#to just let go and not think about your body or your weight that someone else is supporting fully

[chosolar]

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈ wanna be yours!

gojo satoru x shy!femreader

part 1

mdni please! there are sexual themes.

flirty!satoru did his best to respect your wishes but he was losing his mind. with each day passing where he didn't hear from you, his overthinking got worse. what happened for you to distance yourself from him seemingly out of nowhere?

flirty!satoru refused to go out of his penthouse unless it was severely urgent. he would get his groceries delivered or ask either suguru or shoko to buy it for it. The two tried their best to get him to at least walk around his complex but satoru would drag his body weight, making it difficult to even get him up. it got to a point where shoko threatened him that she was going to tell you how disgusting he was being. (as mean as it was, it sure got the job done)

flirty!satoru had his phone basically glued to his hand. constantly refreshing his feeds and checking everyone's stories to see if you would be there in the background. it was his only solace, seeing you happy even if he did feel like he was there was a boulder on his chest that made him feel suffocated.

flirty!satoru who sat up instantly the millisecond he got your text. it didn't matter that it was 2 in the morning, he was responding to your message ASAP.

hey satoru I hope you're doing well. is it alright if I call you? 2:33 am

he replied with a quick "yes of course", and he didn't care if he sounded desperate, because well, he was. he's been waiting for you to reach out ever since he got that text a few weeks ago.

his heart feels like it's going to burst out of his chest, each heartbeat thumps harder than the previous. he watches as his phone lights up with your contact photo and name, the ringtone blasting. within the second ring, he picks up, greeting you with a shaky voice.

"hi satoru," he hears your nervousness through the phone. your voice is nasally and he can make out the soft sniffling, but he stays quiet. "how have you been?"

satoru contemplated on what to say. should he be honest, or should he lie and say that he was doing well without you?

"better now that I can hear your voice." his heart rate sped up as he hears you soft laugh, "how about you?"

you sigh before you answer. "I'm in a dilemma to be honest."

"wanna tell me what it's about?" he urges, hoping he'll get the answer he's been looking for. satoru puts you on speaker and lets his phone drop onto his bed, his full undivided attention on you.

"well it's about you... kinda," you drift off before you continue. "the night before I sent you that text, I was working and someone asked me out."

satoru pleads in silence that this was not going where he thinks it's going. with this anxious feeling creeping up on him again, he doesn't say anything.

his uncommon reticence worries you but you carried on with the story.

"I didn't go out with him if that's what you're thinking of. I like you too much to do that. it just had me thinking because we spent months being more than friends, but am I the only one who feels that way?"

"no of course not!" satoru retorts, "I promise that it's not one-sided. why do you feel this way?"

it took you a few minutes to gather your thoughts, but satoru doesn't rush you. he hears a shaky exhale before you speak up, "I've noticed that you're flirty with everyone. you're not shy with touching other people and it just makes me feel like maybe it's wrong of me to feel special when I'm not the only one you've done these things with..."

flirty!satoru doesn't invalidate your feelings. he acknowledges each and every reason why you feel the way you do. satoru takes his time explaining that yes, he may be flirty and he's quite touchy, but it's different when it comes to you. the things he's done with you, he's never done with anyone else despite him having exes. although it's almost been a year since he's met you, the butterflies have never gone away and that each day his feelings grow.

flirty!satoru continues listing all the reasons why he loves likes you. he assures you that he may look like a fuckboy, he's far from it. he reminisces the time he had suguru psych him up to get your number because he's never had to ask for anyone's number (humble brag from him). he exhales a sigh of relief that the story earned a giggle from you.

flirty!satoru debates on telling you, but decided on keeping his plans of asking you out a secret. he wanted to prove to you that you're it for him and that there's no one else but you. satoru's big on actions speaking a lot more than words, so before he asks you out, he wants you to feel secure.

flirty!satoru posts you on his story constantly!!! whether you're out on a grocery run or a mini road trip for the long weekend, you can always count on satoru posting a soft launch story that has you in it. you don't know it, but satoru also has a secret instagram account, and the only thing he posts on it are pictures of you with the dates on it and a small paragraph of what you guys did that day. he likes to think it's modern-day scrapbooking.

flirty!satoru is obsessed with calling you nicknames, and as much as he loves saying your name - he will never not love calling you sweet nicknames like pretty girl, honey, or baby. satoru's fond of how your cheeks turn red and how you try to cover your face when he calls you any nicknames. it gives him cuteness aggression so bad, he ends up pinching your cheeks!

flirty!satoru can see how your eyes drift to look at his lips when you're talking to him face to face. you think you're so slick with it but satoru's quicker. whenever you do that little triangle trick you saw on tiktok, he leans in so he catches you by surprise. he observes with gleaming eyes as you back up to give yourself distance from him, but he just wraps his arms around you, pulling you towards him as he says, "hmm what was that baby?"

flirty!satoru has to hold himself back whenever he sees a customer come up to you and try to flirt with you. first and foremost, flirting is his thing! and second, he gets so jealous that sometimes he can't contain himself and ends up intervening. he'd make some stupid excuse to get you to leave like "hey I think someone clogged the toilet, can you check it please?" or something like that. you have to clean the stinky toilet but seeing satoru jealous is always a plus.

flirty!satoru is shocked when you made the first move and kissed him one night. it was the fact that you were sober too that surprised him even further. with you on top of him as he's sitting relaxed on the couch, his attention on the tv screen is stolen when you press your lips against his. the kiss, a seemingly innocent peck on the lips, turned into a heated make out session when satoru let go of his inhibitions. his hands roamed all over your body as his lips continue peppering kisses onto your cheeks, your jaw, and even down to your neck. satoru trails his hands from your body to hold your face gently so he can give you a final kiss before hugging you tightly.

flirty!satoru throws out all his ideas of asking you out, and opts for an intimate moment. on a cool wednesday night, he takes you back to his penthouse as per usual. he opens the door and waits to see your surprised face. he boasts that he decorated the place all by himself and even burned himself a few times with the hot glue gun to make the giant heart sign asking for you to be officially his (ngl it sounds like he's proposing but I mean who doesn't wanna marry satoru). obviously you said yes! let's just say that the heart balloons that were hanging and the flower petals scattered all over his living room were everywhere the morning after and cleaning it all up was tedious...... (but at least it was a fun night!)

flirtybf!satoru immediately changes all his profile pictures on every social media he has to pictures with you. his bio? your initials. his stories? all of you. he does not gaf he wants to show you off! the best part is satoru only follows a couple of people — you, suguru, shoko, and a few of his close relatives. satoru wants you to know that he only cares about you and only you. he never wants to and never will make you feel like you're in competition with anyone.

flirtybf!satoru is a no bs type of guy. now that your relationship was out in the open, you've gotten so many dms from other people trying to sabotage your relationship. satoru did not spend almost half a year proving his love to you for some jealous losers to try and break it, so he blocked the people who dmed you from his account and privated it.

flirtybf!satoru loves going on vacations with you, especially if it's a destination you've been telling him about. he'll almost always keep it a secret so that you don't have to worry your pretty little head about anything. costs, booking it off, transportation, he takes care of everything so the only thing you need to do is pack your bags. satoru loves how carefree you are when you're away from everyone else, and it's just the two of you in your own little world.

flirtybf!satoru is insatiable. his sex drive is so incredibly high, you wonder where his stamina comes from since he rarely did any sports. the first time you had sex, he wanted to take it slow because he wanted to savour the time with you. even though you were close when you two were just friends, having sex was a different level of intimacy. satoru wanted to show you that to him, this was not just a fuck that a one night stand will give you, no. it was making love, and he'll spend the whole night — dusk to dawn — just to show you how much he loves each and every part of you.

flirtybf!satoru started working out during his free time. he overheard you telling your friends that you love a man with a sleeper build, and well whatever his love wants, you will get. it doesn't take long until he starts seeing the fruits of his labor. he seldoms wear a shirt when he's home with just you, choosing to just wear a pair of sweatpants that he doesn't bother tying up so you can see the waistband of his calvin klein boxers. even though you two fuck often, he thinks it's so captivating that you still get bashful whenever he's being coy with you.

flirtybf!satoru loves talking about the future with you. he'll often ask you what kind of house you see yourself living in with him, and he'll make sure to get every little detail you're telling him. you've already moved into his penthouse after he begged for days for you to leave your apartment and just live with him. he takes notice of how you decorate and makes a mental note of it. satoru will make sure to say "when we have kids" or "when we're married", because he knows you're his endgame and he just can't wait for the day he's been looking forward to since he fell in love with you.

flirtybf!satoru surprises you with a trip to your dream vacation that you guys didn't get to go to before. the weather was horrendous, so the flight was cancelled but satoru booked another one closer to your birthday. he didn't tell you about it because he had a plan to make your birthday extra special. after you were done packing, he tells you that he'll meet you in the car. before satoru leaves the penthouse and locks the door, he double checks that the engagement ring is packed securely in his bag.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈

hi everyone! I hope this satisfies everyone's request for a part 2 ◡̈ ngl I had to use some moments with my boyfriend because my mind was blanking out and I am prayinggggg that this one is not a disappointment to you guys! again not proofread <3

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈

taglist:

@lvrndkoo @sorenflyinn @realalpacorn @ninani-nanina @msun1c0rn @ourfinalisation @rio-reid-whoreee @staarflowerr @leonesimp @okayiamkassandra @starpachinko @atashiboba @blueemochii @hawkswifie @secrtjncoblog @esperssox @smiling-16

a few of them did not show up so please let me know if you didn't get a notification ◡̈

[phovaries]

IMAGINE:

It’s your first time climbing Mount Everest and you’re super nervous. You’ve spent years training for it. Practically a lifetime spent navigating every horrible what-if scenario that could only have been fathomed in the depths of your worst nightmares. But, it hardens you. Shields you from the fear that wracks your body the second you crane your neck to look up, up, up, into the stratosphere. You take a deep breath, the weight of your gear grounding you as you start your descent to the heavens.

The beginning goes just as planned. One foot in front of the other while following the hordes of others around you. They too are on the same journey as you. Comrades in fighting against your own biology to complete an impossible task thought to only have been reserved for gods. The wind howls around you, tightening its grip on your lungs as you start to struggle to breathe.

It’s okay, I’m just panicking. You think to yourself, knowing that you’ve already trained your lungs to handle the low atmospheric pressure.

It doesn’t get better, though. And like a ship thrown off course by a singular degree, you find yourself dreadfully alone.

It’s okay, you tell yourself. You just need to get to the next checkpoint in time before your fingers start to really hurt. The wind laughs at you as you struggle under its weight, uselessly grunting as your heavy boots slam against the powdery snow.

You can’t cry, not yet. You crane your neck in front of you again, knowing that as long as you could still go up, there was always hope. Only a coward would climb back down at this point, and you refuse to let your worst fears come true. Of never reaching the top. Of spending a lifetime sticking feathers to wax only to have been shot down by the very sun you wished to see.

Cold fingers grow damp in your gloves, and clammy feet start to throb. You whimper softly, closing your eyes to focus, dammit, focus.

Bits of white stick to your clothes, the mountain calling out to you. Pulling you into its eternal emptiness.

You refuse to let it speak.

With a grimace and one last burst of energy, you pull yourself together enough to give just a little more hope.

It doesn’t last long.

Those fears come back, only different this time. Imagining that instead of coming home a coward, you don’t come home at all.

No, you refuse to see it. Can’t imagine how long it would take before your family starts to worry about you. The looks on their faces, god what would they say?

The cold soothes you, now, because you know that once the heat comes fierce and swift that it truly is all over for you.

It’s in that moment, when all tangible hope has been lost, that you see it. A shining beacon in the distance, a swatch of black marring the blank canvas that enveloped you. You’re shivering and cold, but the flames of hope snake their way through your weary bones and you crumble. A person. There’s someone else up here and you found them.

You want to scream. In agony or in joy? You’re not sure. But, it all changes when you get close enough to see the still figure trapped in a layer of snow. Heavy boots lumber towards the figure, and you can’t help but fall to your knees.

No.

Thick, gloved hands shakily reach for the dark material. Cold. Just like everything else on this god forsaken piece of land. Your blood like molasses, the amount of effort needed to take a small shovel out of your bag and dig into the ground around you. You carefully pull off the stranger’s goggles. An omen. A sign from god.

“OMG is that danisnotonfire? Haha wow I love your videos and wow this is-“ you stop, realizing that you are indeed speaking to a dead man. “Damn. Didn’t realize they were planning to tour on Everest.” You look around you at the barren mountainside. “Oh… well I guess that didn’t work out. Anyways nice to meet you.”

