#saying how i won't be alive for much longer

[furiousgoldfish]

I wrote a very pained, depressive and dark post, even maybe too dark for this blog, but I ultimately decided to publish it, just because this pain has always been invisible in me, and I want to be able to say something. If you're going to read it, there's a lot of mention of death and contemplation of suicide in it, and a lot of painful emotion. Maybe someone will resonate with it and find words to describe their own pain. I also want to note that even though every word of it is true, I am most of the time completely dissociated from this, I'm not actively thinking it, and it came out now because my parents are actively trying to find me and disrupting the life I've tried to make for myself.

What my parents did to me is worse than death, they erased me. When I escaped I didn't know who I was, I had no hope to survive, I didn't think I was worth anything, I felt ashamed to even exist. I was suicidal, i thought I'd be dead within a month even if I don't do it myself. I didn't think I had it in me to survive, to be alive, to be anything. I was a less than a ghost, I didn't even have memories to remember of who I once was because there was no warm memories, only violence, blame, guilt, shame, pain, terror. I was supposed to be a person, and they put me in a state where I knew nothing about being a person, only property and a target, it was my entire life. I was told I deserved this, I was a monster, there was never anything else that is correct to do to me, but hurt me. I thought it was my job to be endlessly harmed. They knew I was suicidal and didn't stop. The only reason I didn't kill myself was the dissociative disorder that functioned like a suicide prevention measure, I physically could not have done it because I have been split into pieces and one of the pieces prevented me from doing it. I would have died otherwise.

What would a quick violent death be compared to this? A fucking blessing. I was slowly tortured until I was willing to kill myself in order to end it. They didn't want to dirty their hands with my murder, they planned on torturing me until I did it to myself. I had an intense drive to survive despite everything, and even that was getting erased. My basic instincts were being erased by the amount of pain I was in. My personality was gone, I didn't even have a personality, it was all overwhelmed by pain and desperation to both survive and end it all, I walked trough life looking death in the face the entire time, it felt so close, so close to me, like it would claim me any second, but I had to stay stoic, calm, me staring down death had to be invisible, I couldn't let it show. It shouldn't have mattered to anyone what I was experiencing. I was torn between life and death, stuck in constant anticipation of it and it couldn't have mattered.

Take a person, any person, imagine them having a life, family, friends, interests, hobbies, desires, dreams, loved ones, support, community. Now imagine that same person isolated, everything stripped away from them, and them being hurt until they can no longer remember anything they wanted to live for. Even their basic instinct to survive is stripped frm them as pain is too large for them to be able to sustain themselves, there's no longer anything in this person's life worth living for, nothing they remember about who they were, no warm thought they can think about themselves, and they're repeatedly told they deserve this, they've wanted this. Until there's nothing of them left.

That was me, but from the start. I didn't get to experience having a life, family, loved ones, interests, dreams, community, or any of that first, I didn't get to know how it was to have any of that! From the very start it was pain and being told that this is all there is, and that I'm stupid for ever thinking there would be anything more to life, that it is in fact, only terror and death and I'm a weakling for not taking it better, everyone else is dealing with this just fine. Shame and guilt were the only traits I could have, I didn't know anything further about me. Nobody knew me because nobody saw me being abused. Nobody could know I was worthless, it had to be my private hell. I would have to live only to the point where it was decided that it was enough and I had to die, or until the point where I couldn't take it anymore and take my own life, even though I so strongly didn't want to, even that basic desire was tempered with and overwritten by pain.

Who would want a life like that? Life of not only being aware that nobody cares about you, but everyone around you is willing to inflict pain on you until you wish to die, but can't. Where crying and screaming is forbidden even when you can't breathe from the amount of pain you're in; you're not even allowed to cry out. You fight with yourself every day on how badly you want to die and why you can't, and it doesn't help, you get lost in magical thinking in order to escape from the hell you're in, but you're brutally reminded of it every time you interact with anyone, when they find you hiding under the bed and dreaming. You don't even know that you're supposed to have loved ones, be safe, be unharmed, that life is supposed to be different, that you're not alive only to be a target, that you're worth anything. You don't even know that you're supposed to have more freedom in life than to choose the manner and time of your death, this is all that's dealt to you. And now, live, see how far you can get before you die. Would anyone choose that? Would anyone decide to be born into a life like that? Wouldn't you choose not to exist at all rather than be put trough that? To be erased and then having to keep on living while thinking you in fact, deserve death, and should do it yourself, and you know if you do die, it won't matter, just like your life didn't? Because people around you regularly nearly kill you and then laugh about it like it was a funny joke? They humiliate you for how ugly you look close to death? You're scared that your last moment will be humiliation for how unseemly your corpse looks and you're hoping you'd be able to die alone, to not be berated as you're dying.

Death is nothing to me compared to this. Waiting to die is worse than death. Endless anticipation of pain is worse than death. Having everything about you erased by pain is worse. Not knowing anything about yourself except that you are incredibly shameful existence and that you need to feel guilty all of the time, is worse. Watching people around you receive care and warmth while you're stuck watching death in the face silently, pretending it's not happening, and trying to not have anyone's attention on yourself because someone noticing means more pain, more shame and guilt. It's worse. Kill me any fucking day. But this will always be worse. Every time I face the reality of my life I wish I had died in the womb, at childbirth, I wish I had died when I was 1, 2, 3, 5, 10, 12, any time before I experienced all this. It would have been so much less pain. It would have been so much easier on me.

And I've already given up on ever having a place in anyone's heart, because at this point, I don't have it in me to make people love me. I have nothing about me that is other people find worth caring for, I made peace with it. There will be no loved ones, and thats fine. But at least then I should get to live my life alone the way I want it. I should find joy in being who I found I am, and doing what I want to do. I should get to do things that give me a little bit of pleasure and enjoyment, and I should be safe, and death should no longer come knocking at my door, staring me down like I owe it something. If I can't even have that, then to hell with everything. What is the fucking point of anything if all my life is a continued slow torture until I can no longer bear it. I have nobody to bear it for, nobody would be harmed by my death. But I also don't deserve to die, because I want to live, and this should be mine. Who the fuck dares to try and take this away from me again. I want to fucking explode. If I have to make my own justice then how do I do it. I literally just want to live. And I see other people having at least that much secured for them. Why can't I at least have that much. I am seriously asking for the bare fucking minimum.

[joelsgoldrush]

“GIVE ME ALL OF THAT ULTRAVIOLENCE” | 1.9k

logan howlett x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You give Logan head for the first time.

WARNINGS/TAGS: smut - mdni 18+ implied age gap, dirty talk, kind of inexperienced reader, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, dom!logan, a tiny bit of degradation (yeah i'm a whore we already knew that), he guides you through the whole experience (shocking!!! i know)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: HI PALS!!! yes i'm alive and kicking. yes university is killing me. so recently i’ve been OBSESSED with this man and i needed to write something for him. english is not my first language and i may have made some mistakes (if you encounter any you can tell me, i won't mind it). comments/likes/reblogs would be highly appreciated. i've got sooooo many ideas to write and i'm finally getting my hands on them. i missed you all so fucking much. hope you enjoy this!!!

It’s common knowledge that all humans have needs. Try as you may, there’s a primitive side that you can’t spare yourself from. You, as everybody else, have urges.

“Logan,” you basically mewl his name, five letters that roll off your tongue with little effort. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge you, his kisses growing harsher on the delicate skin of your neck. Threading your fingers through his hair, you decide to try again, speaking a bit louder this time. “Logan, please.”

“What is it, honey?” he says, bitten lips still pressed to your pulse point. As you remain silent, he looks up at you, those big, brown eyes that you love so dearly almost completely dark now. “Do you want to call it a day?”

His question catches you off-guard. You cup his face, thumbs caressing his cheekbones, suddenly afraid that he might pull away from you. “No! Not at all. That’s- that’s not what I want at all, actually.”

“What do you want, then? You can tell me,” he kisses you on the lips, softly at first. What starts as nothing more than a sweet kiss turns into a needier one, his hard on poking you through your shorts. “Come on. Tell me, baby. What does my sweet girl want?”

“I want to suck you off, Logan,” you whisper as you latch your mouth onto his, and you can feel how he visibly tenses beneath you. His breath hitches in his throat when you grind your hips. “I really need it.”

From the very beginning of your relationship, you had made things crystal clear: you didn’t have much experience on this territory. For a man his age, he was totally understanding. He knew you had your own times, that for him to take you to bed would take longer. Truth be told, Logan was willing to go to the ends of the world for you. There was no use in forcing anything.

At present, the bulge amid his legs becomes even more noticeable as you get off his lap, playing with his belt. “Can I?” you ask him, amazed at how straightforward you’re being.

Logan stares at you, so far panting, lust glowing in his eyes. “Shit, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters as he helps you undress him. His worn out jeans end up pooling around his ankles, and you locate yourself in between his legs. 

You’re on your knees, hands folded in front of you. Suddenly, it hits you, the shame of it all. How badly you want him, how desperate you are to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue. How many nights you’ve dreamt of this moment, unable to stop that unbearable need of touching yourself every time you thought about pleasuring him.

That’s what you truly want. For him to use you.

“What’s wrong, princess? We’ve talked about this a lot of times. You know what to do,” you can’t help but stare at his crotch as you listen to him, and then he raises your chin with his finger, your lips parting unconsciously. You blink slowly at him, eyelashes fluttering together. At last, he seems to understand what you’re trying to tell him, and he raises his eyebrows, that cocky grin of his taking place where it belongs. “You want me to guide you, don’t you? Want me to tell you what to do? Know you like it when I go a bit off the rails.”

You moan at his words, squeezing your eyes shut and nuzzling your cheek up against his palm. Slick gathers in your panties as you push your thighs together. “Please. Tell me what to do.”

“Take it out,” he instructs you, and you do as you’re told. Grabbing him by the base, you pull his cock out of his briefs. He twitches in your hand, and he’s so, so incredibly big. 

You stroke him once, testing the feeling. This you know how to do. You’ve given him hand jobs millions of times, although this one feels particularly different from the others.

He takes hold of your fist, applying a bit of pressure. “I’m sorry, baby. I think you got it all wrong. I’m the one who makes the calls here, okay?” he grunts, his brows knitted, and you only nod, salivating at the sight of his cock already leaking precum at the tip. Logan licks his lips, curling his hand around yours. “You do as I say. Now, stroke me. Nice. And. Slow,” he punctuates each of his words by moving both your hand and his in unison around his length. “That’s it, darling. You just need someone to boss you around from time to time, ain’t I right?”

One thing to know about Logan: he’s so full of himself on a daily basis, but he just gets worse in bed.

“My mouth,” you hover your lips over the head of his cock, all shiny and soft. He has let you go, both of his arms now flexed behind his head, as if he were appreciating how pathetic you must look on your knees, begging for him to allow you to taste him. “Let me.”

“Not yet,” his hips follow your tormenting pace, seeking the warmth that your skin radiates. He grits his teeth, biting his lower lip. You’ve no idea how a man so strong can become putty in your hands like this. “Greedy girl. I’m beginning to think you’ve set me up. Only a slut would get so worked up about having a cock in her mouth. What happened to my innocent girl? Gone with the wind, huh?”

“Please, Lo. I need it so bad,” you are whining, peppering his thighs with kisses. You inhale his musky scent, getting dizzy. “Give it to me. I’ll be good.”

Out of nowhere, Logan grabs a handful of your hair, forcing you to arch your back. He scrutinizes your face, studying your blissed out demeanor. “I don’t doubt that. I’m sure you’ll be good. Otherwise, we’ll keep on trying. We have all night, and you have a good memory, just need to put it to use,” as he taps your lower lip with his tip, you catch him smirking. He repeats that same motion until he has you shivering from the excitement of being stuffed. ”Show me how much you need it. Go easy on it at first, okay? Don’t want you choking beforehand.”

You’re more than happy to comply.

Your tongue darts out to lick at his head, enveloping it between your lips. The salty taste of his precum invades your tastebuds, and you moan as you trace the veins of his cock with the pad of your thumb. “Tastes so good, Lo,” your voice sounds distant, almost unrecognizable to your own ears.

“I know, bub. Such a nice fucking mouth, can’t believe you’ve never done this before. I guess you’re a natural,” shaky fingers place a strand of hair behind your ears, patting your head as if you were a dog in heat. “Do you feel like bobbing your head a little?” he asks you, and you prepare yourself, attaching your mouth to his head once again. “Good. That’s good.”

With that being said, Logan fists your hair once again and shoves your face down, his hard cock tickling your throat. Your whines and his rapid breaths are the only sounds to be heard in your bedroom. He grins as he takes in the sight of you. “Oh, sweetheart. You look so beautiful with your mouth stretched around me,” his index finger taps your cheek and he feels the outline of his own cock. “You know I can smell you, right? You’re fucking soaked, baby. Think you’ll leave a stain on the carpet? You’d clean it off with your tongue, wouldn’t you?”

You have no idea how he’s coming up with these things, but you’re far from annoyed. In fact, you’ve never been this wet. Your underwear must be ruined at this point, and you wish Logan would tell you to touch yourself.

After some minutes of bobbing your head up and down, he pulls you off his cock and you breathe through your mouth for the first time in a while. As you gasp for air, Logan kisses you, tasting himself. He massages the back of your neck, his cock throbbing between the two of you. “You tired?”

Your glossy eyes widen. Shaking your head, you go for his balls this time, sucking one of them while toying with the other. Logan buries his hands in your hair for what must be the hundredth time in the night, unable to stop himself. “F-fuck, that’s it. A pretty girl like you just gets what she needs,” he praises you, and you return to his length, taking as many inches as you can without hurting yourself. Tears shimmer in your eyes, yet you can’t bring yourself to care about that detail. You’re far too focused on Logan’s grunts and growls. “Keep that up and I’ll come. You heard me? You’re gonna make me fucking come, bub.”

His words ignite a fire inside you. You use your hands, your mouth, everything that you have to pleasure him. He’s getting closer and closer, thighs shaking when you pay special attention to his tip. Logan responds to each of your movements, and as you feel every coherent thought fly out the window, you try to take him all the way down your throat, breathing through your nose and swallowing around him. He cants his hips up, brutally fucking your mouth. Like a dog without a leash, Logan seems to get lost in the warmth that envelopes his cock, chasing his own release. “You’re such a good girl. My good girl. Nobody will fuck this mouth ever again. I’ll ruin you for any pathetic guy that tries to get in your pants. You’re fucking mine, darling. Oh, f-fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck-”

You’re met with his happy trail once he spills his hot load inside your mouth. He keeps you trapped there, his cock twitching and spamming through the aftershocks of his orgasm. You don’t think twice and swallow what he’s giving you. Some of his cum slips from your lips, falling directly onto the carpet. Even Logan seems surprised when he doesn’t stop coming.

He helps you stand up after a moment, kissing you as soon as he gets the chance. He licks into your mouth, squeezing the flesh of your hips. Logan lifts his eyebrows, relishing how cock-drunk you must look. “I think you nearly killed me. And that’s a lot to say coming from someone who cannot fucking die.”

You plaster a smile on your face, hugging his wide frame. “So, was I okay?”

His jaw goes slack, and he lowers his head to capture your lips in another kiss. “You were fantastic. I could easily get hard again just from thinking about it,” his fingers trace the buttons of your shirt, tugging at the fabric of it. “What if you let me focus on yourself for a while? You’ve already done enough, baby. Let me take care of you,” he rubs his hands on your thighs, reaching for your drenched panties. “Perhaps we could try something else today. That pussy’s begging to be fucked.” 

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

devotion. l General Marcus Acacius

Summary:  he returned to Rome in glory, he returned to you

Warnings:  smut, angst, unprotected sex (don't do it!), fingering, mention of pregnancy, a few nasty words

A/N: that was a quick shot. i hope you'll be gentle with me. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

You saw perfectly how his brown eyes widened when he saw you in the crowd of guests in the Emperor's palace. The golden wreath on his curly dark hair, the sun-kissed body dressed in white and gold - he looked like one of the Gods you could worship in a temple. 

And wasn't he one of them? One of those legendary heroes? The one who brought glory to the Roman Empire. One of your Emperor's favorites.

Wasn't he the man you had loved for so long?

When he crossed the threshold of your home late in the evening, you could finally fall into each other's arms. In that moment, he was your Marcus, the man you loved more than life, to whom you had promised loyalty, to whom you had promised eternal devotion and faithfulness.

His warm, plush lips crushed against yours in a kiss full of longing and love that you had to keep so far from each other. Strong arms wrapped around you like vines, but you clung to him with your whole body, yearning for his closeness so much.

"Almost four years..." he sighed as he rested his forehead against yours "I counted every day, my love. And every day was unimaginable torture."

Your hand stroked his bearded cheek "I knew you would return. The Gods promised to give you back to me, and here you are. Safe and sound." Your fingers tenderly stroked the scar on his cheek, slipping into his hair interwoven with silver threads "I can't believe you're finally here."

Marcus' hands tightened around your waist "Tell me you're not just a beautiful dream..."

