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its-not-sof · 1 year

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feels like

mark smut + fluff (virgin!reader)

It wasn’t your fault you didn’t check the weather forecast that morning before you left for work.

As you stared up at the dark, angry sky, you contemplated the easiest way to get into your apartment building unscathed by the pelting rain. Instead of making a run for it, you sulked in your car, letting out a frustrated sigh.

You suddenly felt your phone buzz, and the face of your newly acquired boyfriend lit up the screen.

“Mark?” You answered his call, a hint of desperation evident in your voice.

“Are you okay, Y/N? Usually you’re back by now, so I already let myself in.”

You smiled warmly. It had only been a few months since you’d started officially seeing each other, but you felt so drawn to him immediately. He made you feel loved, safe and so happy. It was almost like a spare copy of your apartment key had just spontaneously made itself and appeared in your hands for you to give to him last week.

And boy, were you glad for it right now.

“Mark, can you do me a huge favor? I need you to grab my umbrella and bring it out to the parking lot. I’m going to get so soaked on my way in.”

Mark laughed.

“Of course, just give me a second, okay?”

Within moments, your boyfriend came into view, holding your travel umbrella precariously over his head in the windy storm. You steeled your nerves and quickly threw open your car door, taking off into a run towards him. Mark smiled and laughed, amused at your urgency.

“It’s just a little rain, Y/N,” he joked, calling out to you before you landed in his waiting arms.

Even your desperate sprint wasn’t enough to save you from getting drenched, your dripping clothes and skin clinging to your boyfriend’s jacket. When he stood for a moment without moving, you pushed against his chest.

“What are you waiting for, get inside!” You urged, huddling as close as possible to him.

Mark laughed again and pulled you close, teasingly hovering the umbrella just out of your reach for a moment before returning it over your head.

———

“If I catch a cold, it’s going to be your fault,” you huffed, ringing out your soaked hair in the kitchen sink. “From now on, I’m revoking your ‘holding the umbrella’ privileges.”

Mark smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and pressing a kiss to your cheek,

“You know I’ll be here to take care of you,” he mumbled. “No promises on changing my umbrella technique, though.”

You playfully swatted at his arms, laughing as he quickly tickled at your sides before releasing you to resume your work.

It had taken you a moment to remember that your clothes were completely soaked through. The drenched garments clung to your figure, and your white shirt became particularly see-through.

You turned to face Mark, finding him staring at you intently. You met his gaze and found the most adorable blush dust across his cheeks.

“Oh, don’t mind me— just enjoying the view,” he murmured.

Now it was your turn to blush. You had never undressed in front of Mark before. In fact, there were a lot of things you’d never done before. But the way he looked at you and the way the flirtatious comment rolled so easily off his tongue made you want to try.

Mark sensed something off in your reaction, and immediately backpedaled.

“You should get changed, love. You’re really going to get sick if you keep those on,” he said, a comforting smile gracing his features.

You felt a feeling of boldness bubble up inside your chest. You sucked in a quiet breath.

“Do you… want to help me take these off?” You whispered, letting your eyes meet his and impart your desires where your words lacked. Mark’s eyes widened in return, eyebrows raised at your sudden boldness.

“I mean, yes… yes please,” he purred. His tone shifted, only slightly to one of gentle concern. “Are you sure?”

You held his gaze, without faltering.

“Yes,” you breathed, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. “God, yes.”

Mark instantly pulled you impossibly closer, tangling his fingers in your wet hair, kissing you back with a fervent desire. His hands trailed down your back, brushing against your spine. You weren’t sure if your shivers were because of the cold, or the way his skin made contact with your bare back.

You pulled away only slightly, looking him in the eyes again.

“Can we do this in my room? I just— I’ve never—“ you sighed. “I’ve never done this before,” you admitted.

Mark smiled sweetly, reaching a hand up to cup your cheek.

“Oh, Y/N,” He pressed another kiss to your lips. “Yes,”he took your hand, allowing you to lead him down the hallway.

You pushed open your door, turning to face him before crashing against his lips again. You ran your fingers through his hair, hoping your enthusiasm would make up for your lack of experience.

Mark took the lead, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and pulling gently before reaching for your waist again.

His nimble fingers slipped underneath your soaked shirt, sliding it up slowly. You pulled away for a moment to help him rid you of the wet garment. Mark’s eyes fell to your lace bra, perfectly showcasing your soft breasts. He let out a gentle puff of air before he reached for them gently.

“Tell me if you need me to slow down or stop, okay?” He whispered sincerely, gingerly caressing your skin. You nodded and placed your hands on top of his, guiding them to your chest.

Mark’s hands cupped your breasts, slowly massaging them and quickly finding your sensitive peaks through the lace. You let out a soft sigh as he began to tease them between his fingers.

“Mark…” you sighed, feeling a warmth begin to form in your core. You pulled him closer to you, and in turn, closer to your bed. He took the hint and pressed your body down into the mattress.

He reached behind your back to unhook the lace garment, and his eyes widened as it fell from your shoulders.

“Y/N… god, you’re so beautiful…” he whispered, thickly.

“Mark, please, I need you so bad,” you responded, placing his hands back on your body.

Mark didn’t waste any more time as he let his fingers stroke your soft skin and attached his lips to your exposed neck. You leaned back and threaded your fingers through his hair, keeping him in place. He sucked hard enough to bruise, soothing your raw skin with the tip of his tongue before continuing down your chest.

He stopped at your perked nipples, looking up at you before taking one into his mouth, sucking and licking at it until he heard you moan.

“Y/N, that is the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard,” he purred. Your face flushed, and you refused to meet his gaze.

“I hope I get to hear that again tonight,” he smiled as he began to lavish the other breast with the same attention.

You felt a slickness begin to blossom between your legs, and suddenly your wet jeans became even more uncomfortable than they were before.

“Please, get these clothes off me,” you begged, scratching lightly at his shoulders.

Mark complied, carefully unzipping your jeans and sliding them down your legs. His fingers brushed against your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He took a moment to take in your beauty— topless, flushed, soaked panties, and pert nipples. He’d never been harder in his life, he thought.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

You felt your heartbeat race as more of your clothes came off, almost entirely exposing yourself to him. You reached forward and slipped your hands underneath his hoodie, urging him to take it off.

He complied, swiftly removing the garment over his head. You immediately pulled him closer, running your hands over his exposed chest and shoulders.

“You’re beautiful too, you know,” you whispered, giggling softly. Mark smiled into your shoulder, leaving kisses there before pulling back to look into your eyes.

“Y/N, I want you to tell me if anything is uncomfortable, or if I’m going too fast, okay? Promise me?”

You nodded, kissing him gently. Mark smiled, and carefully prompted you to spread your legs.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he hummed, softly tracing the outline of your folds through your thin, soaked panties. You shifted your hips slightly, swallowing hard as he found your clit and began to circle it.

Your breathing began to quicken as he continued with his agonizing pace, softly teasing you.

“Mark, please,” you whined, grinding down into his touch. Mark laughed softly.

“Okay, okay,” he cooed. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties and slowly slid them down your thighs, exposing your dripping center.

You felt the urge to close your legs, suddenly embarrassed at him staring so intently at your most intimate area. Mark’s hands gently coaxed your thighs back open.

“Don’t be shy, love,” he murmured.

You shifted again, relaxing your hips and allowing your legs to fall open for him.

“That’s it,” he whispered, soothingly tracing your skin. He began to lower himself down onto the mattress until his lips were inches away from your core.

“Can I?” He requested, soft breaths fanning across your flaring heat.

You nodded quickly, sucking in a shallow breath.

Mark smirked and slowly licked a stripe up your folds.

“A-ah!” You sighed, squirming already at his touch.

Mark eased your thighs over his shoulders and held you in place while he gave a gentle suck on your most sensitive peak.

“M-Mark, oh god,” you jolted at the unfamiliar sensation, but immediately found yourself longing for more.

“Let me know if it’s too much, okay?” He soothed, diving back in with gentle fervor.

You threw your head back onto the pillows as he began to suck and lick mercilessly at your heat, fingers massaging your inner thighs.

A gasp escaped your lips as his tongue began to flicker quickly across your clit, your hips bucking off the mattress. Mark’s hands held you in place, not allowing you to shy away from the pleasure.

Your breaths became ragged and heaving in between long, languid moans. You could almost feel Mark smiling as he kissed and hummed against your sensitive center.

“Mark, I-I’m getting close,” you whispered, locking your legs around his shoulders. You slid you eyes closed and focused on the feeling.

His lips closed around your sensitive peak once more, sucking hard and circling it with the tip of his tongue. The sensations became too much as his mouth pushed you over the edge for the first time.

“M-Mark!” You cried, feeling him tease you through your orgasm as your walls fluttered around his tongue.

Your chest heaved with uneven breaths as you came down from your high. You opened your eyes and saw Mark’s smiling face looking up at you from between your legs, his lips glistening with your release.

“Felt good?” He murmured, gently stroking your thighs. You giggled softly.

“God, yes,” you ran your fingers through his slightly disheveled hair, tucking a few strands behind his ear. “But, I want to make you feel good too, Mark,” you whispered, scratching lightly at his scalp.

Mark’s eyes were gentle yet full of lust. He knew exactly what you wanted from him.

“Are you sure, Y/N? I don’t want to hurt you.”

You looked into his eyes and leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips.

“Yes. I’ve never been more sure of anything,” you promised.

Mark released you from his hold and crawled back up to kiss your neck.

“Okay, love,” he murmured. “We’ll take it slow, okay?”