It’s then, standing beside a frozen danisnotonfire, that you feel yourself come alive again. You never got to see them on the Terrible Influence Tour because you spent all your time training on Everest, but the universe gifted you with Dan’s last TIT meet and greet.

Thinking about tits, you find the courage and embrace the white void, climb higher and higher until you finally reach that flag and scream. First, a garbled string of sounds that have built up in your chest since the day you decided to climb this mountain, and ending on one great sob.

You’ve done it.

You’ve gotten your TIT meet and greet for the phEverest show.

the mosquito i killed in the middle of the night stuck to my wall:

[multific]

In Every Curve, Perfection

Simon Riley x Reader

Summary: When Simon returns from a mission you worry about your marriage. You changed, but his love for you remains unwavering, growing stronger with every moment by your side.

Simon Riley walked into your shared home with the weight of months on his shoulders. 

The mission had been long, gruelling, and filled with dangers you could hardly imagine. You’d counted the days until his return, but now that he was here, anxiety gripped your chest.

You greeted him at the door with a soft smile, the sight of him stealing your breath as it always did. 

His mask was gone, revealing the tired but warm expression on his face. The face you loved so much.

“Welcome home, Simon,” you whispered, trying to keep your nerves at bay.

He dropped his bag to the floor and pulled you into his arms, his hold firm and warm. 

“I missed you,” he said, his deep voice muffled against your hair. He took deep breaths smelling your hair, you, taking it all in.

He was home.

As his arms tightened around you, your self-consciousness bubbled to the surface. 

You hadn’t been lazy while he was gone, but the stress, the loneliness, it had all added up. 

Your body wasn’t quite the same as when he’d left. 

The extra curves you carried now felt like a glaring reminder of your insecurities, and the idea of him noticing made your heart race in all the wrong ways.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” you said quickly, pulling back from his embrace.

Simon didn’t let you go far, his hands finding your hips and pulling you back to him. 

“Hold on,” he said, his sharp eyes studying your face. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you lied, hoping he’d let it go.

But Simon wasn’t one to miss details, and his brow furrowed. 

“Talk to me, Love. What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, looking away from his deep and beautiful eyes. 

“It’s nothing, really. I just... I’ve changed a bit while you were gone. You might not like it.”

“What are you talking about?” his voice was filled with genuine concern.

You stepped back, gesturing vaguely to yourself. 

“I’ve gained weight, Simon. I didn’t mean to, but... I just don’t look the same anymore. Not like when you left.”

His response was immediate. “You think I care about that?”

You bit your lip, unsure how to respond. “I just thought... maybe you wouldn’t see me the same way. Wouldn't want me.”

Simon stepped forward, closing the space between you again. 

His hands cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. “Don’t ever think that,” he said, his voice firm but full of warmth. “You’re beautiful, Love. Always have been, always will be.”

“But—”

“No,” he interrupted, his hands sliding down to rest on your shoulders, then your sides, his touch lingering as though he was rediscovering you. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed you? Missed this?” His hands settled on your hips, his thumbs brushing over them in a comforting pattern. “Your softness, your curves... they’re perfect. You’re perfect.”

Your throat tightened with emotion. “Simon—”

He silenced you with a kiss, tender and slow, leaving no room for doubt. When he pulled back, his eyes locked with yours. “I’ve faced hell out there. And every day, all I wanted was to come home to you. To hold you, to feel you. You’re my refuge, Love. Every inch of you.”

“I thought maybe you’d want someone different. Someone—”

“Someone who isn’t you?” he interrupted again, shaking his head. “Not in a million years. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and nothing will ever change that.”

He pulled you into his arms again, his embrace warm and secure.

 “I love you,” he murmured against your ear. “Just the way you are.”

You melted against him, your insecurities fading away along with your worries. 

He pulled you close for another kiss, a kiss that was so deep it took your breath away.

Simon’s love was all you ever wanted and yearned for. 

Having him back with you felt so right. Having him in your arms and being able to smell him, your mind was at ease. 

He was home. He loved you, you loved him.

You didn't need anything else.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[therightbeaches]

𝐬𝐮𝐛-𝐳𝐞𝐫𝐨 ⋆ 𝐚. 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

synopsis: you grapple with the weight of your position in the bau (and, worse, your feelings for your boss.) [3.2k] contents: bau!reader, angst, PINING. basically this entire fic is pining No Joke and reader is not nonchalant about it, brief bed sharing, sort of ambiguous ending? there is no resolution of aforementioned pining, reader is lowkey sulking the whole time a/n: i'm definitely still trying to get comfortable writing for hotch so again, the characterization probably isn't perfect 🙂‍↕️

Hotch is very likely the nicest person you know. The smartest one, too (actually, the second smartest if you think about it, because Spencer has an IQ of, what, 190? But, well, in the emotional intelligence department he sometimes lacks — you still like him bunches but the truth is the truth.)

You know the rest of the team might disagree with the statement Hotch is nice, but there’s an unspoken bond between you and him that’s been present since the day you joined the Bureau, and he doesn’t play favorites but if he did you’re sure you’d be it.

Regardless, meeting Hotch was like scoring a really nice vintage Coach purse at the thrift and opening it to find a crumpled twenty dollar bill stuffed into one of the inside pockets. Lovely on the outside and even nicer on the inside.

Really, you could go on a whole tangent about how sweet and passionate and generous and thoughtful he is. For your birthday, he’d showed up to the office with a four-pack of cupcakes and held your shoulder while you blew out the candles. On Christmas, he’d appeared on your doorstep in the snow to give you a copy of his favorite novel with his annotations scrawled into the margins.

You’ve found yourself in Alaska again. This time, thankfully, there’s a substantial lack of bodies. Rossi had ushered you and Hotch away to participate in a college guest lecture on criminal psychology for aspiring FBI agents — just don’t mention the janky coffee makers, he had instructed half-heartedly while seeing you off on the tarmac.

It was strange. Given, the seminar went off without a hitch, but leaving the lecture hall you’d had this horrible sense of unease. Hotch had the good conscience not to ask you what was troubling you when the imaginary bruise that your lecture pressed down on was aching. More a festering rot that eats through skin and fat and muscle than a bruise, in fact, if you don’t seek to sugarcoat it.

The lobby of your hotel is luxurious but empty. There’s a big window overlooking the expanse of nothingness beyond the hill, squishy velvet couches of emerald green, high-backed armchairs, scratchy wool throw blankets with tassels dangling to the ground. A big fire crackles in the hearth into the silence. The spillage of lamplight outside through the glass only stretches a few feet till it tapers off into the void, an endless pit of tar dotted by twinkling city lights miles away.

You exhale through your mouth and it turns into a smear of fog against the window. This job destroys people. Whittles them down till their bones are so brittle that they collapse under their own weight. You think of Elle, of Gideon, of Jordan, even, how it had eaten them alive inside-out until they had nothing left. You think of Hotch’s torn-apart family and his late wife, of his son who’d lost his mother, and the weight of Spencer’s abduction, his addiction, how it still affects him so deeply today. You think of JJ’s face when there’s a case involving a baby close to home (in a slightly altered timeline, it could just as easily have been hers), of the tough-guy façade Derek puts on, because what else can he do, let the work tear him apart?

There’s only so much someone can bear, only so many back-to-back days of another child missing, another dead body gutted and dismembered and dumped like garbage, another grieving family who lost a son, a daughter, a sister or a brother, a parent. And it’s difficult, more difficult than anyone can articulate, to know that it will never end. So, what’s the reason? Why are you still here, letting this job take and take and take everything you have to give?

Because you’re helping people, argues one half of your mind. You’re changing lives. In turn, the other half: but while you can help in one place, in a thousand others there are countless people getting hurt by cruel hands. What then? What makes one life more valuable, more worth helping than another? There isn’t a good answer (and it’s the reason that you think JJ needs a raise.)

Then, amidst the quiet, there’s the tap of shoes against mahogany floorboards, and Hotch’s distorted reflection materializes behind you. Your own is one you hardly recognize. Worn down to the bone, self-loathing, lonely. Drowning in a three-foot deep pool because you can’t get your legs straightened out beneath you.

“I thought you went to bed,” you say to the window.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He tracks your gaze to the outside. “I thought you went to bed.”

“I couldn’t either.”

“What’s on your mind?”

Profilers, you think mournfully. Hotch can read body language accurately to a scary extent, and maybe now it’s because you wanted him, wanted someone, to notice. Notice my struggle. Notice that something is wrong.

You rub a stiff hand over your jaw. Self-soothing. “I don’t know. This job is just hard. And of course I understand the appeal, but...”

“…But you don’t know why bright college students would want to commit to something so macabre.”

It’s an extension of yourself, really. Why did you want to commit to something so macabre to begin with? He gives you a look in the reflection that says talk to me. He’s your boss but he’s your best friend too. You tend to suffer in silence rather than burden a friend with personal qualms, and it’s why you don’t respond.

You wait with bated breath for something, anything, maybe searching for an answer that he can’t offer. This is one of the few things out of his field of expertise. He won’t give you some bullshit non-answer to make you feel better because that isn’t what you need.

Honestly, what you do need to do is take some time off, spend it somewhere tropical, and he’d give you the time off if you asked, but it’s the easy solution that you don’t truly want because it won’t fix anything. You can fly away in a luxury jet and drink a piña colada out of a coconut on a sunny beach somewhere on the other side of the globe and there will still be people dying while you sunbathe.

“If you had a do-over, would you still join the BAU?” Hotch asks suddenly.

He words it like this but it isn’t what he means. He’s asking if you can continue doing this. If, when you go home, he’ll find your gun and credentials on his desk. If the job is still worth it to you.

“I thought you didn’t really like hypotheticals.”

“In the right contexts I’ll… indulge.”

“And is this the right context?” you ask and turn to face him. The window is cold against the skin of your back.

“It’s something that’s making you upset, so I think it is.”

A beat, in which he levels his steady gaze at you and look down towards your feet as if your shoes can tell you the right thing to say. And, yes, you know that the right thing to say is the truth and it’s the truth that he wants to hear, but to tell the truth is to admit defeat in the face of struggle. You’re not the first agent to be ripped to shreds by the work you do and you won’t be the last but that knowledge doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.

All withstanding, there’s nowhere else in the world you can imagine yourself working at aside from the BAU. Never, not in a million years, not for a million dollars, would you wish to be apart from your family.

Never would you wish to be apart from Hotch, who’s changed your life in a million ways, all of which are for the better.

“I would,” you say, then bid him a despondent goodnight before retreating to your room.

The digital clock on your nightstand blinks 12:03 a.m. into the dark and you’re wide awake.

During the seminar, you’d touched on a few cases you’d worked and how the art of profiling directly correlated with catching your bad guy. The fundamentals: this is why we’re looking for a person fitting this exact description, and this is how we know, these are the classifications of serial killers. Oh also, once, three cops walked straight into a trap and I was the one who had to tell their families that we gave them the green light to breach the premises.

Of course, the last part isn’t what you said. It’s not a thing you can say because the FBI is always searching for bright-eyed, bushy-tailed applicants, but it’s the harsh reality that comes with doing this job that goes unsaid until rookie agents learn it themselves in the field. You still remember it. The first case you were on. The first time someone got killed in front of you. The first family you had to inform. The first videotape sent to the cops, the first letter addressed to you personally. The terror, the dread, the constant need to look over your shoulder, the ever-present fear of shadowy corners and what could hide within their tenebrosity.

It’s really fucking cold in your room. The radiator has to be busted, you think. It’s no better in here beneath your thick quilt than if you were bare naked outside in the blizzard, and there’s no way you’ll be getting a wink of sleep tonight unless… well. It wouldn’t be the first time you slept in the same room as Hotch. Two summers ago or so the coordinator had royally screwed up your reservations and booked doubles instead of singles and you’d roomed with him for the entirety of five agonizing days, in which you ate together and watched TV together and sat shoulder-to-shoulder on his bed over chow mein and case files.

He lets you in when you knock. Sets up the pullout couch for you but offers you the bed and relents with little resistance when you shake your head no. He gets you situated and turns the lamp off and it’s just you and him in the stagnant, suffocating silence.

“Do you want to know why I decided to hire you after the first round of interviews?” he finally asks, a low murmur so quiet that you can barely hear it.

You turn over onto your side, a curled palm sandwiched beneath your head and the pillow. “Why’s that?”

��Because I saw in you what I wanted to be when I first joined the BAU. Passionate. Dedicated. I know I made the right choice in hiring you and you reaffirmed it even more today during the seminar. I can’t think of a singular time you’ve let the team — let me — down.”

You roll back over, squint at the ceiling, trace the water damage stains turning white to brown with your eyes in the dim light from the window. You’re able to grab the tails of the curtains and tug them closed. Hotch is speaking with some secret, underlying, cryptic meaning to his words; he doesn’t sing praise just for the sake of singing praise. He must’ve forgotten you’re a profiler too, though it wouldn’t take a genius to decipher just what he means. I don’t want you to leave the team.