"I'm here, my love." You whispered, tenderly touching his lips "All yours." He pressed his lips to yours as if he had to make sure that you weren't a dream, laughing, you pulled away from him slightly "Marcus, we need to talk, so much has happened..."

"We have the whole next day, our whole lives for this. Please... Let's not talk tonight. I want to love you, adore you, caress your body." He sounded like a man possessed, hungry for your body "I need to remind myself of every curve of your body. I want to taste you and immerse myself in your sweetness. I beg you, my beloved..."

You couldn't refuse him, you didn't want to. The dream of the warmth and closeness of his body had haunted you almost since he left for that cursed war. You couldn't wait any longer.

The heavy door of your chamber closed, and after a moment you were both taking off your robes. Hands craving a familiar touch, lips searching for each other. Hot lips wandered around your neck when you felt the cool sheet under your fingers. Marcus raised himself on his shoulders, his dark as night eyes roaming your body.

"Give me a moment..." he said as you tried to pull him closer to you. "You're more beautiful than I remember you."

You laughed quietly, a little embarrassed by his confession. "I'm definitely older."

"As am I. But to me you'll always be equal to the goddesses."

"Don't say that, Marcus. Don't incur the wrath of the Gods, they can be jealous."

A mocking smile appeared on his face. "I'm not afraid! The earth could open up beneath me and swallow me alive, but I won't stop repeating it. You are a goddess, my love. I dedicate my life to serving you. Only you."

"Then do it. Use your body and all your strength to do it."

You didn't have to repeat it twice. Your lips connected again in a strong and deep kiss. His tongue invaded between your lips, extracting from you those sweet moans that returned to him during sleepless nights. 

His hard cock rested on your thigh, and you felt excitement and fear, it had been so long since you felt him inside but  you wanted him so much.

Marcus' lips slid down to your sternum, then your breast. He kissed it and bit it lightly, despite the time he still remembered everything that made your body tremble. When the nipple disappeared in his mouth you felt your walls tighten slightly, giving you a signal that you couldn't wait any longer. But it was Marcus who dominated you, doing whatever he wanted with your body.

When his long fingers moved over your slippery folds you moaned shamelessly.

"So thirsty..." he whispered, his lips brushing your belly "Let me prepare you first, love. Let me..." two fingers slid inside you with incredible ease, all the way to his knuckles "I've got you."

Your body arched like a string, the stretch felt so good. Marcus pulled his fingers out and after a moment he pushed them back in, watching your reaction with great pleasure.

"If you could see it." he kissed the inside of your thigh tenderly "So hungry, so greedy."

"Harder..." you moaned, grabbing his wrist and trying to take control, but he wouldn't let you.

He grabbed yours with his other hand, quickly brushed it with his lips, and then his fingers started moving faster and harder. You heard that lewd sound that showed how wet you were and how your body reacted to his caresses.

"Give me everything. Cum on my fingers, love." Marcus panted, feeling his hard cock throb at the sight of your body. "Don't torture yourself like that, love. Cum."

And you did. Your thighs clenched as a shiver of pleasure ran through your body, and a sweet moan escaped your throat. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling your head buzzing, but suddenly Marcus took control again. 

His strong arms spread your thighs, and his hard cock slid inside you without warning. You lost your breath. Your eyes rolled back under your eyelids, and when his strong body pinned you to the bed, you knew there was no escape.

"Fuck..." he moaned loudly, dazed by the feeling. "You're so tight, so warm..."

"Marcus... I feel like you're going to tear me apart..." you moaned, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. "Gods!"

"Don't summon them, love." he mumbled quietly, brushing your lips "They'll be jealous of us."

His hand grabbed your leg under the knee and he lifted it slightly, thrusting into you even deeper. You didn't know how on earth it was possible, but his cock seemed to dig into you even more with each thrust. 

His body, his strength intoxicated you. Your beloved transformed under your fingers into a barbarian who came to your bed just to fuck you and use your body as he wished.

You felt another orgasm building inside you and you wanted to tell him that, but in an instant Marcus lifted himself up. Without leaving you he pulled you with him and sat on his heels, you fell onto his thighs, impaling yourself on him even more.

Your arms wrapped around his neck tighter, fingers entangled in his hair as he lifted your body and used it as he wanted to, to get what he came for.

"I'm so close, so close." he breathed into your ear. "I want to feel you again, give it to me. Give it to me!"

As if on command, your body gave in. Your walls trembled and squeezed around his manhood, you clung to him tighter as he now pressed you hard and violently against his cock. But Marcus was close too and soon you felt his body tense up and he poured into you, filling you up with his warm seed.

You were both panting, your bodies still sweaty and hot. His heartbeat mixed with yours and no matter how many breaths you took, it still wasn't enough.

"You're definitely not a dream." he murmured, kissing your shoulder gently.

"How can you be so sure?" you giggled, looking fondly at his blissful face.

"The Gods would have to be incredibly cruel if they let me experience immortality with you and then ordered me to return to mortal life." his fingers tenderly stroked your back "You have to be real." 

You kissed him tenderly feeling indescribable love for this man. At the same time, however, a small flame of anxiety rose in your heart thinking about the upcoming day.

He was torn from his sleep by the quiet sound of the door closing, and then your footsteps on the stone floor. He lazily rubbed his eyelids and opened them, noticing you pouring yourself a glass of water.

"Why did you get dressed?" His voice was hoarse, and it gave you shivers "I didn't say I was done with you."

You smiled, walking over to the bed and sitting on its edge "You were done with me at least three times last night, General." you noticed, leaning down and kissing his soft lips "You should rest your loins."

"I'll rest after death. Right now, I just want to keep my cock between your thighs, where it belongs." he replied "I've been thinking about it for almost four years and I have no intention of giving you up now."

Marcus noticed the smile disappearing from your face, and your gaze wandered to the window open to the garden. He knew that look. Something was worrying you and occupying your mind.

He sat down on the bed, his hand tenderly stroking your arm. "What's wrong, my dear? Something's on your mind."

"Marcus... So much has happened since you left." You said quietly. "I don't even know where to start... It all scares me so much."

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Tell me, because I can see how much you're struggling."

He saw you nervously squeezing your fingers, and your eyes avoiding his gaze. Finally, you stood up and took a few steps. Marcus watched you carefully as he put on his robe, a strange fear growing in his heart. 

What if this was all just a dream? What if you tell him to wake up now?

You were already opening your mouth to say something when a commotion in the hallway and quick footsteps tore your attention away. The door opened wide and a small boy rushed into the room.

"Mommy!" he called, running up to you and wrapping his small arms around your legs. 

Right behind him, a woman in a servant's robe ran in, apologizing from the entrance. "My lady, he wanted to see you so much. I told him you had a guest, but he..."

"Nothing happened, Tullia." You replied, smiling faintly, clearly embarrassed. "Please, take him to the garden." You ran your fingers through the boy's dark, curly hair. "I'll see you in a moment, okay, little bug?"

The boy smiled and grabbed the servant's hand, gave Marcus a quick glance with his brown eyes, and left the room, leaving you in complete silence.

You could clearly feel the tension that had grown between you. You wrapped your arms around yourself, as if you wanted to hide, and looked up at Marcus. Surprise was written on his face. His dark eyebrows furrowed, and his jaw clenched. He stared at the door, and only your voice made him look at you.

"I didn't know how to tell you this..." you whispered "I've been planning this in my head for almost four years, and now I'm standing in front of you and I'm speechless."

"You're a mother." His voice was low, you nodded "All this time I thought you were waiting for me, and you..."

"Marcus, let me explain, please." You wanted to approach him, but he just raised his hand, and you froze.

He swallowed, and his dark eyes were fixed on you like daggers ready to attack "Before I left we promised each other... You promised me that you would wait for me. That you would be faithful to me."

"And I was." You groaned.

"Don't lie to me!" he roared, and you stepped back, scared "For four years I lived only thanks to the thought that you were waiting for me, that you loved me despite everything. And now? You promised me!"

"Let me explain, Marcus." Your eyes stung from the tears that were seeping into your eyelids. "You don't understand..."

He was like a beast locked in a cage. His eyes darkened and his hands clenched into fists. It was the first time he looked at you with such contempt and disappointment, and your heart was breaking with every passing second.

"I thought you were devoted to me. That you committed to waiting for me, if I knew you were just a whore..."

These words were the last straw that broke the camel's back. You suddenly straightened up and raised your head, looking at Marcus defiantly.

"Don't talk to me about commitment, devotion and loyalty when that's what I've been doing for four years." you said sharply, you saw that he opened his mouth, but this time you didn't let him get a word in. "I was pregnant when you left Rome with the army. For many months I hid it from my surroundings, but I still heard the whispers and gossip. I carried him under my heart, gave birth to him and I raised him alone, despite everything. Despite the lack of guarantee that you'll come back. So you have no right to talk to me about commitment and loyalty, or judge me without knowing everything! Julius is your son. You can either accept it or leave." 

Marcus looked as if you had stabbed him at that moment. There was silence and only the laughter coming from the garden tore you out of this freeze. The General approached the door leading to the garden. Between the bushes and flowers he saw the silhouettes of a few boys playing, including the one who called you mother.

"I didn't know..." he said quietly, his eyes following the boy carefully.

"How were you supposed to know?"

"Call him."

"Marcus, please..." you whispered, a cold shiver running down your spine.

He looked at you, but you couldn't read anything on his face. "Call him, please. Or I will." He could see, however, that you were unable to utter a word. "Julius! Come here, boy."

The sounds of fun faded away and after a moment you heard the shuffling of sandals as the boy approached you, dragging a wooden sword behind him. He stopped in front of Marcus, but his frightened gaze went straight to you, afraid that he had done something wrong.

Marcus looked at him carefully, towering over the boy. Finally, he spoke.

"Do you know who I am?"

Julius's eyes went to the man's face. He nodded.

"A general. Mom told me." he said quietly. "A soldier. Like my dad."

You saw Marcus give you a quick look, but he couldn't resist asking another question. "Where's your father, boy?"

"At war. Far away." He looked down and shuffled his shoes. "Mom says he's brave."

"And are you brave?"

You covered your mouth with your hand to hold back a sob as Julius shook his head.

"I'm not. Sometimes I'm scared, so then I go to mom."

Marcus crouched down in front of the boy so that their faces were at the same height. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of the resemblance between them.

"Where did you get that sword?" Marcus continued.

Julius visibly perked up. "Mom gave it to me. To make me brave."

"Will you show it to me?"

The boy handed him his wooden sword and Marcus looked at it. "It's a very good sword." Julius' face lit up with a smile.

He accepted the sword back from the General and you had the impression that he stood more straight and proud. Marcus looked at him for a moment longer, then ruffled his hair asking him to go back to playing.

"I didn't know what to tell him when he started asking about his father." You started quietly as Marcus watched the boy who had already run after his friends. "I didn't know if you'd ever come back... I wanted to believe it, but he needed answers. That's all I could give him."

"He is..."

"Perfect." You finished for him. "He's smart, empathetic, sensitive and not at all as cowardly as he says. He's afraid of storms, so he comes to me at night."

Marcus turned around looking at you with tenderness. You noticed tears in his eyes and after a moment they ran down your cheeks.

"I wanted him to be safe." You sobbed. "I thought that when you came back and saw him... Every day I saw you in his eyes."

Warm hands grabbed your face as Marcus put his forehead to yours. You placed your hands on his, trying to calm your breathing.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered "I beg you, forgive me for doubting you. I didn't expect this. The thought that you could marry someone else, give him children..."

"How could I do that? I gave my heart to you, Marcus. For eternity."

Warm lips brushed yours.

"You gave me a son. You're so brave. Too good for me... I don’t deserve you and him." he whispered "I'm sorry I doubted you, my love."

"Please, don't talk about it anymore. Just get to know him, and you'll surely love him too."

"But will he love me?" doubt sounded in his voice "Julius doesn't know his father."

You tenderly stroked his face, wanting to erase all worries from him.

"Julius knows his father is brave, strong, and that he loved me more than anything in his life. He will welcome you with open arms, Marcus. Just give yourself a chance. Give us all a chance." 

He nodded and snuggled up to you with all his might. When he returned to Rome in glory, his greatest dream was to see you again. And you gave him so much more. You gave him more than the Emperor could.

You gave him life.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[kingtomura]

Good Girl

Summary: It’s not your fault that your boyfriend was hard for people to warm up to. God, your parents are so lame. But so were you. So you did what anyone else with strict parents would, and you cut him off. 

Bad idea. 

Word count: 4k

part two is here!

Content: Tomura Shigaraki x female reader, explicit content, kinda quiet sex, cunnilingus, praise, slight humiliation, unprotected sex, strict parents, toxic relationship with parents, AU - no quirks, no use of y/n, gets a little mushy at the end im sorry

You would rather be anywhere else but here. You would pay to be anywhere else but right here, right now being scolded like some teenager who had been caught sneaking out after curfew. But you were here and you weren’t going anywhere any time soon. 

“He’s just not good for you,” your father’s voice stressed. It dragged on, pulling you from your drifting thoughts. “You have so much ahead of you and we even agreed to this gap year so that you could figure out what you wanted to do, not so you could run around with some delinquent boy with no future–”

“He‘s not a delinquent,” You cut off, “you’re judging him without even giving him a chance.”

Your father sighs, knowing he’s fighting a losing battle, but knowing you inherited his stubbornness has never detoured him from taking your objections head on. He’s been on this earth longer than you, butting heads with others longer than you have. “Well, whatever he is, he’s not allowed to see you again. That’s final.” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. False air of nonchalance sending fury through your veins. 

There would be no more arguing and you knew it. You desperately look to your mother, who is in her usual stance of resignation and uselessness when it comes to his word. If she saw things your way, she would never say. And even if she agreed with you, there would be no change. It has always been your father’s way or no way. 

“I’m an adult, you can't tell me who I can and can’t see.” you try once more, not ready to end things here. It’s suffocating. 

He scoffs, bringing a hand up to count his fingers, “You live under our roof, you eat our food, you drive our car, you give me attitude when I agree to give you time to figure out your life when you decided to leave university after two semesters,” his voice is rising and you begin to feel your eyes burn with the threat of tears, your chest tightening as its harder to catch a breath. You can’t cry here, it would only make things worse.  “I don’t think it matters how old you are. I am done with this conversation. End things with him now or you won't have a pot to piss in by the end of the day.” 

This cannot be happening. You're still sat on the plush sofa of the living room as your father stalks off with your mother in tow. The latter only glancing back with an empty look of pity as you stare at where your father had just been. Words burned into your mind while hot tears finally break and run down your cheeks. This is really happening.

And Tomura was going to be upset.

In a perfect world you could meet up with him tonight, talk it over, or even run away together and leave all this behind, but you know better. You know the two of you haven’t dated long enough to warrant running away together, but it still crosses your mind. You’ve never felt this way about anyone before and it's painful to think you never will again. Tomura just made you feel so.. Alive. There was so much to him and his witty dry humor that keeps pulling you in. 

He’s cynical, he’s moody and sometimes he’s mean but god he could be so soft. Touch you in ways that felt like he reached your soul. Quiet nights where you would stay at his house and watch him play video games would turn into late night sessions of making love until the twilight of dawn peeked through the dark curtains of his room. There was no way you could let him go. But you had to. You had to. Your father had given you no other choice. So you take the coward’s way out.

You text him.

You send him a short text that would send you to the bathroom dry heaving, but you didn’t know what else to do. What more could you say other than your father had snapped at you and you both could no longer be together. It would hurt so much more facing him head on. You knew that if you had to speak to him face to face that you would crack, probably throw out your silly idea of running away together and then face the awkward rejection. This was all you could manage. You felt awful for it, finally forcing yourself off of the floor and dragging your feet to the bathroom to get ready for bed. 

It had been hours and there was no response from Tomura. You couldn't blame him. What could anyone say to a break up text? You hollowly hoped he would fight for you. Even a little. But the flat Read 14:57 showed you otherwise. This had now become a heartbreak you werent quite expecting. You couldn’t help but second guess every interaction you had with him before. If maybe you read into things a little too deeply. If maybe, some smaller, quieter part of you dreaded your father was right.

There was no use of dwelling on that now. No point in running through what you would never know. So, you sighed, and finished up in the bathroom. Slipping on your silk sleeping gown that stopped above your knees and adjusted the small straps on your shoulder. You had cried for hours after your argument – if you could even call it that– with your father was over and your face ached. The bags under your eyes showing the worse for wear state you had found yourself in. it would be okay, you told yourself. You just have to sleep it off. 

And that was your plan and you slid into your welcoming bed, soft comforter embracing you and your worn feelings. You feel more tears begin to sting behind your eyelids before there's a sudden tap at your window. 

A trick of the wind, you decide and return to your somber thoughts. 

You would have to move on eventually, but tonight? He was the only thing on your mind. His eyes, his hair, the way he would feign annoyance when you were overly touchy, craving closer contact. He always indulged you. Always gave you more, you knew he liked it as much as you did. You were lovesick. 