You nodded, pulling him close and tracing your fingers across his bare back. You felt him grind his clothed hips gently across your core, and you felt him.

“Just do it, Mark,” you begged, palming him through his sweatpants.

He hissed as he felt your touch, and his reaction sent another wave of arousal through you.

You quickly freed his length from his clothes, and you tried to hide your intimidated reaction as best you could. He was bigger than you expected.

Mark sensed your hesitation immediately.

“We don’t have to do this now,” he murmured, gently stoking your cheek. You shook your head.

“No, I want to. Please?” You asked, looking up at him with confident eyes. Mark leaned in to kiss you slowly.

“Okay. Please stop me if it hurts, Y/N,” he said. “Promise?”

You caught his lips in another quick kiss.

“Promise.”

Mark nodded and carefully returned to your core, swiping his fingers along your folds before inserting one slowly.

You winced slightly at the unfamiliar sensation but quickly relaxed in his gentle hold.

“You okay?” He asked, gently making a ‘come hither’ motion with his index finger inside your walls.

You gasped, nodding quickly, adjusting to the feeling before he added another finger.

“God, you’re so wet, Y/N…” Mark leaned in close to whisper in your ear as his fingers sped up. You could hear a the faint sound of your arousal coating his digits.

“I’m ready, Mark, I promise,” you huffed, your breathing growing heavy again.

Mark placed a kiss behind your ear and trailed down your neck before removing his hand. A string of your wetness clung to his fingers, and he immediately dragged them across your swollen clit. You squirmed, waiting for him to give you what you really wanted.

“Mark…” you whined, shifting your hips impatiently.

“Alright, pretty girl. Just relax for me, okay?” He murmured, spreading your legs a bit wider and positioning himself at your entrance.

You braced yourself as you felt his tip against your folds. You unconsciously tensed a bit, preparing for the impact.

“Relax,” Mark whispered soothingly, massaging the backs of your thighs. “I got you, okay?”

You nodded and released the tension in your hips.

“Good girl,” Mark purred, feeling your muscles relax.

You hissed at the quick, dull pain as he began to push into you. You couldn’t help the quiet whimper that left your lips as you felt him stretch your entrance for the first time.

“Are you okay? Do you need me to stop?” He asked, running his fingers through your hair and looking deeply into your eyes.

You shook your head, trying to ignore the tears prickling your vision. Blinking them away, you met his gaze again.

Mark brushed his thumb across your flushed cheek, catching the tears that fell.

“Just a little bit more, you’re doing so well for me, Y/N. Relax and breathe, okay?”

You smiled at him, urging him to continue. He carefully pushed into you again, causing you to let out another whimper.

“I got you, I’m right here, okay?” Mark soothingly stroked your thigh and cupped your cheek, talking you through his every move.

You soon felt his shallow thrusts beginning to bring a slow wave of pleasure to your core, and he slipped a hand down to gently circle your bundle of nerves. You bit your lip and cling to him tightly, your nails digging into his bare shoulders.

“Y/N, you feel so good,” he groaned, losing himself in your tight hold. “Talk to me. What do you need, love?”

Your mouth fell open as he sped up slightly, moving at a still slow but sensual pace.

“I-It feels good,” you cried. “Please, Mark, don’t stop.”

Mark continued his thrusts, holding you close and whispering soft praises in your ear. It wasn’t long until you felt another high approaching.

“I-I’m gonna— I think I’m—“

You moaned softly as your walls fluttered around his length, and simultaneously bringing him to climax along with it.

“Y/N!” Mark cried, pulling out quickly and releasing across your bare stomach.

Mark’s shoulders heaved as he came down from his own high, taking in the sight of you before him. You looked at him and began to laugh.

“Mark… I can’t believe—“ you smiled and pulled him in for a passionate kiss.

Mark beamed at you, his eyes full of love.

“You did so well,” he murmured, stroking your cheek and brushing a few stray hairs away from your face. “My beautiful girl. I’m so lucky to love you.”

You giggled at his words, feeling like you were floating on air. Mark got out of the bed and quickly returned with a warm, wet towel, gently cleaning you up.

You couldn’t deny the dull pain that still ached in your core. Mark saw you wince as you shifted your hips slightly, and reached out to massage your inner thighs.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, did it hurt too bad?” He asked, a bit panicked.

You shook your head.

“No, no— it’s not your fault.”

Mark refused to let go of your gaze, not convinced.

“Let me run you a bath, okay? Your hair is still wet from the rain, we should get cleaned up anyway,” he insisted, carefully removing the wet towel.

You nodded. He was right.

“That sounds amazing,” you sighed, smiling at him.

Mark leaned in for another kiss before heading to the bathroom.

You watched him walk away, then pause and turn to look at you before reaching the bedroom door.

“Hey. I love you.”

You smiled, almost giddy.

“Hey. I love you too.”

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amelikos · 9 days

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Liko, who gives and gives until there is nothing left VS Sango, who takes and takes until there is nothing left.

#thinking about their dynamics and they could learn a lot from each other tbh #anyway that small moment in the new ep when liko gave terapagos all of her cake and left nothing for herself #made me think about liko and her self sacrificial tendancies #though in this case it was a nice gesture and this word doesn't exactly apply but #liko and her tendancy to give and give and potentially disregarding what she wants in the process #being the type to say 'oh you can have this it's okay' while secretly wanting the thing but keeping quiet about it #because she doesn't want to inconvenience others etc #i want someone to share with her when she ends up with nothing left for herself #hz047 #liko #sango #character notes #episode notes

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canarydarity · 1 year

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Hard to tell how indicative the bones on the floor are of anything about the catacombs themselves being how, every few minutes, Pix kills another skeleton adding to the collection. He swipes his sword through the one before him, and it collapses so readily into a pile of bone—like it was made to, like it was just waiting on his sword—that he has to wonder, not for the first time, what was holding it together to begin with. The bones rattle and clatter against those already littered around, and Pix sighs at the further disturbance to the scene as it was when he had entered; accounting for the damage likely done by mobs was going to make this hell to study.

He grabs another torch and sets it inside one of the empty sconces that still adorn the walls, readjusts his grip on his sword—he can hear more lingering around the next corner; the low hiss that means a spider is near, the groan or two of a zombie.

Pix picks up a chunk of cobble from the ground and tosses it down the hall, waits. Sure enough, out scuttles a spider. He disposes of it quickly enough, but it seems he’ll have to venture down the dark hall to goad the zombies. He glances at the clock he placed in his hotbar before embarking on this mission (it’s hard to tell how much time passes underground—something he learned quickly in his line of work). There’s still a good amount of daylight left, and he wants the catacombs cleared; he has other projects he has to move on to, things he needs to finish; he’ll just get through a few more halls—it won’t be an issue, surely.

But the new corner he rounds remains dark even as he places a torch behind him to mark the way back. The groans can still be heard, but a zombie is yet to lumber his way, and so he has to wonder what's beyond his admittedly limited sight. Pix shuffles another foot or so forward, a torch in his non-dominant hand now as well, hoping for light, for vision. The research part of him—the logical academic—knows that it shouldn't still be this dark with the torches placed behind him nor the one in his hand, and that part is so much louder and more important than the one that knows this means something is wrong, the part that says turn around.

The torch is lit, he can feel the heat of the flame as he observes it flicker in and out but cast no shadow on the wall behind—a wall Pix can’t even see but knows is there all the same. The circle of light provided extends no further than an inch or two out from the flame itself—comparable more to that of a birthday candle than a lit hand torch. If he hadn’t been staring directly at it, he would’ve assumed the fire snuffed out.

He feels his eye twitch and his brows furrow. Academia liked concrete answers, things that could be explained and reasoned away—unequivocal proof. But Pix had always had a soft spot for the inexplicable, the ineffable. It was nice when he studied something and found an answer, it was riveting when he didn’t. How much more exciting to study it again and again, a riddle that begged not to be solved. (How much sweeter the prize if he were the one to figure it out in the end).

His interest was piqued. He could feel it, the way his attention focused and his surroundings blurred and left him; his body on standby, his sword hand lowered almost subconsciously.

In other words, it was entirely his own fault when the zombie grabbed him. Panic is never a good thing to welcome into a fight, but it likes to show up uninvited anyway. Pix's entire career revolves around studying human behavior, about how human nature cannot be fought against though it oft leads us to our own downfall and ruin. He finds it uncanny when he's reminded that this is a phenomenon from which he is not exempt.

In haste, he elbows the zombie behind him and turns, back now to the darkness—the one not even his torch could dent. It’s an ugly bugger, eyes soft and misshapen from decay and skin so leathery it’s as if it's been treated and is ready for use as a saddle or armor. Logic replaced by horror, before he can run it through it advances, arms out, and Pix drops his sword to reach back, holding it at arm's length itself; their arms interlocked, pose not unlike meeting an old friend again for the first time in a while. His hands grip the woven fabric of what's left of its shirt, too old and worn to be from any time close to recent, and, despite the very real danger, his mind takes the time to process the period-accurate fabric, the hand-stitched design. He blanches again as he looks into its horrible milky eyes—this zombie was from the capital.

Not sentient enough to know why it’s not actually getting any closer to Pixlriffs, the zombie makes a noise that sounds frighteningly human in its frustration and steps forward, and in his distraction, Pix lets it. The push seems to make his brain function yet again, and he shoves the zombie backward a good few paces away, but the momentum sends him stepping back himself, and his foot finds not purchase but, instead, the disturbing lack of solid ground, and with nothing left to do, he falls.