“Hotch, I-”

“People like you are what the Bureau needs,” he says sagely, as if you needed confirmation for his invisible meaning.

You sit up, pressing your back against the cushioned bottom panel of the couch. “People like you are. I mean, you’re such a good leader, Hotch, and I know how much you care. You always handle everything with so much grace and honesty, I think you’re great and so kind, you know, and…”

There’s the scrunching sound of fabric against fabric and the squeak of springs in the mattress as he props himself up too to stare at your silhouette in the dark, and you most certainly have given you and your stupid feelings away.

Your elbow bumps into the cotton upholstery behind you as you lift an arm to rub your eye. Your cheek squishes against the hill of your shoulder self-consciously. There are worse things in the world than you taking the bait (truthfully, there was no bait to tempt you in, but you think wanted to say it; it’s been a weight on your shoulders for too long now) and spilling your guts to the object of your affection, aren’t there? Not in this moment, you think, dejected, because you can feel his heavy gaze on you even in the pitch-black of night.

There’s a drawn-out pause, filled only by the sound of your shallow breathing.

His voice scratches when he speaks. “Is it cold down there, on the pullout?”

“What?”

“There’s still a lot of space in the bed.”

𑄻𑄾 ᵎᵎ.

The snowstorm outside has escalated overnight and has reduced visibility to zero. This means no plane travel until the storm wanes, and this also means you’re trapped in your lodging with Hotch for the short-term foreseeable future.

He finds you in the east-facing solarium the following morning sitting on a porch chair. Dressed in thin pajamas against the lesser insulation typical of a sunroom, you’re curled in on yourself with your knees to your chest, socked feet crossed in front of the backs of your thighs, chin atop your forearm.

Your conversation from the hotel lobby the prior evening weighs on you heavily. You would choose the BAU again and again if it came down to it, and when it did, you have chosen the BAU again and again. If anyone asked how much you like your job you might tell them how it’s saved you, how it’s given you so much of what you have. Your closest friends, your home, and selfishly, it’s brought you him.

How obtuse is it to weigh an individual at the same level as the comfort of your own space, as those you value most? Surely very, but he’s everything. He gives you everything you could ever ask for, he’s done the most to make sure you’re doing well, he’s held your head above the surface of your terrible, shallow pool until you could find your footing more times than you can count.

And, sure, it’s his job to do these things, his duty as your supervisor to act in the team’s best interest, but it isn’t his job to walk you to your car in the garage every evening. It isn’t his job to bring takeout to your front door after a hard case, and it isn’t his job to hold your hand in a big crowd so you don’t get separated, or button up your coat for you when you can’t get the button aligned with the opposing slit, or call you each morning to ask how you slept.

You know he’s behind you before you turn. An itchy blanket is draped over your lap from over your head.

“Where’s your jacket?” Hotch asks, neither kindly nor unkindly.

“It’s in my luggage.”

“I meant, why aren’t you wearing it?” A broad, warm hand smooths over the outer expanse of your upper arm to try and rub some heat back into your skin. “You’re going to get sick. It’s cold in here.”

“I don’t know,” you respond, saturnine, with words sticky like taffy in your mouth.

He settles into the chair beside you, passing over a plate with a still-warm scone from the buffet room across the lobby. Twin mugs of tea are placed on the glass patio table between you. The legs of the chair screech in protest as he turns it so his body angles towards yours, his elbows on his knees and his palms pressed flat together. His voice, when it comes, bleeds with the gentleness, the softness, he might use with a small, skittish animal that will startle and flee if he’s too loud.

“Look, I’ve been thinking, and if you want to put in a request for a transfer, I can have it processed by the time we get back to Quantico. I don’t want you to be unhappy, don’t say that you’re not, I know you are. You don’t need to keep suffering because you think you have some obligation or loyalty to the team.”

“Who says I’m suffering?” It comes out thickly, tone teasing the edge of wounded. You recoil at yourself and shake your head. “I’m not. I’m not unhappy, either. I love the team. I love…” You blink and suck in a breath. “I stay because I want to.”

“You must consider me to be—” he sighs and takes your hand into his own, brings your knuckles to his mouth, a ghost of his lips against your skin, “so bad at my job if you think I can’t read my own team.”

“I didn’t say that, Hotch,” you murmur.

He laughs. Your mood brightens marginally with the sound. “You didn’t say it, but you must’ve thought it.”

It’s hard to not want it. He’s done everything right. He’s hooked his kind claws into your tender, wanting flesh and you’ve no desire to get away, even if it hurts, even if it means the puncture wounds will have you bleeding to death right here in front of him. Or, a hand reaching into the gaping cavity of your chest, latching onto your heart and tugging and tugging and tugging till fibers stretch and fray and split, and what else can you do but sit still and let it happen?

The same hand opens doors for you and makes your coffee just the way you like it and touches you with reverence. And is that what this is, reverence? Love? To seek to dissect bit by bit, to pull you apart till but your innermost pieces are left? To flay and open you up with a neat incision, and force a loving hand between the gaps in your ribs and lay a gentle head upon your raw chest to hear, to feel his name thrumming in time with your heartbeat?

No, that is not love, but you love him still. Indubitably, irrevocably, impossibly so. It’s a harsh, mocking finger jabbed into your sternum, and it’s not something that you think you can come to terms with.

[darthwhorecrux]

TW: fluffy smut <3 MINORS DNI

Having your first time with Satoru, and he's diffusing the tension by acting goofy, looking for ways to make you giggle while he undresses you and kisses along your body, all until he's sinking his big cock into your tight cunt. But you can hardly laugh when you feel the stretch and foreign pressure from the way he fills you up. You're whimpering brokenly and screwing your eyes shut, but Gojo knows when to get serious, grabbing your cheeks and forcing you to look at him.

"You have to breathe, sweetheart," he reminds you gently, smiling as he stills his movement. "Can you do that for me?"

"Mhm." You nod. He slowly starts to push into you again, and you're inhaling and exhaling, letting yourself feel all of him, however overwhelming and painful it might be.

He's watching you carefully, smiling almost proudly at how well you take him. "That's it," he coos, "that's my good girl."

Your heart swells with adoration for this silly, all-powerful man and the way he acts so tender with you. You never understood how special this was, the intimacy, the fullness, the oneness with someone you are so head over heels for, until now. The pressure starts to become less painful and more pleasurable. There's heat swirling in the pit of your stomach and this confusing, overwhelming feeling of not being able to take anymore but needing it all at the exact same time.

Satoru keeps checking in with you, and when you're telling him how good it feels and how you need more, your legs are over his shoulders, and he's completely pressed into you, drilling deep each time he thrusts into you. It feels so lewd, letting him fold you like this, watching your tits bounce and thighs shake. The pressure keeps building and your core and skin are on fire and you can hardly think coherent thoughts. It was absolutely euphoric, being so present in the moment like this, so peaceful letting your mind and body melt beneath him.

Gojo's relentless despite how he's almost as love drunk as you are. He's pounding into you hard and rhythmically, speeding up the closer you both get. The sounds he's making have you clenching hard around him, and you're whining and crying out sounds of your own. The pressure building in your core feels as if it's about to snap, and you're trying to get the words out to Satoru.

"I - I'm," you attempt. "I think I'm going to-"

"You're gonna cum?" Gojo sounds hopeful. He's a sweaty, groaning mess, but your admission fuels him, and he's brutally slamming into you now, encouraging you to let go. "Go on, baby, cum on my cock. I'm right here. It's okay."

And so you do. The pressure explodes. Your mind goes blank, on another plane of existence. Satoru's still moving for a moment longer, but he's jerky, erratic, and whimpering. You're both twitching against one another before he's falling against you, half-hazardously holding himself up so as not to crush you with the full weight of his body.

Catching your breaths, Satoru rolls to your side, pulling you against him, skin to skin. Your eyes flutter shut on their own accord as you snuggle into Satoru's chest, greedily inhaling his scent.

"You going to sleep on me?" He asks teasingly, murmuring into the side of your head. He presses a kiss into your temple while he's there.

"Mhmm." You muster just enough energy to nod. "Thank you, Satoru," you whisper to him. "Thank you for everything."

"Thank you? You never have to thank me, princess." He runs his fingers through your hair. "Just love me. I love you."

"I love you too."

[mikanotes]

heavenly way to,

hyunju x gn!reader

genre: angst comfort, established relationship. » warnings: death, blood, mentions of injuries, murder, firearms, canon divergence. » note: yes i’m back to writing for the series that basically started this blog. hello! i love her.

synopsis: Is sacrifice for your lover a gift to be grateful for, or a burden worth being cursed for? The thought grows heavy on your mind the longer you spend in the games.

“Why?”

Hyunju’s voice has never sounded so broken. She’s too astounded to even think of not letting her guard down, simply weak and vulnerable as she stares up at you. The shake in that one word, the sickening concern in her eyes— It almost makes you regret what just happened.

Almost.

“Because I care about you more than—”

“Nevermind…” she scoffs, eyes widening. She presses her lips together but it doesn’t stop the tremble of a sob waiting to escape her throat. Her gaze averts to a wall in the dormitory, silently putting a stop to whatever you were going to say.

You decide to give her space.

The bathrooms are empty, leaving you silence and space for thinking. You look at your reflection in the mirror, the blood on your face and neck. You did not kill anyone. You assured your safety. You did not kill someone. They were a problem. The thought repeats steadily in your mind as you turn on the faucet, letting water flow into your palms.

It’s as if you can see the overflowing blood on your hands, still. That player you fought to throw out of that room, the sight of the bullet shooting through their head once the door finally locked, the weight of their grip of the other the side of the handle loosening until a thud confirmed the end of a life. But they were in the spot she needed. You could not risk it. What if she had died? It was only right.

The blood washes off. The thought remains. You aren’t sure how long you spend staring at the mirror, barely even really looking at your reflection. You just know you’re asked to return to the dormitory, and that you go to bed, then the lights turn off.

You think Hyunju hates you.

You thought she would come to hate you here over trying to protect her, maybe. Now you realize, now that the blood is there, that she could simply hate you for taking away someone’s life— Even if indirectly. It makes sense to hate a now-murderer.

Yes.

Then, if she hates you, you’ll be able to sacrifice yourself for her sake if need be without wondering how well she’ll take the loss—

“Don’t just disappear.” A familiar soft voice speaks behind you. Hyunju’s arms circle around your waist and her head presses gently into your nape. She’s so warm. You almost forget your train of thoughts.

Once it comes back to you, your expression pulls into confusion. “Sorry,” you whisper, “I didn’t think you would mind.”

“Were you trying to give me space?”

“Yeah.”

She sighs, but hugs you tighter. “Because I was angry? Angry that you got yourself in so much unnecessary danger for my sake? Try making some sense.”

Your body relaxes into her hold before you even realize it, and soon, you’re turning over to look at her. She just seems a bit sad. Your hand slowly moves to her face and cradles her cheek, caressing the skin with care. “I pushed someone straight to their death and you’re telling me you were mad because I was in danger?”

She doesn’t respond, simply pursing her lips. A silent yeah. Exactly that.

“In danger? Me?”

“One second off and they could’ve switched you out of the room. And then I would have been alone with someone who practically killed you. And that would have been it. No more you at all,” she explains, and her voice begins shaking, “No more— I wouldn’t see your face anymore, wouldn’t have you with me, wouldn’t have the knowledge you’re there for me when life fucks me over— Think about it, come on.”

She’s trying so hard not to cry and stay quiet you wonder how much it must hurt. So you were wrong. It isn’t at all that person’s death that made her look at you this way. It’s somehow even worse.

You turn fully to return her embrace, hugging her firmly and kissing her forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t risk dying for me.”

“I’m sorry.”

She hides her face in your neck. “I love you.”

She says it with every single fiber of her being. After all, her touch, her tears, her words before this— They’re all marks of love. You feel her hand brushing over your arm, an injury you earned yourself during that game. She traces it gently and you think you could never promise her not to die for her.

“I love you too.”

[mommybard]

Whats the matter? A bit distracted? Mind wandering a bit? Youre not thinking perverted thoughts again, are you?

No, not you. You're definently not thinking about feeling a hand running through your hair, just to stop and pull you forward. Forcing you right up against a sweaty cock, letting the scent fill your lungs, overwhelm your mind, leave you in a drunken stupor where all you can do is struggle to form the words to bet for permission to lick.