Tap. 

There was that noise again. Louder than before as if someone had thrown a rock right at your window. The room was still and quiet so you knew it hadn’t been your imagination. 

Jumping to your feet and shuffling towards the window in question you brushed your curtains to the side to see the possible culprit. And when you do, your heart drops and instant regret fills you. Stomach aching as you take in the sight before you.

It’s Tomura Shigaraki and he is pissed.

Tomura, your Tomura leering up at you with another rock resting in his hand, bigger and ready to be tossed at your window if the last attempt didn’t work. 

You look around, knowing no one is in your bedroom but yourself and the moonlight, then go to open your window, ducking your head out to get a better look at him. There he was, black hoodie oversized and so soft, red eyes burning in anger but you aren't scared. You’re relieved, it's him. He's here to see you, mouth turned down in a scowl and fists clenched in fury but he was here. 

You couldn’t stop your hushed whisper, “what are you doing here?”

“I came to talk.” Was his only reply before he dropped the rock and walked towards your window. It wasn’t terribly high up, but higher than he could reach without a bit of help from you. 

Now that he was closer you could see the anger in his posture much more clearly. All tense shoulders and narrowed eyes. It was enough to make your stomach turn. You couldn't help but worry your bottom lip as he pulled out his phone and took a step closer.

“Really? Over a fucking text message?” He hissed, rasp in his voice, uncaring of the time of night or who could hear. 

“Tomura, shh, please–” you tried, hands coming up to placate him, if only a little. Your father would have your head if he heard another man in his home, let alone Tomura Shigaraki. 

He huffed a sarcastic laugh, disbelief taking over his features, but he obliged, “I don’t care what your father told you. He can’t control who you talk to.”

You shake your head, the all too familiar sting of tears in your eyes threatening to fall, “I know. I told him that, but he threatened to kick me out, to cut me off. I’m sorry Tomura, but I can't.”

“He can't do that.”

You nod, knowing all too well that your father would go through with his threat. “He can. Technically. I'm an adult, so it’s his choice.” The tears fall now, seeing the rage dissipate from Tomura, slight drop of his shoulders showing disbelief and disappointment. It's too much. This is why you didn’t want to see him, couldn’t face him. “I'm so sorry,” you whisper, trying to hold in the sobs threatening to wrack your body and possibly wake your parents up. This could not have ended worse.  “I don't want it to be this way.”

“Wow, I didn't know you were such a good girl.”

Your breath hitches, caught off guard, “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “I didn't know you did everything daddy says. What a good girl you are.” The tone is one you’re familiar with. Condescending. Challenging. He’s testing you.

Your cheeks flushed. What could you say? That you’re not a good girl, actually. Then what would that make you? A bad girl? You would walk right into his trap. He’s watching, waiting for a response. Something to make you slip up. 

You don't have the chance to respond before he’s taking a step forward, lifting your chin with a finger so that you could look him in the eyes. Even in the dim lighting of the room those crimson eyes looked into your own. Like he was delving deeper, looking for the response that you can't seem to give him. Nothing else matters in this moment. It’s just him and you and the pale moonlight dancing between you. The air is tense and unmoving, like the smallest noise, the faintest blow of wind would ruin this moment. 

You couldn’t take it, couldn’t wait another minute before your body moved, leaning forwards onto the tips of your toes to give you more leverage as your lips pressed to his. His lips were still cold and dry from the cool air outside but that didn’t matter. Nothing matters more than knowing you needed more of him and you needed it now. Tomura’s hand came to rest at the nape of your neck, pulling you closer and the kiss deeper. Taking all of you in as his other hand gripped your waist. 

Your hands wasted no time burying into his hoodie – so soft and worn–  the faint smell of citrus and cedar being a comfort as the intoxicating kiss deepened. Tomura wasted no time, slick tongue entering your mouth, hungry, like it was the last time you would have him this way. It was too much. It was not enough. You broke the kiss, a string of saliva following the short distance you put in between. Air seemed sparse, like you couldn't get enough and Tomura spoke before you could.

“Get on the bed.” 

And you did, newfound vigor in your step as you eagerly did as what you were told. Energy ebbing through your veins as excitement overtook your previous anxiety. Tomura was a mere step behind, discarding his hoodie without care and joining you on the bed, caging you beneath him as he dove back in for another kiss, wet and warm, before trailing lower. Open mouthed kisses to your jaw, then neck, his hands, rough and warm gripping your thighs, taking in all he can. After leaving a particularly hard bite on your neck, Tomura lifted your gown up, smooth silk gliding with ease above your ass and resting below your breast. It was only natural for your legs to spread for him, cool air on your bare cunt making you shiver. 

“Oh?” An amused huff from the man above you makes your cheeks heat further than before. He’s seen you like this many times before, but he’s always had a way of making you feel shy. “No panties, huh?”

You push past your embarrassment. “You know i dont wear them to b– ah!” you're cut off by the feeling of his finger sliding between your folds, slick making it glide, and rubbing over your clit. The surprise of the motion makes you press your thighs closer together. Tomura grins above you, before bringing his wet finger to his mouth, a mocking shh following the motion, tongue flicking out and licking the digit as his other hand pushed your legs apart again. 

He bends down, bulge in his sweatpants pressing against your bare cunt. He’s so hard and that thought only makes you wetter. Tomura’s nose brushes yours, your eyelids fluttering shut as he dives to kiss you again. All open mouthed and wet. You could taste yourself on his tongue as well as feel the pressure of his clothed erection grind against you, rubbing against your bundle of nerves. You are sure your slick is dampening his sweatpants but Tomura doesn’t care. He’s grinding you into the mattress and you’re so close to begging him to get on with it you want to scream. But almost like he’s read your mind, he pulls away. 

The kisses he places along your body set your nerves on fire, anticipation eating away at your patience as he takes his time. Once he’s reached his destination, right between your thighs, he places one wet kiss onto the plush of your inner right thigh. Another teasing move. Another way to make you squirm in excitement. He looks up at you, ruby eyes gleaming in the moonlight of the room. 

“Be quiet for me, yeah?” 

Tomura huffs a laugh at your eager nod, grin growing wider. So quick to please. Dedicated. “Good girl.”

The praise makes you falter for a second, embarrassment threatening to make its way to the surface once more. There was no time for it now, Tomura enjoyed catching you off guard. Loved surprises. He wastes no more time, tongue licking a wet strip between your lips. The action causing you to moan louder than you intended. Your hand rushes to cover your mouth. If you were to be caught in this predicament by either of your parents it would be horrendous for the both of you. 

This doesn’t stop Tomura, though. If anything you were starting to think it encouraged him, because his relentless pace on your cunt was driving you wild. His long stripes simmered into just the tip of his tongue flicking your clit and  sending jolts of pleasure roaring through you. You were already close, pleasure and pressure building and building until you were so close to tipping over– 

Knock knock.

“Hey sweetie. I know it's late, I just wanted to talk for a second.” 

It was your mom. Holy shit it was your mom and there's a boy in your bed with his head buried between your legs and holy shit. If she opened the door, if she barged into your room in the familiar way she always had a bad habit of doing, you would be done for. With wide eyes and accelerated breaths, you clamped down harder over your mouth with both hands. Even Tomura stopped in his tracks, gaze lazily focused on the door with curiosity bleeding into his indifference. 

Your mother must have taken the silence as a sign of slumber, yet she continued. Voice muffled by the door between you both. 

“Your father... was harsh today. And I’m sorry for that.” She pauses, long enough for you to believe she would be giving up and going back to her bedroom. You aren't so lucky, surely at this point you were very unlucky and you dreaded whatever else she had to say. “I just want you to know that he just wants the best for you.” your heart drops as she carries on, unaware and unconcerned of the other pair of ears listening in to her words. “We don’t know him that well. We can't risk you getting involved in something you're not ready for and throwing your future away.”

At this, Tomura rolls his eyes, interest clearly lost and goes back to his earlier movements. The sloppy kiss to your clit catches you off guard and forces a whine out of you. It was small, but still a noise. Squeezing your eyes shut you prayed this would be written off as an odd sleep noise. Wishing to the sky that it wasn't noticeable and Tomura would stop. He didn’t. It was in that moment he decided pressing a finger against your entrance would bring out more noises. The digit slipping in with minimal effort and adding more pleasure to this mix as he sucked your clit. 

If your mother heard anything, she didn't make it known. The floorboards outside of your door creaking with the shifting of her weight. “Well, maybe we can get ice cream or something tomorrow. Have a little girl’s day?” The silence is palpable as she waits for an answer that won't come. “Okay well, goodnight sweetie. See you in the morning.”

You don’t know what you're more grateful for; the sound of her receding steps or that fact that Tomura wasn't cruel and waited until the telltale sound of a door opening and closing rang through the air before adding another finger and curling them. This time you couldn’t bite back the moan that escaped you, hands gripping the cotton of your duvet. 

“Aw, how sweet,” Tomura started, sitting up while adding a thumb to your sensitive nub and rubbing slow circles to replace his mouth. “She wants to have a little girls’ day with you.” 

His mocking tone would have gotten a reaction out of you any other time, but right now you were so close. On the precipice of an orgasm that’s been drawn out for far too long. You could only look at him with half lidded eyes as his fingers worked like magic sending you closer and closer, your breath hitching as you finally, finally reached the climax. Body shaking pleasure cascades over you like a tidal wave. 

“There we go,” Tomura whispers, giving your cunt a playful tap after letting you ride the sensation out. He pulls away completely to take off his sweatpants and underwear, cock already hard and leaking. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips at the sight and you hear his breathless chuckle. “I’ll let you have a taste next time, but right now, I can't wait any longer.” 

It was only when he began to line up with your entrance that you absently wondered about the lack of condoms you owned. You look up at him, question burning on your tongue but he only grins at you, and you swore in that moment he was a mind reader. “I didn’t bring any with me, sorry,” his voice was far from apologetic as he stroked his cock, rubbing the head between your folds and against your clit, slick soaking the head. “But don't worry,” he continued, leaning forward and you felt the pressure at your entrance, excitement buzzing through your veins. “I’ll pull out.”

Whether you believed him or not didn’t matter, you had no time to process a thought as he began stretching you to the limit with his size. A gasp escaped your parted lips as the sickeningly sweet feeling of being stretched too far too fast took over. He gave you a minute to adjust, even as his cock twitched in anticipation of movement. The grip he had on your hips was tight enough to bruise and you knew it was taking a lot of his self control to wait for you. 

He pressed on, figuring it had been long enough and bottomed out with a sigh. Your walls clenched around him and swore you could cum from the stretch alone. After giving you a second to breathe he pulled back, almost pulling out, only to snap his hips back forward into you. Your head lolled onto the pillow, hand coming up once more to mute the moans dragging from your body. Tomura hoists your legs onto each side of his shoulders,bending them forward and successfully folding you like a lawn chair as he started his aggressive pace, forcing your tight heat to clench around his cock. 

“Oh, fuck…” you couldn’t help but mutter as you struggled to hold off your already approaching orgasm. 

Tomura saw this as a challenge. “What? You gonna cum on my cock?” he mocked, pace wild and rough, leaving you gasping as you shut your eyes, not ready to admit how right he was. “It's okay,” he continued, leaning closer and allowing his dick to press deeper inside you. The drag hitting the bundle of nerves inside and nearly sending you over the edge. “Come on, cum on my cock like the good girl you are.” 

Those words push you over, hips convulsing as your legs shake and it takes Tomura slapping a hand over your mouth this time to quiet you. You couldn’t focus on anything else, let alone keeping quiet. Your body felt light and Tomura fucked you through it. His pace grew more erratic as his grinning face became one of focus, brows furrowing as his eyes shut and he focused on his pleasure. Your pussy squeezing around him making it harder for him to stave off his own nearing climax. You were worried that at this point you were both too far gone. The silence of the home would leave the messy noises between you both loud and clear for the entire house to hear. Tomura was great at keeping his composure but the soft groans coming from your lover only showed how much he was losing his grip. 

“Can’t– fuck, sorry–” you didn’t have time to decipher his strange words, your curious eyes meeting his face to gauge his expression before you feel it. 

His cock twitches inside you, seed painting your insides white as his thrusts didn't slow. He was hammering away at your insides, only pumping his cum further into you.  You feel so full, the warmth spreading over your body like a blanket. He came in you. Even though he said he wouldn’t, he did. The worst part about it? You don’t care. It's invigorating. You feel even more attached to him. Even closer. You want more.

Overstimulated and weak, you whimpered, thoughts swimming as Tomura finally came down from high. Slowing his thrusts and panting heavily. Your heart is drumming against your chest as he removes your sore legs from his shoulders. Shuddering as he slips out of your tight heat, feeling the cum dripping out of you and onto your sheets. 

The bed dipped as he took his place next to you. Out of breath and eyes focused on the ceiling. Your ears were ringing with the sudden quietness of it all. Things felt different, heavy. 

“You could always just not tell them.” It was Tomura who broke the silence first. “Act sad, mope around, and then come see me at night.” 

You glanced over, vaguely registering the sweat cooling on your body. You would need to get up and get cleaned up soon. “Yeah, but if they catch me–”

“They won't. I’ll teach you how.” he turns towards you, bringing a hand to your chin to make you face him. There’s a fuzzy feeling turning in your chest and the familiarity of heat rising to your cheeks is starting to drive you mad. His grin is enamoring, red eyes almost glowing with mischief in the moonlight. “I’ll show you the ropes.” 

There's an ache that tugs at your chest as you nod. “Okay.”

You are so fucked.

[astralnymphh]

ellie never takes injury blithely. not with you, and not while in seattle. every second counts, in every matter possible. shepherding purgatory to abby, recovering tommy; the plan is a mirrored millpond, where every taken action is carefully watched, and nothing disrupts the gentle infrastructure. that is, until it was shaken by a setback of seraphite sorts and left you with an injured ankle. the theater became your constant panorama, with ellie trickling in here and there. always with a story to entertain boredom, sometimes written in blood. the seconds with you matter.

“just a sec.” she assures, rolling up her short sleeve. “can't be all gross and bloody when i do this.”

she sits at the flank of your makeshift bed, one leg tucked in, one leg supported by the floor. fist curled into a damp rag as she wiped away the story on her arms. the red, wringing evidence that everything outside that millpond reflected everything inside of it. holes in their plan. changes in nature. and it reflects heavily on her solemn face; quiet as the sycamore tree brushes, slowly plucking apart in fall, branches more visible each day. all that is soft has waned, and weakened against the sharpness outside those grand theater doors. she spites the desperation.

you could see the woe of your injury in her face. she really did put you first, in each and every way.

after a still silence, you croak in mumbles. “you know i can take care of myself. my arms and hands still function fine, and bandaging is easy—” you sit up to meet the level of her hung stare that shifts when your sentence ends, “tommy needs you out there.” filling her chest with air.

she huffs, “i know.” and tugs her lips to the side in thought, only for them to stretch into a stupid smirk when she says, “but you don't know how much this helps.” rolling her head to face you. auburn strands dangle.

“what helps?”

“this,” she whispers and drifts gently into you. easing her lips between yours without pressure, smacking away slowly. “seeing you alive still, keeping you that way. getting to kiss you,” she errantly adds.

cringe contorts your face. “okay,” but she continues to infect it with pecks, leading down the wings of your jaw. “well, kisses don't exactly heal an injured ankle any faster than letting me—”

“babe.” the name itself calls you to hush, a lone finger stroking up your lips. she wasn't staring at your eyes, either. her focus was solely on your lips, and you could feel that. breath in each whispered syllable hitting them. “this is really important, trust me. tired of leaving here without something to remember when m' out there. you'll get it.” her smirk only grows and snaps when the statement is sealed. humming with such satisfaction into your mouth; relieved that she won't be missing it any longer.

she relies on memory. more than ever.

side note: my birthday may or may not be on the 8th of this month.. treating myself to some fluff and angst (goddess knows i love torture🤞)

[vourequat]

First was to love you, second was to fuck the shit out of you.

WARNING: Fem!reader, toxic relationship, short NSFW longer angst/fluff, implied murder, blood, cunnilingus, knife play

3rd part of my birthday special, I know I didn't post yesterday so I'll be posting two fanfics tomorrow if I can. I'm not feeling good, chat 😞

You couldn't say that your relationship with the Knave was as smooth as her operations that go under the nose of the Oratrice, it never was and might never will be.

At first, she was just nonchalant but very loving and sweet to you until one time she saw you conversing with someone else and that seemed to tick her off and made her switch from the Peruere that you loved to the Arlecchino that you feared.

What were you to expect from the child of a Fatui that killed her own mother?

"I'm a very jealous woman, you know that." She said as she stood up from her desk.

You scoffed, "And me talking to someone else ticked you off?" You snapped back.

She stopped from her tracks, the wind going still as she slowly turned around to see you. Her eyes meeting yours as she telepathically told you to stop pushing her.

"Yes—"

"You murdered someone, Peruere!" You reasoned out, trying to pull out her logical side.

"I am aware."