He hits the ground with a thump and a crack and a lot of other sounds he would rather not describe as he feels they were likely very undignified. Winded but, it appears, still in one piece, he grabs another torch and strikes it against the wall, holding it up above him when it lights and shines this time as torches normally do. He buries the part of himself that is disappointed at this—the part that wants to panic and complain finally louder, now, than the part that says hmm.

He didn’t fall too far, it seems. Now that the torch is lit he can see the gap he’d fallen through, just under a dozen feet or so above where he lays. It's obvious even looking from below how the stone floor had crumbled away, taking maybe one or two hits too many over time from overcrowded mobs or shifts in terrain or pressure aboveground. He tilts his head back but sees only another dead end behind him, and ahead looks like a further, deeper hall of the tomb he hadn’t uncovered yet, though the path is obstructed by debris from above; a net of spiderweb blankets the pile of stone and dirt, but no spider seems to be left guarding the web.

His friend above seems to have lost interest now that he’s fallen out of sight, and its moans and groans get further away by the second.

No immediate threat, Pix lets his head fall back onto the ground and takes a breath. He knew the crypt would be full of mobs, he knew it’d be hard, but still…

No, it’s worth it. It will be worth it. He has a job to do.

At least he isn’t defenseless—it’s more than he can say for the dungeons. Not a weapon to his name, fists wrapped in tape so red you’d never believe it’d been white to begin with; knuckles so raw and scraped and beaten by the time he’d made it out that they’d scarred that way—permanent marks of the fighter he was, of the fighter he’d proved to be.

There was a fear there, too, at that very real and physical understanding of permanence. His studies proved expert in providing examples of what was permanent and what wasn’t, and where people weren’t, things were. He’d spent enough time studying what could be learned about a person by the things they left behind to begin to wonder if anyone at all would’ve remembered him if he’d died in those dungeons—not a singular weapon or item for him to leave behind and tell his story.

Pix stops wallowing. He sits up and reaches over his shoulder for his pick; he isn’t shocked to find that the shaft had snapped in two from the fall, it having been strapped to his back. He sighs, tossing it aside as useless. He’ll make another.

He takes the time to remind himself again that he knew it was going to be difficult, and that difficulty was no reason to not continue. But it didn’t just feel difficult it felt…inhibiting. Dissuading, deterring, impeding. It felt deliberate. It felt like, stay out; like, we don’t want you here; like, leave us to our rest.

(it wasn’t, it was something far more sinister. An idea he’d never thought to consider; like a torch was giving off too-little light in the hallway of a dark, long-forgotten crypt, he couldn’t see any farther than what was right in front of his own face. How cliche it’d be, in the end, when it came to pass—the academic too invested in their own research, too dismissive of the present danger posed until it consumed them. He’d have a moment to laugh about it later, when the dread had settled in and all options—or lack thereof—exhausted. While on the topic of permanence…

It was not go away that the tomb was saying, not a driving force out that was being enacted upon the archeologist, but a more frightening call of stay. A threatening but desperate find…become…join…

No, if it were trying to keep him out, why would it keep pushing him deeper? Add this to the list of things he’d realize too late.)

He stands and dusts himself off. The wall is thick and overgrown with glow lichen, and he grabs the nearest vines and tugs one, twice, three times before deciding it won't give and hoisting up. It takes a few minutes and a fair amount of huffing and puffing to get himself to the top and over the edge but he does it, collapsing on higher ground once again and taking a minute to slow his pulse. When he left the dungeons, he dove back into the studies he’d been missing and decided he’d had enough fighting to last a lifetime—this was not without consequence, he’s not nearly as in shape as he used to be.

His sword is still on the ground where he’d dropped it, so he reequips and readies himself to push his way back out; he’d have to make time to come back and clear the rest another day. He would be back, and he hoped he would be welcomed.

“I don’t mean to disturb you,” he says into the quiet blackness of the catacombs. He doesn't dare speak above a whisper, for there were still mobs around and his voice carried enough as it was, bouncing along the empty stone and quiet graves. “I'd like to tell your story.”

There's nothing to hear but for the scuttling of various creatures far off in the dark, the shrill whistle of stray wind through small openings and holes. He raises his voice only slightly, a bit bolder. “Don’t you want me to do that? Will—would you allow me to do that?”

Silence, and then—the rattle and clatter of a skeleton. It sounds like only one; he lit everything up pretty well on his way in, getting out should be easier. Striking another torch against the wall, Pix prepares to go. For a second, the light is brighter than it should be, its circle of light illuminating the hall completely, the hole he’d fallen into, the distance to the other side. He leans back to avoid the heat of the flame, and he sees it.

The other side of the cave-in leads not to another tunnel but to an alcove, and empty it is not. His torch, though many feet away, sheds light on the scene; the heavily wax-encrusted stone above a pile of used candles and burnt wicks, the coin and other offerings of gold overflowing from bowls and chalices and any other orifice they could be piled upon, and her.

He recognizes her immediately. The tapestry covers the majority of the wall, and though it's faded for certain, the lack of direct sunlight has done wonders at preserving what it could. The colors are familiar to his research, the subtle and light greens under warm oranges and yellows. He’s too far, he cannot see any detail; the background, what she's holding, her face—but he knows her. She’s their patron.

The skeleton wanders closer, its bones clicking and clacking down the hall. Pix swallows.

“I’ll return for you, I will.” It’s a promise. She’s holding a secret, he knows she is—he’s going to figure out what. Pix turns just in time to face the skeleton as it rounds the corner, and soon its bones join those on the floor, new and old alike.

His words still echo off the caverns and crevices of the catacombs after he's left and gone, and though not possible to have been heard by human ears, the crypt whispers back good.

~-~-~-~

Far below even the hole the archeologist had fallen in, leagues underneath the surface of the earth, buried perhaps the furthest underground of anything left behind from the ancient capital—so deeply you’d have to wonder if maybe it was done on purpose—the crown sits in a chest, waiting patiently to be discovered. It’s not a matter of if, but a nice decisive and quiet when. Eventually, the echo of the archeologists' words falls upon it where it sits, and slowly it begins to emit a soft glow. It says stay, it says find, it says become, it says join.

It says soon.

#me when i dont write anything for almost an entire month and then inexplicably come back with 2000 words of pixlriffs fanficiton #all of which is completely self-indulgent #if you couldn't tell by tags on my recent reblogs and by this hey im doing so bad about pix being fucking dead and all #the blind academic...to be so invested in your work that it consumes you...#to disregard danger for the sake of being so close to what you believe is an answer #he studied the past so hard that he became it #hahahaha.#good thing he enjoys his work #because now he can never leave.#okay sorry not to write a 2000 word fic and then also write like another 300 in the tags #but also its mY POST!! GET OFF MY LAWN!! IM ALLOWED TO DO THAT! WAH IM SAD!#last thing but i have so much more to say about pixs background being his weaponless playthrough of mc dungeons. so.#someone talk to me about this /please #i lied. new last thing. now that this is out of my head :) hey :) all my fic planning is done im gonna start writing sentinel species #worm writes #empires smp #empires smp fic #empires smp fanfic #pixlriffs #pixlriffs fic #empires season 2 #esmp season 2

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diluc33rpm · 2 years

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Do you believe in soulmates? (2/2)

oho. oh HO ho. there is no joke this time you do not know what essays you’ve gotten yourself into with this one

#so. to begin with i kind of fucking hate this whole concept #okay maybe hate is a strong word i can understand the whole whimsy for the “we were meant to meet and love each other in every life” part #it’s cute yeah yeah you can have a little bit as a treat. i’m not the sourpuss shitting on valentine’s day as purely corporate scheming #and it can be nice if it’s platonic as well #but holy fuck the whole “The One” aspect of this oh my GOD it drives me insane #even disregarding how it basically encourages holding romance to a pedestal and the mindset of Your Partner Will Solve All Your Problems #how it puts so much unrealistic pressure on this one person to Be everything you’ve ever wanted and the whole weird relationship as therapy #slash replacement for human connection or a single relationship being otherwise inexplicably superior thing #have you seen the amount of motherfuckers with the “i can fix him” i mean it’s funny as a MEME but god if y’all really thinking like this #i don’t know what to tell you #it feels so fucked up to designate finding this isolated perfect love as your destined purpose #like god knows we’re already way too conditioned to want a romantic relationship by society as is. now you’re saying you gotta??#i’m not saying all sentiment is trite by this or anything i too am a silly little man in love and yeah #sometimes you get to pondering the metaphysical orb of why we’re here. it isn’t wrong to do that #but it feels like the massive amount of expectations we have around love bc of this culture has turned it into more of a Whole Thing #and sometimes what it makes us think of the Whole Thing is FUCKING WRONG #i’m sure someone out there’s phrased this way more eloquently than me i’m just one skeptical arospec bitch. but you start to notice things #this has been your daily drug induced rambling signing off at 10 o clock

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catboybiologist · 1 month

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“As a biologist, the terms biological woman and man don’t make any sense to me” okay then you’re an idiot and a terrible biologist. I swear to god, morons like you only become biologists just so you can hold it over others, when in reality, if biology deniers like you can become biologists, then being one really doesn’t mean much anyway. But this probably just gave an autogynophile like you a boner to read, anyway.

Oh fun! Haven't gotten one of these in a while. Disregarding the fact that you somehow think the qualification for being a biologist entirely hinges on defining womanhood, I do need to ask some clarification. I know I'm feeding the trolls here, but here we go: does your definition of "biological woman" mean:

Sociological woman? Eh, context dependent, I'm not fully out of the closet, but oftentimes, I am and present femme. So let's call that one 50/50.