And you're absolutely not thinking about getting thrown down onto your stomach. Feeling someone else's hands squeezing your hips and spreading your cheeks, grabbing you and lifting your rear into the air. That sudden sensation when their tongue is dragged along the rim of your ass before pressing in, eating you out to get you ready to take their cock or strap. Getting those whines of pleasure to escape your lips no matter how hard you try to stay silent. That sudden shock when they pull away and the cool air hits, just to be replaced by the feeling of them forcing your hole wide as they sink that hard shaft into you.

And I just know that there's no way you're imagining getting pinned to the bed by someone much bigger than you. Feeling their weight pressing down on you, looking up at them towering over you. The fear and excitement that courses through your body when they slap their cock down against you. Seeing just how far up your body it reaches. Realizing that normally there's no way it could fit. No way could you take it all. But that look in their eye. They're not going to take no for an answer. Not going to stop or give mercy. They're going to make sure every bit of that bitchbreaker is buried inside you, even if it utterly ruins your body~

I mean, youd have to be an utter pervert to think any of that. Someone who felt themselves getting wet or hard as you read all that. Someone who's hand is already moving between their legs to touch themselves because you have no self control~

[joelmillerisapunk]

OH MY GOD??? The intensity here is unreal. This fic punches you in the gut and refuses to let go, it’s suffocating in the best way. The tension between the reader and Javier is so raw, so visceral, it feels like you’re standing in the room with them, choking on the unbearable weight of heartbreak and desire. The intricate web of emotions is just chef's kiss—anger, betrayal, obsession, need—it’s all laid bare, tangled in this messy, intoxicating relationship.

The prose is so vivid and detailed that you can practically feel the damp heat of the shower, the sharp sting of the reader’s heartbreak, and the way Javier’s presence overwhelms everything like a tidal wave. The moral ambiguity is written so perfectly—it’s masochistic, it’s destructive, but it’s also undeniably human.

The way the story captures Javier’s complexity—his arrogance, his fragility—is pure poetry. And the reader’s inner turmoil? That delicate balance of anger and longing, her refusal to let go even when she knows she should? It’s painfully relatable in the best (and worst) way.

The sex isn’t just sex—it’s this volatile, emotional battleground where their love and hate collide. It’s messy, flawed, and oh-so-human. The power dynamics, the desperation, the unspoken confessions buried in every kiss, every thrust—this is messy, it’s painful, it’s addictive. You’ve written something that just lingers with you long after reading. Freckles!!!! You’ve wrecked me, and I’m thanking you for it. Honestly, I need a cigarette (I don't smoke), a drink, and maybe therapy after this. Some of my fave lines cause the entire thing is my favorite <3

You think you're so mysterious and complicated?! Well,  news flash, I've seen plenty like you. You’re just another man. You're not even that, you're a child. A child who's afraid of his own shadow when it comes to relationship Raven, angry and fearful. He knows you can read him like an open book and this unleashes an awareness upon him that crushes him to the ground. His voice sounded softer when he talked about you. You lulled yourself into that feeling You allowed yourself to hide it in a part of your brain where you never looked-that was a mistake. Making the hunch barely a firefly when it was supposed to be a bright neon sign.

Javier approaches, bending slightly to reach your mouth, his mustache brushes against your cupid’s bow and you don't even have the strength to turn your face away anymore. 

When your lips collide you let it happen. It’s like when you drink too much Tequila. It burns on your tongue, leaving you almost anesthetized as soon as you down it, and then an aromatic taste wafts into your mouth; it is lysergic, unusual, unmistakable. You love it, so you keep doing it.

Javier is the same. He's sharp, stiff at the edges, burns like fire, but he has an aura that you won’t mistake for anything and he hypnotizes you. He’s not like anyone else, despite what you told him. There is an underlying despair in him, a cry dying in his throat, “How can you love someone like me?” He says it only with his eyes but you hear it clearly.

Just put it in there. You think. I just need to feel your flesh against mine, inside me, claiming me like the rag doll that I am now. Stupid bitch trying to have you when you’re damaged like a shattered glass, when you can bring nothing than heat to my body and freezing ice to my heart You come, weeping. Grasping to him like your last shred of hope.But there’s no hope anymore. You know you can’t go on like that.

You leave him there, wondering, lost as he makes you feel. There will be two broken hearts.  You wait for the elevator, still hoping to see his ruffled raven hair poking out the door, his voice calling to you, his hand tightening on your wrist. None of this happens. The only ones who will follow you are your ghosts.

How could you love somebody like me?

Pairing: f!reader x Javier Peña Words count: 3032 Rating: + 18, NSFW, MDNI. Summary: Javi is under protection and has asked you to join him in the hotel room where he is confined. When you discover his secrets and lies, however, that room will become too small. Too small for both of you. Tags/warnings: POV second person, no use of y/n, Javi is still a DEA agent but it's a modern setting so the man has a smartphone. Reader is described having female genitalia and breasts, no other description of her is given, she doesn't blush and her hair is not described. Mention of alcohol, mention of cheating, Javi is a cheater, no happy ending, we will go through the man's phone (you're not supposed to do that but I never said my reader could do no wrong, right?), use of pet names (gatita which means kitten in Spanish, baby, darling), smut, angry sex, unprotected p in v (do better irl), cream pie, of course a little nipple play ‘cause it’s still my fic, toxic relationship, self doubt, mention of Steve, a huge pile of lies, Javi is bad at feelings, some reader’s thoughts marked in italics. I think it's all, let me know if I forgot something and I'll add it right away. A/N: Written for @jolapeno 's "Dear-uary" challenge. This was my prompt, I struggled a little bit at first but I ended up having a blast writing this ❤︎ Heavily inspired by this song (from which the fic also takes its title), I heard it randomly on Spotify one day and I thought "wait, this is perfect for Javi!" and I ended up being obsessed with two more songs by the same artist. LOL Many thanks to: - @aurorawritestoescape , my beta, for her help and advice, she will probably dream of elephants because of me tonight hahaha Kate I own you a big one, thanks baby so much, I love you ❤️ - The person who basically pulled this out of my brain and supported me throughout the process, my precious, my peanut @joelmillerisapunk. 🥰 Love you so much it's ridiculous🥹 - @milla-frenchy for letting me blather about this thing some days ago. Love you, bb ❤︎ English is not my first language, every single mistake is still on me, I deeply apologize if you find any.

Edited - because I forgot to change the most important detail, of course. I’m not myself if I’m not doing a mess. Yay. It’s okay now.

“Why the hell am I here? Was I the only available hole this week?”

“No,” he whispers. 

“So what?” 

Javier came back and found you in the middle of the room.

You were brandishing his phone like a sword in the air, the banner of everything that was wrong.

His face went pale when he saw you like that. 

Eyes wide open. 

Mouth agape. 

He tried to say something but you immediately hit him with a vomit of words.

“I know what you’re doing,” you hiss under your breath, feeling your eyes sting.

Javier is a marble statue in front of you, his lips pressed together, his absent eyes not even looking at you, staring at a spot behind your shoulders, his arms abandoned along his sides. 

He seems anchored to the ground. 

His last words to you still burn on your skin like a fire you cannot extinguish.

A heavy silence between you fills the air of the room and makes it unbreathable. 

“Fuck, Javier, talk to me,” you whisper angrily.

You clutch his phone in your hands, so tightly that your knuckles are white from exertion, as if you were clinging to it to keep yourself from falling off a cliff. 

“You knew I was no good,” he says sternly.

You have been in this room for two days. 

Officially, Javier has to stay here because henchmen of one of the new drug lords in town are set on taking him out. 

Unofficially, he has you infiltrating the room. 

Typical Javier, spending his time under protection fucking someone. 

You foolishly almost believed it was romantic, until this morning. 

“So you’re trying to say that it’s my fault? Is that what you want to say? It’s my fault that as soon as I turn my back you go and stick your cock in someone else's pussy?” You don’t even have the strength to scream right now. Your voice comes out rancorous but low, hoarse, like a blown growl. 

Oh, you’re not going to accept being lectured by him, fuck no.

“No, I’m just saying -” he tries to explain and you glare at him, making the words die in his mouth.  

"What?" 

“Fuck, I'll never change,” he shrugs as if it were a truism that only you can't grasp.

His eyes shift to the ground, dull and absent.

“You don't change because you are convinced that you can't,” you admonish him, feeling anger rising from your chest. 

"That's not true," he murmurs, keeping his gaze on the crimson and gold carpet that lies at your feet.

“Yes, it is,” you insist, ”and you seem to like to think of yourself as an incurable asshole.”

He still fails to see the real problem, the elephant in the room that lives and thrives among you. 

"Then you tell me, if you think you know me so well,” he asks with defiance. 

“You bet I fucking know you,” you lash out. “You think you're so mysterious and complicated?! Well,  news flash, I've seen plenty like you. You’re just another man. You're not even that, you're a child. A child who's afraid of his own shadow when it comes to relationships.”

“Don’t fucking analyze me,” he hisses, finally setting his eyes back on you. 

Raven, angry and fearful. He knows you can read him like an open book and this unleashes an awareness upon him that crushes him to the ground.

You bitterly laugh, “Truth hurts, huh? I know something about it”. 

The wrinkle between his eyebrows deepens, his nostrils flare, and his mouth tightens into a line so thin you think he’s about to burst. He stays quiet instead, eyes back on the damask carpet decoration. 

_____________

“Yes, Steve, I'm fine. That jerk won't find me here, and anyway it's full of police outside the door.” 

A pause and a sigh. 

”No, no one followed her, they don't know who she is.”

You stood behind the half-closed bathroom door listening. 

You smiled. 

His voice sounded softer when he talked about you. You lulled yourself into that feeling. 

Until you heard something else. 

A booming laugh. 

Water ran in the shower, tiny droplets coated the wall as the mirror fogged up.

“Whatever. Of course I'm still screwing around. At least, I was doing it before that asshole started chasing me,” his voice suddenly lowered so you took a chance and opened the door a little more. You wanted to make sure you heard right. 

Your hand trembled against the doorknob, you grabbed your wrist to hold it steady. 

“You idiot,” he scoffed. “Yeah, we'll be in touch.”

Suspicion. The black wing of a crow that had been wrapped around your heart for a long time.

But then why did it hurt so much? 

You allowed yourself to hide it in a part of your brain where you never looked-that was a mistake. Making the hunch barely a firefly when it was supposed to be a bright neon sign.

He always places the phone with its screen down when you go out to dinner, softly smiling at it when he checks it after a few vibrations, telling you “it’s Steve” when you ask. 

But you know that crooked smile. 

He dodges when you ask him about his day "oh work, you know, just work." 

He tells you he is with Steve but you hear female voices in the background. 

Every time you try to confront him it always ends the same way, him telling you, “you’re paranoid, there’s no one else, just you, baby. You’re the only one I want.”

And then he fucks your doubts into oblivion.

You heard the thud of the phone on the blankets. And then Javier calling you. 

You swallowed the gall rising from the walls of your stomach and just smiled when he joined you in the bathroom and suggested that you shower together.

You wanted some proof before you charged him. 

If there was anything you had learned from being with him, it was that hard evidence was the key. So you played cool. 

He fucked you against the shower wall and you moaned into his neck. 

He licked your pussy like a man starved and you just bit your lips until you felt iron on your tongue.

He kissed you with that liar's mouth, and you let him.

And you fell asleep beside him, on the unmade bed of your uncertainties. 

This morning someone from outside called him into the hallway to report the latest movements of the guy who was looking for him. 

His phone was on the bedside table.

It was like a magnet, pulling your hand to it.

You were almost sure you knew his unlock code ‘cause you had watched the movements of his finger many times. 

You tried twice without success. 

The third time you let out a long sigh, visualized in your mind the movement one more time and unlocked it. 

You were in. 

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest as your fingers swiped and clicked on the screen. 

And there they were.

Dozens and dozens of messages and pics exchanged with 4 different women.

You scrolled through one of the chats with a certain Maria, who regularly sent him pictures of her tits and her legs spread wide, her pussy in the shot.

There was sexting, arranged dates, same promises he gave to you, things you never asked for but he kept repeating like a broken record. Even the same pet name. Gatita. 

Blood simmered in your veins, a jolt in your heart, throat dry. 

Your finger furiously scrolled through the chat, finding tons of messages he had sent her while he was with you.

You switched to another one and you found pretty much the same. And yet another, message after message containing flirting and explicit sex.  

“Oh Javi, you keep getting better and better with that cock of yours”

“My pussy needs you, darling, can you come over?”

“I can’t stop thinking about your huge cock dripping on me”

And the more you scrolled, the more a question formed in your brain, rumbling through your temples like a deafening drum. 

Was he ever sincere with you?

________

When he looks up at you again, you see it. A veil of fragility in the dense blackness of his gaze.

He looks almost helpless. “I know you tried,” he admits, ”You tried harder than anyone else.”