You sighed, rubbing your temples in frustration on trying to make this woman rethink her decisions and actions. Ever since she decided to make the two of you official, she always resorted to violence when it came to your safety but she was going out of line this time.

She then approached you, "I'm sorry, Mon cher... let me make it up to you" Her blackened hands made their way to your waist and to the ties of your dress, tugging on them slightly.

You tried to push her away but she was much stronger than you were, she lifted you up so suddenly and placed you down on her desk before tearing off your corset.

"Let me show you how sorry I am..."

You couldn't count how much you've come on her tongue, it was pure bliss as she kept working on your pussy like it was her very last meal. Though you could remember how she made you try to shoo away the children as they knocked and asked for their father while she was attacking your clit with passion.

You kept pushing her head away from you but she would not budge a single inch, it seems that this has agitated her as she stopped eating you alive and looked up at you with those X mark pupils of her before she stood up to look down at you.

A lump of saliva gathered at your throat as you watched her lips and chin glisten from your juices and the way that she wiped it off, slowly she leaned in closer to you, at first you thought that it was to hug you but then you felt a sharp and cold object run from the the nape of your neck towards the section where your back and ass meets.

"This time... I'll mark you to show everyone who you belong to... this time I won't hold back."

And just like that, you were turned onto your back with her hand pushing down on you. You felt her kiss along your spine before you felt the dagger that she held in her hands and carved her name all over your back, leaning down to lick up the blood that trickled off the shallow wounds.

You shivered as you felt her breath hit the open wounds she had put on you, this was pure torture but the pain seemed to fade into nothing but pleasure as you felt her rub at your clit once more before plunging the blunt handle of the dagger into you and kept thrusting it in until you were shaking.

Pulling out the dagger, she cupped your face with one hand to make sure you were watching as she sucked off your juices from the dagger's handle.

"When I was a child I never believed in the archons that plagued these lands... but by mercy, I gave them my devotion when they handed me to you."

You were now in the bathtub with her, the warm water engulfing the two of you as she laid your back on hers.

The wounds had long healed from being too shallow and not enough to cause you any further pain, however, Arlecchino seemed to get more relaxed as she kissed and licked at your neck whilst she massaged your thighs.

Her kisses trailed up and then she breathed into your ear before she spoke, "My whole existence is flawed and wretched... but you my dear... you make me get closer to the archons, you make me want to repent for all my sins just to be enough for you..."

You began to chuckle, laying your head onto her shoulders as you held onto her hands.

"You should really stop having sex with me just to take my mind off what you've done..." You spoke up, now stern and strict.

"Don't worry, his disappearance won't be linked to any of us." Before you could even speak up, you could hear the children speak from outside the door once more.

"Father, I had a nightmare..."

You laughed as the woman sighed.

"Your kids need you... daddy."

She gave you a warning glare before lifting herself out of the tub to dry herself off and cover her body with a bath robe, before she left however she did not miss to give you a quick kiss before leaning down back again.

"I'll make sure you'll be screaming that later... we're not done yet, I know I'm still not forgiven."

A/N: Do y'all think Arle likes being called daddy?

Anyways, I've been feeling bad these past few days due to the heat. I don't know if I'm just being dramatic but heat exhaustion is real gang, my head hurts all the time and I am just so irritable and I even got a nose bleed just earlier.

(Real, we kiss passionately when no one is looking)

[lxndonorris]

a paddock affair - Lando Norris

Y/N x Lando Norris Theme: Fluff Lando introduces you to part of the paddock x mentions of Max, Carlos, Charles, Oscar and Daniel word count: 1200+ taglist: @game-set-canet requested by anonymous :) hope you like it. gif by me;

As the sun is shining brightly, casting its golden ray upon the Melbourne skyline, you find yourself standing outside the gates of the prestigious Formula 1 paddock, hand in hand with Lando, your heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and nerves. 

It had been a whirlwind romance since you first met a few months ago, and now Lando was inviting you into his world, the heart of the F1 action.

"Lando, I'm really nervous," you confess, tugging at the collar of your Mclaren team jacket, a piece of clothing that now holds sentimental value beyond its sleek design.

Lando squeezes your hand reassuringly, his trademark grin lighting up his face.

"Don't worry, love. You'll be great. Everyone's going to love you."

With his comforting words, you make your way into the paddock, where the air is alive with the hum of engines and the chatter of mechanics and drivers preparing for the weekend ahead.

Your first stop is to meet Lando's good friend and teammate turned rival, Carlos Sainz. As you approach, Carlos looks up from his conversation with a mechanic, and his face breaks into a wide smile.

"Lando! And who's this lovely lady?" Carlos greets you, his Spanish accent laced with warmth.

"This is Y/N, Carlos. My girlfriend." Lando introduces you proudly with a shy smile playing on his lips.

Carlos extends his hand, and you shake it, feeling a rush of gratitude for his friendly demeanor. Lando stands by your side, his comforting touch a constant reassurance; his hand strokes the small of your back, a subtle yet comforting gesture.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I must say, you look great in that Mclaren gear," he motions to the jacket Land gave you a few days prior. "You're practically part of the team already."

You blush at the compliment, feeling a sense of belonging wash over you as you exchange pleasantries before Carlos gets called away to attend to his duties in the garage.

Next, you encounter Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc engaged in an animated discussion. Their laughter echoes through the paddock as they reminisce about the last race. As you approach, they exchange knowing smirks before Charles excuses himself, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

Max bounds over to you, his infectious energy filling the air. "Well, well, well, Lando, you sly dog! Hiding your girlfriend from us, eh?"

Lando rolls his eyes playfully. "Yeah, yeah, Max. This is Y/N, by the way."

Max shakes your hand enthusiastically. "Pleasure to meet you, Y/N. Don't worry, we won't give Lando too much trouble... maybe."

Their banter is like music to your ears, easing your nerves and making you feel like a part of the tight-knit F1 family. Amidst the lively banter and laughter, Lando's presence anchors you as the grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly.

After Max excuses himself as well, Oscar Piastri joins your little group. You had met him before, and he greeted you with a warm smile, genuine concern evident in his eyes.

"How are you feeling, Y/N?" Excited?" Oscar asks, his Australian accent adding a touch of familiarity to the conversation.

"Excited doesn't even begin to cover it," you reply, unable to contain your enthusiasm.

Lando wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close. "Come on, let's take a stroll through the paddock. I want to show you everything."

As you wander through the bustling paddock, Lando points out the intricacies of the garages, the sleek motorhomes where the drivers and teams strategize, and the various anemities that make the F1 experience truly one-of-a-kind.

With each step, your anxiety melts away, replaced by a sense of wonder and awe at the world Lando inhabited.

At the same time, your eyes can't help but wander to Lando, taking in every detail. His Mclaren shirt hugs his lean frame perfectly, the familiar papaya orange contrasting beautifully against his sun-kissed skin. The casual elegance of his outfit, paired with jeans that fit just right, only serves to enhance his natural charm.

But it is his curly hair that always captivates you the most. Each unruly lock seems to have a mind of its own, framing his face in a way that is both effortlessly cool and undeniably endearing. Every time a stray curl falls across his forehead, your heart skips a beat, reminding you just how lucky you are to be by his side.

"Lando, your hair looks amazing today." You can't help but gush, reaching up to tuck a wayward curl behind his ear.

He grins, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Thanks, love. It's a constant battle trying to tame these ecurls, but I'm glad you like them."

You smile and caress Lando's cheek, marveling at the softness of his skin beneath your fingertips. His stubble tickles you ever so slightly, but you welcome the sensation, relishing in the intimacy of your moment together.

"I love your beard, Lando," you murmur, tracing the contours of his jawline with your thumb. "It suits you so well."

A hint of surprise flickers in his eyes before a sheepish grin spreads across his face. "You do? I wasn't sure if I should keep it or not."

You nod emphatically, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. "Definetly keep it. It makes you look even more handsome, if that's even possible." 

His laughter echoes through the air around you, filling you with warmth and contentment. 

Lost in your quiet moment, a familiar voice breaks through the serenity around you. "Hey there, mate."

Startled, you turn to see Daniel Ricciardo approaching you, already donning his racing suit with that siganture grin plastered across his face.

Before Lando can react, Daniel reaches out and playfully pokes his sides, causing him to burst into giggles.

"Hey, Danny." Lando exclaims, returning the gesture with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Trying to distract me before training, huh?"

Daniel chuckles, his charm undeniable, as he joins you. "You know me, mate. Always up for a bit of fun."

Lando's arm finds its way around your waist, pulling you close, giving you comfort.

You fall into easy conversation, chatting about racing and sharing anecdotes from past experiences on the track. Daniel's enthusiasm is infectious, and soon enough, you are all laughing like old friends reunited.

After a while, Daniel excuses himself, a glint of determination in his eyes, as he prepares to focus on the upcoming race weekend. "Well, it's been great catching up, but duty calls. See you both later."

With a wave and a parting smile, he disappears into the bustling crowd, leaving behind a lingering sense of camaraderie that warms your heart.

You turn your head to find Lando looking at you, a warm smile forming on his lips.

"Lando," you say softly, overcome with emotion, "thank you for bringing me into the paddock."

A tender smile graces his lips as he gently caresses your cheek. "You did amazing, Y/N; I'm proud of you."

His words fill you with warmth, and as he leans in to kiss you, you feel a rush of love and affection wash over you, knowing that with Lando by your side, there is nothing you can't face together.

[kusakiguzen]

Yandere One Piece x Reader

A/N: just fic that i wrote when i was board! Hope you enjoy reading it as much i enjoyed writing it.

Imagine the Straw Hats being annoyed with Cultivator Reader who gets sea sick alot but was also clingy. Almost always in choppers office during storms or when there are big waves. Chewing on Lemon Grass, Cloves or just licking some salt to help with it since you don't want to bother chopper much.

It had gotten worse ever since you entered the new world, The unpredictable weather makes you feel worried that you hold the crew back. The crew on the other hand were very understanding at first but soon they started to get annoyed, even Sanji and Chopper. You felt so bad about it that you always had a clove in your mouth so even if the weather changes it won't affect you that much.

But one day... You over heard them saying how you shouldn't have joined the crew if you get so sea sick since, pirates literally travel through the sea on top of that you never leave anyone alone! Always stay with someone, stuck to them. To sum it up... they didn't want you here....

You immediately ran to the crows nest and cried for a good hour. You had never felt so humiliated in your life!! Your familiars came out to comfort you and you fell asleep on them.

Zoro was asked to fetch you, He went to your room where you'd usually be, but he was met with emptiness. H serched the whole ship annoyed but finally found you in the nest sleeping comfortably. He was kinda annoyed since he was shouting for you but you gave no response, since you were sleeping, its fine.

They were going to get off on the next island to restock on supplies. You joined them but to your horror it looked like you home town.... Your home town was destroyed because Marines deemed it dangerous. So how come this town looks so much alike? You immediately got off and excused yourself, the straw hats thought you felt sick hence went to find a restroom or a secluded area to vomit, But no... You were trying to find a familiar face, any face. Since all cultivators lived in harmony, and it was a small island, you knew almost every one.

You entered the closest weapon shop and to your surprise, found the old man who used to work there, when you were in the village. You called out to him and his eyes widened. He ran and hugged you crying saying how everyone thought you were dead. You started crying saying how you thought everyone was dead, since you went back to the village and it was completely destroyed.

He told you that they escaped by faking all their deaths, so that tragedy won't happen again. You were so glad to find them. The old man ran out the shop to tell everyone you were back and alive. They all started hugging you while crying, saying how glad they were. This commotion was seen by Robin and Brook who were confused as to why these people were coddling you so much.

You told the villagers how you were saved by the Straw hats and you joined their crew. The village called for celebration to thank the Straw hats, who were surprises to find out this was your home.

Then you met him again, your childhood sweet heart, Lóng Fēi. How long had it been? you can't remember. You just ran in his arms, falling in the process. Shoving your head in his shoulder, soft sobs escaping your lips. Fēi Immediately picked you up like a baby and took you to the forest since he knows you hate being seen weak. When in the woods, he plopped you on his lap, holding you close, kissing your tears away. After you calmed down, He picked you up again and you guys went on a walk around the forest, catching up about life. Out of nowhere , Fēi asked if you would mind if he joined the crew with you. You immediately said you don't mind and he should join since Fēi was strong.

Luffy agreed without hesitation, since more the merier right....? Wrong, your atittude towards the crew changed. You no longer cuddle with Zoro while he naps, you no longer sit behind Sanji while he cooks, you no longer stay with Nami and try to read her maps in secrete, you no longer read with Robin, you no longer play or sing with Brook, no longer help Frankie, you stopped going to Chopper to talk about medicine from your home. Finally, You never again asked Luffy to sit with you on the head of the sunny. All the thing you used to do with the Straw hats, Now yo do with Fēi, Everything. it was like you changed into a completely different person.

They Straw hats were relived that you left them alone, but soon realised you weren't paying attention to them at all. They tried asking you to do stuff with them but you politely turned them down saying you don't want to bother them. Your blunt favoritism hurt them. Do you not like them anymore? Is it something they did? (kinda)

Soon they started to lose it, draging you with the to spend time like you used to but Fēi still tagged along. Can't he see?? He is not wanted!!!

If this continued they just might kill Fēi. Or Fēi would kill them. I mean if there was an accident that killed them but you and Fēi survived, no one would be suspicious....... Right?

Well lets see who survives then?

A/N: A small imagine that was on top of my head. I have another one piece fic in my mind which i'll write.

Stay Safe, Healthy And Hydrated

[noira-l]

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠

⋆ ★ '𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞' - 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

chapter summary: You are falling into darkness and meaninglessness. Satoru refuses to let you do that.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader

warnings: hurt/comfort, lots of comfort, after 'premature death', after suguru deflection, describtion od depression, apathy, lost meaning in life, slight eating disorder, sleeplesness.

author's note: We finally get to see his softer side, though as is his fashion, he does it in his own way.

4 months after Suguru defected

"I know that the situation that happened has left its mark on you, however, you must not give up like this."

Yaga had been trying to reach you in his office for several minutes. To no avail. Your gaze was still blank, staring at a single point on his desk since you sat down, it didn't seem like you were present in any way.

Silence. You didn't answer anything. Just as you always do.

This is not your first meeting with your Sensei. Yaga has been trying to make his way to you for about a month.

A void in your head, so great and black that it swallowed you whole. Your body indifferent to every sense that reached you, you did not analyse it at all. If Satoru hadn't dragged you here, literally holding your hand and leading you, you wouldn't have come here at all. You didn't have the will or the strength for it.

Everything stopped at that moment. It ended. There was nothing left. Anything important and beautiful in your life was taken away from you by the terrible malice of fate. Your house burnt down. Your beloved had descended into madness. You no longer had anything to care about. Your entire past no longer mattered. Everyone is literally dead.

Even you died that day.

You wondered what was still alive.

Or at least that's how you explained it to yourself, unable to accept that the same person who promised you the world had just taken it away from you.

You were lifeless. It didn't take much to conclude that.

All that remained was a fragile, frail and empty shell of a person once filled with love, dreams and passion.

You no longer had the strength to cry, or to utter any words. If it wasn't for Shoko, you wouldn't even eat, and if it wasn't for Gojo, you probably wouldn't sleep.

You could smile altogether now. The world of jujutsu never broke you, the person you loved did. But you didn't, even though it crossed your mind.

What an honour to be the exception to the rule.

Yaga sighed leaning against his expensive chair.

"(Y/N)." he called out, though you didn't even flinch "I don't want you to end up like this. As your teacher, I recognises your self-doubt as his personal failure. The situation that has befallen you is a very difficult one and I understand that you would need time to get things back to normal."

He leaned towards you "However, in this world we live in, we cannot afford such a luxury." you knew his eyes were drilling into you.

"It has been more than four months. Your condition is not improving, only getting worse. At your request, I have specifically let you skip part of your training." you heard him grinding his teeth, but not out of anger, but out of helplessness "I'm doing my best not to send you on missions in this condition, because I know that even if something attacks you-" he paused.

-you won't even try to defend yourself.’ you finished for him in your head.

He was right, you knew it, and so did anyone who would just look at you. You lost a lot of weight, your skin turned pale got a shade of gray, and your eyes lacked their former spark.

You could see that Yaga, in that silence, couldn't find the right words. When he opened his mouth to say something, you finally muttered, pausing his speetch.

"But Sensei, you should…" you raised your gaze from the one point where it was cumulative to look the man deep in the eyes

"..let something finish me off. It's all meaningless anyway."

★ --

Yaga sat in his office, surrounded by a silence that seemed to deepen his worries. Outside the window, the rain drummed against the glass as if to wash the weight of anxiety from his soul, but it only deepened his sense of helplessness.

Your words, haunted him.

‘Let something finish me off. It's all meaningless anyway' constantly echoed in his mind, like a silent cry of despair that gave him no peace.

Never before had he seen such emptiness in someone's eyes - an emptiness that testified that all hope, all will to fight, had been sucked out of you.