Psychological woman? Because I am one.

Neurological woman? Because I am one [1].

Physical woman? My soft tissue redistribution is handling that well.

Hormonal woman? My blood tests are within cis female ranges.

Transcriptional woman? As a signalling molecule, the downstream effects of estrogen have broad transcriptional effects, completely changing the profile of gene expression and functional genomics of my cells. [2]

Genetic woman? I mean, see my above point- as far as my genes that are actually active, I have all of the same transcripts being produced, controlling which genes are expressed.

Karyotypic woman? I actually have a few signs pre-HRT that might point to a non-XY chromosome pair, but I haven't had a karyotype. We'll put that down as unknown. And hell, even if its XY, there's plenty of cis women who are karyotypically XY, with suppressed sry or complete androgen insensitivity. Interestingly enough, a completely androgen insesitive woman can go her whole life without knowing- and functionally, is very similar to a trans woman, actually. Fancy that. [3]

Reproductive woman? I can't produce an egg cell, but neither can significant fractions of cis women. Also, this is all gonna change soon, which is fun. [4]

There's also a lot of understudied aspects to the biology of HRT and even pre-HRT that are emerging, largely demonstrating widespread cellular and genetic remodeling of trans individuals undergoing hormone therapy. The field is a bit behind due to constant political pressure to revoke funding, but a lot of the results are extremely exciting in both testosterone and estrogen hormone therapies. I'm sure that, as a self professed biology As someone who presumably has a lot of expertise in biology, I'm assuming that you're aware of all of this cutting edge research, and are keeping up with modern papers, including but not limited to these cool findings:

Trans men on HRT exhibit significant genetic and transcriptional changes that make them biochemically male. [5][6]. It's a good hypothesis that the same happens with estrogen treatment, but those studies don't exist yet- I'm sure you're reserving judgment until more publications exist, of course.

Trans men on HRT develop male cell types and tissues. [7]

Trans women experience muscular and blood cell changes that align with cis women moreso than cis men [8]

And many, many more! This is an exciting, underserved, and groundbreaking field of research, and I'm sure you're keeping up with the latest in scientific journals about it.

I'm sure, of course, that you understand that it becomes impossible to draw a distinct line anywhere in here, and that words like "woman" are shorthand for the myriad of traits that invisibly synthesize in our mind and in society to represent a concept? I'm sure you understand that science is fundamentally descriptive, not prescriptive? I'm sure that you understand that these findings, while really cool and interesting, actually don't mean jack shit about what the word "woman" means or not?

As someone who is the ultimate decider in what a biologist is, I'm sure you know that bioessentiallism is a childish mindset that completely ignores and disregards the constantly changing, dynamic nature of biological systems, something that extends well beyond biological sex and its relation to gender.

I'm sure that also, that you understand that beyond just this, that the role of science in society is to advise how to achieve our moral principles, not create moral principles in themselves. And I'm sure that understanding means you know that trans affirming healthcare and supportive societal treatment leads to reduced mortality and increased happiness for everyone, right?

So great to talk to someone who is surely a scientist on this. You are a biologist, if you're talking like this, I assume? I assume you're not going to spit complete misreadings of scientific language from the background sections of these papers that only reveal you've never read a scientific paper in your life if you're thinking this way? I assume you have experience interpreting data like this?

Also, imagining my genitalia while writing this? Ew. Please stop projecting your fetishes into my inbox.

Works cited:

Kurth F, Gaser C, Sánchez FJ, Luders E. Brain Sex in Transgender Women Is Shifted towards Gender Identity. J Clin Med. 2022 Mar 13;11(6):1582. doi: 10.3390/jcm11061582. PMID: 35329908; PMCID: PMC8955456.

Fuentes N, Silveyra P. Estrogen receptor signaling mechanisms. Adv Protein Chem Struct Biol. 2019;116:135-170. doi: 10.1016/bs.apcsb.2019.01.001. Epub 2019 Feb 4. PMID: 31036290; PMCID: PMC6533072.

Gottlieb B, Trifiro MA. Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome. 1999 Mar 24 [Updated 2017 May 11]. In: Adam MP, Feldman J, Mirzaa GM, et al., editors. GeneReviews® [Internet]. Seattle (WA): University of Washington, Seattle; 1993-2024. Available from: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK1429/

Murakami, K., Hamazaki, N., Hamada, N. et al. Generation of functional oocytes from male mice in vitro. Nature 615, 900–906 (2023). https://doi.org/10.1038/s41586-023-05834-x

Pallotti F, Senofonte G, Konstantinidou F, Di Chiano S, Faja F, Rizzo F, Cargnelutti F, Krausz C, Paoli D, Lenzi A, Stuppia L, Gatta V, Lombardo F. Epigenetic Effects of Gender-Affirming Hormone Treatment: A Pilot Study of the ESR2 Promoter's Methylation in AFAB People. Biomedicines. 2022 Feb 16;10(2):459. doi: 10.3390/biomedicines10020459. PMID: 35203670; PMCID: PMC8962414.

Florian Raths, Mehran Karimzadeh, Nathan Ing, Andrew Martinez, Yoona Yang, Ying Qu, Tian-Yu Lee, Brianna Mulligan, Suzanne Devkota, Wayne T. Tilley, Theresa E. Hickey, Bo Wang, Armando E. Giuliano, Shikha Bose, Hani Goodarzi, Edward C. Ray, Xiaojiang Cui, Simon R.V. Knott, The molecular consequences of androgen activity in the human breast, Cell Genomics, Volume 3, Issue 3, 2023, 100272, ISSN 2666-979X, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.xgen.2023.100272. (https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S2666979X23000320)

Xu R, Diamond DA, Borer JG, Estrada C, Yu R, Anderson WJ, Vargas SO. Prostatic metaplasia of the vagina in transmasculine individuals. World J Urol. 2022 Mar;40(3):849-855. doi: 10.1007/s00345-021-03907-y. Epub 2022 Jan 16. PMID: 35034167.

Harper J, O'Donnell E, Sorouri Khorashad B, McDermott H, Witcomb GL. How does hormone transition in transgender women change body composition, muscle strength and haemoglobin? Systematic review with a focus on the implications for sport participation. Br J Sports Med. 2021 Aug;55(15):865-872. doi: 10.1136/bjsports-2020-103106. Epub 2021 Mar 1. PMID: 33648944; PMCID: PMC8311086.

#cw transphobia #biology #basic biology

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kamiversee · 20 days

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Sukuna’s Fuck Buddy ꨄ

[ { Synopsis } ] ➤ You agree to be friends with benefits with Sukuna, not exactly expecting to get ruined in different ways every week.

[ { Need to know } ] ➤ This is a What-If scenario that stems from my fic; The F*ck List— A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt.

[ { Content & Warning } ] ➤ f!reader, dirty talk, tw; spitting, degrading, manhandling, pet names, fingering, unprotected sex, language, brief/slight exhibitionism, & Sukuna has a filthy mouth.

[ { Paring } ] ➤ Sukuna x f!reader.

[ { Word Count } ] ➤ 4.2k

"A whore," Sukuna commented, clearly joking but his words had made you uneasy.

It was oddly specific. You hadn't thought much of it when he called you a whore the night prior, since, y'know, you liked being degraded. But, something about that being his assumption for your occupation was a crazy coincidence.

Especially considering how hellbent Gojo always is on telling you not to call yourself that. The more you thought about it...

Gojo got upset at something from Sukuna's party, he didn't want you to call yourself a whore all of a sudden, Sukuna seems to have believed that was your actual job, and you remember how pissed Gojo seemed as he thought about you sleeping with Sukuna-

Holy fuck. Are the two connected somehow? Is something going on? What does Gojo owe Sukuna? Does Sukuna know you only slept with him as payment to clear Gojo's debt? Is-

A finger had poked your forehead and you blinked out of your thoughts.

Sukuna was chuckling, "I was joking, woman. Calm down." He uttered, "I actually thought you worked at one of those beauty stores."

You raised a brow, still feeling uneasy with the man. "Beauty stores?"

"Sephora, Ulta," He shrugged, "Wherever the fuck. I pictured you being one of those cute little cashiers."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment...?" You murmured.

"Or working at McDonald's, I don't know, I didn't think too hard on it-- jus' wanted to fuck you," Sukuna admitted honestly.

Your expression drops, "Oh..."

His hand had gone to your chin and he tipped your face up, "Do you want me to want something more from you?"

His gaze was intense like always, causing chills to slip down your back. You shook your head, "I mean, no... I only wanted you to fuck me."

"We could keep doing this," Sukuna suggested with a shrug, "Make' it a weekly thing."

You batted your eyelashes at him a few times in thought. At the time, things definitely would've gone differently had you not answered his request but... Somewhere deep down inside, you wanted to make it a weekly thing.

"Really?" You had asked the man, taking him by slight surprise.

Sukuna had wholeheartedly expected you to disregard his suggestion to you but, you didn't. "Yes, really," He replied before stepping closer to his bedside where you were seated and leaning toward you, "Let's fuck every week."

You stared at him with wide eyes for a long moment, contemplating numerous things in your head. Technically, you should've said no. You should've moved on from the topic, y'know, brushed his offer off entirely.

Yet there you were, steadily nodding your head in agreement before uttering a simple, "Okay."

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Which takes you to right now, a few weeks after said agreement where you find yourself in the backseat of one of Sukuna's cars, your legs sprawled out over his as you sit prettily in his lap.

