget about the fact that you’re literally in heat?

He laughs a little and gets up, the lights in whatever room he’s in goes dark and you’re graced by his appearance again.

“What are you up to bunny?” He questions, you respond with a slight mumble under your breath but the mumble comes out too breathy. The only thing lighting up his face is the lamp by his side, it gives his skin a pretty golden gleam and that makes your cunt twitch.

“I’d forgotten about your little issue, m’sorry, do you want my help? Poor thing.” He’s doing that fake voice where it’s filled with concern but once again hes getting off on your suffering but that spurs you on too.

You hear some slight shuffling before the camera is moved downwards, where you can still see his face until his thick cock is seen, he’s fully hard: even from your conversation earlier he had been thinking and waiting for you to call him. He starts slow when he strokes himself, precise hands slide up and down while he maintains eye contact with you. You feel weird, a good weird.

“Nu, uh, bunny, don’t you dare, keep doing what you were doing before” he manages to get out inbetween stuttered breathing. He knows you were about to touch yourself using your fingers, but no he wants you to keep humping your stuffed animal.

“Won’t work, Kuni” you whine out, god he squeezes his tip, he loves when you get like this but he won’t tolerate you disobeying. “Do as I say” he gives no room for arguments with his sharp tone. Your ears deflate but you do as you’re told and start gliding your messy cunt back and forth. Scara seems pleased to see you further ruin yourself: you can see him start stroking himself faster, saying your name over and over through clenched teeth, calling you a good bunny for listening so well to him.

He tells you to show the mess you’ve made, you don’t protest as you shift to sit up and spread your legs in front of the camera, you really are dripping. He fantasizes about just how good you’ll feel wrapped around him, how he’s going to make you cum so many times on his fingers then you’ll be able to have his cock. Your fingers trail down, he’s about to scold you but you use your fingertips to pry your pussy so he can really get a full view.

Loud moans slip from his lips as his balls tighten hard, and he’s cumming with thick spurts. You don’t hear a few words but you do make out how he’ll be back shortly.

[gremlingottoosilly]

oh my god i love ur writings sm, im gonna sharw a lil silly thought i had for a while now

okay so..im really into all soft könig and loving husband könig but.....him getting mad at us but like in the possesive jealous way.

ive seen alot of girlfriends pranks their bf by saying "i miss my ex.." and i kept wondering how would könig react if we prank him like that yk 😵😵

Ah, so you have chosen death. Konig is by no means a confident man. He is cocky, yes, his ego is as giant as his dick - but this is all a very clever disguise of his disgustingly soft and fragile core. He is afraid of losing you, nervous of not being enough because, deep down, he understands that this is who he is - a pervert, a guy well in his thirties who dates a younger woman because he has no luck with women his age, who see his obsessive and desperate tendencies for what it's worth. He is gaslighting himself into thinking you didn't have a life before him. no exes, no past lovers, he manages to convince himself to think you were a virgin before he magically came and picked you up to be his wife - so, he doesn't take any mentions of your ex well, even the prank ones. If you hated the poor bastard, then congratulations - you just managed to kill him with a few words. Konig is on a mission to find the guy/girl/pal and kill them, preferably in the most gruesome way. You can already feel that the prank had gone wrong just by Konig's eyes - if you don't want any homicide to be committed, you would have to immediately reveal the prank and suffer the wrath of jealous and possessive sex you will experience for the next two weeks in case your Colonel husband is off the deployment - Konig needs to fuck the feeling of of his system, and he is not afraid to literally lock you up in the house again, forbidding you from even stepping out in the nearest months.

[chrissturniolosbiggestslut]

— HOW U FEEL?

┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐

in which:

chris's favorite thing about you is your eyes, and he makes sure you know it.

(i hate to admit it but i actually hate this and my vision did not go as planned so)

warnings: literally none, pure tooth-rotting fluff

"every time i look in your eyes, i look away mesmerized and you shine brighter than the stars that decorate the night sky," - destroy lonely; how u feel? 0:26-0:33.