He was incapable of seeing Geto Suguru roll into a similar spiral.

It was a failure that has pursued Yaga, reminding him of the fragility of the human mind.

You are reminder of that too.

Now he saw the same symptoms in your - empty eyes, unresponsive to sensory input, avoiding contact with others.

Every day when you came to training was like seeing a ghost moving among the living, unable to fully return to life. You was physically there, but you soul seemed to be elsewhere, trapped in a place you couldn't get out of.

In this state, Yaga knew he had to seek advice from others.

He must act. He will not make this mistake again.

You will not be a case to regret.

And he had a lot of them.

He was the first to go to Shoko. He met her in the corridor, as busy as ever with her work, locked in a world where medicine was everything.

"Shoko, have you tried to talk to her? Something about her condition?" he asked, although he already knew the answer. Shoko sighed, not stopping for a moment.

"I'm not good at such conversations." she replied briefly, looking at him fleetingly, as if those words would explain everything. Yaga knew that Shoko was doing as well as she could, but he also knew, that she was avoiding emotion like a fire. She couldn't help you in this battle that was going on inside. She was only capable of healing you on the outside.

The next stop was Nanami. Always serious, always composed, Nanami was someone who could be counted on in the most difficult of times. However, when Yaga asked him the same question, the answer was equally overwhelming.

"I understand what she is going through. I've tried to reach out to her, but… she's silent. I don't know how I can help her when she won't talk.’" there was a note of helplessness in Nanami's voice that had never been there before. Yaga knew that he sympathised with you, that he had tried, but that he himself could not break through this invisible barrier you had built around yourself.

Last was Satoru, always the enigmatic one, always full of contrasts. Yaga found him in one of the training rooms as he watched the younger students' classes.

"Satoru, did you talk to her?" he asked, knowing that Gojo was someone who could see more than others.

"I don't talk. I just sit by her when she's awake. That's all I can do." replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Yaga felt a mixture of relief and sadness upon hearing these words. Satoru, in his typical style, had found a way to be beside you, but even he, with all his unlimited potential, could not pull you out of your state.

★ --

3 weeks after Suguru defected

Gojo was initially not supposed to get so involved.

He kept repeating to himself that he wasn't good at such things, that he didn't know how to talk about such topics, couldn't find a solution for you or show you something he should.

Your storm you showed him that day left a mark in him. It awakened something in him. He couldn't deny it. He just kept living in the belief, that he wasn't capable of doing anything about it. He didn't feel that there was anything in him that he could offer to help you. He never knew what to say, he never knew what to do. He felt hopeless about it. Satoru was not the kind of person who makes the same mistakes twice or never learns from them.

He blamed himself for Suguru's departure. He felt that his corruption was his fault. His lack of attention, his lack of interest, his powerlessness - his failure to adapt to such situations.

Gojo Satoru was the strongest, that was the reason he was born. It was what he was made for.

He was not made to come into contact with the problems of humanity, he was always above others, he never touched such topics. And now here you are. In front of him. You are showing him this.

You bring him closer to this subject, you prove to him that he, despite his title, is still human.

He feels exactly what you feel.

You are proof that the feelings he has inside him - make him human.

What ultimately made him abandon the idea of leaving the subject to himself was the sight of you. Soaking wet for long moments on the training field.

He saw you from a distance, as he walked with Shoko to class. He separated from her to letting her go ahead, saying he would catch up with her. The rain was dark and heavy. he didn't need an umbrella, so he walked throught it like was nothing. A white beam of light, walking throught the dark.

The sight of you, sitting on the training field with a bamboo sword, completely soaked - stuck in his mind. It was an image that spoke more than a thousand words. You were physically there, but spiritually you seemed to be far away, in a place where no words could reach you. Satoru, though usually full of energy and humour, this time simply walked up to you and without a word took your hand, pulling you out of the rain. You didn't even defy him as the force lifted your body and made you float slightly above the ground.

He sat you down in his room, giving you a towel to dry you off. Gojo left for a while, leaving you covered in towels and a warm blanket.

He quickly teleported to the kitchen, to brew a mug of warm tea for you. He waited patiently for the kettle to boil the water, tapping his fingers against the kitchen counter in thoughtfulness. He thought about bringing Shoko to you, as you might have caught a cold. Suguru had mentioned that you catch such colds quite easily.

As he moved back, he set his mug down on his notebook-cluttered desk and looked at you. You stood at the window, watching the rain that had kept the world quiet all day today.

"Why the rain?" he asked, trying to strike up a conversation. You did not answer immediately, still staring at the raindrops reflecting on the window.

After a moment, you raised your gaze, looking at him with a blank stare. "Because the rain is clean. It washes everything away. Maybe if I stood there long enough, it would wash me away too." Satoru felt his heart squeeze with pain at those words, but he didn't allow himself to have any emotional outbursts.

You sat like this for a long time, he beside you, looking out at the rain. In the silence that surrounded, he could feel how devastated you were, how much you had lost the will to live. He knew that these feelings would not disappear overnight. He was aware of that.

So from that moment on, Satoru implemented a plan that seemed strange and effective, exactly his style.

★ --

1 month after Suguru defected

The first month was a time of anticipation and patience for Satoru.

When he first entered your room, he felt the dense atmosphere almost overwhelm him. The quiet, enclosed room seemed as if trapped in time. You were sitting on the bed, your back turned to the door, shoulders tense. It was clear that your thoughts were far away.

Satoru closed the door behind him, then took a seat against the wall, far away from you, right next to the door. He sat down on the floor, pulled his gameboy out of his pocket and began to play, pretending it was a normal everyday situation.

At first you did not even look at him. Your gaze remained fixed on one point, as if you were trying to find a meaning in it that you could not find anywhere else. Satoru, however, was not bothered by this silence. He concentrated on the game, allowing you to get used to his presence while giving you space. Managing the space was his special skill.

Every day he would spend a few dozen minutes in your room, sometimes playing, sometimes bringing something to eat with him. Often he would sit there with a meal in his hand, eating slowly, and the sounds of munching were the only sounds in the room. He never tried to get you to talk, knowing that your personal space was crucial at that moment.

★ --

2 months after Suguru defected

The second month brought slight changes. Satoru, feeling that your reactions to his presence had become more bearable, decided to get closer.

Instead of sitting on the floor by the door, he took a seat in the chair by your desk, which stood slightly closer to the bed. When he entered the room, you looked at him - that was a success! Noticing change in his behaviour, but you took a quick glance at him, so he couldn't be happier. He passed you a small smile, that was a welcoming greeting.

Satoru stretched out comfortably in a chair, pulled out a book and began to read. Occasionally he would reach for his headphones to turn on some music for himself, shutting himself off from the world but still being there, at arm's length, if you need him.

There were days when he couldn't concentrate on reading, so he would just sit, watching you out of the corner of his eye. As time went on, he began to notice that you would sometimes glance at him, as if trying to understand why he came here almost everyday that was free for him, even though you didn't exchange a word with each other. Even when he was busy, your room was the first stop when he came back from any mission.

★ --

3 months after Suguru defected

In the third month, Satoru felt he could risk the next step.

When he walked into your room one day, instead of sitting in a chair, he walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of it. He felt your body tighten as soon as he sat down, but you didn't move away or ask him to leave. This was the sign he had been waiting for.

He pulled out his gameboy, fired up the game and started playing, sitting next to you. For a while, the silence was almost overwhelming, but as time passed, the atmosphere began to relax. Satoru noticed that although you still didn't speak, your presence had become somewhat more conscious.

He started bringing you food when Shoko couldn't. He felt that when he brought you something, you were more eager to glance at it. And you even took a bite of the sweet roll he left with you one day.

There were also moments when you started to move, as if you wanted to say something, but the words were stuck in your throat. Satoru did not push. He felt that these small gestures were a sign of progress.

★ --

4 months after Suguru defected

In the last month of this silent coexistence, Satoru decided to go all in.

When he entered your room, he didn't stop at the door or the chair. He immediately headed for the bed and lay down beside you without a word. He felt you body stiffen at first, but after a while you relaxed, accepting his presence. This was so strange, but so.. welcoming.

Both of you lay side by side, arms barely touching, but it was enough.

Satoru pulled out his mp3 player, turned on quiet music and placed it between you two, letting the soft sounds fill the silence. He watched the ceiling, occasionally glancing up to look at your face. The sight of it, now devoid of such deep pain as it had been in the beginning, made him relieved. He knew that your emotional state was still fragile, but he was sure that his presence was helping you in some way. You were helping him too, he just couldn't say that to you.

His presence in your room become such a small tradition, which he often looked forward to. Besides your dorm was a good escape for him, when he was looking for, there was never any thought that he could be at your place.

One day, as both you lay like this, you gently turned towards him and looked at him with a slightly softer expression on your tired face. You didn't need to say anything - your gaze said more than words.

Satoru smiled slightly at you, then closed his eyes, feeling that you had reached a state of understanding that was only possible through months of patience and perseverance.

He was content, that he could see your eyes weren't so empty or full of tears. That was a breakthrought, that he was so eager to welcome.

★ --

4 and a half months after Suguru defected

Satoru has not visited you for a week.

You knew he was back from a mission, because Shoko bringing you food mentioned it. She also said that it had been a long and exhausting one, on which they had sent him alone, with no support from even specialists.

It was already very late in the night, you had been waiting for him for a long time, and yet he had not come.

For the first time since moths, you got out of bed by yourself.

You poked your head out, to see if the light in his room was on, it still was. You were overwhelmed by a strange feeling, that you could not quite describe. You wondered what the reason was for breaking this little tradition you shared between the two of you.

You came to the conclusion, that he probably needed the space himself and was just using it. Although this seemed to you to be completely unsuitable for a person you came to know. Should you do something about this fact? You nervously bit your nail.

What if he now needs the same treatment that he used to give you? What if he just needs to be alone?

A conflict arose in your mind. You didn't know what to do, how to behave. You felt a little stressed as you slowly sat back down on the bed.

What should you do?

Your decision was made, when your foot visited the kitchens for the first time in months to brew a tea for him.

All you could hear in the quiet corridor was the soft creaking of the floor, as you approached the door of his room. The wooden gates were slightly open, as if Gojo didn't have the strength to close them fully. You carefully pushed it open with your hand, peering inside.

Satoru was lying on the bed, with his arms spread, as if the weight of the world was crushing him to the mattress. His white hair, always so perfectly styled, were a mess. Fortunately, he had managed to change into his pyjamas. There was an expression of extreme fatigue on his face, but when he heard quiet footsteps, he lifted his eyelids.

Your gazes met. You gently closed the door behind you, then stepped deeper into the room, setting your mug of warm drink down on the desk. Just as he had done this to you one time. Your limbs tremble slightly from the cold. Going to the kitchen in just your pyjamas and flip-flops at this time of year was a stupid idea.

You didn't exchange a word with each other. You blandly started playing with the sleeve of your nightshirt. You didn't need words to understand how tired he was, the slight bags under his eyes and messy look told you all you needed to know.

He changed positions on the bed, moving more towards the wall, grabbed a corner of the duvet and lifted it up. He made an inviting gesture with his head and his slightly glowing eyes went out.

You sat on the edge of the bed first. Feeling a little on unfamiliar ground. You had only been in his room a couple of times. The main place for you to hang out as a group was Suguru's room. Immediately you felt the warmth emanating from the sheets.

With a slow movement you lay down next to him, letting the warmth of the duvet and his scent greet you. The mattress bent slightly under you weight, as you turned to face him. You could feel how soft and molded his mattress was, how his pillow was pleasantly arranged. Your body slowly began to warm, heat waves spreading through your body, soothing your mind and dulling your senses. The air around you was warm, enveloping, and his presence added a strange sense of security that you hadn't felt in a long time.

You could feel your body relaxing more and more with each breath. You could hear the calm rhythm of his breathing, which worked on like a lullaby. You were so warm, not only physically, but also internally, as if this place, this moment, was exactly where you were supposed to be.

You slowly closed your eyes, feeling sleep begin to embrace you with it's softness. The thoughts that had been swirling around in your head just moments before, began to quiet down, giving a way to a blissful emptiness. The warmth of his body and regular breathing were like an focus points that, allowed you to pull your head away from your worries and sink into a peaceful sleep.

Finally, you allowed yourself to fully surrender to the moment. You fell asleep, with his hand still gently resting on your waist, in a place that seemed the safest in the world.

★ --

Satoru slowly opened his eyes, feeling the soft rays of the sun on his face. For a while he lay still, savoring the quiet of the morning and the warmth that beat from the body, cuddled into his. You were sleeping peacefully, your breathing was steady and deep, and face expressed the kind of calm he hadn't seen in you in a long time. He smiled slightly, pleased that you could finally truly rest.

He didn't want to wake you, but he knew the day was calling him. He shifted cautiously, reaching for the phone that lay on the bedside table. For a moment, he pondered how to play it, but quickly decided that the only person he could ask to do it - was Shoko.

you: "Take care of everything today? Thanks. >ᴗ<"

7:43 am

Sent a message, not waiting for a respond, he put the phone aside, before turning back to you.

He glanced at your face once more. You looked so peaceful, as if for a moment you had forgotten everything that had overwhelmed you for months.

Gojo gently ran his fingers through your hair, trying not to wake you up. He smiled, seeing how you moved slightly in his arms, as if you instinctively knew he was there.

He was so proud of himself, the sight of your sincere rest soothed his heart somehow. Thanks to him, you were finally able to rest. He felt satisfaction and contentment at the thought. He finally didn't feel so helpless and powerless. He felt that he had just done something, that at least one person, by some screwed up luck, had managed to be saved by him.

With a slight sigh, he closed his eyes, allowing himself to sink into sleep again. He knew that he didn't have to rush anywhere, that this was a day they could spend relaxing, even if he had responsibilities and pressures on him, at this point he totally didn't give a damn. He fell asleep quickly, holding you close to him, enjoying the moment of comfort you brought to him as well.

You two slept all day, cuddled up to each other in warm cozy embrace.

With the peace and quiet you finally rested, as you both deserved.

© noira-l 2024 | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or redistirbute my work without permission

tl (open): @kalopsia-flaneur

[morose-melodies]

partners in crime | yandere! capitano x f!reader

summary: the captain would kill for you and... he did!! now he's a wanted man by all of snezhnaya but at least he's with you

content warning: a lot of mentions of kill, and vague mentions of injuries. the captain being extremely extremely devoted to you

the captain was a bad man and officially a wanted man.

there was not an ounce of regret in him, how could he regret anything when he had done everything for you?

he would die doing anything you pleased, for you were who he loved. though, love was not a strong enough word to describe how he felt for you.

he craved you, he cherished you, he revered you. the captain worshiped you - everything you did, everything you said, he could not hate you. he would never betray you.

whatever happened, he was content knowing he was doing it all for the likes of you.

it had been nearly a week since he became a wanted man. he had killed a high-ranking fatuus just as you asked him to and that started the hunt for him.

no longer was he the honorable, ever-righteous captain; no, he was something damnable, something to be feared, someone you would hate to come across.

but to you, he was a knight in shining armor. he was all you ever wanted and likewise, having your love was all the captain needed.

he anxiously awaited his next meeting with you. the last time he had seen you was three nights ago, it was dark, and he regrets not hugging you before sending you off.

though, he doubted you would have taken kindly to him hugging you.

you weren't a kind lady, likewise, you were evil.

you could be so sweet and yet also so cruel. looks truly were deceiving; that's how he fell for your trap in the first place.

you appeared as a weak damsel in need of saving and he indulged - saving you and bringing you back to his manor where he would give you a place to sleep and recover.

it didn't take long for you to reveal who you truly were - you were an evil lady out for vengeance and the captain could be of much help for you.

you convinced him that you desperately needed him and that without him, you'd never reach your goals.

the captain wanted to help you. you were so soft-spoken, so small; you needed him, so he decided he would help you.

...

"where will you stay, captain?" inside your small cabin, you had invited the captain in and made sure he was comfortable - though, he refused anything you offered him, such as food or water.

"as long as you're safe, I'll figure it out. are you sure you'll be safe here? what of the stubborn monsters that keep coming back?" you were his first priority- before his safety, was yours.

"I'll be fine," you sighed, looking out the window of the cabin at the desolate woods that surrounded it, "i asked where you would stay."

"I said I'd figure it out," the captain replied, clasping his hands together as he looked at your back, "I'm in no rush to hide."

"I don't want you to get caught... or die," you confessed, turning to face him and you looked sad.

the captain felt the need to assure you, to tell you he would never die; he wanted to say he'd live for as long as you asked him to, but that wasn't true.

he wasn't sure of what would happen.

so, he stood and approached you, his large boots creaking upon the old wooden floor. he took your hand into his and could only say, "I won't."

he had made a promise now. he had to keep it. the captain would live, he would live for you, and no matter the circumstances, he would come out alive and find his way back to you.

he would always find his way back to you.