“Apparently it was no use,” you chastise him.

He doesn’t reply. 

Instead he comes closer and closer. 

You pull back, responding to his every step forward with a backward one. 

“Please,” he whispers. 

“No.” 

“Don't do that.”

“You have no right to tell me what to do,” you bark.

”I know...” 

“Fuck off, Javier, leave me alone.”

You pull back until you hit the wall behind you. 

Javier approaches, bending slightly to reach your mouth, his mustache brushes against your cupid’s bow and you don't even have the strength to turn your face away anymore. 

When your lips collide you let it happen. 

It’s like when you drink too much Tequila. 

It burns on your tongue, leaving you almost anesthetized as soon as you down it, and then an aromatic taste wafts into your mouth; it is lysergic, unusual, unmistakable.

You love it, so you keep doing it.

Javier is the same. 

He's sharp, stiff at the edges, burns like fire, but he has an aura that you won’t mistake for anything and he hypnotizes you. He’s not like anyone else, despite what you told him. There is an underlying despair in him, a cry dying in his throat, “How can you love someone like me?” 

He says it only with his eyes but you hear it clearly.

He is a time bomb that explodes in your heart every time he touches you. So you keep doing it.

“Fuck,” you whisper against his lips. 

“Yeah…I know. I’m not worthy.”

And yet, you’re still here.

You let him peel off your every layer of clothing, to leave you naked and vulnerable in front of him. 

You do nothing when he undresses too. Hastily taking off his shirt, fumbling with the button of his jeans, nervous hands and short breaths.

It is like some mind fuck game, intoxicating, dangerous, capable of leaving permanent marks.

He lowers his jeans just enough to free his cock, no boxers. Always ready.

His hands run over your hips and you groan. 

His tongue slides over your neck, his eyes closed, his breath heavy and warm on your skin. 

He makes you cry, but you don't say no.

His lips latch onto your nipple and adrenaline rushes through your veins up into your head, hitting hard like a jackhammer.

You don’t pull back anymore, you push your tit into his mouth so eagerly you feel his teeth closing on your bud and you whine in pleasure. 

His growing erection leaks against your center. You are trapped. Not so much because you are between him and the wall but because you no longer know how to get him out of your head. 

Right now it doesn't matter how much it hurts. 

He slides his hands down your thighs and you know what he wants, without needing to speak. You wrap your legs around his waist. He kneels on the bed with you still clinging to him, you lie back on the soft blankets that smell of you both, arch your back and press against his cock. You folds splayed and dripping for him.

His fingers go up your rib cage, stop under your breasts and grasp there, he draws you back to him and your mouths collide again.

You let his tongue enter. You let the fleeting pleasure of this instant take over all the no's you know you have to say.

There’s no right kind of love here, this room is drowned in angry sex.

Angry at how you can never say no to him, angry at how he makes you feel, angry because you know that no one has ever fucked you the way he did, invading your body with a pleasure so addictive that it makes you sick. Angry because maybe he's right, he can't change. 

You break the kiss and bite on his shoulder, a small act of revenge that really does no harm compared to your bleeding heart. 

Your hands grasp on the golden skin of his back, leaving marks with your nails digging into it, your miserable attempt to leave marks on him in return.

You moan convulsively under his touch, your mouth wide open against his, your tongue desperately seeking him out. 

His hands tighten on your ass, lifting you slightly, his cock slides over your wet opening, a guttural sound comes out of the back of your throat without you being able to hold it back. 

You want him inside you. 

You need him inside you.

And it’s wrong, and desperate. It’s masochistic.

You don’t even care for his jeans’s zip scraping your skin.

The thin line between pain and pleasure is so blurred now.

It’s a pathetic shit show of need and urgency. 

You’d walk away from any other guy but Javier is the person you can never have just for yourself and at the same time he is the only one you want. 

He is the knife and the wound at the same time.  

When he asks “Whose pussy is this?” in his deep groaning voice that fucks directly with your brain, you can only reply “yours.”

Digging your nails deeper, biting more, wailing louder but just pleading with him.

You take his shaft in your hand and rub it against you in blind desperation, wetting it with your juices. 

He groans into your ears while his hand reaches for your nipple and his big strong arm holds you close.

You are sitting on his thighs, your legs crossed behind his back.

His fingers pinch your nipple as you don't stop stroking his big throbbing cock.

Just put it in there. You think. I just need to feel your flesh against mine, inside me, claiming me like the rag doll that I am now. 

Stupid bitch trying to have you when you’re damaged like a shattered glass, when you can bring nothing than heat to my body and freezing ice to my heart. 

“Fuck me,” you groan. 

He pushes against your core, entering you with one deep thrust.

Your pussy is weeping so much it doesn’t even hurt.

You clench on him with all the strength you have, chocking his cock with your walls.

“Fuck,” he growls. “You’re gripping me so hard, baby. There’s nothing you want more than this, huh? Me fucking you raw?” 

“Shut up,” you hiss. 

He starts moving, pumping into you as his hand reaches for your clit, brushing it in circles.

You whine, clinging onto his back, your face hidden in the crook of his neck.

You can’t look him in the eye, you can’t face your own shameful reflection in his pupils, you can’t think of anything else than this pleasure firing your body, your limbs, your mind.

Your pussy never gets the memo when it comes to him. She just clenches, and cries and asks for more.

At the verge of your brink, when you’re so utterly overwhelmed you could swear, you’re about to jump out of your skin, you hear it.

It’s the softest whisper on your skin, so low you barely catch the words, “I love you” 

You cry a single tear that slides down the column of his neck, it could be mistaken for a bead of sweat so easily and Javier doesn’t notice it. But it’s there. You’re crying again.

You come, weeping.

Grasping to him like your last shred of hope.

But there’s no hope anymore.

You know you can’t go on like that.

You cried before. You argued before. It’s all useless.

A devastating orgasm shoots through you, leaving you without defense.

It’s the last thing you want but you need to get it over with. 

You lie on the bed, feeling his last twitches inside you, his cum dripping onto your walls, his cock pressing against that spot that belongs only to him.

He lies down on you, gently crushing you with his weight, his sweaty skin against yours, the smell of your orgasm filling your nostrils.

You’re hopeless and breathless. 

He's still inside you, like he doesn't want to leave. 

You know you have to. 

Eventually he shifts, lying on the other side of the bed muttering, “god, you really are something else.” He takes the pack of cigarettes from the nightstand and lights one, taking a long drag.

“I'm not enough,” you want to scream looking at him through the cloud of smoke enveloping him. “Or maybe you're not, for me.”

When he is about to fall asleep, you get up. You pick up your clothes off the floor and put them on silently.

“Where are you going, gatita?” he grunts. 

Does he think he has solved it? Does he think you will forgive him as you did the other times? 

You don’t reply.

"You only ever tell me the truth when you think I won't hear it,” you type on your phone and send it to him, before coming out of the door without turning your back.

You leave him there, wondering, lost as he makes you feel.

There will be two broken hearts. 

You know he loves you and you love him.

He is convinced that he doesn’t deserve you and pushes you away every time you get close to his soul. 

He knows that you see him clearly; that scares him.

You are tired of fighting for the both of you.

You push the elevator button under the gaze of an unsuspecting policeman who urges, “Where are you going, miss?”

“I'm leaving.”

“Do you need someone to accompany you?” 

“No, thank you.”

“Someone could follow you,” he counters.

“No one knows me, you don't have to worry.”

You wait for the elevator, still hoping to see his ruffled raven hair poking out the door, his voice calling to you, his hand tightening on your wrist. 

None of this happens.

The only ones who will follow you are your ghosts.

Tag list: @baronessvonglitter , @almostempty , @probablyreadinsmut , @thundermartini , @gothcsz , @cas-readsandwrites , @harriedandharassed

Archive tag: @pedrostories

If you want to be added or removed just let me know! Thank you very much for reading❤︎

[fortunekookie07]

Stay

Hey guys! So I know I'm supposed to be working on my requests, and I am, I really am! I've had this story floating around my head for a few weeks now. I was finally able to write out the ending thanks to Caleb's return. His appearance is small, but it added just the right element, in my opinion.

This is gonna be a long one, a very long one. Quite easily, the longest I have posted here. So without further ado, I present to you Stay.

****************************************************

In the final moments of your life, you supposedly have your life flash before your eyes, and in a way, that was what was happening to you.

You knew your body was flying through your life's experiences trying to find the way to save you now. It wasn't going to happen. This time, you were really going to die. You didn't regret the way you were going to die. The Wanderers were now gone. You'd managed to save everyone.

For the first time in your life, you were grateful for the Aether core in your heart. It had given you the power you needed to repel and destroy the last of the Wanderers. Chansia would be able to rebuild and go on now.

If there was something you regretted, it was your parting with Sylus. Your hand felt empty without the comforting weight of his ring. You hoped someone else would take up the case of finding your brother and grandmother's murderer.

The edges of your vision were going dark. Blood was seeping between your lips and down your chin. Lying on the ground in the ruble of what had been an office building wasn't exactly comfortable, but it wouldn't be long now.

You could hear shouting, people were calling your name. You couldn't hear clearly enough to make out who was desperately searching for you. You wanted to call out and let then know you were here. But any attempt to speak resulted in coughing up more blood.

You knew your ribs were broken. Most likely at least one had punctured your lungs. Your leg was definitely broken. Being thrown had caused the rib break. Having heavy debris falling on you had caused the leg break.

The calling grew louder. They had almost reached you. At least you wouldn't be alone in the end. A smile tugged your lips upward.

Using what little strength you could muster, you managed to grab a rock and toss it a bit. The resulting clatter echoed in the otherwise silent space.

"Over here, she's here"! The voices were accompanied by footsteps and sliding rocks.

People came to your side moments later. You were surprised at the faces you saw. "Sy... lus?" You managed weakly trying to lift your hand again.

The last time you saw him came rushing back as tears gathered in your eyes. You remembered every detail of the last fight.

*******************************************************

CRASH

Luke and Kieran turned in the direction of the master's study. They were at it again, this would be the fourth time this week an argument had broken out.

"I'm going on this trip, Sylus, and that's final"! Your voice echoed down the hall to the library where the twins were sitting.

"How do you think it'll end this time?" Kieran asked his twin. "Same as always." Luke said looking back down to his book.

You were fuming, blood racing as your heart pounded. "I am not a child, Sylus. I am going on that trip!" You shouted at him hands splayed on the surface of his desk as you leaned over it glaring back at him. He was just staring back at you. Eyes hard, a deep frown on his brow. A fist was clenched near his temple.

"I said no. It's too dangerous." He responded in his faux calm, even sounding voice. You clenched your hands into fists. Nails digging into your palms. "It's my damn job. I have to go, and I will be going to Chansia." You'd been trying to tell him about the mission Captain Jenna was sending you on all week to no avail.

Everyone knew how bad the situation was there and how poorly understaffed and under-equipped to deal with the outbreak they were.

They needed help and Jenna was counting on you and six others to go. She had put you in charge of the team and given a rundown of their immediate need. Metaflux was out of control and Wanderers were running rampant in the city. Total lock down had been imposed and people were advised to stay inside and defend themselves in whatever way possible.

You would be teaming up with the Chansia hunters and begin reducing the Wanderer numbers. Rescuing those in desperate need was the second objective. Updating their metaflux barriers was the final goal.

Captain Jenna had stressed the extreme dangers you would be going into and the importance of maintaining personal safety. How this had happened in the first place was unclear, news was slow coming from the city. What did trickle out was only a plea for assistance.

It wasn't like you didn't understand Sylus' concerm for your wellbeing. You'd endured injury after injury fighting the Wanderers. Had broken almost every bone in your body to date. The worst of which had earned you six weeks in the hospital. One of which was in the ICU.

What had made you so angry was his immediate no, when you first brought it up. He couldn't go with you this time due to conflicting schedules and no other flights could be scheduled to Chansia until the situation was resolved.

Your flight was supposed to leave early in the morning. Originally you'd planned to spend some time with Sylus and get him to take you to the airport, but since he was being an asshat, that was no longer an option you wanted to explore.

Storming out of his study you angrily dashed up the stairs to the bedroom. Your anger was such that you didn't even want to be under the same roof as him right now. You shoved all of your clothes into one of your bags and began throwing random items into another.

You didn't need to turn and look to see him standing in the doorway watching you angrily buzz around his bedroom.

"Just where are you going?' He finally asked after several minutes watching you. "I'm going home!" You said throwing your slippers off and stuffing your feet into your boots. "Wait, just wait a minute. You're not leaving..". He began before you cut him off.

"The hell I'm not! You don't get to tell me what to do Sylus. I am not your underling or employee." You push past him with both bags. He tries again to stop you. "Wait, don't leave now. It's raining." Again he tries to prevent you from leaving but you keep walking.