**NOT PROOFREAD**

└───❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚┘

one of your favorite things about you and chris's relationship was that you both were very lovey, cuddly people once you got comfortable. the two of you couldn't even manage to go a single day without some form of physical touch; whether that be chris's hand in the back pocket of your jeans, or him atop of you with your hands carding through his hair peacefully.

in fact, that's exactly where you two find yourselves right now. chris was laying on top of you, his arms wrapped securely around your waist with his head on your stomach. your hands ran through his dark hair, scratching his scalp softly every so often. you heard the boy hum in satisfaction, smiling softly at the vibrations that tickled your body.

nick looked over at you two, a disgusted look covering his face. "so are we gonna fucking do anything or are the two of you just gonna be lame whores all day?" he asks. though nick acts absolutely sick at you and chris's relationship, you both know that he actually thinks you two are adorable; he's admitted to it many times.

chris shook his head against you, wrapping his arms tighter than you thought he could. "im actually pretty comfortable right now, nick. so, no thanks. keep playing with my hair baby," he mutters. you laugh, placing your hand back in his hair. 

matt scoffs, "i wish you guys weren't so boring now," he states, eliciting a face from you.

"shut the fuck up, matt. you're just mad that you're single… and a virgin."

at that, matt whips his body around, his eyes wide. "i am not!"

you tilt your head in amusement, smirking at the boy. "is that so? because last time i checked-" you look down, twisting sections of chris's hair around your finger.

"y/n shut your mouth," matt demands, returning back to his original position, embarrassed.

chris sits up from atop of you, "k, can you two leave my room now?" chris asks his siblings, but he's not exactly asking; more so demanding.

nick rolls his eyes, standing up from the end of the bed and walking out, not before shouting "boo you whores!" in the doorframe. matt's next to stand up from chris's chair, leaving without a word and shutting the door behind him.

you look down at chris as he looks up at you. he's gone back to laying on top of you, his chin on your stomach as he admires you. you smile softly, "y'know, you didn't have to kick them out."

the boy completely ignores your comment, "your eyes are so pretty. did ya'know that i love your eyes? they're just so beautiful; they compliment your face so well," he rambles, a soft pink coating his cheeks the longer he looks at you.

your cheeks seem to return the favor, your smiles grows and soon enough your cheesing at the boy. you turn to the side to hide your face in a pillow. "stop!" you squeal.

he smiles, "what? i mean they're just perfect. your eyelashes too. i don't know how i got so lucky, ma. you're just perfect."

you can almost feel the burning heat in your cheeks, turning back to face him, shoving his face away with your palm. "shut up," you reply simply.

chris puts his hands up in defense, "my fault that i managed to bag the most perfect-ist bitch there is!"

you raise an eyebrow at him, looking at the boy with a warning look. he stutters, "i- i mean the most perfect-ist woman there is," he scratches the back of his neck.

"yeah that's what i thought. also it's not perfect-ist you moron idiot. did you learn anything in school?"

[sturn3]

i lowkey really got out of hand, girl... i'm sorry, i can re-do it if you'd like!!! (btw im not really sorry, im kinda proud of the smut i wrote) tw: not proofread cause im kinda lazy rn

matt's girlfriend was the sweetest angel anyone had ever met. always putting everyone's needs before her own. never wanting to disappoint anyone and she just had a very motherly nature, needing to take care of everyone around her.

so, that translated that she was a pathological people pleaser. taking up extra shifts at her work, always saying yes to her boss even though she didn't want to do something he suggested, giving her coworkers rides home, baking them the cookies she once brought to work and everyone continuesly asked for, giving rides to her coworkers and so much more.

her natural instinct of saying yes to everything to please everyone left her exhausted all the time. so, when she did have free time all she'd do is nap, that would be the case, of course, if no one of her friends called her to hang out or have her do some kind of chore. matt had finally had enough of missing his girlfriend so much and never having any time with her. and that's when he decided to intervene.

firstly, he decided to mix up her white laundry with a piece of red clothing, painting all of her formal clothes and cute lingerie, pink. you moved on and said, "That's fine, sweetie. everyone makes mistakes." matt had to work harder to pull out the beast he knew you were hiding.

secondly, he started messing up all of your orders. putting onion and peppers in every order, two vegetables you hated passionately.you did show a little more aggression towards that, but you picked the disgusting veggies off and made no deal about it.

thirdly, matt thought this was his best shot at getting out the worst version of you. you were currently enjoying a party at full swing, everyone was having fun and drinking. you were with your girlfriends a few feet away from where you had last left matt. what you had failed to realize yet was that matt had some added companion from the last time you looked over to him. a girl glued to his side. at that moment ,you didn't think you'd ever been angrier. matt tried to hide his smirk as he saw you stalking over to him with crossed arms over your chest. when you got there, you tapped the girl aggressively on her shoulder, causing her to turn around and give you a look as if you were the one interrupting something. she suddenly spoke, "what do you want?" she said as her big brown eyes bored over your figure,"for you to stop talking to my boyfriend." you said as you pushed her out of the way and grabbed matt by his hand.