...

the captain stood out like a sore thumb, he knew that.

it was thoughtless of him to think he wouldn't gain attention if he went into town not wearing armor, but it was an act of desperation; an act of desperation for you.

you were running low on food supplies and it was his fault. when you asked him to stay, he should have refused; when you offered him food, he should have refused; when you offered him water, he should have refused.

but, he didn't.

so, he wanted to right his wrongs for you. you got angry when he explained his plan to you. you screamed, cried, and begged for him to stay, genuinely fearing for his life.

you tried to hold him down, you tried to keep him from leaving but his will was too strong- he still left. he promised you he'd live, so he would.

and, he did.

with blood dripping from his sword.

and with a few scratches, a minor limp, and perhaps a few small puncture wounds; he had gotten more than enough food for you, and that's all that matters, wasn't it?

when he arrived back at your cabin, you were sitting on the porch, waiting for him. the expression on your face when you saw him and the state he was in broke his heart.

"I'm alright, (y/n), i am okay, the injuries are minor," he tried his best to assure you, but, perhaps it was his limp that scared you the most.

you helped him into the cabin immediately, taking the food and setting it in the kitchen. as you demanded, the captain sat on the couch and awaited your assistance.

you came back with a sewing kit and bandages, "you should have worn your armor... you should have known they were going to attack you..." it felt good, though, to be so wanted by someone. to have someone kill for you was... exhilarating.

"... thank you," you mumbled, as you began removing pieces of his clothing and patching up the puncture wounds on him first as they were actively bleeding badly.

the captain released a deep breath and felt nothing but absolute relief. he'd do anything to please you and killing always seemed to please you.

...

monsters were surrounding your cabin.

you had been sleeping peacefully until you heard a long, hard scratch on the door, and then a bang, and then the sound of snarling.

by the time you had gotten up to investigate, the captain was already up, armored, and prepared to slaughter the monsters that surrounded the cabin.

"(y/n), it's alright. I will deal with them - go back to sleep, I won't allow anything to harm you," he assured you, reaching for his sword at the side of the door and raising it.

but, you were still standing behind him. "you're still hurt-"

"(y/n), please step back - let me do this for you, allow me to protect you, as I've sworn to," the banging and snarling got louder, more aggressive.

you stepped back, watching as the captain opened the door, stepped out, and shut the door behind himself.

you wanted to cry - scream, chase after him, and drag him back inside but instead, you ran off to get the sewing kit, bandages, and a towel before sitting down on the couch and waiting.

he was capable, you knew he could handle the monsters.

you heard the gory slashes from the sword, the sound of those monsters meeting their end, and you also heard the sound of another wave of monsters arriving.

the fight was long.

when the door opened, the captain stood there, blood dripping from every inch of his armor and his sword.

he was breathing heavily - those deep breaths muffled by his mask, his chest was rising and falling rapidly, as he dropped the heavy sword to the ground and nudged the door shut behind him. "they're gone for now... (y/n)," he managed to say between each labored breath.

"are you alright-"

to his knees he went, kneeling before you and resting his bloodied mask against you. he wanted nothing more than to stay like this, especially when you reached down and removed the mask from his face.

and then you lowered to your knees also and hugged him; despite the gore, despite the blood covering him, you still hugged him.

he wanted time to stop on this very moment - he wanted to remain on his knees before you, to have you care for him, to worry for him, to embrace him.

...

you wanted to go to sumeru.

you had mentioned it once, and the captain hadn't forgotten; he wouldn't forget something like that.

you said you liked the weather, you liked the culture and you thought it was cool. surely, you would be very pleased if he took you there.

well, that was his plan.

or, sort of.

though he wouldn't be able to leave with you, at least you could go, at least you could be happy. knowing you were happy, made the captain happy.

he would wake you up in the morning, take you to the harbor, and send you off - it should be simple; he had been thinking about it for a while now; he had prepared himself for the grief he would feel at the initial loss of you.

then, while you were gone, the captain would prepare to leave snezhnaya himself - though it was a longer, more difficult process.

it would be a sort of massacre.

but wherever you were, he would be there also.

so when morning came, the captain woke you up in an almost urgent matter, saying, "Get dressed with haste."

sure, you didn't understand but you got dressed with haste anyway. the captain made sure you ate a suitable meal before leaving.

he took your hand into his and guided you out of the cabin, and the two of you began walking - it wasn't too far away, but it wasn't close by any means.

"where are we going?" you asked him, and he replied, "an outing would be nice, no?"

you wouldn't leave without him willingly, he knew that. so he had to lie; he would have to do whatever it took to get you on the ship.

he needed you to be safe.

"oh, yeah. yeah, i guess," you nodded, your shoulder bumping the captain's as you stepped over a log in your path.

the rest of the walk was silent. it was sinking in that you would be gone and the captain would be here without you. perhaps these months had been some of the greatest in his life - being with you gave him much peace.

you felt the captain's hand tighten around yours as the two of you approached the busy harbor. you stilled, looking at him, "where are we going? the people are gonna see you and... and you don't have your sword."

"i won't be needing it," the captain assured you, releasing your hand from his hold. he swallowed and stood a step back from you to stop himself from attempting to grab you, "get onto the blue ship- it will take you to sumeru. you've always wanted to go there, right-"

"sure but I'm not going if you're not-"

"(y/n), i need you to go. I'll meet you there, that's a promise," a promise he could not break, he took another step back, and felt a dull ache in his chest and side, "i will find you in sumeru. you won't be alone for long. I'll find you."

you glanced back at the boat before looking at the captain once more, and your throat tightened, "you swear?"

"I do."

[poohsources]

🐝  *  ―  𝑬𝑷𝑰𝑪: 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑪𝑨𝑳 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.

Troy Saga ❛  do what i say and you'll see them again.  ❜ ❛  what do you live for? what do you try for?  ❜ ❛  say no more, i know tat i'm ready.  ❜ ❛  the blood on your hands is something you won't lose.  ❜ ❛  is the price i pay endless pain?  ❜ ❛  something feels off here, i see fire but there's no smoke.  ❜ ❛  we should try to find a way no one ends up dead.  ❜ ❛  why should we take when we could give?  ❜ ❛  i see in your face, there's so much guilt inside your heart.  ❜ ❛  have you forgotten the lessons i taught you?  ❜

The Cyclops Saga ❛  it's almost too perfect, too god to be true.  ❜ ❛  what gives you the right to deal a pain so deep?  ❜ ❛  your life now is in my hand.  ❜ ❛  remember them, we're the ones who carry on.  ❜ ❛  what good would killing do when mercy is a skill more of this world could learn to use?  ❜ ❛  i am your darkest moment.  ❜ ❛  i don't know where i went wrong but i warned ya', and you failed the test.  ❜ ❛  that's just like you, why should i be surprised?  ❜ ❛  unlike you, every time someone dies i'm left to deal with the strain.  ❜ ❛  i'll remind you i saw you as a friend but now we're done.  ❜

The Ocean Saga ❛  at this rate, we won't make it out alive.  ❜ ❛  please don't tell me you're about to do what i think you'll do.  ❜ ❛  yes, but how much longer til your luck runs out?  ❜ ❛  you rely on wit, and people die on it.  ❜ ❛  you're like the brother i could never do without.  ❜ ❛  and suddenly you doubt that i could figure this out?  ❜ ❛  keep your friends close and your enemies closer, never really know who you can trust.  ❜ ❛  'cause the end always justifies the means.  ❜ ❛  do you know who i am?  ❜ ❛  you are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great.  ❜

The Circe Saga ❛  whatever you need to say can wait some more.  ❜ ❛  there's no length i wouldn't go if it was you i had to save.  ❜ ❛  wouldn't you like a taste of the power?  ❜ ❛  don't thank me friend, you very well may die.  ❜ ❛  did you do something to them?  ❜ ❛  if you make one wrong move, then you're done for.  ❜ ❛  you and i are now evenly matched.  ❜ ❛  you've given me no reason to bestow you with my trust.  ❜ ❛  who's to say, with the mistakes i've made that they will be the last mistakes i ever make?  ❜ ❛  this is the price we pay to love.  ❜

The Underworld Saga ❛  all i hear are screams, every time i dare to close my eyes.  ❜ ❛  i no longer dream, only nigtmares of those who've died.  ❜ ❛  when does a man become a monster?  ❜ ❛  now you tell us our effort's are for nothing?  ❜ ❛  how has everything been turned against us?  ❜ ❛  do i need to change?  ❜ ❛  i'm the only one whose line i haven't crossed.  ❜ ❛  what if i'm the problem that's been hiding all along?  ❜ ❛  what if i've been far too kind to foes but a monster to ourselves?  ❜ ❛  if i became the monster and threw that guilt away would that make us stronger?  ❜

The Thunder Saga ❛  you wouldn't have spared me. i made a mistake like this, it almost cost my life.  ❜ ❛  i've got a secret i can no longer keep.  ❜ ❛  you know that we are the same.  ❜ ❛  we must do what it takes to survive.  ❜ ❛  tell me you did not know that would happen.  ❜ ❛  if you want all the power, you must carry all the blame.  ❜ ❛  how are we supposed to trust you now?  ❜ ❛  how much longer must i suffer now?  ❜ ❛  someone's gotta die today and you have got the final say.  ❜ ❛  please don't make me do this.  ❜

The Wisdom Saga ❛  you've made your worst mistake here.  ❜ ❛  this cruel world doesn't give out presents just for being good.  ❜ ❛  you're my friend, i couldn't ask for more.  ❜ ❛  did you know you talk in your sleep?  ❜ ❛  i'm what you want here, i'm what you need here.  ❜ ❛  you don't know what i've gone through.  ❜ ❛  i know your life's been hard, i'll stay inside your heart.  ❜ ❛  life would be so much worse if you had died.  ❜ ❛  you dare to defy me, to make me feel shame?  ❜ ❛  no one beats me, no one wins my game.  ❜

[rhys-writes-some-shit]

Prompt: "Any time away from you is far too long."

Alastor x Reader (Queer-Platonic)

No matter how much Alastor tried to persuade you, you refused to quit your job to take up a position at the hotel. Under the terms of your contract, you knew he had the power to force you to do as he asked, but he had yet to. You weren't sure if it was because he was biding his time or if he simply didn't want to, but you weren't going to ask.

You worked as a secretary for a small-time porn studio, your work mostly consisting of doing paperwork and writing spreadsheets. It wasn't much different than what you did when you were alive, which was why you stuck with the position for so long. Plus, it was a lot better than other jobs in Pride, if you excluded the fact that Valentino was always trying to take the studio over.

Very rarely did the studio ever ask you to do anything more than your job description. However, there was one time you were asked to make a trip outside of Pentagram City to pick up a lost package. No one else was available, and you'd had some free time on your hands. Without much argument, you agreed to get the package. That was the easy part. The hard part was getting Alastor to let you leave Pentagram City.

"Seriously, Al, I'll be fine," you insisted, pulling on a jacket. "It's just a quick drive over to Imp City, it's not that far."

Alastor's smile was becoming forced. "They can get someone else to do it. You don't have to leave."

"I already agreed to it." You buttoned up your jacket and brushed it off. "I promise, you won't even notice I'm missing."

There was a tense silence for a full minute before finally, eyes narrowed, Alastor stiffly conceded. "I'll hold you to that." He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Be safe, darling."

If it had been any other context, Alastor telling you to be safe would've been sweet, but you could tell from his tone and the way he was gritting his teeth that it was a threat. To both you and anyone who tried to hurt you. If you didn't come back safe, he'd never let you leave the city without him again. And if someone hurt you... they would never be seen again.

Fortunately, the package pickup was quick and simple. The only eventful thing that happened was you having to take a small detour to avoid a shootout. The imps who'd held the package were nice, and your boss had stayed late to make sure you and the package were safely returned.

"Just a heads up, I don't know if my partner will ever let me do anything like that again," you warned your boss lightheartedly, chuckling a little. You never told them who exactly your partner was, but it was known throughout the studio that they were possessive and dangerous.

"Well, hopefully you won't have to," your boss remarked, obviously annoyed at the situation. "Thank you again, though. Let me know how much gas was so I can add it to your paycheck."

"Of course." After saying a quick goodbye, you ducked out the door to return to the hotel.

Alastor was waiting for you in the lobby. As soon as you walked in, he was at your side, taking your jacket off for you.

"I noticed," his voice was tense. He walked alongside you as you traveled up to your room.

"Figured you would," you shrugged, unsurprised, but grinning lightly anyway. "How long was I out of the city?"

"24 minutes and 17 seconds." Alastor's shadow quickly dashed ahead, opening and holding the door to your room open. You stopped right outside of it, looking up at Al's bright eyes.

"Not too long. Could've been longer." Taking your jacket back, you already started thinking of how nice it'll be to change out of your clothes. You'd put on something different for dinner, but after that, it was t-shirts and sweatpants, no matter what Alastor said.

A hand ran down your back, pulling you into his chest. He inhaled deeply, resting his cheek on the top of your head. "Any time away from you is far too long."

Your smile became soft and content, as you leaned deeper into Alastor's hug. He didn't usually hug you, so you were going to savor it. If he ended up hugging you every time you left the city, you might end up leaving more often...

[fandomsandfeminism]

So we have now surpassed the 96 hour "best case scenario" amount of oxygen point (if they had been alive and didnt just implode, they arent alive anymore), and I just keep thinking everything about this story, and really the story ABOUT the story, is fascinating.

Like, the situation itself has that incredible blend of tragedy voyeurism and schadenfreude that adds a level of absurdity. (The Logitech controller, the camping world lights, the fact that they probably didn't have their shoes). The way this story touches on issues of deregulation and tragedy tourism and billionaire hubris and a condemnation of wreckless start up mindsets. How much money has been spent looking for them, how much the tickets cost - the extreme absurdity of all of it.

But also the WAY this story has been covered. I keep seeing this compared to the horrific disaster in the Mediterranean this week which killed over 500 refugees and the disparity in the coverage and interest. And yeah, I think the issue is that the disaster in the Mediterranean is transparently horrific- it is a terrible tragedy, the result of systemic and complex geopolitical issues that are complex. So many people, and the weight of that is just so big. It's not funny. It's just awful.

The Ocean Gate Titan thing? It's a simple narrative that was obviously avoidable. It feels like a movie with REALLY obvious themes. It's been covered like a movie. It's been dragged out and every single possible update, the viral video of the tour of the sub, the possible noises detected by sonar, the whole side story about the billionaire step son going to the Blink 182 concert- the cast is so small and the level of abstraction away from normal people and their lives? Makes it feel completely unreal and so it can be consumed like the newest HBO miniseries.

Even now, we are getting updates on how they could stretch the oxygen out longer- like a fan theory prediction of the next episode. Like a headcanon for the season finale. (Oh God, do you think AO3 has fics yet?) Tiktokers making videos about plot holes (why not attach a tether to it?). Discourse over whether it's problematic to say one thing or another about it.

It reminds me of how it felt when the Ever Given got stuck in the Suez Canal, but with the added "oh my god, the OCEAN ate the rich" and Logitech Playstation controller jokes.

I'd put money on implosion. These men have been dead since Sunday. It's likely that we won't actually know for a long time though, if ever. But the way this story was covered is worth contemplating.

[shaisuki]

CIGARETTE SMOKE

|| the third entry for the series “𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐖𝐄 𝐃𝐎 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄”

content warnings ─── yandere themes, implied kidnapping, hints of smut, jealousy.

is it bad that you want to take someone just to protect them from this world? aki regretted but doesn't feel bad about it.

we devil hunters don't have the long life to live.

there's a certain annoyance that has been creeping up on me since you joined the division. you clearly didn't belong here and sometimes i would ask myself why are you here? why are you wasting your life in this hellhole for no reason. you're alive. happy. you aren't here for revenge. to avenge your loved ones from the devils. you have no purpose here. you don't belong here.

however it's not my place to dictate someone's choice of being here but you infuriate me to no end that i wished for your demise. i didn't understand why i feel this way towards you. it doesn't make sense. you were a nobody to mine. not the one i should care for but sometimes i can't take my eyes off you.

the gnawing feeling of seeing you so friendly and close to someone like denji makes my blood boil and it's easy to ignore it but i can't not when you're starting to grow on me.

what casual moments between us, i have cherished it. not realizing what effect it could have on me. i started to see you on my dreams. started to crave your presence that i can no longer breath and it hurts me so much that i have started to feel this way to you more than i would like to admit.

then we started to lay on the same bed. where can i hear you breath. feel you under my fingertips. the softness and warmth you provided for simply existing. how it provided the intimacy of comfort and security. drown in the depths of the pools of your eyes that i can no longer swim and sink in to you.

is this what it feels to fall for someone who is close but is distant. how could it be when you're the one who initiated it. how cruel are you but i can't blame you. we simply comforted each other with our bodies and it's my fault that i let myself feel what i wanted to feel.

this would be our last night together. allow me to cherish you. let me feel you. let me sink my teeth unto your skin that you will feel me for days.

the gasps and moans that left your lips breathlessly is the air i breath. say my name the way i like it. say my name as i touch you in places where it brought you pleasure. the stretch marks and scars decorating your skin that i have memorized. the curves and every swell of your body where i have kissed and worshipped. allow me. allow me. allow me. allow me to savor all of it. you won't deprive me of it. i know of it since you're helplessly under me.

that's right. that's how things should be. you and me. nothing else in this world that can stop us. not even the devils.

why won't you be mine?

the thought occured to me. why? we have shared our thoughts. the touch that i came to miss. the kisses that i denied at first and learned to crave. i have touched you. we've exchanged sweet nothings. the string of salivas connecting our lips. my lips on yours and my spent deep inside you. painting your walls white as you came around me. isn't it enough that we belong to each other. you're mine. you're mine. you're mine. you are mine.

so forgive me. forgive me that the last thing you will ever see is the smoke coming from my cigarette as i lay claim on you. protecting you from this cruel world that took the people i loved and i won't let it happen to you. i don't understand myself why i am asking for your forgiveness when i know you won't forgive but it won't hurt to ask. you're too kind and that was your mistake for having me. for letting me in your world that I claimed to be mine.

my thoughts are muddled and the only thing that keeps me sane of my reality is the light coming from the end of my cigarette and your warm body resting beside me. warm. it is a good thing. you're still alive and you'll wake up with me beside you. that's better. is all i can think as i watch my cigarette smoke disappear in the thin air like you were.