"I'm going home to sleep and then I'm going to Chansia in the morning." You tell him resolutely daring him to try and stop you.

He follows you all the way to the front door. You set your bag down and reach for the knob and then see the ring he'd given you a few months prior. You pull it off your finger and turn around.

You throw it at his head. "Take your ring back, I don't need someone who does not respect me. I'd rather be completely alone. Tears sting your eyes as you catch his expression.

It's just a slight change in his demeanor, but after two years together you can read him like an open book. He's hurt by your actions, deeply hurt. The ring you just threw at his head had been one he personally designed and picked all materials for.

When he'd give it to you, he admitted it had taken him six months to find the red diamond that was the center stone. He'd wanted it to be absolutely perfect, and you knew how high his standards were.

Saying yes to his proposal had been one of the happiest days, but looking at that ring now just hurt. He had no confidence in you and he didn't respect your desire to help others. How could you willingly marry a person like that? The answer seemed simple, you couldn't.

You slammed the door behind you and dashed over to your car. Slipping into the driver's seat, you threw your bags into the backseat and started the engine. Waiting for the heat to kick on, you sat there for a few minutes trying not to cry.

You will the tears to stop, urging yourself not to shed one more second of sadness for him. Sylus did not respect you or your wishes. He had made that abundantly clear tonight. So why should you grieve his loss? Like flipping a switch, the rational part of your brain took over and your tears stopped. Drying your face as you pulled out of the parking spot and flipped the car around. Headed back down the long drive of his ridiculously huge home.

Twenty minutes later you were back in the familiar brightly lit, Linkon downtown area. It was late, almost one thirty now. Thankfully You'd be at your complex in less than five minutes.

As you were getting out of the car you heard your phone beep with a new message. Glancing down, you saw it was from one of the numbers the twins liked to use. It said 'just making sure you made it home safe.' The rustle of wings and a caw had you looking up into the huge tree.

You knew then, that the twins weren't the ones to send the message. Sylus had, and just like always he was checking up on you. A gesture that used to make you feel warm, now left you cold.

In your anger you typed out, don't bother. My actions are no longer your concern.

You couldn't bring yourself to send the text. Instead you tossed your phone onto the bed and then flung yourself down after it. Sleep was going to be a must for the long flight to come in a few hours.

What felt like only minutes later, your phone was going off. You groaned and looked at the screen. Why did this always happen before the alarm sounded? You glanced at the screen, surprised to see Captain Jenna calling so early.

You sat up, now wide awake and answered the call. "I'm sorry for calling so early and right before you head to Chansia, but this couldn't wait". She says before you can even great her.

"What's going on"? You ask, concern pulling your brows into a frown. The seriousness of her tone is putting you on edge. "I've tried not to pry too much, and I know you're investigating the murder of your grandmother and brother, but your frequent trips to the N109 Zone have caught attention. I'm being questioned now. If you weren't headed to deal with an emergency today, I'd be required to pull you from this mission and brought in for questioning." You can tell that she doesn't like saying any of this to you.

"You're one of our top hunters and consistently have the most rescues and time put in, but it's drawn some bad attention to you. I'm so sorry, but when you get back from Chansia, I'll have to bring you in and before all of the commanders and even the chief". The silence following her words is loud. Your heart is thudding in your chest.

You want to blame Sylus for this, but the fault lies with you. You'd known that eventually someone was going to see your location constantly in a place it shouldn't be, and now they had noticed.

"Thanks for the heads up Captain." You tell her somberly, resigned to the fate you'd chosen. "Just take care of yourself, whatever that means for you". Her words carried a weight you were unable to place at that moment. After wishing you a safe flight, the line went dead.

You got up from the bed and began rechecking your bags, trying to ensure you'd forgotten nothing. For some reason you couldn't shake that you wouldn't return to this place again. One last glance around and you were headed out the door.

You heard a car pull up as you locked the door followed by a horn. Glancing behind you, the taxi that you'd requested was right on time. As you approached, the driver got out and helped place your bags in the trunk. A short while later and you were speeding down the highway towards and uncertain future.

*******************************************************

Sylus sat in his chair after you had left, fingers holding up his head and a deep frown on his face. In front of him on the desk, sat your ring. Gleaming back at him, almost mocking him with your absence.

He was tempted to go after you, the thought of following you all the way to Chansia appealed to him greatly. It would mean postponing his trip to Italy, but he could always go there after getting you.

Finally after thinking over his plan and getting all the details straight, he called in Luke. "Make sure the jet is fuled. We're going to make a little detour. He was coming for you, one way or another.

*******************************************************

The situation in Chansia was so much worse than what you were prepared for. Your plane couldn't land in the city because the airport was no longer there. Part of it had collapsed and it looked like a bomb had gone off.

When you finally made it into the city the other hunters were waiting to escorted your group to their secured temporary base. You could tell they were exhausted. Constant fighting with little to no rest had drained them greatly.

That had been three days ago, now your group was equally running on empty. Rescues were slow going. The few families you'd managed to get to had been safely evacuated. Combined efforts had resulted in some success at the very least. Part of the city on the western side was no Wanderer free. Patrols roamed the freed edge ensured thay it remained safe.

"We need to put together a small team and head straight for the center of this mess. If we can stabilize the mwtaflux and implement the reinforced shield then no new Wanderers will appear." You were sitting at a make shift table with Captain Willow and a few others. "It's a suicide mission!" One of the Chansia hunters objected.

You sighed heavily, this had been the argument for the last half hour. Rubbing your temple you spoke again. "Look, I understand your concerns and objects very clearly but you need to remember this. If we don't do this, the Wanderers will keep appearing and our efforts to evacuate will turn into a retrieval for the deceased. My team and I cam here with three objectives. I will do this myself if I have to, but it's going to be done." You had tried being nice, and you had even tried negotiating, but the same hunter again and again stood in your way.

"Captain Willow, you can take this down as defying a direct order from yourself if you wish, but I am going to get that shield up. Even of I have to do it without support."

Looking at the stubborn and set faces of the Chansia hunters you got up from the table. "So be it then, stay alive." You tell them and leave the tent. You make a brief stop by your own tent. Simone is waiting for you.

"I take it they are still opposed to heading to the metaflux center then?" She asked, but not needing an answer. You just nod and enter the tent, gesturing for her to follow behind you. "What will you do no?" She asked sitting on the cot beside you.

"No choice, I'll have to do this alone. I can't risk the safety of the entire team on a small chance of success." You flop back onto the cot and throw your arm over your eyes. "I can go with you." She said softly. You lift your arm just enough to see her. She is grapling with something.

"I can't let you come this time Simone. You're my partner, so if I can't find a way then you'll have to lead the team. I won't leave them without direction." You stand up and pat her shoulder.

Simone has worked with you for almost a year now. She was a very capable and reliable partner. If you couldn't do this, she might be able to.

You started packing a backpack, making sure the Flux stabilizer and shield were secured. If they were damaged, then saving Chansia would become a hundred times harder. The odds already seemed impossible. If only Xavier were here now. He could get you to the center.

You shook your head. Xavier had been on an extreme mission for the last year now. It's how Simone became your partner. With Xavier otherwise occupied the spot beside you had become vacant and some missions were just too dangerous to do alone.

With a map of the city and a goo understanding of where the Wanderers were concentrated, you plotted your route with Simone. It was going to be easy, damn near impossible, but if you could stick to this, the faintest hope existed that Chansia could be saved.

Having everything you needed, you made one final stop to Captain Willow's tent. She seemed to know to expect you. "I won't report you for insubordination, I know you are trying to save the city. Even if I don't agree with your methods. Captain Jenna has told me of you. It's not like your reputation is unknown to us. I wish you luck." She turned and went into the tent after.

Picking your way through the east side of the city was easy going at first. The sun was up so at least the nocturnal Wanderers were not active during the day. The further into the city you got, the harder it became to go unnoticed by the Wanderers.

Battling them seemed to attract more attention. It had been four hours since you left the campsite. You'd managed to get only halfway to the target.

The sun was starting to set. The longer this took, the harder it would get. Depending on the type, nocturnal Wanderers could be up to ten times more dangerous. There was one type of Wanderer that you prayed would not be in the vicinity. You wouldn't be able to take it on alone. It just wasn't possible.

After another hour has passed you finally arrived at the building, or what was left of it. This was where the strongest distortions in the metaflux were coming from. No doubt this was also the most dangerous place in Chansia city.

The first two floors of the building has collapsed. Surprisingly, at least from what you could see, the thrid floor now resided on the first. Making your way over sections of broken wall and scattered glass, you headed for the hole in the wall that would get you inside. Much of the floor was still in tact.

Well from what you could see. Unsurprisingly, there was no power. Shadowy darkness awaited you past the hole. With the rapidly sinking sun, you did not have much time.

Carefully you made your way inside, a flashlight leading the way. You occasionally swept the bright light around, checking for any lurking Wanderers. You breathed a sigh of relief, not noticing the large tail coming up from behind you.

*******************************************************

Finally he'd come back, the urgent mission taking him deep into the tunnel was over. He smiled looking at the back of his phone. A picture of the two of you as kids was displayed in the case.

In it you were hugging him, caught in a laugh and your eyes closed. He remembered thay day well. Every moment was precious to him.

Who knew that Jospehine adopting the two of you as her grandchildren would bring him a world of joy? Nothing was more precious to him than you. His precious sister, one of the only good things to come out of his life.

His work was dark and devoid of the light that seemed to always grace you with it warm love. He was always reaching for thar sun, for you. "Just wait for me, I'm finally coming home." He whispered to himself before getting up from his seat and heading for the ships open bay doors.

An hour later and he felt nothing but frustration. You weren't home, no one seemed to know where you were. Deciding to just cut to the chase, he was headed to association headquarters when a story played on the TV.

"Our latest breaking story, Linkons finest were deployed to Chansia city several days ago and since then no information has been received as to their fate. Reports have trickled in over the latest disaster to befal Chansia city. An Ignus wrymlord was spotted yesterday in the cities center. Unconfirmed pictures of the Wanderer have been provided to us but we've been unable to verify the identity of the creature seen in Chansia's vicinity. Our thoughts and prayers go out to the men and women fighting to save the lives of the people still trapped. Please stay safe."

After the report ended for a moment the picture was displayed on the screen. He froze, blurry picture or not. It could only be one thing. He picked up his pace running to headquarters hoping against hope to find you there.

*******************************************************

Your ears were ringing and your fingers came away wet from the side of your head. You didn't know exactly what had happened. Only that you'd been thrown into the side of the wall. You hadn't seen what had attacked you either. The flashlight was gone and so was the backpack you'd been carrying.

The first attempt to get up had your stomach curling.

So you lay there for several minutes. Waiting for the ringing to subside.

It was when you attempted to stand that you finally heard it. A roar so loud it had you crouching down and trying to block your ears. It felt like the very ground was shaking.

Fire sprouted to life moments later, lighting up the space all around you. Any hopes of leaving you previously had vanished. Ten feet in front of you nesting in the huge creator in the ground was a creature that resembled a dragon.

Your brain whispered the correct name for this monster but your eyes couldn't make sense of it. No Wanderer of this magnitude had been seen on this side of the Deepspace Tunnel since their appearance sixteen years ago. Only petrified remains could be found in the older parts of Linkon city, but even then. None of them were the size of this one.

Easily thirty feet across, with a wingspan of at least a hundred feet. It's tail flicked behind it, and you knew this had been what knocked you into the wall.

Without the stabilizer you couldn't even drive it off. Much less fight it, but lacking any other choice you stood your ground and waited for it to make a move.

Maybe you could deal it enough damage that someone else could finish what you started.

This time you were ready for the tail swipe. You just barely managed to dodge. You drew your weapons and fired, the bullets ricocheted off the scales not leaving so much as a scratch.

You began trying to recall your studies in the academy. They had taught you about every known Wanderer. Ignus wrymlord being the most dangerous one.

A nocturnal type, vast firepower, highly intelligent and calculating. Territorial and temperamental, all of these things made for a very aggressive Wanderer.

Tightening your grip on your favorite guns you stared it down. You were going down fighting, refusing to give in to fear. Let your efforts cast the die of fate in Chansia's favor.

Standing to your full height you took a deep breath and dashed forward.

*******************************************************

Explosions rocked the ground, and at first Sylus thought it was an earthquake. For how frequent it was and the fact that it seemed to come from one part of the city every time, he crosses that off the list.

It was only when a bright light lit up the sky, blazing as bright as the midday sun, did he know something was very wrong. He felt his heart constrict in his chest and cold fear wash over him. It was coming from you.

You were unleashing the power in your heart, all of it and all at once. This would kill you for certain.