you had to managed to get away from the crowded house party and inside his parked car."can you tell me why the fuck that bitch was on you like that? you fucking bored of me or something?" you said as you slapped down his neck, matt couldn't help but smile wickedly. "maybe." he replied testing you even more, he knew he was playing with fire. "maybe, huh?? i'll fucking show you how boring i am, matt. get in the back and strip." he knew not to piss you off more so that's what he did. finally, you climed to the backseat right after he had obeyed and done everything you had asked him to.

"so, you think you're funny, matt, yeah? you think i'm such a people pleasure who would let you fuck some random dumb whore?" oh my god, did he love seeing this side of you. he made a mental note to piss you more often. he was getting a bit too excited while you were sat on top of his lap and quite literally could feel his dick stood up against your thigh. "no, no that's not what i was trying to do. i love you, baby." you laughed bitterly at that, grabbing him by his face and pulling his lips close enough to yours, touching but never kissing, "well, i think you deserve a lesson, baby." you said mocking him. so you got to work. you were currently on your knees on the floor of his car, leaving kisses on the length of his dick and occasional "kitten" licks on his tip. taking your sweet time teasing him and making it more painful each moment you passed without doing anything further. the growns you'd hear of him, making your core drip to the carpet of his car, due to your lack of underwear. whenever he'd to push your head so you could take him further into your mouth, you'd shake your head and shot him a disapproving look and he'd quickly let go. after a while of teasing him, you decided to fully take him in your mouth. he almost came when your warm mouth came into contact with his dick. your movements slow and steady. keeping him guessing your next movement. he knew not to try you, either. but when you felt his dick twitch in your mouth, you decided it was time to let go. you had brought him to such point of overstimulation and overwhelm that he could feel tears spill from his eyes. sat perched up on his lap with your legs spread, your skirt so shirt, giving him a view of your pantie-less pussy, he wanted to cry. so, when you finally leaned in to kiss him, he sighed in relief. your lips moving so hungrily against each other, his kiss so bruising. you could feel his hands grab the bottom of your tight crop top and pull it off your head. hands immediately going to grab at your breasts, meanwhile kissing and sucking your collarbones. then, he went down to suck your nipples, paying equal attention to both of them, his hands dropping to play with you clit. your pornographic moans filling the silence of his car. when you pulled his hands away to replace them with his dick he was gone for. he came almost immediately, as expected. but that didn't stop you. you weren't gonna stop if you didn't get to cum. so you eagerly moved on his dick trying to reach your high. your breasts jumping up and down on his face, a sight he wishes he could see every waking second of his life. that fueled him to thrust up inside you, not being able to resist but play with your tits once more. kissing and sucking. "you're so perfect, baby. no one could compare to you, my love." he said as he pulled from your tits and looking up at you with a lust filled gaze. both of you came to a high eventually. completely spent from your actions. "you love this side of me, don't you?" you accused matt, he couldn't help but let out the biggest smile "mhm yeah really turns me on how crazy you can get.", "oh, is that so?" "yes, i love my sweet kind girlfriend but baby you need to let out more the insane girl only i get to see."

[moondirti]

DEE IK THIS IS SO OFF THE BAT BUT IMAGINE RIDING MIGUEL’S ABS??!;!;?:?:? WHATS UR CRUMB ON THAT BCS IM LITERALLY ASCENDING INTO HEAVEN JUST BY THE THOUGHT OF IT😩☝🏼

SUMMARY: after the events of DOUBLE RAPTURE, we follow Mig back home and explore his less than ideal relationship with his world's version of you.

explicit (18+) | 1.5k words

part one / can be read as a standalone! WARNINGS: smut, ab-riding, handjobs, codependant relationships, submissive (?) miguel, ANGST, fear of commitment (on the reader's part), implied parental issues, drinking, anxious/avoidant attachment styles NOTES: did this take me forever to respond to? yes. have i been thinking about it every day since i received it? also yes. please have a little drabble as a sweet treat for your genius mind, anon. sorry i took it too far

This is how it is with Miguel.