[thesmutsideblog]

Never Ever? - Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: After a you and your long term ex breakup, some truths about your sex life come to light at the BAU and the idea that you've never had an orgasm, does not fly with Spencer Reid.

Reader is AFAB, and the story is using she/her pronouns, mostly because this one is really self indulgent and loosely based on me being pissed off about my ex.

Content warnings: dumbification of Spencer Reid, simp Spencer, shitty ex boyfriend, self indulgent writing, no beta or proof reading, cursing, smut, sexual worship, porn with plot I guess.

I have never written in second person before so I can only apologise for the shit quality of this, I havent written smut since 2018 and it's unedited, there is going to be spelling issues it's the dyslexia I'm sorry xx

GIF by comeandjointhebigboys

Spencer is doing everything in his power to look like he is minding his business, mostly because he really is trying to not eavesdrop. He came over to make a cup of coffee because he got barely any sleep last night and he wants to keep focused. But with no case directly at hand, there was something else the team were paying attention to and it was impossible for Spencer to completely ignore it.

"So he just, broke up with you?" Emily asks, dumbfounded.

"Over the phone," you say tilting your mug towards yourself, choosing to stare down at the small remainder of your coffee rather than to make eye contact with your team members.

"What an asshole," JJ says, lacing her arms together, until she looks like a disapproving mother. "Did he say why?"

"He said, we were going different places, and it would be a disservice to the time we spent together to pretend to be happy and keep lying to eachother," you say, sighing and putting the mug down, choosing to accept this caring interrogation about your breakup as your fate for the next twenty minutes.

"He used those words?" Emily asks, still trying to grapple the concept that your boyfriend, who she had met on a few occasions and had some thoughts she kept to herself about, had broken up with you.

"He used those words but what he really meant was 'I want to start sleeping with my twenty year old coworker and you spend too much time at work, so I'm ending things,' but he won't have the decency to admit that, despite the fact he was sleeping with her before the week was out," you roll your eyes as Emily and JJ continue to voice their disgust, loudly across the bullpen. You catch Spencer's eye for a moment and give him a small sad smile across the room, he nods and then looks away.

The guilt is eating Spencer alive. It's not like he actually had anything to do with the end of your relationship, he actively kept himself far away from it and even discussing it with you as possible. But the facts still remained the same, he likes you. He has liked you since your first day at the BAU and his feelings have never faltered. But you have always been in that relationship since long before he met you, and he knew that he didn't stand a chance, and he wouldn't want to mess around with that anyway. But he was unable to disagree with Prentiss, his own feelings for you aside, the simple fact of the matter was you have always been well out of your exes league. You are beautiful, and intelligent and charismatic, and your ex thought he was those things but more often than not fell short.

It's not like he even wished that your relationship would end and could blame it on the unlikely event of magical intervention. But the sheer fact that he was undeniably happier that you were no longer dating a man you were once very much in love with, that was enough to have him feeling guilty. Which is one of the many reasons he is really trying to not get involved in this conversation. One of the many reasons he is trying to keep a distance.

"How long were you two together again, like three years?" JJ asks. You shake your head.

"High school sweethearts," you correct her, "it's been a lot longer than three years."

"And he broke up with you over the phone, for a co-worker?" Emily emphasis each word in the sentence as she slowly sounds them out.

"He denies the last part but, yes," you nod.

"What are you beautiful ladies being so loud about?" Derek asks, approaching the three of you with some files in hand.

"The fact that men never fail to both disappoint and astound me," Emily states looking up at Derek from her seat, "no offence."

"None taken, but a little context wouldn't go a miss," he says looking at each of you in turn.

"My ex is a pig," you explain as nonchalantly as you can manage. You're trying really hard to be very collected about this. You've had a few days to process the breakup and you knew it was coming, even if you won't admit that to yourself. But being broken up with hurts, whether you see it coming or not. He was the only person you ever really dated, and having spent so much of your life with him this was a big adjustment. But deep down you weren't exactly mad about the situation, as much as it made you feel a lot better to complain about it. Things had not been right between the two of you for quite some time, and you find yourself almost relieved that it's over. But that still gave him no right to be as much of an asshole about it all as he has been.

"So he is the only guy you've ever really dated then, huh?" Emily asks. You give her a look as the thought crosses through her mind. "Wait, does that mean?"

"We started dating when we were barely more than kids Emily," you defend.

"So it's just been that guy, that guy?" Emily is struggling to be even the smallest part composed. "What is wrong with men?"

"You need some strange," Derek says casually.

"Morgan," JJ scolds him but Emily is slowly nodding her head. "Emily..."

"Best way to get over someone," Emily points out.

"Wow, I am not getting under anyone," you state, holding up your hands.

"Look, I understand the appeal of someone you've been with for a long time, they know you, they know what you like," Derek leans back on the table, "so new is risky, and some people really don't have a clue what they're doing I'll admit," he chuckles, "but trust me the longer you leave it-" Derek knows he isn't crossing a boundary, you and him have had plenty of conversations, but as soon as you give him the look to stop talking, he stops.

"I appreciate your concern but sex, is really not at the top of my priority list," you say.

"Please don't let a guy like that ruin it for you," Emily is staring up at the ceiling all types of distressed at the idea of your ex and his general existence.

"I don't think you need to worry about him ruining anything for me, more like just wasting my time," you say before realising that may be revealing too much. All three of them look at you instantly. "Do not read into that."

"Disinterest," Emily states looking you up and down. "And no immediate desire to release that usually comes with a breakup."

"We're not really doing this, are we?" JJ asks looking between the two profilers concerned.

"She's been distant the last few months, talking less and less about him, so the breakup wasn't unexpected, which means the sexlife probably wasn't up to scratch at the time," Derek adds.

"Oh you guys are doing this," JJ gives you an apologetic look as they start rattling off assumptions.

You try your best to ignore them until Derek says something which does tiptoe over the line- by a mile. "Pretty boy, what are the statistics on post breakup sex?" He is half joking but it pulls Spencer directly into a conversation he had been trying to avoid.

Spencer knows the answer, and that's obvious, but answering will only encourage them to get him involved in the conversation. But not answering is suspicious and could cause worse problems. He pushes his thumb into the centre of his palm as he speaks. "27% of adults report having sex with an ex within a two-year period," Spencer states knowing that's not what Derek meant but hoping he could get away with it.

"No, I mean rebound sex," Derek corrects.

"Studies show that thirty-five percent of those who are broken up with have sex to get over their ex, and twenty-five percent as a form of revenge," Spencer says giving in and stepping closer to the group.

"Look sixty five percent of rebound relationships fail within six months," you say. That's a safe thing to say you believe, as you know the team would likely assign that research as an attempt to make an educated guess how long the fling with the coworker would last. But Spencer knows better. He cannot help but wonder if that's what has been making you act differently the last few months. If you saw the end in sight and wondered what that means for you when it's over.

"You're not looking for a relationship though, you're just looking for some fun," JJ points out.

"You do remember how to have fun, don't you beautiful," Derek asks giving you a wink.

"Yeah," you say brushing him off.

"Do you?" Derek asks, unconvinced.

"I told you, I'm not interested in going out and getting laid, it's not worth the energy," you say.

"When was the last time you had an orgasm?" Emily asks. Spencer chokes on his coffee.

"Emily!" JJ chastises her.

"Someone had to ask," Emily says.

"No one had to," you tell her.

"Come on, six months?" Emily asks. "A year?"

"Emily," JJ warns.

"Shit..." Derek whispers and you feel his gaze on you intensifying. He has you all figured out.

"What?" Spencer asks, not meaning to.

Derek is keeping his eyes on you and you cannot meet his eye. "Tell me I'm wrong pretty girl," Derek says, wanting himself to be wrong.

"I... I don't know... You're a profiler, how am I supposed to lie to you?" You huff.

"Are you kidding me?" Derek asks.

"Derek you're not helping," you state.

"Sorry," he says, "I just don't understand how that can be the case."

"You said it yourself, some people really don't have a clue what they're doing," you say.

"So you've never?" Emily asks cottoning on.

"Can we please stop talking about this," you say.

Spencer's brain is ticking over trying to read between the lines and when it clicks he is struck with a similar dumbfounding as Morgan. How? How?

He cannot help but have one clear thought scrambling around his brain at a million miles per hour. If he had ever had the chance, he wouldn't have wanted anything more than to make sure you felt good. To know he had made you feel good.

How inconsiderate could your ex be? How little attention must he have been playing to not even notice that you were not getting what he was out of it? How had he never cared to make that better?

And why did you not feel cheated by that fact?

"I'm not eavesdropping," Garcia defends bringing Spencer out of his head and back into the room.

"Okay why don't we just fax everyone the stats on my sex life," you groan, resting your head in your hands.

"I'm just saying," Garcia tries.

"I appreciate all of the unnecessary concern," you say, "but my sex life isn't a BAU case." Emily smiles as she goes to speak but you catch her thought right before she opens her mouth. "And it's no ones problem to solve either."

"It's a little tragic," JJ confesses.

"JJ," you're surprised, JJ is normally the one you can count on to get the others back on track but she just shrugs.

"Let's leave it be, Garcia do we have a case," Spencer is talking with his hands even more than normal and you cannot help but notice. He is trying to come to your rescue and you appreciate that. You appreciate everything Spencer does.

"Maybe," Garcia explains, waving her tablet at the group. "Hotch wants us in the conference room, five minutes ago."

You're quick to get out of your seat and away from the grilling you are receiving from the team and everyone else is quick behind you. Hotch and Rossi are at the desk when you all enter.

Hotch frowns. "You took a while," he notes.

"Discussing the breakup?" Rossi asks, looking you up and down.

"I dont even want to know what has given that away," you admit taking a seat. Hotch nods a half apology which you silently shrug off in return.

You were trying your best to pay attention, giving Hotch the respect he deserves, but the case he was talking about didnt feel like it required the BAU's involvement and Emily is quick to voice that opinion. You managed to register a few words about consulting and favours, but nothing is really sinking in, not when you can feel Spencer's gaze on you as hot as a fever.

You raise your eyes to meet his and they dart away. You think back, and it occurs to you that maybe conversations about your sex life or anyone of the teams sex lives for that matter wasnt exactly what Spencer signed up for. You feel a little guilty, knowing you kind of indulged the others and let him get pulled into the conversation even if that wasnt your intention.

You catch him looking at you again but he doesnt see you looking back, it's like he is trapped in a thought, and in this moment you've never seen Spencer look so without a clue.

"Reid?" Hotch asks, repeating the question.

Spencer looks to Hotch, and he buffers. You know he knows the answer to the question, you know he always knows, but his brain seems to have frozen up on him. "I... sorry what?"

"This is statistics kid," Derek says, "are you sick or something?"

Emily gently pokes Spencers shoulder. "Maybe he is getting a software update," she jokes.

You lean forward and give Hotch the answer he is looking for, remembering from a conversation you and Spencer had a few weeks back about Ohio. Hotch gives a side eye to Rossi before continuing.

You look back at Spencer and he is watching you again, you offer him a small smile and he returns it. You've always been better at reading Spencer than most members of the team but you don't recognize this behaviour at all.

"Are you okay?" You ask him as you both make your way down the steps of the BAU.

"Of course, why do you ask?"

"You blanked back there, Spence, pretty hard," you say as gently as you can, "I havent seen you like that since..."

"Since when?" Spencer looks curious, and softer somehow.

"Since we worked that case in Illinois, with the models, you took one look at that girl Annie Grant was it, and your IQ dropped like a hundred points," you laugh gently.

"She was pretty," Spencer confesses.

"I think Morgan got her number," you recall.

"He did," Spencer agrees.

"So, what is it? Because it's not a pretty girl in lounge wear," you say.

"You dont know that for sure," you can tell he is trying to joke around the subject, and normally youd find that cute. Cute in the kind of way you havent been able to admit to yourself before. Because having a crush on a coworker is not convenient at the best of times.

"Okay, Dr Reid, keep your secrets," you give him gentle shove and his smile is disarming, soft and so happy to just be involved. "Got any fun evening plans?"

"There's this new study into cognitive dissonance in specific trauma patterns I have been meaning to read," he offers. You bite back a chuckle.

"You've got a date with science," you nod to yourself, "of course you do."

He looks around, thinking for a moment. "Are you going to walk?" He asks.

"I usually do," you admit, "it's only a few blocks after all."

"Can I," he pauses, "can I walk you?"

"You want to walk me home?" You ask, a little suprised at the offer.

"If that's okay, the study can wait," he says. There is a look in his eyes you can't quite pinpoint, somewhere between pleading and hopeful. You nod.

"I'd love that Spence."

The distance to your apartment door had never felt so short, and you hadn't realised until now quite how much you enjoyed the moments when you were with Spencer, and no one else was watching. Maybe because he paid less attention to making sure no one noticed him watching you, and he just keeps watching.

Spencer looks at his feet as you fumble with your keys, he has no idea what he is doing. He didn't think any of this through, he just kept thinking about you, and what you deserved and what you should've always been given and now he is stood at the doorstep of your place with no plan, no idea of what compelled him to think any of this was a good idea and no idea of what to do next.

You smile at him, and bite your lower lip just a small bit, the look is so demure that Spencer wonders if he imagined the entire conversation in the bullpen, wondering if maybe he was really so wrapped up in these months of conflicted feelings for you that he managed to lapse from reality so badly that he got himself here.

"Do you want to come in for coffee?" You offer and his heart damn near stops in his chest.

"Coffee is never coffee kid," Derek's voice rings in his head. "It's an invitation."

"Got decaf?" Spencer asks, and you laugh.

"Like anyone who works at the BAU knows what decaf is," you open the door wide and walk through. "You coming?"

He doesn't answer but follows you, closing the door behind him. Your apartment isn't a mess but it's clear things have been moved around since your breakup, there is clear empty spaces where things once collected dust, like so many things once filled a place and vanished. You weren't dwelling on the relationship, because there wasn't a point. You had loved and you had lost, and you knew it went like that sometimes.

"You better not be profiling me Dr Reid," you quip as you catch him looking around.

"I wouldn't dare," he says.

"So, are you going to explain why you're being so sheepish?" You ask, reaching for a mug, to actually make coffee.

"I'm being sheepish?" he asks. He had hoped he was hiding it better.

"Nervous at the very least," you say putting the kettle on. He says nothing and you sigh. "Did we make you uncomfortable earlier?"

"What?" Spencer asks, caught off guard by the question.

"Talking about my ex," you offer up. "I know that sort of gossip isn't exactly for everyone-,"

"No," he is quick to defend, "that's not what's bothering me."

You smirk and he sees the trap you laid for him that he walked right into. "So something is bothering you pretty boy," Morgan's nickname for him falls from your lips and it sounds so different. It burns every nerve ending, each fibre of his being and he forgets how to speak for a moment too long. "Spence?"

"I," he brings himself back.

"I don't mean to pry, you don't have to tell me anything," you explain quickly.

"How was your ex such an idiot?" he asks outright. You laugh, it's short and shallow because you're not expecting anything close to that from Spencer.

"What?" It's your turn to feel dumb now as you spiral trying to process what Spencer is suggesting. That the conversation had gotten to him, but not in the way you'd thought. His problem hadn't been with the topic but the content, the confession. The kettle brings itself to a boil but you're interest is elsewhere now.