Since agreeing to be friends with benefits with Sukuna, you and him have met up once a week, sometimes twice, just to fuck each other.

In Sukuna's right hand was his cell phone, the device up at his ear as he conversed with someone as if his free hand wasn't occupied with toying with your dripping cunt-- thick fingers fucking so deep into you and curling just right against your slick walls.

Your back was against his firm chest, lips parted with heavy pants and soft moans spilling from your throat as the lewd sound of Sukuna finger fucking you filled his vehicle.

Trying so hard not to be loud in courtesy of whoever he was on the phone with, you bit your lower lip, “Mmmh… Sukuna…” You mewl out gently.

He’s been at it for a while and you could even feel how hard his cock was against your ass, his tip leaking and member twitching beneath the fabric of his sweats every time you squirmed.

Sukuna sighs heavily and pulls the phone away from his mouth only to bring his lips to your ear, “Shut the fuck up. If she hears you, I’ll stop…” Pausing mid-sentence as your cunt squeezes tighter around his fingers, he smirks, “Slut.”

“P-Please… hah… don’t stop,” Your voice was filled with pure and utter need, just as he liked.

Sukuna angles his head down a bit, planting a soft and all too teasing kiss below your ear, his breath tickling your neck, “Then shut up.”

You’re nodding, closing your mouth, and swallowing down your own moans as he purposefully shoves his fingers into you at a rougher pace.

In and out and in and out, your pussy was gushing around his fingers— mouth opening and jaw dropping every now and then as he hit all the right spots.

“Fuck,” You curse under your breath as your torso leans forward and you shoot a hand down to grab his wrist.

Sukuna’s speaking to whoever he has on the phone but you only register a few words every now and then. “Mhmmmm,” He hummed and you swore that was directed toward you as your eyes flickered back— he knew you were close.

Sukuna’s fingers slid almost all the way out of your hole just to tease you, his fingertips slipping up to flick over your clit. A breathy moan leaves your lips as he rubs your clit aggressively, drawing circles over the bud and making your legs draw together.

“M’gonna cum,” You whine out quietly, struggling to keep your noises in.

He wanted to make things harder for you so he smirks, “Yeah?” Sukuna taunted, “Gonna’ make a mess? Hm?”

Your head just barely angled back to look at him, seeing that he didn’t bother to move the phone away or mute it so whoever he was talking to heard everything he just said. This overwhelming feeling of embarrassment and arousal shoots throughout your body and your face twists up in pleasure as Sukuna sinks his fingers back into you.

“No, not you,” He spat to whoever he was talking to on call, smirking at you afterward, “I told you I was busy when we first got on the phone…”

Your hips jerked forward a bit as you unintentionally moved to ride his fingers, panting and maintaining eye contact with the man. He nearly felt like he was getting high off of merely watching you grow so stupidly drunk in lust.

“S’kuna…” You mumbled.

His cock ached in his sweats and he nodded, “Mhm, yeah, y’know what, I’ll call you back— I have a needy whore to take care of.”

You turned your head to face forward as he said that, once again feeling embarrassed and even squeezing your legs together a bit. The sound of Sukuna scoffing is heard and then his phone is, quite literally, tossed somewhere else.

He shifts and his now free hand goes to your hip as his other kneads into your pussy, making you dizzy in satisfaction as you continue trying to keep quiet.

“Look at you…” Sukuna taunts, “You’re about to cum, aren’t you?”

You nod stupidly, feeling the knot in your core build as your orgasm approaches, “Y-Yeah… fuck, please.”

“Hm? Please what?” He scoffs, as if he hadn’t had a tendency to strip you of your climax multiple times.

“Hah… Let me cum, p-please Sukuna,” Your voice was a needy but quiet whine and he bit his lower lip once he acknowledged you were still following his orders of being quiet.

Sukuna snickers, “Uhuh, I will,” He hums, “Jus’ keep squeezin’ around my fingers,” He leans forward so he could speak into your ear, low and rasped voice driving you over the edge, “Yeahhhh, like that�� Fuckin’ whore.”

Your jaw drops and your mouth forms an immediate O shape as your eyes flicker, back arching, and whimper escaping your throat— you cum hard while still trying to be quiet, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you do so.

There’s a slick sound of Sukuna still toying with your cunt as you come undone and then he sits back, parting his legs a bit as you readjust into his lap and his fingers slip out of you.

Sukuna coos, “See? Was that so hard? Now here,” He moves one hand to your throat, forcing your back to be against his chest as his other hand goes to your lips, “Clean yourself off my fingers, messy girl.”

His digits that’d just been inside you prod at your lips, tapping your lower one before you part them and Sukuna pushes his fingers in. He was such a nasty man, forcing you to taste yourself and clean your slick off his fingers— you couldn’t stand him sometimes.

Not to mention how he teases you as he does so, “Taste good, right?” Sukuna asked.

You whirl your tongue around his fingers and then pull off them with a hard and firm suck, a slight pop emitting from the action, “Mhm…”

“Good,” Both of Sukuna’s hands go to your hips and he lifts you up. You hardly realize what he’s doing until he forces you to turn around and face him. Then, he makes sure you remain hovering over his crotch as he works his cock out of his sweats, his eyes on yours as if he were seconds away from devouring you.

Sukuna looked ravished for you, tired of the past minutes he spent on some tedious phone call when he could’ve been buried inches into your sloppy hole. His eyes were low-lidded, maroon shade dazed with this feral need for you.

Oh, he was about to fuck the shit out of you— as he typically does. You’d picked up on that much, how his eyes would change, his breathing grown heavier, voice low and pitched with this sexy rasp that made your cunt flutter.

“Do me a favor,” Sukuna suddenly voices out, making you blink out of your daze. Your hands were on his broad shoulders, keeping yourself hovered over him. “Sit on this dick ‘nd make another mess f’me,” He instructed, words causing you to look down at his hard, slightly curved cock that’s been freed from his clothes.

It’s so damn intimidating— the way his veins bulge, how his hand jerks at his shaft in quick pulls, tip sticky and leaking precum as you stare with pretty wide eyes.

Your legs were straddling his already so, after a moment of admiring his cock, your eyes flicked back up to his face. Sukuna was glaring at you, impatiently waiting for you to plop down onto his twitching member.

His gaze sent a chill down your spine and your body was finally moving again. You lower yourself steadily as you glance down again but because of how slow you were living and how needy Sukuna was, he goes to grab your hips and pulls your cunt down to his cock, tip pressing up against your hole.

Both of you let out a heavy exhale in sync and you rock your hips forward just a little bit to ride his flushed tip.

“Don’t fuckin’ tease me, woman,” Sukuna breathes out, voice more airy than he would’ve liked.

You smirk, “Sukuna…” Your gaze lifts to his face once more, “You’re drippin’.” You whisper tauntingly.

His brows tense and his cock suddenly pushes up a few inches into you, a shallow thrust made in reaction to your words. Sukuna’s dirty talk was rubbing off on you and it drove him crazy. The hands on your waist grip even tighter, sure to leave marks as his fingernails dig into you and he slams you down on his dick.

Your eyes widen, face twists up, and a sluty moan leaves your throat, “Oh fuck-,”

“Told’ you not to fuckin’ tease me,” Sukuna huffs out in an aggravated tone. His big rough hands slide up to your waist and he holds onto you tightly before forcing you to ride him at the pace he wanted.

You’re moving to keep up with his motions as best you can, using your legs to lift yourself up and then plop your cunt down on his cock over and over— sucking him in deep and tight each time you go down.

Meanwhile, Sukuna’s forcing you through it, making sure you don’t slow down for even a second. “Needy ass couldn’t even let me finish my phone call,” He grunts out, “Pussy just needed my cock, huh? She’s that greedy?”

Your cunt just flutters and gushes around his dick, walls closing around his shaft as a moan slips past your lips, “I… ah, oh-, fuuck… m’sorry.”

“Aw, you’re sorry?” Sukuna mocks, “No you’re nottt, you wanted me off the phone, didn’t you?”

You shake your head, “N-No…”

“No? Hah,” That smirk of his starts to appear and his hands slide down your body, caressing your skin as you ride him in earnest, “You wanted them to hear?”

Your hips stutter in movement and your eyes widen, “I-“

“Wanted them to hear how desperate you are for some cock?” Sukuna huffs out, hips suddenly snapping up into you, “How dumb you get once it’s in you? Hm?”

“F-Fuck, Sukuna-, ah, mghh.” You whine, hips coming to an almost complete stop as Sukuna fucks his cock up into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass as his tip rams up into your cervix.

To make matters worse, he slaps your ass, “Did I say you could stop? Keep fuckin’ ridin’ me.” Sukuna orders meanly, making you whine as you find your movement again, earning a smirk from him in response to how your hips match his thrusts.

There was this slight shake to his car as you bounced up and down on his cock and he kept fucking it up into you, making it hard for you to think or even moan properly.

He smirks and then holds your hips again, slamming you down slowly but roughly along with his words, “Mmmgh, just. like. that.” Sukuna groans, tossing his head back and breathing heavily.

The sight of him with his head back and neck exposed was so damn sexy, causing you to lean forward and move to his neck, pressing sweet but messy kisses all up and down his exposed skin.

Sukuna starts smiling, “Good girl.” He suddenly praises and your hips begin to rock back and forth, making his brows tense, “Aughhh, fuuuck, keep goin’, m’close.”

Because you had slowed again, you’d assume that he enjoyed it so you continued with a steady rock of your hips, keeping his thick length buried inside you as you did so.