As he emerged from the side of the building he ran into a few other people. The two women he recognized immediately. Tara your chatty best friend and Jenna leader of your unit. The man he thought looked familiar, dark hair and piercing purple eyes. He was almost as tall as he was.

"Name yourself!" Jenna shouted at you holding her gun aloft. Her shouts attracted some attention. Approaching behind them was a large group of low level Wanderers. Like it was reading his thoughts his evol took shape and raced past them, cutting down the first wave easily.

Getting to you wasn't going to be easy.

*******************************************************

You got to your feet again, your body protested as another wave of pain threatened to knock you over. Numerous cuts and gashes had taken you over. There was hardly a patch of skin on you not soaked in your blood. One of your guns had been lost the last time you'd been thrown against the wall.

At least you'd managed to deal it damage too. It's wings were shreaded and bent at odd angles. It's tail could no longer throw you around either. Being trapped under a huge section of the ceiling. One of its eyes had also been taken out.

You may be worse for wear, but this Wanderer certainly wasn't unscathed. Your body felt heavy and your mind was becoming hazy. Briefly you wondered if it was because you'd lost too much blood.

It roared again, shaking the ground and knocking you off your feet. You heard your other gun hit the ground and silently cursed its loss. Now out of weapons, ideas and strength, you sank to your knees. Your evol had been drained to empty awhile ago.

You thought back to everything you'd ever learned about protocores and Aether cores. To when you'd first met Sylus after sneaking into the N109 Zone. He'd told you that the Aether core in your heart could provide unlimited energy. What was preventing you from using it to destroy this Wanderer?

The moment that thought popped into your head and idea began to take place. Quickly setting to work in provoking the Ignus wrymlord into striking several load bearing pillars brought the upper floors down with a crash.

The light of the moon shone down through the clouds of dust. The Wanderer roared in fury at having its lair destroyed. It began attacking you indiscriminately.

Trying to tap into the power of the Aether core in your heart had never been easy. Sylus had tried many times with little to no success. He used his own freely but couldn't understand why you were unable to do the same.

You realized the answer quickly. It wasn't that you couldn't. Rather that you shouldn't, his thinking before that, you had very similar Aether cores was wrong. They were vastly different. Sylus' provided strength. Yours was meant to protect, the answer seemed so obvious now. It was a wonder it alluded you before.

Once you understood that, it was as simple as breathing to draw out the power. Slow going at first as you imagined the power gathering in your hands. Opening your eyes, that was exactly what you were doing.

A golden ball was in your hands. Growing in size as you gather more and more power. When you had it all you stared, dazed at the explosive energy dancing just over your palm. You smiled faintly, this would surely save all those still trapped in Chansia. This Wanderer wouldn't hurt anyone else.

With that thought in mind you fired the ball of energy at the Ignus. Once again you were knocked off your feet, but this time there would be no getting up.

*******************************************************

"Stay with me, Kitten." Sylus said as he took your hand. You blinked slowly as your vision refocused on what was in front of you. You glanced to the side and saw Tara. She was crying and doing a poor job of hiding it. "It's ok, you're gonna be fine!" She said voice cracking. Jenna had a grim look on her face to she could only scrunch he'd fists and try to hide the worry in her eyes.

It was then that another person made his presence known. "C... Caleb?" .... You asked, voice unsure as you stared at him. Unable to believe he was real, and this was not his spirit coming to guide you.

"Hey pipsqueak." His voice lacked it's usual cheer. You could see the worry all over his face, it wasn't like him. "Ca..leb?" You say softly reaching for his face trying to smooth the worry from his brow. "S'ok I'm fine." He grabs your hand and holds it firmly.

"Of course you are. A medical will fix you right up. You won't even have a scar afterwards." You can see that he doesn't believe what he's telling you and you try to smile at him, but coughing takes over. More blood is seeping between your lips.

"Where's that damn medic?" Glancing back at Captain Jenna as she anxiously looks around for someone. "I'm fine, it doesn't hurt anymore." Your arm goes limp as you can't hold it up anymore. "I'm jus gonna take a lil nap." You whisper and your eyes slide closed.

Sylus grabs your hand tighter in his grasp. "No, you need to stay awake now. Kitten stay with me." You manage to wrench your eyes open again but you can hardly see now. Everything is hazy and even though you're laying down the room is spinning. "It's ok, just let me go." Unable to keep your eyes open anymore they close again. In the silence that follows he can hear your heart stutter and then stop.

"No, no!" He shakes your shoulders trying to rouse you again but you don't wake up.

Finally the medical finds his way to your group. He begins cpr immediately. After ten minutes he stops and calls it. "I'm sorry, there is nothing more I can do. Her injuries are extensive. With the rib fractures and lung puncrure alone, I can't perform the surgery here. She'd die of infection. I'm so sorry for your loss." He gets up quietly and retreats.

Sylus sits there holding you, unable to accept that you are leaving him permanently. "No, you aren't leaving me behind again. Not this time." He said ans leans over to lay you back down on the ground.

*******************************************************

As you sit next to Sylus and Caleb, quietly observing the procession a strange feeling comes over you. "Is this how it feels for everyone to believe you're dead?" You ask softly. Sylus only shrugs not offering a verbal response. "Can't say pipsqueak, I didn't attend my own funeral." You sigh, this was your own idea after all.

Almost the entire city of Linkon had shown up to pay respects to you today. Your services to the city were no small collection of deeds afterall. Captain Jenna had first suggested this after your miraculous recovery. Although he would not tell you how, Sylus had said you were connected now. If he dies, so too would you and vice versa. No amount of begging and pleading would budge him on the matter. Eventually you'd stopped asking.

Jenna had told you I'm detail what exactly was waiting for you if you returned to the Association Headquarters. A full scale investigation, dismissal as a hunter, possible jail time, and some other things.

Being pronounced dead however, the Association had organized this massive funeral service and posthumous award ceremony following the service. Few people would know that you had survived the ordeal with the Ignus wrymlord. The second known person to fight one and live to talk about it. Lumiere being the first and only other one.

"What am I going to do now? Being a hunter was all I'd ever wanted to do, even as a kid." Sylus takes your hand and squeezes it softly.

"Just stay." He looks down at you and kisses your forehead. "Just stay with me."

[moriitis]

👉👈 I got a question would ej or ticci toby love a plus size s/o if so do you got hcs for that

These boys don't judge. Especially Jack!

Toby -

Why should he be on to judge on your body weight? That's not his place to say and you're so much more than that.

So, if anyone where to make a comment, he'll beat them the fuck up or just find out where they live and grant them a slow death.

Regardless, he let's you know how beautiful you are every day, morning and night.

And if you opened up to him about how you may be possibly insecure about your weight, he'll listen closely.

Now, in a situation where you two argue, will he use your weight against you?

Yes, he will and he'll eat himself inside and out at the idea of even bringing it up.

He knows he isn't perfect and he doesn't mean for it to come out.

He loves the extra bumps and curves and he'll make sure you know that.

Loves touching you up and down, admiring you.

Of course, your body isn't the only thing he loves - your eyes, hair, the way you smile.

When did he get so lucky? So fortunate?

A part of him feels as if he doesn't deserve it.

Sure, he's a little bummed that some of his clothing may not fit you perfectly.

But he won't say anything about it.

And if he catches you glancing at yourself in the mirror, he'll narrow his eyes, observing.

"What's going on in that p-pretty little head?"

He'll ask. Just wanting to make sure that you are okay.

Shit, he might even gain some weight himself.

Not that he's opposed to that idea at all.

Eyeless Jack -

Salivates around you 24/7.

As if you didn't smell good enough already.

You felt amazing on the roughness of his claws.

You were plump, perfect and it was hard for him not to suddenly bite into your arm.

If you were okay with it, he wouldn't hesitate.

Despite the lack of sight, his hands moving on your body already tell him how beautiful you are.

And it's not like weight really matters to him either; because he can't really see you anyway.

So, he'll keep on caressing you, smelling you, drooling on the crook of your neck.

The idea of eating you shamefully turning him on.

And he loves when you treat him like some bad mutt, smacking his head softly until he backs down in a whimper.

Same as Toby, if someone were to make a shitty comment, he'll stand up for you.

And if you make a shitty comment in regards to your weight, then he'll lecture you on how every body is different and how we all process food differently.

Shit, if you want help to lose weight, he can think of ways.. (that doesn't consist of cutting you up and eating you.)

Point of the matter is, weight means nothing to him because considering how he looks, he's surprised you're willing to love someone as disgusting as him.

Your bodies are beautiful!

[kenziebluex]

The Broken Heart That Makes Us

!!!PLEASE READ!!!

TRIGGER WARNING: Degradation, Dub-con Elements, Mind-Manipulation, Blackmail

Note: To those of you who still think this is a comfort story. (Its is we promise just not right now lol)

(Btw this is Kenzie taking the reigns for the first time because I don't know how to use tumblr! If you see any errors...no you didn't.)

Story Description: 

Your arranged marriage is on its last legs. After making an agreement with your step son, Megumi, you are puzzled when you are faced with finally making a decision.

Your whole life so far has been planned for you, leading you to struggle with the idea of moving on and finding something stable…someone stable.  

Will you finally be able to let go of the life that was made for you? Will there be others out there willing to pick up the pieces?

(18+) Pairings: Toji, Gojo, Geto, Nanami, & Choso.

Read on ao3: TBHTMU

Chapter 6:

“Miss! Miss!” You stopped mid-typing to see the bouncer trying to catch your attention. 

“Are you going inside?” You dabbed the tears on your face with the underside of your thumb. You nodded hesitantly and he scanned the metal detector around your body before allowing you to pass through the red rope. 

As soon as you passed through the club doors, the talk you had with Gojo was put on the back burner although it still ate at your mind and heart. You were determined to have the night you came for and that meant selfies, a signing and a five-minute yap sesh with your favorite actress. After confirming the large crowd that waited in a new line to see the actors in the VIP section, you made a beeline to the opened room housing the bathrooms to freshen up your face for pictures. 

The bathroom was empty, likely because all of the patrons were either in line or on the dance floor. The bathroom itself was strange, hidden in a separate back room with a single stall and door latch. As you stared at your puffy, red eyes in the mirror, you were able to take time to try to get yourself together. It didn’t work. Staring at yourself only reminded you of the pitiful situation you were in. Breaking up over a phone call? Didn’t even have the balls to talk to me about it. Blocked my fucking number?! 

You would laugh if it weren’t so pathetic. You felt played but you also felt stupid. Nearly all of your eye and cheek makeup was washed away while the only thing that remained were your lashes. You said ‘fuck it!’ and concluded that you will only be getting pictures of your favorite actress instead of with your favorite actress tonight. 

You yanked the bathroom door open and booked around the corner to emerge from the room. Your exit was blocked by a large chest. You stepped to the right and the stranger followed and your path was blocked. You stepped to the left and he mimicked you again. 

He wore a black suit with an open blazer and a white button down. Black trousers that covered over black low heeled boots. Mocking feline slit eyes stared down into yours and long back flowing hair that cascaded down his shoulders. If Gojo reminded you of the shining sun, this man would be the midnight moon. 

You laughed awkwardly looking up at the gorgeous man in your path. The same man that stared you down at the street intersection the other day. 

“So…were you planning to meet the actors like this?” He looked down at you. A humored smile gracing his lips. He shifted his weight and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

You laughed to yourself again, patting your eyes dry once more.

“Oh no. Haha. I didn’t plan on taking any pictures tonight.” You answered  but pleased that he cared that you were crying alone in the bathroom. You gave him a gentle smile.

“I meant to say that you’re dressed like a slut.” He spoke elegantly, fiercely contrasting the vile words he just spoke to you. 

“What the hell?! Who do you think you are?!” You stomped your foot and balled your hands to your side. Your shoulder purse hung down your arm as you felt your despair turn into rage.

Swiftly, he pinched your chin and forced your head to face up to him. He clawed your waist and hauled your chest into his.

“I’m a man who turns dreams into reality.” Venomous words continued to spill from his lips. He used this thumb to caress your chin slowly.

“Fuck. You.” You spat as you squirmed to release yourself from his grasp.

He whipped you around and held your neck up with his large hand, forcing your head back against his shoulder. His other hand dragged down to your hip and pressed his hardening member in between the split of your ass. 

“Is that what you want, princess?” He hissed. Your mouth dropped open in a gasp. He tightened his grip on your neck and you raked your hand on his on your neck and the other on your hip. His long black hair curtained over your shoulder as he leaned down to speak to you. He slowly started to knead his cock in between your ass, violently grazing your clothed pussy.

Dizzy from the tears and lightheaded from crying, you couldn’t stop a long moan from escaping your mouth. A wet tongue traced against the back of your ear. He curved your hips upward in an uncomfortable arch to better rub against your core.