Buttressed on a leather couch that isn't so much leather anymore, but cotton dotted with the flakes of black suede that've managed to hold on through the years since you bought it. It's old, unstable – somewhat an apt metaphor for your relationship to the man – and stands situated across a television with no cable. He shows up at your door on any unannounced night, where for once you wish he'd catch you with plans pre-made, and intrudes on your vain attempt to connect the old screen to your neighbour's internet.

And it's ironic that you should end up watching dated cartoons anyway, stuck inside your apartment that is a fraction the size of his, because he always opens on some variation of the same line – the very thing that woo'd you all those years ago, when you were younger and prone to any man's charm:

What's a pretty thing like you do in a place like this?

It's dark outside – night-worn inhibition being one of the main constituents to poor decision making – and his skin gleams golden in the dim lamp light. You can't refuse him for all your rationale on why, so he comes in and you pour a strong drink whose hangover tomorrow will take precedence over your guilt. He drinks too, perhaps to make your eventual rejection easier, and the two of you make-out on that tumbledown couch until your lips turn blue.

Sometimes, he comes up for air – only when he gathers enough courage to break away from you – to whisper filthy nothings and little promises on the shell of your ear. Neither are empty, you know. Miguel’s good at making good of every word when it comes to you. The push and pull gets to him, fuels his gears until he’s pouring proper work into making you happy. From what you can physically face – gonna have you creaming on my cock, cariño – to prospects that remain ever-frightening – wanna stay like this forever, you on my lap, sharing our home. 

You’ve never had a reference to ‘our’. Commitment remains a fickle thing for you, instilled by parents who didn’t have the mind to give it. He knows as much, but you don’t think he understands just what keeps you around regardless. What keeps you at the door, waiting for an acknowledged three-knuckle knock. None of the in betweens, flowers, nor the heights you reach spread-eagled underneath him. It’s always just been exactly that – his return, done every time without fail. 

(And there’s the ever-negging fear that one day he’ll grow sick of the cycle. 

On one hand, you hope he does. It hurts him more than it does you, and you hate to watch him leave. Yet on the other, more volatile hand – you pray he fucks you so well you forget your reserve, that he breeds and carries you away from this hole you’ve dug yourself in.) 

For now, though–

For now, you lift the shirt off his frame. He’s let his chest-hair grow since you met him last, and if you strain to remember, he’s gotten bulkier. Abs more pronounced, with pecs that bounce when you graze your nails down his side. It’s refined, a look that makes him appear older. You swoop down to lick his neck, moaning hotly once you reach his mouth. 

“You been working out, Mig?” 

“For you, hermosa. Figured you’d like me better like this.” He groans, kneading the flesh of your thighs. His fingers dip into the waistband of your underwear, snapping it on your skin in an explicit plea to take it off. 

“And who told you that?” You say, acquiescing, working the lacey strip off your hips. Your cunt sucks at it, belligerent in letting go now that it’s soaked the fabric through. 

“A couple I met. They remind me of us.” His head follows yours when you draw away from an attempted kiss. It’s unintentional, done to stand off and strip completely, yet his reaction to it sends little tremors of pleasure to your core. “Of what we could be.” 

“Shhhh.” Once you’re completely bare, tits freed from your tank top, you straddle him again, a little higher this time. His waist is cinched enough to allow you to do so with little fuss, tendons at the top of your thighs aching only slightly. “Make me feel good, please.” 

“Of course.” 

His thumb presses down on your swollen clit, holding it in place while you arch your back and trap it underneath you – sandwiching it between your mound and his midriff. The pressure is electric, charged to fervency, buzzing as it lights every nerve ending from your waist below. And three thrusts forth and back see to it that he’s slick, lubed with the juices that gradually seep from your needy slit. 

The sight, the sensations, the thought that he’s putting effort outside of this room for you – they all make you exceedingly weak. Your legs wobble, practically jello, spine made out of sand and unable to support you fully. Miguel stays firm, one large paw squeezing your breast and the other at your pelvis. You’d ask him to help, to move you against him until you see stars, but a stone lodges in your throat and prevents the words from finding clarity. 

It’s guilt, of that you’re familiar, but for a number of things; the fact that he would help you seek pleasure in spite of his own – his erection left abandoned under the confines of his pants. The idea of desecrating his hard work, those muscles made pronounced, with your filth without fully appreciating it first. For everything, everything, and it’s so crushing that you stop moving altogether. 

“No, no. C’mon, pretty. Keep going.” He begs, pelvis thrusting up with need. You shove your arm behind you, seeking out the zipper keeping him from you, palming his hard length with clumsy assurance “Don’t worry about me. Wanna feel you cum on my abs. Gonna lick you clean after. We have forever if you’d let me. There’s no rush.” 