He lets you continue like that for a minute or two but after that, he huffs, “I said ride me, whore. Don’t fuckin’ slow down.” Sukuna grunted.

For someone who was taunting you about being needy, he sure as hell had a thousand demands on how you should be riding him— as if he doesn’t know his dick is hard to take at some point.

Your brows furrow and your lower lip sticks out into a slight pout, one he finds so fucking cute. Sukuna moves his hands to your thighs, somewhat under them to aid you, and then he’s forcing your pussy to slick up and down him again.

You let out a little scoff before looking off to the side, “Shit…” Sukuna was thrusting up into you again, bullying his cock into your dripping cunt and forcing you to ride him through it.

“C’mon,” He smirks, “Take it—, fuck me.” He suddenly breathes out.

A shocked moan exits your mouth and your eyes are glossy as they find his, “W-What? Mmh…” You breathe. Did he just say what you thought he did?

“You heard me,” Sukuna’s smirk widens and slowly eases into a sexy almost fucked out smile “I said fuck me. Fuck me like you wanna make me cum,” He huffs, your body responding through upping your pace, “Yeahhhh that’s it.” Sukuna breathes, head flying back again.

The car creaked and bounced with the frantic movements of sex occurring inside, windows fogged, your tits jumping almost in his face, plush walls clamping down on his dick so good that he felt like he was losing his sanity.

Oh Sukuna was addicted. He can’t have any other woman on his cock that’s not you, not when you ride him so well and certainly not when your hand is abruptly felt on his throat.

Sukuna lets out a groan that’s treacherously close to a moan, his head tipping up from the seat as his eyes find yours, “Oh? You kinky fuckin’ woman, chokin’ me like this…” He grunts, smiling again afterward, “Can hardly feel those small fingers of yours…”

Truth is, he could feel your fingers. Blood rushed to Sukuna’s face and his cock, his mind dazed for a second as you choked him whilst riding him. He would never submit to you but goddamn you were making it difficult.

Your hole just sucked him up like a vice and your walls were so snug and warm, wetness coating his dick and even parts of his thighs. He was about to cum but he didn’t want you to think you’d got the best of him.

So, Sukuna tips his head to the side and brings a hand to your wrist, “This is cute but,” He pulls your hand off his neck, “Lemme show you how it’s done, pretty girl.”

Your lashes bat in disbelief before Sukuna’s manhandling you again, flipping you both over as his large muscular frame looms over yours. His big hands go to your legs and he spreads them fast and wide enough so that he can slam his cock back inside you.

Your back is arching off the seat of the car as soon as he pushes all the way into you, the sudden change in position making his leaky tip reach deeper than before.

One hand is propped up by your head and the other goes to your throat, Sukuna’s fingers carefully wrapping around you and feeling the way broken moans vibrate against your throat.

“Mmph… ah, ‘kuna,” You slur out as his thrusts pick up all over again. Something is mumbled under your breath and he finds it funny how you could barely get it out.

Tilting his head, “Huh? What was that? Speak up.”

You groan, “Harder,” His eyes widen and his hips just ram down into you at a merciless pace before you get out what you meant, “Choke m-me… mmh, f-fuck… h-harder, oh my… ahh, ngh…”

“Harder? You want me to choke you harder?” Sukuna repeats and you nod, earning a slight laugh from him, “Of course you do, slut.” As the last word leaves his lips, his hand is squeezing around your throat, making it hard for you to breathe while he recklessly pounds into your cunt.

“M-Mmmh,” You hum, eyes rolling back as that damn curve of his knocks into you just right, “F-Fuck. Ohmygod, f-fuuck…” You curse between a whine.

His face is hovering over yours, “Feel me in there?” You nod and he bites his lip for a moment, “Yeah?”

Sukuna just thrusts harsher and harsher, and then faster, pelvis crashing into yours over and over as the lewd sounds of sex escape his car with how sloppy it was getting. His cock was covered in you but only greedy for more, plunging in and out of you as he groans at the way you just suck him back in every time he pulls out.

“Want me to slow down?” Sukuna suddenly suggests. Again, you just nod, almost too fucked out to speak anymore. “Awww, but you’re takin’ me jus’ fine at this pace,” He praises, making your cunt throb about him.

“S’too… y-you’re so… hahh… mgh, f-fucking big-,” You moan out weakly.

Those words make his thrusts stutter and he grunts, “What? I’m what?” Sukuna questions, almost like he needed to hear you say that again. His face leans down to yours and his lips ghost your wet ones, “What am I? Say that again.” He whispers.

Your heavy breaths brush up against his lips as both of you hold such intimate eye contact with one another, “B-Big, S’kuna… S-So fuckin’ big…” You cry out, gentle tears beginning to leave your eyes.

The man unintentionally beats his cock down into your messy cunt, “Big? Ohhhh, don’t fuckin’ tell me that.” Sukuna groans, again sounding all too close to a moan, “Take it.” He huffs.

You nod yet again, “Uhuh… m-mmh, oh…”

“Yeahhh, take it you whore.” Sukuna huffed, “Every fuckin’ inch like a good girl, mhm-, fuck,” He finally moaned, eyes flickering for only a moment.

He was too into it, too into you— literally. Sukuna felt like he was in your stomach, the bulge of his cock so prominent with his every thrust. Never was he really gentle with you, not during the sex at least, there was no need to be. You liked him rough and he knew that.

“M’gonna cum inside you.” Sukuna suddenly warns, hips sloppy against you, “Fuck my cum nice ‘nd deep inside you,” He huffs, feeling how you twitch around him.

Then, Sukuna stares down at your face, his hand still around your neck as he gets a sudden thought, glancing down to your lips.

“Open your mouth,” Sukuna orders, his voice deep. Your lips are parting without a second thought and Sukuna looks you dead in the eyes as he spits onto your tongue. First, it’s one messy drip, then another filthy glob.

Oh that was nasty, he was nasty. And the fact that his action only turned you on even more really said something about you.

“Swallow it,” He demands right after, watching as you shut your mouth and do as told. Then, he feels the movement in your throat against his palm and he chuckles, “Fuck, that’s sexy… You’re such a nasty lil’ slut f’me, I like that.”

Sukuna leans down to you and the grip on your throat grows tighter, his lips moving to swallow yours up. It was a messy and heated kiss, your moans and whimpers being drowned out as his tongue slithered into your mouth.

The wet slick and slide of his mouth over yours filled the air and all you could hear was that and the brutal smack of his hips down into you as his cock unforgivingly kissed your cervix. Over and over and over again until your orgasm crashes over you.

Only then does Sukuna pull away from your lips, a messy wad of saliva hanging between the two of you as he speaks slowly and his voice makes you lose it because of that damn breathy rasp, “Pussy’s creaming ‘round me, shit.” He breathes out, slowing down his thrusts just so you can pay attention to it, “Hear that? Hear how she gushes ‘round my cock?”

It was messy, sloppy, and slick as he dragged his dick in and out of your pulsing walls. This is what it was like to be Sukuna’s fuck buddy. Whenever or wherever he wanted to take you, he would— spewing such filth out to you as he did so, no matter who heard him.

He didn’t care, he just wanted to make sure you heard him, heard his every nasty word because he knew you liked it. Hell, that’s why you’re cumming around his cock now, moaning beneath him, legs shaking, and tears streaming down your face.

Just as you’re coming undone, so is he, pace picking right back up as he fucks his orgasm into you— warm seed coating your walls as he leaned to your ear, groaning out a repeated and breathy ‘take it’ as you whined and suddenly clawed at his back.

“Take every drop,” Sukuna moans into your ear. You think he might have a breeding kink-, “Fuckin’ slut,” He adds on.

He’s going and going until he thrusts in hard one last time and stills himself. His breathing was so heavy in your ear, heavy like pants almost-, almost like you’d drained him of everything he had.

Sukuna remains still for a while before he shifts only a little, lips moving to your cheek as he kisses your wet skin. Then, it’s slow but his tongue slides out and he licks whatever's left of your tears off your face.

Your face twists up in slight discomfort due to his wet tongue and the fact that his heavy cock was still inside you wasn’t making things any better, “…Sukuna,” You sigh, “D-Don’t you have a phone call t-to return…?”

He smiles at how you remind him, despite your fucked out state and how ragged your voice was. Sukuna slowly moves to lean up but, he doesn’t pull out yet, “Mhm, I do. And uh,” He sits back a bit and pulls your body along with his, making sure he never once slips out of you, “You’re gonna keep my cock nice ‘nd warm in the meantime.”

His words catch you off gaurd, “But-“

His hand goes to your lower abdomen and Sukuna traces his fingertip over the slight print his dick makes against your skin, “You don’t want to?” He asks, tipping his head to the side.

Blinking, you just let out a sigh after a long moment of thought, “No, I do…”

“Alright then,” Sukuna smiles, “But if you make any noise, I’ll video call instead and show them the needy woman I gotta deal with,” He comments finally with a cocky little wink.

tags;

@blognicole @suguruologist @luqueam @ivoryviness @sinaxalui @rxnnie18 @carlacujo @gods-landing @bitchysouljellyfish @miles4hour @sinaxalui @annananamin @heart-snow @kiyomizzx @hanuh @acehyacinth @mccookiemonster @tojis-ball-sack @cartwheel6869 @mariluvsusstuff @addie1010 @slammynics @actualz0mbie @hisbitchhh @kay-xle @cunttee3 @voids-universe @raininglovelyfire @itsbokutosjuicyass @peaceoutbritta @barbielani @gennaray @r3inae @kfmcykdy @camiihutt @tokina @curtin81937 @hopefullydecent @nameless-shade @ureuphoriasworld @forgetfulmachine @legbouk @lilliaannn @clementineee0-0 @divinelseraph @didibxx

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too-deviant · 2 months

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freaky friday

OR… that one time you woke up in luke castellan’s body, told from the perspective of percy jackson.