“Do you want me to fuck your problems away?” He whispered low and dangerously. A small whimper escaped your lips as you nervously started grinding against him. You wanted to feel something…anything. You fastened your hand around his wrist to pull him into the bathroom. If you were going to have a rebound you might as well make it worthwhile.

“Do it. Fuck me until I can’t think anymore.” You leaned over and allowed him to push you up against the sink, his hips locking you in place while he yanked his blazer off. You held your body up with your hands while you were bent over the sink. The handsome man was pleased with your compliance.

“Did you wear that see through green dress for attention? Pathetic.” He began unbuttoning his dress shirt. Your chest heaved. You were having a hard time having a full grasp of the situation. A part of you is telling you to run but the other part is telling you that at least somebody wanted your body. You wanted to feel wanted, you wanted get fucked and you were drowning in sadness too much to care about the consequences. 

“I don’t know who you wore that for but the person fucking you senseless tonight is me. Remember well and be grateful, princess.” He fisted your dress and pulled it to your upper back exposing your underwear. Your legs tightened as the cold bathroom air ghosted your core. 

He discarded his shirt and it fell to the floor. It was obvious that he worked out. You felt it when he pulled you against him. His arms were toned and his body chiseled. You figured that if he weren’t here as a fan, he definitely could pass as one of the actors. 

You were facing forward, forced to see the mess that is your face and the wicked pleasure in his darkening brown eyes. You were at war between your head and your heart and you wondered if you could fuck the pain away. Is that what you wanted? You weren’t sure if you were in the right headspace to make those decisions. But you hoped that he could fill a hole within you, despite the cruel words that he said. 

Your eyes hooded and he dug a strong palm into your hair and dragged your head up and back.

“What are you going to do?…” You inquired softly. In your head, you already knew the answer. You tried your best to keep the shakiness in your voice from being obvious. He chuckled and hovered down, head next to yours and gazed at you through the mirror. 

You felt two fingers trespass through your underwear and down the slit of your pussy. He split your lips apart and started stroking the entrance to your hole. Heavy sighs escaped your mouth, your fingers balled into fists. Tears pricked your eyes as your mind wandered back to how Gojo used to touch you.

“How bold. You're wondering what’s going to happen when you’re already this wet for me?” He nibbled your ear. Your eyebrows furrowed. You are letting this strange man bend you over the sink. You wondered if it was going to hurt. He didn’t owe you any gentleness whatsoever but even then, you still craved it. 

“Ah! Ahhh~” You squealed as his two fingers speared your hole. He thrusted them in and out at a relentless pace. The tears idling in your eyes finally fell as he pulled screams from your lips. He pulled your head back to keep you from falling forward, forcing you to watch him pierce you over and over again.

“Did you think I was going to be gentle? You’re so arrogant for thinking you deserve that much.” He let go of your hair and you fell forward, almost bumping your head into the mirror. He yanked your underwear down your feet and helped one leg out to spread your legs wider. He knelt down and pawed your ass with both hands and leveled his mouth to your clit.

He parted your pussy with his thumbs and took a long lick from your clit to your entrance. A long low groan fell from your lips.

“You sound so fucking dirty.” The words went in and out of your ears. He felt heavenly like he was an expert with his tongue. He slapped your ass before tasting circles around your cunt and used one hand to fiddle with your clit. You bit your lip to keep another embarrassing moan from escaping you and then he slapped your ass again. You gasped. 

He hummed as his tongue breached your core and started roaming around your insides. You squirm so much that you thought you would collapse to the ground. He held your hip steady to keep you from moving. 

“Don’t come until I say so.” He ordered, replacing his tongue with his two fingers and thrusting in you again. You cried in desperation as your nearing climax was denied. He moved fast and used his tongue to egg you on, clearly to test your will power. You were too tired to compete but you were desperate for praise. You listened. 

You scrunch your eyes and tried to fight off your climax. Your head bowed into the counter of the cold sink as a brood of moans spilled from your lips. 

“Come for me, princess.” He spoke so languidly you could get drunk off his words. You took in a deep breath and your walls fluttered around his fingers. A strained scream was ripped from your chest as he forced your climax out of you.

The man chuckled darkly.

“Mmm~. Will you milk my cock like that too?” Before you had time to come down from your high. The man already pulled his pants and underwear down to his ankles. You froze at the reflection of his cock that slid against your lips. It was not as long as Gojo’s but it was much girthier. You haven’t been fucked since Toji and damn sure haven’t had a cock almost as big. You started internally debating your options.

“Are you on IUD?” He asked and you blinked twice, still not done resolving the internal conflict inside your head. He dug behind your hair and choked from behind your neck. He pinned you to the sink as he lined himself up at your entrance. Your head started spinning even more and you struggled to breathe as he repositioned both hands at your hips.

Your million thoughts were replaced with a sharp pain as the man didn’t even practice gentleness before plunging into you. Your pussy swallowed a third of him and you yelped out in pain. He groaned and threw his head back. He echoed a low fuck and paused. He leaned forward into your back again and forced your head up to witness him taking you from the back.

“Or do you want to be known as the bitch that got pregnant from a one night stand.” You opened your mouth to protest as he snapped his hips back and then front forcing you to take all of him. You cried out from the pain that quickly morphed into pleasure. You held your palm against the mirror to prevent his violent hips from striking your head against the mirror. 

He let go of your hair to wrap an arm around your waist and then snaked the other around your chest to latch to your shoulder. He started thrusting into you in quick succession. His cock bullied its way to your cervix while his balls drummed against your clit. Slapping noises rung  across the room as your mouth falls open, sustaining loud moans. He buried his head into your shoulder and deep groans rumbled against your ear.

The loud boom of the music in the nightclub blurred as all you could hear were your desperate screams and his hisses and moans. Each time he pulled out of you he snapped back quicker than the time before. He was relentless and punishing but your body was too busy chasing ecstasy to care. He pinned your hips once more and pulled himself out of you. You gasped at the disconnect.

He turned you around to face him and picked you up to sit on the sink counter. You leaned your back into the cold mirror, as he prepped to enter you from the front. You ground against his cock, begging him to enter you again. 

“Beg for it.” He ordered. You snaked your arms around his shoulders and toyed with his long black hair. You grazed your hand through his scalp and dragged his head back. Your loose bangles falling up and down your arm as you toured through his  long black locks. He moaned deliciously, telling you that he liked it. You pulled his face to yours.

“Give it to me.” You demanded breathlessly. He took your lips into his and he sucked against your tongue. He used the same ferocity to pierce your core again with his swollen cock and started humping into you once more. He latched his hands to your hips prone to keep you still. Your eyes screwed shut as you were approaching your breaking point again. You moaned into his mouth.

“Oh god! Oh god! Please-!”  You said a prayer into his ear over and over desperate to once again meet your euphoria. He slapped a palm against the mirror, next to your head. He started pairing silent grunts with a slew of curses as his pace slowed but became more violent. His cock pulsed within you and he hissed. He hiked your loose knee over his other elbow to spread your legs further as his thrusts became sloppy. 

“Nnnghh…hahhh~….What’s it going to be?” He bit out as it seemed like he was nearing his breaking point. Before you had time to respond, you reached your climax first, your head buried into his shoulder and screamed Bloody Mary praying desperately that the IUD you installed a few months ago was working its magic. Your spasming walls pulled him with you as he shoved his cock deep and released into you. You milked him for all of his seed as a long moan coated his lips. When he was finished he pulled out of you. 

You were still shaking from your climax as he knelt down once more and began sucking at your core that is overflowing with his cum. Your legs and knees fought against him in overstimulation as he came back up and clawed you by the back of the neck. He kissed you and spilled all of his cum from his mouth into yours tasting the mixture of your climax and his. 

He let go of your lips and used this thumb to force your mouth shut.

“Swallow it.” He commanded and you hesitated but complied. He started to get dressed but you were still sitting in the sink. Frozen and your mind in a limbo.

Your head cleared and you were no longer thinking. Your pants became rapid and you became paralyzed with worries. One word came to your mind…

Panic.

✿❀○❀✿

The entire ride home was silent with your eyes glued to the road. You felt like you broke every traffic law while racing to get back home and into the comfort of your own bed. Tonight was a bad idea, terrible one even. But you felt liberated. You got fucked hard just like you planned and you’ll take your wins where you could get them.

The only regret you have is not being able to get the autograph that you came for. After that session, you were far too embarrassed to even greet your favorite actress in that state. Hair disheveled, makeup smeared and reeking with sex from head to toe. Even trying to exit the club was challenging but you held your head up and walked out with as much confidence as a fucked out woman would have.

The clock on your phone displayed 1:07 am. You dropped your keys on the kitchen counter and peeled your false lashes off. Megumi’s lights were already off. You left the lashes on your bathroom sink and pulled a few makeup wipes to clear off as much makeup as you can with what little strength you had left. 

You leaped into the shower hoping to come out a different woman than you came in. But everything remained. The numb pain in your heart pulsed through your entire body. You felt hollow.  You didn’t bother to throw on much more than a satin silk nightgown and face planted into a large pillow. You cuddled the pillow tight, attempting to replicate the feeling of warmth and comfort and curled your body into the fetal position. 

Your phone rang.

To your dismay, you didn’t waste another moment to pick it up to view the contents

Text Message Notification

Mr Blue Sky

“Hey…I know I’m a colossal fuck up. At the time, I just thought that it would be better if I just kept my distance from you and allowed you to hate me. I have too much baggage and emotions that I’m not sure are fully healed. Everytime I feel like I’m growing closer to someone…I self-sabotage every relationship I’m in out of fear. But ending the call like that… It wasn’t me and I was sick to my stomach thinking about how that probably made you feel. I love you and I panicked. I was too overwhelmed with my own thoughts and trauma that I hurt you and…I’m sorry. I wanna talk. Tomorrow is Saturday, right? Let me make it up to you. After dropping Megumi off at home…I’d like to see you and to talk to you. I still want to kiss you. I don’t want everything to end like this…”

Reply

You clicked your phone off and threw it off the bed not remembering that it needed to be charged. Or you didn’t care. You buried your head into your pillow knowing that sleep won’t be coming easy tonight. ‘You’re too late.’ You cried to yourself.

taglist: @beetusbritt ❤ @nousija ❤ @notleclerc divider by @cafekitsune

❀ follow for more ❀ ao3: kenzieblue❀

art credit 1: ig: arekushisu (commission do not use)

-kenzie & des

[ssbooks]

Day 16

I can picture the scene in my mind. I can see every motion, every detail, every little step. Each footfall makes an echoing sound as he races against time. I can feel it—the way his stomach turns, dread weighing in his gut like a weighted bullet. Then... He finds her body. She rests on the table, her limbs sprawled out in a messy tangle. Glass walls encase her, barring his path as he rushes to her. His fists slam against the glass, and he screams, pleading for her to hear him, to show any response. But she doesn’t move. I can see her white hair, sprawled out like Snow White in a coffin. Her face is frozen in a scowl, unconscious like this. Feathers lay around her—signs of a struggle. Clear liquid still drips from the shot he gave her. And—

I CAN'T WRITE IT! GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! I can see it all in my head, BUT FOR SOME REASON, IT'S STUCK! It's like someone poured glue in one ear, keeping my thoughts trapped to forever to replay the scene forever.

AND I CAN'T WRITE IT!

Who thought this was funny? What cruel joke from fate thought it would be funny to dangle an amazing scene in front of my face, BUT NOT LET ME WRITE IT???

BY THE FLUFF, JUST GET IT OUT OF MY HEAD ALREADY! I'm done, and I want to move on. Please, brain, just let me do stuff... I'm begging you. I'll give you anything.

My brain: ...

How about I steal some peanut butter from the pantry?

... Sure...

Spoiler alert: my brain still doesn’t work. I'm thinking maybe it works like a printer, and you just have to bang on it a few times.

Anyway, how is all your guys' motivation going today??

PS: the first paragraph is actually a scene from my novel. Well.... very loosely based on one of my scenes. (It's not that dramatic, I promise)

I would NEVER be that dramatic.

.....

Why are you all looking at me like that?

[reticent-fate]

part 11/26ish

anyone remember those scales with the springs in 'em? all i ever see these days are digital scales but those things made the best noises. i think i've seen some kitchen scales that still use spring mechanisms, but it's been a while.

technology is weird.

from the beginning

[johndonneswife]

[blackvahana]

Go figure I'm getting annoyed with linguistic unpopular opinions when Grey is prevalent in me. Hilarious stomping around in the astral being particular about coding shit and having to pause mentally to complain about things

[unwillingtoreachout]

janeil (Janie & Neil) bestfriendisms send tweet