No rush. It’s far from the typical Miguel sentiment, and you blink in perplexed contemplation. But he just grins, brows knitting up with reverence. 

“Did these people also teach you to take your time?” You struggle to say patience, because he’s always been patient with you. 

“Something along the lines.” He mutters, suddenly sheepish. His fangs always intrude when his tone is quiet, like they’re intentionally making him difficult to understand. He knows he’s special to you when you try to decipher it nonetheless. 

“Don’t be making me jealous, now.” You taunt, dipping to bite his lip. It’s fun to pull up, up, until he whines and shoves you harder onto him. Achingly empty and close to cumming on his abdomen alone. Slowly, you start to gyrate again, riding unrelenting sinew. And in the meanwhile, you manage to get his zipper undone, sneaking your hand beneath his briefs.

“I’ll explain lat… later, p-promise.” 

“I don’t doubt it. F-Fuck,” Somehow, the pleasure is simultaneously heavenly and not enough, this little game you decided to engage in tiptoeing the line. He’s good even when he isn’t trying, just laying there, pinching pebbled nipples with enough callousness that it aches in the best way. On your first date – which wasn’t really a date, but a happenstance meeting at your father’s shady bar – he’d been hesitant to hurt you like you wanted. The best he could do was pepper your neck with sore hickeys, pocketed in the back alley, touch kinder than any you’d experienced before. “Oh my god.”

“Y-You’re so soft. My gorgeous girl. So soft and… and pretty when you do that.”

“Mig.” You wail, useless in properly pumping his pulsing cock. It’s all you can do to palm the head, smearing prespend all over his velvet tip. And it’s hard, like smelted iron, throbbing hot and heavy. It’s been so long since you’ve had it in you that you’re sure it’ll take some effort to fit. The abstraction fills you with desperation so poignant that you start moving faster, rougher, seeking an end where you’re stuffed full yet doing nothing to actually achieve it. 

That is, until–

“What do you need?” He asks.

Your hole clenches. Your guts knot together. Your orgasm gathers, full and sloshing wet, trapped behind the wall he’s been breaking down since his arrival. 

“You!” You finally admit. “You.” Softer. 

And when you cum, soaking his middle with shameless indulgence, all he does is flip you over to settle beneath him. The couch rocks with the sudden upheaval, threatening collapse, so he keeps a firm hold of your shoulders, kneeling between your quivering thighs. His breadth bobs from over his pants – you don’t recall taking it out – purple with restrained pain and just waiting for your cue to allow him entry.

“I’ve got you, cariño.” Miguel hums, positioning himself onto the divet of your cunt when you give a frail nod. “I’ve got you.” 

And you know, of course you do. He’s never backed away from a promise before. Because that is how it is with Miguel.

[starringthesturniolos]

bite me(part 4)- matt sturniolo

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

summary: matt hates your guts but all of that changes when he wakes up and finds out your his mate.

contains: vampire!matt x reader, highschool au! (18 years old), dark themes, death, smut (not in this part)

——————————————————————————

“well its three am. i thought your lazy ass would be asleep” matt sighs “but if you want to go now we can, shes definitely up. let me call her and let her know. be ready in ten minutes.” he emphasizes the ten like a father talking to a child that can’t manage time.

i didn’t even get bitter about it though, instead, my heart pangs at the thought of matt being on good enough terms with a girl to be calling at 3 am. “just the mating bond” i mutter to myself as i peel my clothes from the day before off in exchange for new ones. as soon as i walk out the room, matt is right there.

“awww, is someone jealous? don’t lie, i felt it sweetheart. i wanna hear you say it. say you want matt alll to yourself. go on” he teases me relentlessly causing my cheeks to heat up. “shut up” i groan but then decide to tease him back. lets play on this mating bond thing while i still can

i smirk and walk up to matt and place my hands on his chest. his eyes darken and his hands are clamped to his sides, probably to stop himself from touching me too. i sigh at the fact and then make my move.