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Fem!Demeter!Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Content: the most loser loser!luke has ever loser-ed. this is sooo unserious like pls.

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷

Percy Jackson had only been at camp for a day, but he was completely sure that something was wrong.

It started early Sunday morning — well, when he thought back on it, he guessed it might have started late Saturday night, when he woke up to a few of the older campers (Luke included) sneaking off out of the cabin and not coming back until the sun was peeking through the horizon.

But he didn’t really think about it until Sunday morning — when the thing that startled him out of sleep was a loud shout of “Holy Fuck!” echoing from the bathroom. He sat up, startled, and eyed the door along with everyone else. Then there was a yelp.

“Oh my gods. No — this is, this isn’t real. Am I still — oh don’t touch that. That’s not yours. Jesus, Luke — No. Stop looking. Oh my gods.”

A few campers shared some wary glances, asking the silent question of who’s going to investigate? Eventually, Chris (Percy thought, one of Luke’s friends from yesterday), stood up with a sigh and a raised brow, stepping over sleeping bags until he stood outside of the door. He looked at them all, the curious eyes of literally every kid there, and knocked slightly. There was another yelp.

“Uh…” Chris blew out a puff of air, “Are you okay in there?”

A few seconds of tense silence, then the door cracked open and Luke Castellan stuck his head out. He looked at Chris, at all the kids staring at him, and smiled stiffly, “I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”

He shut the door once more, the force blowing Chris’ hair back for a brief moment. The boy shrugged and nodded at everyone else to start getting ready because it was almost time for breakfast. He headed over to Percy, asked how his first night was, and left him to gather his bearings before they had to leave.

The kids attempted to forget about Luke’s debacle in the bathroom, but when they started to get impatient about his hogging it, all disregard of his personal business went flying out of the window. One kid mustered the balls to knock, and then another shouted through the wood for him to hurry up.

Just as one of the Stoll brothers was about to pick the lock himself and check out the situation, the door flew open, and Luke frowned at them from the doorway, “I’m done, my gods.”

They looked at him — he was leaning against the now open door, hip bucked out and not a care in the world that he was in nothing but his underwear. He glanced at them, then at the kid who Percy thought was called Conor, and sneered in his face until the kid flinched back. When he did, Luke pushed the bathroom door until it hit the wall and gestured dramatically inside, “In you go.”

Percy didn’t think he was the only one who was shocked by Luke’s sudden show of attitude. Sure, he’d only known the guy for a day, but he’d been super nice the whole time. Even when Percy was ready to give up on finding his skill, Luke was supportive and kind. Now, he just looked irritated at everyone in the room. Maybe he wasn’t a morning person.

Yeah, that was probably it.

Percy decided to let him wake up a bit instead of irritating him with questions about how the morning routine at camp usually went. Instead, he followed the lead of the kids around him and got himself ready before lining up along the wall. His face bloomed red when someone had to tell him to go to the back because he was new, but other than that he was doing somewhat alright.

Chris and Luke were arguing quietly in the corner, being careful to ensure nobody else could hear their murmurs. At one point, Luke stepped up so he was nose to nose with Chris and the boy put his hands on his chest to push him back — only for Luke to sharpen his eyes down at them with such a scandalised look that even Percy was slightly confused from where he stood and watched. Luke folded his arms over his chest indignantly and Chris sent him a dumb look before muttering something that made Luke straighten and drop his arms once more.

When the boys ceased their conversation and walked over, the kids pretended as if they hadn’t been watching their entire time

“Okayyy.” Luke spoke, huffing out a breath. He shot his hands out and waved them, “Let’s go.” Nobody moved, and he furrowed his brows, “Uh, onwards and upwards? Hop to? En guarde?” Silence greeted him and he rolled his eyes, clapping loudly, “Can yall just fuckin’ move?”

The kids at the front flinched slightly, deciding it best to just leave rather than wait for him to say his usual morning pick-me-up. Clearly he was having a bad day and they chose to leave him to his own devices. Percy followed at the back, and couldn’t help but listen as Chris muttered to him once more from behind him.

“Can you at least try to act like a normal person, please?”

“I am acting normal.”

“Luke Normal.” He paused, waiting. Percy guessed Luke must’ve agreed silently because the next thing he said was, “Thank you. Now get to the front of the line like the cabin counsellor you are.”

Luke huffed, pushing past Percy to get to the front of the line. Chris followed, whispering something about Luke having a bad day and to just ignore him before jogging to catch up. The blonde boy had never felt so awkward — the only friend he’d made and the guy was skulking around like he hated the world only twelve hours after they’d met.

He tried to brush it off by focusing on his breakfast — blue pancakes, blue cherry coke. Okay, not the healthiest option but he was having a bad weekend, let him live.

Chiron came to find him a bit after that, asking Percy how he was settling in and if he was ready for the Capture the Flag game they were playing later.

After that, Percy tried to avoid the prying eyes of Annabeth by spending his free hour in the Hermes cabin where she couldn’t get to him — only to walk in on something a lot more awkward.

Luke was lying on the floor, groaning in pain. The smiley Demeter girl he had introduced Percy to the day before was on top of him, also groaning in pain.

“Uh, are you guys okay?”

They flinched, scrambling off each other and pulling themselves to their feet. Luke brushed himself off and looked at Percy wide eyed, “It’s not what it looks like!”

“Seriously.” The girl said when Percy raised his brow. She shook her head slowly, “We would never —“

“Yeah.” Luke scoffed, “Like never ever.”

The girl — Percy was still trying to remember her name — turned her head and looked at him blankly, “Okay. That wasn’t needed.”

“I’m just clarifying.”

“You didn’t need to sound so disgusted about it, though.”

“Oh my god.” Luke scoffed a chuckle, shaking his head, “You’re such a guy.”

Percy screwed up his face, and Luke suddenly backtracked, “Uh, I mean — such a lie…er.” Even he looked confused by what he’d said. He straightened up and scoffed, waving his hands, “She wants me so bad. Right? Bro?” He held out a fist, but Percy just looked at it.

The girl, who had swiftly knocked his hand back to his side and stepped slightly in front of him, smiled kindly like she had yesterday when she’d asked how Percy was feeling about the sudden change in his life. “Sorry for scaring you, Perce. We’re just talking about something. Did you have a question?”

“Yeah, actually.” He looked at her, “Are you in pyjamas?”

She looked down at herself like she was just remembering her white tank top and fleece pyjama pants with bats printed on them, and Luke laughed into his fist. Upon hearing his chuckles, she swivelled back to glare at him, “Hey, don’t laugh at me! Would you rather me undress you?”

“What?” Percy asked. He was ignored.

Luke took a step back and held up one finger, “Uh, no. I don’t need you looking at my tits, perv.”

“What?” Percy tried again.

The girl scoffed, looking away from him and muttering under her breath, “Kinda hard not to when they get hot in the night and climb out of your shirt.”

Luke gasped and put his hands to his chest, “Oh my gods.”

“I tried not to look but they were right there — !”

"Well — " Luke stammered for a rebuttal, eventually pointing in accusation at the girl beside him, "You had morning wood!

"What — ?!"

“Hey, guys!” Percy finally interrupted, and they looked at him in surprise like they’d forgotten he’d been standing there the whole time. “What the hell is going on?”

The two shared a look, but it was you who stepped forward and looked at him kindly, “Nothing you should worry about. You’ve had a tough weekend already, just pretend you never saw us.”

Percy was tempted to refuse and force them to spill the beans, but they were two older campers who could very well send him to detention or whatever it was they did here for punishment — he wasn’t keen on finding out. So he left with a nod and closed the door behind him.

Your voice drifted through the window, “—can’t believe you wear batman pyjamas.”

“At least I wear pyjamas.” Luke responded, “You left very little to my imagination this morning.”

He walked off before he could hear anymore.

He didn’t see either of you again until just before lunch. He was walking through camp with Grover, half-listening to his friend yap about a blueberry bush he thought was cute, when they passed you and your sisters giggling about something near the forges.

“Gods, he’s cute, though.” One of them was saying, eyeing up a boy with soot all over his face. Percy couldn’t see much of him to determine him as cute, but your sisters seemed to agree with a loud dreamy sigh.

“He is, don’t get me wrong.” Another girl added, “But consider this: Lee Fletcher.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“He’s got potential. He’s got potential.”

Percy found himself slowing down, the teenage boy in him wondering if someone would mention his name. Of course they wouldn’t — he’s twelve, and they’re all around yours and Luke’s age, but a boy could dream.

One of the girls clicked her tongue, looking at you, “Who was it you said was sorta dreamy the other day?”

Percy watched you freeze, suddenly looking very awkward. You took a deep breath in and pretended to think about what you were going to say, but one of your sisters chimed in for you.

“It was Astor. The Ares kid with the curly hair.”

“Oh yeah!”

“What?” You exclaimed, scrunching up your face. When your sisters looked at you all confused, you backtracked, “Uh, I mean yeah he’s…cute.” You forced the word out with difficulty, “But, I dunno. There's cuter guys out there.”

“Oh?” Your sister said, interested, “Who are you thinking?”