"I don't mean to speak out of place here, but if I were him there are so many things I would've done differently," he fidgets with his tie but doesn't stop. This confession is coming out now or not at all and he wants it finished. He needs it finished. He does not want blurred lines. Not between the two of you. "Not even touching the subject of how your relationship ended. I wouldn't have left you in the rain last October, I wouldn't have held all the things I knew about you when we met as reasons to run years after I agreed to love you regardless. I wouldn't have let you go to work angry all those times. I wouldn't have lied about plans. I wouldn't have let you go to sleep sad or angry, and be gone in the morning. I wouldn't have left you wanting, for anything. Because if I was him I would understand what a beautiful rarity it is to find someone who does what you do, with your compassion and determination and dedication and is still kind, still hopeful, even when things are dark. There are not a lot of things I don't know much about, and maybe relationships, and romance and sex are in that limited list, and maybe he would argue that hypotheticals hold no ground when your experience is as limited as mine, but I frankly don't care what his opinion would be. Because he didn't see you for what you are and that means his thoughts are of no value to me. I don't tell you this because I am expecting you to say anything, it's just burning me up that you weren't treated, hell worshiped, in the way you deserved and I had to tell you that I can't think of anything more wrong." He steps back and you're still catching your breath. "I, I am sorry I shouldn't have... I will see you at work."

He turns and strides to the door, and your breath heaves in and out of your chest and you wonder if you can find your voice before his hand finds purchase on your doors lock. "Spencer," you breathe out. He pauses, hand hovering over the door handle.

"Yes?" his voice is so quiet, and he doesn't turn to look at you.

"Please don't leave," the request falls from your lips and Spencer has never felt more of a need to do something than to do anything you ask of him in this moment. But his doubt still hangs gently in the space between the two of you.

"What?" he asks again, searching in the word to find something to hold onto, looking for some guidance or instructions he missed. He didn't have a plan, and he doesn't know what to do with this.

"Please," you say again, voice sturdier now as you start to close the distance between the two of you, "Spence," his breath hitches as you place a hand gently on his shoulder, encouraging him to turn back to you, and he does, "don't leave."

His eyes stare into yours and you swear you feel all the months of unsaid things, of quiet wanting, of stolen thoughts in weak moments, bursting at the seams. You had told yourself in another world, another life time, had you met Spencer Reid and the timing had been different, if you had been different, he would've been everything. You told yourself from that first day that those brown eyes may plead into you with every moment you meet them but it was never going to be the right time.

His eyes stare into yours and he feels the weight of all the things he long tired to bury, crawling their way up from the depths and pushing against his skin, desperate to get out. Desperate to be known. Desperate to correct the wrongs and do right by you. Desperate.

His hand hovers touch's length away, scared to close the distance, scared to make the move, to change everything. You both know in this moment, that all it takes is one touch and you're going over the cliff.

This is a road you do not turn back from.

You whisper one last time, like a prayer, "Spence," and in a blink gravity turns back on, and everything blooms in bright technicolour.

It unfolds in a rush, his hand to your waist, pulling you that much closer, both of your hands gripping to the fabric of his shirt as he pulls you up to him, other hand moving gently under your chin to guide the tilt of your head. His lips crash onto yours and there's a hunger you've never seen in him, and a hunger you've never known inside yourself.

There's a gentleness, a caution in his desperation, in his need, one that you don't have in your own. He keeps kissing you and you back up, footing not very careful as you tighten your grip on his shirt. Your back finds support against the edge of your counter and you find yourself letting on of the hands slip from the fabric of his button down to tug at his tie, to keep him closer at first, and then in an attempt to remove it entirely.

He pulls back for a moment, not to catch breath as either of you would be happy to drown in this moment, but his eyes are scanning you, like he is looking for something else, something missing.

You pause, slowly tugging the tie from his collar and letting it fall to your floor. "Spencer?" you ask.

He looks lost as he breathes in. "I don't know what I am doing," he says.

"You're doing great is what you're doing," you say, not looking away.

"Is this okay?" he finally asks. Your heart starts running away from you as you try to remember to breathe.

"This is more than okay," you assure him, "please Spencer, don't stop kissing me."

That's all he needs to hear and his lips are back on yours and the kisses are feverish and starved and he presses his hands into your hips and the gentle moan that leaves your lips sends Spencer's mind spinning.

He pulls his lips from yours and starts kissing a trail down to your neck, you lean more into the support of the counter top and let a hand find it's way into a tangle of his brown hair.

His tongue against your skin, the gentle brush of teeth on that spot that makes the sound from before seem like a draft of a masterpiece. Spencer knows that now he has heard you, voice like honey, moan trembling from your lips, nails dug into his scalp gently tugging on his hair, barely able to keep your eyes open yet again your breathing steady, no sound will ever compare.

In the the times he had let himself think about you, imagine all the things, let his fantasies and dreams run away with him, he had never come close to this moment. How your fingers shake as you start to unbutton his shirt, needing to do something, needing something.

Needing him.

And you can feel his need in return, in the way he holds onto you, on the way he is listening to your body, hearing every response, feeling every movement, determined to do this right.

He feels the way you press your tights together, tight against the counter, the need for something more radiating off of you, and you don't give time for the doubt to creep in. "We should," you breathe out as you feel the blood rushing through you, knowing that there will be marks from where he is kissing you that you won't be able to hide tomorrow, not that you want to, "move this to the bedroom."

"Is now a bad time to point out that I have mostly just a conceptual understanding of what we are about to do?" Spencer asks between kisses.

"I think you're worrying too much, because if you're basing this on theory," you take his hand leading him towards your room, "so far you're giving nothing but hard evidence."

You let your own innuendo slide as you both fall back onto your bed, he looks down as he leans over you, and there's a softness, a patience in this moment, as he needs to soak it all in.

You reach up and continue to undo the buttons on his shirt until they are completely undone, and he watches you as you do, you give the fabric a gentle tug and he catches on, slipping the rest of the shirt and the jacket off and letting it fall back somewhere out of mind. You trace a hand gently up his arm and he leans down to kiss you again, your lips, your jaw, your neck.

He runs a thumb over the deep red mark he has left and you feel the fever rising again. You need out of these clothes, you need more.

You start to undo your own shirt buttons and as each button comes undone Spencer follows the trail of exposed skin and leaves hot kisses on each new place.

You can feel the hard outline of his cock against your thigh as you reach to unzip the side of your skirt. The nervousness is still fluttering in Spencer's face as he helps you slip out of it. His fingertips brushing over exposed skin, his hand creeping up the inside of your thigh and you buck up gently at the touch.

His lips trace kisses up your torso to your chest and like this, each kiss so intoxicating, each touch so electrifying, his hand inching further and further up your thigh, as his lips dance over the skin around the fabric of your bra there is nothing he could ask of you that you would not do.

Sex may never have been perfect before, but you'd always thought it was at least decent, passing, respectable. But this build up with Spencer, his hands on your skin, his lips leaving evidence on your body that he has been here, this was more than you'd ever felt. And he hadn't even really touched you yet.

You reach to undo his trousers, eager to get him in less clothing but he pulls back, out of your reach. "Not yet," he whispers against your skin, "you start doing that and this will be over way too soon." He brings his lips to yours again, stealing a deep kiss as he unclasps your bra. "And this is about you, all about you," he is mumbling again, almost incoherent against you. He is determined, his mind is focused on you and your pleasure and what you deserve.

You don't think you've ever wanted anything as much as you want this.

His thumb brushes against the your clothed skin, and sparks shoot through your body, nails digging into his shoulder as you gasp at the contact.

He nudges closer, his forehead pressed to yours, and you look at him. Spencer, your colleague, your friend. Spencer who never forgets your coffee order. Spencer who stayed all night to help with paperwork because you lost a bet. Spencer who has accompanied you to every movie you've ever asked him to. Spencer who bought an extra ticket to every convention just in case you would want to come.

"Please," you plead, like you need to, as if it was possible that he wouldn't do anything for you in this moment. As if you even needed to ask.

He kisses you, pulling you up and towards him, breathing you in as his hand finds its way between the elastic of your underwear and your skin.

Your nerves are as quick to respond to his touch as fire to a accelerant. Every movement makes you wonder if Spencer was given some map of your body that you didn't know existed, a guide to movement and pressure and timing that couldn't be more perfect.

You are nodding at his movements, keening at every increase of pace, every finger curl, every swipe of his thumb. Your body shuddering in anticipation and a pleasure you never knew courses through you.

Spencer is leaving compliments with every kiss across your body, so eager to please, so desperate to worship. When he hits the spot, your body gives you away at alarming speed, you buck, moving your arms to prop yourself up on elbows, leaning into him, into the movements, rutting against him. "Fuck," you manage in the haze.

Spencer responds to this approval with dedication and vigour and then you feel it, that hot white coil of pleasure pulling at you, like a tight chord. "Shit," you start breathing heavier, faster, "shit, shit."

"You're so incredibly beautiful," you hear Spencer whisper. You can't keep your eyes open as your knees begin to shake.

"Spencer," you whimper, not for any reason but to say his name. The need to say his name over and over, and over as the chord pulls tight and finally snaps.

The pleasure explodes through you, every nerve tingling, like fireworks cascading through you. You shake, riding the high through and fall back onto the bed, slumped with a laboured breath.

Spencer moves back up to be level with you, gently brushes some stray hairs from your face and he smiles down at you. "That is what it's supposed to feel like?" You ask.

If this was all he could have for the rest of his life, Spencer would be a happy man. He plants a kiss on your forehead, and that look of devotion has not left his eyes.

But he has been filled with a new sense of purpose, like he was made for this. For you.

He doesn't have time to debate internally if your ex was purely just that poor at what he did or if it feeling so easy, coming so naturally to him was something else entirely. He didn't really care which it was, maybe both. Right now all he cared about was making up for lost time, lost opportunities, all your disappointment.

He kisses you again and the force of it is more knowing, more sure, it's hot and messy and every moment it feels like you need to be closer, deeper, more entwined. The whole time he keeps his hand in your underwear, thumb running in soft, intensely accurate circles as his fingers do most of the work.

It crosses your mind that maybe it should be almost embarrassing that he is making it so easy. It should be embarrassing that Spencer barely needed any time to bring that second orgasm to precipice. It should be embarrassing that you're convinced this man could make you come by the way he kisses you alone, but you're not embarrassed. Not because you've never felt the pleasure like this before, not because you think pleasure it never something to be embarrassed about and not because after everything you deserve this. But because it's Spencer Reid, and everything with him has always felt like it is exactly as it should be, and him making you feel this way, is no exception.

He holds you in the kiss as your second orgasm pulses through you, just as intense as the first one, he feels you shake as it floods you. A moan escaping into the kiss, from your mouth to his and he groans against your lips.

He is so focused on you that he isn't paying any attention to how this is effecting him, how hard he is against you. How desperate he is for you. His need for your pleasure overtaking any need of his own.

You know if left to his own devices Spencer would stay as the two of you are, skin pressed to skin, lips on yours, trying to write years worth of wrongs in one night. But you do not want to give into exhaustion before you have let him ruin your expectations in all the ways you know.

He moves from your lips to your neck and before you can process much of his plans you feel the kisses trailing your hipbone, and with the third orgasm approaching you can see where his mind has wondered to. You lean forward, gasping in pleasure, but determined to get his attention, you place a hand on the side of his face, tilting up his chin to meet your eyes. "Wait," is all you manage to moan out before the pleasure tears into you, your head falls back and you grab a fistful of sheet, trying to keep yourself up through the pleasure.

Spencer does as you ask and waits until you manage to gather your words, eyes on you. "Please," you try. He runs his eyes over your body trying to understand your request.

You reach down, pulling once again at the edge of his trousers, fumbling to undo them, to get him out of them. You've never known Spencer to be so slow to catch on, but he is practically drunk on you.

"Oh," he manages. "Oh."

Before he can start to explain all the reasons he doesn't think that's important right now you look up at him with those eyes so pleading. "Please," you whisper again.

And he is putty in your hand, happy to do anything you ask of him, he nods and you finish undoing his trousers and push them down, he finishes discarding them.

Now it's your fingertips against his skin and he holds his breath as you move for his boxers. "Is this okay?" you ask quietly.

"You're everything I have ever wanted," the honey leaves his lips and you kiss him, his lips focused on you as you help him out of his boxers and pull him down and close.

"I need you," you whisper. "Right now, I need you."

"I am yours," he responds.

You keep your fingers threaded in his hair, and you tug a little harder as you become overwhelmed with him. "Fuck," Spencer's voice shudders in pleasure and you understand his desperation to please you instantly, because you want nothing more than to give him everything.

Everything becomes a mixture of moans and names, lips pressed to skin, and fabric scrunched with every thrust. You kiss Spencer's neck, finding his sweet spot with a similar precision to which he found yours. Leaving a collection of marks on his neck before her buries his face into yours, repeating your name over and over, becoming more and more wanting. His neediness matching your own and as he digs his fingers into your hips that now familiar feeling starts to rush you.

"Spencer, I am going to cum again," you whisper. Spencer cannot form words, he just keeps kissing, sucking, digging at your skin, even now he isn't close enough to you. "Fuck!" You scream out and the pleasure of your orgasm is almost too much for Spencer.

"Fuck, I," Spencer's brain is doing flips trying to figure out what to do, what he is supposed to do. "I am going to."

"Please," you beg in his ear.

"I should, I haven't," he is trying to piece the words together but they're not coming. You know what is trying to say, what is cannot find the words to ask.

"Please stay with me," you say, nudging his nose with your own, "please."

Your gentle request is his breaking point and he crashes his lips back onto yours as his own orgasm comes to fruition.

He collapses down next to you, both catching your breath. "Fuck," you repeat, for what might be the millionth time, as you long lost count.

You cannot help it, you let out a little laugh and Spencer glances at you, a smile breaking out on his face. "For the record, I hadn't planned that," he says.

"For the record, I really planned on drinking my coffee."

"I can make you a coffee," Spencer offers, turning to his side.

"We should, get cleaned up first," you smile.

"Then coffee?"

"Then coffee."

[transmascaraa]

Idk how to write this but

Reader is so lost in being a people pleaser, they no longer defend themselves when being insulted

(like, someone saying "I wish you could just shut up and never speak again" to them seriously, and them clearly hurt, would still laugh as if what the person said was a joke etc)

🫶🫶

multiple characters headcannons!

you're a people-pleaser...

characters: lyney, gaming, tighnari x gn!reader

author's note: WHY ARE YOUR REQUESTS LITERALLY ME😭😭 i love them tho‼️ ENJOY READING<33 (random writing motivation smh)

☆ Lyney

-off-topic but the lucille font looks so beautiful with lyney's name

-ANYWAYS

-speaking from experience, people-pleasing sucks.

-and to overcome it, you need somebody's support, because you most likely won't be able to do it on your own.

-sometimes, it can only take a few kind words to break out of it.

-and he will be the one who will help you.

-since i hc him as a people-pleaser too, playing the role as the "big brother" to protect his siblings and please 'father' because he's occupied to do so,

-yes, he does genuinely care about his siblings, but he sometimes goes too far just to be sure.

-so, back to him helping you, he'll always remind you that you're your own person, that you're not alive to just please others.

-you don't owe them anything, so why do you do it?

-nonetheless he will give his all to praise you and remind you that you're perfect just the way you are, and that you shouldn't change for anyone except for yourself.

-sometimes, if you're about to make a choice you clearly don't want, he'll gladly choose for you and say that you're just indecisive.

-"you're hurting yourself for others, it's not good. you're you, unique."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✯ Gaming

-similar to lyney, except for the fact that he isn't a people-pleaser himself.

-you probably wouldn't even need to tell him anything, he'd realize it on his own.

-your every single day would be filled with millions of praises about how you're unique on your own.

-how you shouldn't listen to others.

-how you only live once.

-soon enough, you'd probably break down to him many times about it(like you probably would to anyone)

-and when you've listened to his praises and reminders enough, you'd slowly get better and better at actually being yourself.

-yes, of course it would take some time, of course it can't happen overnight, but he'll wait.

-he'll be patient with you.

-he won't rush you.

-all he cares about is that in the end, you'd finally put an end to it.

-and trust me, it would come sooner than expected.

-"you're nobody's toy or puppet for them to play with. you're your own person, [name]."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✿ Tighnari

-get ready for the biggest mom ever.

-he would realize on his own, not like he wouldn't notice you choosing to work for the whole night rather than rest, especially because it was requested by someone you hate.

-AND IT WAS SOMETHING OPTIONAL.

-he's not dumb, he will notice.

-he'll literally call you to the living room for some "serious talk" one day and it would actually get you worried.

-then, he will start lecturing you about it and how bad it is for you and your health.

-you actually start feeling bad for him... he cares about you so much and everything while you aren't even happy yourself... you let others walk over you while you laugh at the pain.

-once he realizes that you started feeling bad, he'll apologize for coming off as rude or mean, even if you confront him that it's okay afterwards.

-he'll start reminding you about all the reasons why you shouldn't do it, but he won't rush you, he'll let you take your time.

-it may take you a but longer, but it will come eventually.

-every morning, he will put a new quote on the bathroom mirror just for you.

-quotes as in "live laugh love", "keep on going!", "you can do it!", "be yourself!", etc.

-"you don't live to please anyone, no matter how important they are. you're just fine on your own."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I LOVE THIS

writing motivation hits different fr

I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT^^

| @keeyisbored | @mariaace <3