“im all yours, matt.” i say seductively. “aren’t you mine?” you question looking up at him with doe eyes. matts gaze darkens even further and he can’t stop himself from grabbing my waist and bringing me closer. he dips his head down and i think he’s going to kiss me. instead he brushes his lips against my ear, “what are you doing to me?” he whispers more to himself then to me. i smirk before pulling away “nothing.” i shrug, “didn’t know the mating bond could take away your ability to answer simple questions”, i add nonchalantly. matt rolls his eyes at this. “you are sooo annoying, i can’t wait till im rid of you” he says turning his back on me and walking, a silent way to tell me to follow. i do, laughing at the effect i have on him.

we walk outside to matts van and are met by chris. “your sitting in the back” matt snips, looking in chris’ direction. “y/n your up front with me” he says choosing to not look at me.

“come on man, your still mad about that?? i was just trying to help!” chris practically whines. matt just huffs and grabs me, practically throwing me in the frontseat. chris climbs into the back dejectedly and i ask whats on my mind.

“chris, not that i mind you here, because i don’t, but why ARE you here?” i question. this was a problem strictly between me and matt. my mind reels at the thought that i actually would have preferred it to just be me and matt. a day ago i literally didn’t want to sit next to him in class….

he sighs and i look back and am suprised by the pain on his face. “my mate was already dead when she was given to me.” he whispers. just by being around matt, i can tell how big of an effect the bond can have, and i can’t imagine how sad he must be at the loss. “i’m so sorry, chris” i say softly. even matt looks sorry for him. he looks at his face through the review mirror while starting to reverse out of the driveway. chris just shakes his head, trying to shake the feelings away.

“its okay, i’m sure madi will be able to make everything go away.” chris offers me a half smile. “i hope so” i say giving him a reassuring smile in return before turning to matt. i roll my eyes at his sour face, he’s clearly jealous but he refrained from saying anything because of the nature of the conversation. “are you going to get jealous every time i talk to ANYONE but you?? he’s your brother! and who the fuck is madi?” i say, cringing at the jealous tone in my voice. matt side eyes me before answering my questions. “can’t exactly help the way i feel, i told you that, so stop punishing me for it. i don’t see chris complaining!” he adds looking for support. “yeah no not at all” chris chirps awkardly at being included in the argument. i’m about to say that chris is just trying to get back in his good graces but matt continues. “and madi’s practically our sister, right chris?” chris nodds in agreement and i sigh. “how exactly is she going to help us?” chris eyes matt suspiciously after i asked.

“what? you didn’t tell her?”he questions and i look to matt, whose eyes are set on the road ahead of us. tell me what??

“shes a witch.” matt says matter of factly.

——————————————————————————

we pull into the driveway and a pretty girl with long black hair is standing outside waiting. sister my ass.

chris runs out of the car to greet her. “MADI!!!” he runs and jumps into her arms sending her into a fit of giggles. i couldn’t help but smile at the sight. maybe shes not so bad after all…

“are you going to get out of the car, or are you gonna stare at my brother some more??” matt snips. “oh my god can you stop with that” i say while climbing out the car. in an instant, madi is by my side.

“Hey, y/n, its nice to meet you. you’re super pretty by the way.” she smiles warmly at me and all my weariness about her fades away. “thank you, so are you” i smile back at her. she turns to matt, who is looking off into the distance pretending to not hear about anything we’re saying. “what brings you here, tough guy?” she knew my name but she didn’t know why i was here?

“i’m looking to get rid of the mating bond between us” he gestures to me and him. madi’s eyes widen slightly. “you know that if you get rid of the bond both of you die, right?” she says questioning why he’s even trying. i spin around to matt, hurt coursing through me. “you’d rather die than be with me?”, my voice wavers with hurt and i hate it. quite frankly, i didn’t want to die either, so he didn’t just put me at risk but both of us. matt grabs my shoulders and shakes them. “relax, i’m not dying for your sorry ass.” he scoffs before turning both me and him back towards madi, “i’m just looking for a cheat code, if there is one.” he says. “i think i know what you mean” she replies and turns beckoning us to follow her into her home. we walk in and i can’t help but oggle at how nice it is. she looks back and sees my face. “you like it?” she laughs. i smile and nod, continuing to look around the house. matt places his hand on my back gently to help guide me. his touch grounds me and i suddenly feel apprehensive about losing this feeling. not him, just the feeling, you think to yourself, trying to justify your emotions

“what are you thinking about?” matts eyebrows are furrowed clearly confused on the sudden onslaught of emotions. “the telepathy shit is a real pain in my ass.” you sigh completely avoiding his question. matt chuckles, “you’re telling me.”

me, matt, and madi end up in a office type space. there’s a desk in the middle of the room and it has a large book in the middle of it. madi puts some glasses on and flicks her wrist. the book goes flying open and lands on a certain page. wow, that was so cool, you gush over her abilities. for a while, the room is completely silent as madi reads. matt grabs my hand and i feel his nervousness surge through me. i don’t know why but something in me wants to comfort him and tell him everythings going to be alright. i don’t though, because lets be honest, i have no idea.

“ahhh, okay” madi starts taking the glasses off her face. “i can take away the symptoms of the bond, like the telepathy and the-“ she clears her throat, “sexual urges” she raises her eyebrows. “andd the death by distance” my own eyebrows raise and she sighs.

“he really didn’t tell you anything did he? if you had spent even a week apart both of your bodies would secumb to the bond. without the other, the bond won’t let either exist” she says matter of factly and i note that she is really well versed in the subject. chris comes in to the office and sits awkwardly in one of the chairs, waiting for me and matt to be done so he could talk to madi.

madi isn’t quite finished telling us about her solution though. “but i can’t take away the other thing” matts grip on my hand tightens and i look up at him. “what’s she talking about??” i say softly seeing his nervous face. “if you die, i die. and your human, so your chances of dying are wayy higher.” he breathes out and an uncontrollable shiver goes through me.

“but its okay, matt, i can do a protection spell on her. nothing will harm her after that, trust me.” she says trying to ease him and i feel his nervousness let up a little. she continues, “its an incantation and i can’t do it until sunrise. its not easy but i can manage” she says confidently. “do you want me too?” she ask softly while looking at our conjoined hands. much to my disliking, matt lets go of me.

“do it.”

@bbernard-03

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[stormyelliotwritez]

walk with me…

ftm reader who has been in love with logan for years but he thinks logan is straight and also logan like wont stop being in love with jean and is absolutely OBLIVIOUS that r likes him.. (literally all the other x men know) and honestly this can be like super angsty or just silly idc whatever the vibe u best think works

im gonna somehow go with mostly angst coz thats my fav so here goes

tw for gender dysphoria related to wanting to fit logan’s so called type

BUT HE’S STRAIGHT?

Logan was staring at Jean again. This was like the fifth time just this staff meeting. You weren’t sure how much longer you could take this. Maybe Charles would let you go lay down if you faked a fever but maybe he’d do the whole psychic thing and realize you were fine.

You sat through the rest of the meeting and then left quickly, feeling like a loser. It’s been years and he still hasn’t noticed you. He’s always staring at Jean who’s literally been in love with Scott since they met. Why won’t he stare at you? How the fuck is he straight? But alas, he is.

You walked to your room, tugging at your shirt and wishing it would fit better. Maybe he’d have noticed you if you weren’t a boy, if you’d stayed what you’d been born as. Maybe if you were still her, he’d think you were cute. Maybe he’d look at you how he looked at Jean.

You slammed your door shut and clambered onto your bed, curling up into a ball. You stayed there, just thinking, until eventually you fell asleep.

In the morning, you got up and after showering and getting dressed, you threw on the jacket you’d stolen from Logan a few months ago, the one with the school’s logo. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. It’s not like he ever noticed you.

You went about your day, bumping into Scott who made a faux growl sound like Logan’s to tease you and then bumping into Hank who sniffed your jacket and then applauded you on managing to steal from Logan. Later in the day, you ran head first into Storm, when you were trying to avoid Logan, and she glanced at him and then meowed at you teasingly. You’d swear on someone’s grave that the only person who didn’t know about your years old crush was the man himself, Logan.

You managed to avoid Logan all day until… dinner. He was sitting opposite the spot you always sat in. He was sitting there. Why was he sitting there was a question you couldn’t answer. You tugged at your jumper while holding your plate with one hand and you walked over to him.

“Logan,” you said with a nod.

“Bub,” he said back before looking you over.

He didn’t say anything about the jacket. He just sat there and ate his dinner and then stood up. He walked around to your side and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Nice jacket, bub.”

He then walked off, just like that.

What the fuck? What the actual fuck? He didn’t know though. He would know about your ridiculous crush if he was listening to your heartbeat right now. Oh my god, so he knew you’d stolen it but he couldn’t put the damn pieces together?

You finished your dinner and walked off. You were halfway to your room when someone grabbed your hand and pulled you into an empty classroom. The door was slammed and you were disoriented in the dark.

“You like me, bub?”

That was Logan’s voice. Wait, he knew? How? But…

“Come on, I ain’t got all day,” he said abruptly.

You nodded. You were quite sure he could see in the dark and the scoff he made seemed to say so. How could you have been so stupid? He was probably going to hate you now. He was straight. He’d always been straight and in love with Jean. He was oblivious. He’d always been oblivious. He could never like you. You weren’t a girl, no matter how hard you wanted to still be one so he’d like you. Your heart was racing and soon enough, you were hyperventilating.

His hands were on your shoulders and you were being pulled into a hug, a hug that smelt of wood and fuel. He was hugging you?

“It’s okay, I got you, bub,” he placed a light kiss on your forehead, “I swing both ways, you know.”

You’d always hated that he was still taller than you, one of the downsides of not getting on T until your 20’s and- wait, what? He swings both ways?

“You-you do?” You said once your breathing had slowed.

He nodded. You couldn’t see it but you could feel it. He could like you… as you, as a man? You didn’t have to be someone else? You could just be you.

“Yep, now let’s go. I think there’s two beers calling our names in the teacher’s lounge,” he said before opening the door and pulling you out of the classroom. “Jean mentioned your little crush and now I gotta hear all about how you’ve been pining for me for years.”

Curse you, Jean, but thanks, was all you could think as you just nodded and walked with him to the teachers lounge.

[envy-of-the-apple]

That what if when ms. moon already has a family but has to leave because of him is so HEARTBREAKING. Imagine moving on from a tramatic situation, meeting the love of your life, having a wonderful kid for all that to just get squashed in a instant. That literally had me about to tear up but imagine her kid was a bit older lets say like 10 (i know the math doesnt add up well with the timeline but its a what if)and then she just has to leave, that alone would greatly negatively impact the kid, just leaving a lasting mark. Maybe the kid would remember gojo’s face and resent him for the rest of their life.

The husband thing is equally as sad because I imagine ms.moon as shes about to leave crying and whispering how much she loves him and that shes so sorry. (Bonus heartbreak points they all breakdown as shes about to leave and she cant even hug or kiss them goodbye because shes being watched). After this incident ms.moon’s pervious family completes spiral down the drain and moon’s mental state goes down the drain with it

In conclusion amazing story but that shit was sad as fuck but I still eat it up with silverware and all

(merging multiple SEM asks cuz i feel so guilty for clogging up ppls dashes lmao)

ughhhh anytime kids are involved it just gets way more depressing, right? It think age 8-10 is like the worst time for this to this to happen because the kid can understand little, but not enough to get the whole picture.

The kid knows that their mom is leaving, but they aren't seeing the wavering tears in Ms.moon's eyes, the shaky hands, as you hug them for the last time. All that they can see is the fancy new car your new lover sits in. The grand ring that sits on your finger. Yeah, your kid will hate gojo for ripping apart your family.

But they'll hate you more, considering you're running off with a man who has more money than their father.

I think the only upside is that gojo might not bat an eye if you send money back to your family, keeping them comfortable. With enough pleading, he might pull a few string to get your kid into a good school. With your indirect help, your kid will have the best education and prosperity. Them resenting you is a pretty small price to pay, right?

in the fic, the case took about three weeks, so it took three weeks for gojo to just snap.

He would definetly try to toy with ms.moon for as long as he can. Despite claiming that he forgave ms.moon, he does carry a tiny bit of resentment. It's kind of a punishment, in that sense.

And honestly the moment he figures out you who are, I doubt you'd have a chance to run anymore. The reason why Ms.moon was able to 'get away' the first time was because gojo was still a teenager, hier of the gojo conglomerate, but still not powerful yet. Now, he has tons of resources available for him. You're not getting away lmao, I think that's why he's so much at ease this time around.

I never really considered the family's response. their reactions is something I'm not really interested in exploring. i don't think they got any characterization other than 'housewife mom' and 'dad who works'. I don't really think ms.moon would even mention gojo's torment to them. It'd be embarrassing, knowing that some kid the same age as you is just lording over your life, right? I did mention that Gojo confronts your family in EKM, but I don't like that addition now, so I'm retconning it. I feel like they'd find out just like everyone else did: From the media. Everyone in your little town knew who the Gojo was, but the fact that their kid is getting married to one of them has so be surprising.

But then again, not something im interested in exploring

If Gojo had managed to find Ms. Moon before, things would certainly have been much different. The gojo now has 'cooled down' and is far less volatile. If they had met again, if they were in their early twenties....things would not be much different from his high school counterpart.