Now you were on the spot. You swallowed, making these exaggerated facial expressions that Percy assumed were you trying to convince the girls that you had just come up with this idea, when you’d actually probably been wanting to say it the whole time you’d been talking and just needed an excuse, “Oh, I don’t know…” You shrugged, “Luke Castellan’s sorta…y’know?”

The girls looked between each other, and you watched with slight anticipation. Then one of them, the one who had mentioned Lee Fletcher earlier, said, “I swear you said he was too full of himself.”

“What —?”

“Yeah, she did.” The other chimed in, “You said he would be cuter if he didn’t — what was it? — flaunt around camp like he had the biggest cock out of all of ‘em.”

The girls laughed, and you attempted a weak chuckle, but it sorta looked like you were in pain. Percy thought it best to walk off after that, looking for Grover who had long since left him to his eavesdropping devices and presumably wandered off into the forest to look for Blue the blueberry bush.

So maybe Percy should’ve pressed harder when he’d cornered you and Luke earlier that morning. He thought he could brush it off, even when he kept seeing Luke lift up the hem of his shirt and poke at his abs in wonder, or when he saw you pushing your hair out of your face once every ten seconds before finally putting it in the messiest ponytail he’d ever seen. It was as if you had lost all sense of self overnight, like you'd never actually seen your own bodies before. It creeped him out, but he held back on asking. Maybe it was a demigod thing he hadn't been taught yet.

The straw that broke the camel's back, however, was after dinner. Usually when the nymphs take the plates away and the campers start to trickle down to the campfire, a few odd groups would stay behind at their tables, gossiping or finishing their desert until they had to get up and go — not only were you and your siblings part of this group of people, but so were Luke and Chris (and, by default because he had nobody else to hang out with, Percy).

So the newcomer had the fortunate opportunity to bear witness to possibly the greatest series of events he’d ever seen (and he once saw a rat the size of a small dog eating a small dog).

It all started when a girl from the Aphrodite table stood up and walked over to where the boys were sitting.

“So, if you do ever want to sneak out to the forests, don’t go through the pavilion.” Chris was explaining, “Mr D has a birds eye view of the whole place from his bedroom window, so you gotta sneak as close to the Big House as you can get. But make sure to duck under the windows just in case Chiron is trotting around in there.”

“And be careful around cabin four.” Luke butted in, “They have vines that spring out of the floor whenever a non-Demeter kid gets too close during the night.”

Chris turned to his brother with a look, “How do you know that?”

“Oh, uh — ”

“Hey, Luke.”

Three heads turned to the edge of the table where she was standing — a pretty girl with short blonde hair, a few strands dyed pink near the front. She was smiling at Luke cheekily and Percy noticed Chris send his brother a smirk.

“Uh, hi…” Luke trailed off, squinting.

“Laura.” She finished with a frown.

“Laura!” He exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “I knew that. I did.”

“Cool.” She said slowly, brushing off the moment and bouncing around the table to sit next to him on the bench. She leaned on her elbows into his side and Percy watched him shuffle back, only for Chris to push him right back forward. “So, uh, I had fun…last night.” She side eyed Percy across the table, but the boy just pursed his lips awkwardly.

“Really?” Luke responded, a little shocked. He nodded, “Well, uh, me too?”

Laura grinned widely at that, back straightening, “I’m so glad we agree.”

Percy wasn’t so sure Luke agreed, he wasn’t even sure the guy remembered whatever saucy interaction she was referring to. But he was pretending to, for her sake. He blinked at her silently, but she just looked as if she was waiting for him to say something — Percy was only young, but he’d seen enough movies to know that she was waiting for him to suggest they do it again sometime.

He did not. Instead he twisted his body away from her and back towards Percy, smiling at him, “Wanna head to the campfire, get some good seats?”

The boy was moments away from responding, but Laura clearly wasn’t taking his silence as an answer. She pulled Luke back to face her by his arm and blinked up at him, “I was just about to suggest we skip the fire tonight. Just us, y’know?”

Chris cleared his throat and stood, ushering for Percy to do the same, “Let’s go, lil bro.”

“Wait — “ Luke stood with them, staring back with a silent plea of help. Chris wasn’t having it, just grinning at him.

“Have fun, Luke.” He snorted, “See you later.”

“No, you can’t — ” He started, but Laura was yanking him back with a high pitched giggle.

“You heard him, Luke.” She smirked, “No one's gonna notice we’re gone, loosen up.” She ran a slow finger down his torso, and Percy watched him visibly tense up. He didn’t understand why she hadn't taken the hint already.

Chris seized Percy by the wrist and began to pull him away, occasionally looking back and giggling like a schoolgirl, with the odd snort. The younger boy didn’t really want to look back, but then when he heard Luke yelp like a girl, well…

He had to. And thank the gods he did.

Luke was sprawled on the table like a scared rabbit and Laura was standing with one hand hanging limply in the air, looking confusedly at his stance. Chris burst into loud laughter when he noticed Luke’s legs were spread and the boy was trying really hard not to look at his own crotch.

They walked over when it was clear someone needed to intervene, and Percy noticed the Demeter girls from before joining them — you were at the front, looking panicked and slightly annoyed.

"What's going on?" You asked, looking between the two of them.

"Nothing." Laura said plainly, "We were just talking."

Luke looked at you, “She — uh, she grabbed your — uh, your — ”

He gestured between his legs with a shaky hand. Percy raised a brow, as did everyone else at the scene. Except for Laura, who began to cackle loudly, bending over at the hips and bracing her hands on her thighs. The rest of the kids stared at the pair with varying expressions, and Laura straightened up, wiping under eyes with a giggle before pointing between you and Luke.

“You guys — oh my gods — ” She laughed again, shaking her head and trying to breathe long enough to get her words out, “Holy Hades, Castellan. I’m — I’m sorry.”

She held her hands up in surrender, looking at you now, “I am. I didn’t know you guys were dating. I guess I took mine and Luke’s conversation the wrong way, but — ” Another wheeze, “And I shouldn’t be laughing, but he just referred to his penis as yours, and I — ”

“Laura, it’s not like — ” You stepped up with a wince, trying to alleviate the growing tension between the group. The Aphrodite girl wasn’t listening.

“I just think that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard since…” She took a moment to think, catching her breath and smiling at herself as she thought about it. Eventually, she gestured to you with a laugh, “Well, since last night when you called Graham Lee an extra-terrestrial ass-kisser.”

Luke licked his lips, taking a deep breath in and pushing himself off the table and to his feet. He went to say something to Laura, face serious, but then he stopped and knocked his head back in a slight movement. He looked around at nothing, as if he was recollecting a memory, and then he gasped and pointed a finger at you, “I did do that.”

“You called Graham Lee an extra-terrestrial ass-kisser?” You tilted your head at Luke, “Why?”

Luke shrugged, “He grabbed my ass.”

Laura scrunched up her face, looking between the pair of them, “Are you guys on drugs?”

"There aren't any drugs at this camp." You blanked. You brother laughed.

"Says the drug dealer."

You raised a brow in shock, like you'd had no idea about your own small business. You looked at Luke intensely -- Percy thought maybe you were trying to keep your drug dealing thing a secret, and Luke had gone and spilled the beans. That would explain why he suddenly looked so sheepish. It wouldn't explain why you then said, "Well I am not on drugs."

"Then what is wrong with you guys?" Someone finally asked the question Percy had been sitting on since he watched you hover your hands over your own boobs before retracting them quickly as if it was against some demigod rule to touch your own body — only for Luke to see from afar and have some very stern words to say about it.

Finally, after ten seconds of intense eye contact, you and Luke took in simultaneous breaths. It was you who spoke first, addressing the whole crowd — which consisted of Percy, Laura, Chris, and the Demeter kids — “We’re in eachother’s bodies.”

The Demeter kids made grossed out faces, but Chris just snorted into his fist and let the conversation go on. Percy had never been more confused in his entire life — and he had once thought his dad was Jesus.

Laura chuckled, “Yeah, we know that. His penis is yours, or whatever freaky shit yall are up to.”

“What?”

“No — ”

You and Luke spoke at once, each taking a single step forward. You paused, looking at each-other until you gestured at Luke with a sigh, letting him speak. He nodded, “We’re serious. We are in each other's bodies.”

“Freaky Friday style.” You jumped in before anyone could make a sex joke. You sent the group a sharp look, and then zeroed your eyes in on Percy, “That’s why we were acting so out of it earlier.”

It was silent for a long stretch — everyone looking between one another. Percy didn’t even know what to say. It did explain their strange behaviour, but —

“How the hell did you end up in each other’s bodies?” A demeter boy asked, holding a finger up like he was in class. The rest of them nodded, wondering the same.

“Well…” Luke sighed (or You sighed, he guessed. He was still confused), “At first we had no idea, but now I think it was Graham Lee.”

Another Demeter girl hummed, “He is a Hecate kid. It’d make sense that he put some freaky spell on you after you insulted him.”

Chris coughed, still red in the face from laughing into his shirt, “Okay, but why Luke?”

You shrugged, “Dunno. I’ve never done anything to the guy.”

Suddenly, Laura let out a long, “Oooohhhh.”

Everyone eyed her. She pursed her lips in embarrassment, although Percy definitely saw amusement in her eyes. She tucked some hair behind her ear and winced, “So, maybe we went to the clash together.”

“The what?” Percy asked, finally speaking up. The rest of the group looked at him as if only just realising he’d been standing there, suddenly looking sheepish.

“Uh, it’s a party.” Chris scratched behind his ear, “Older campers only, but if you don’t tell anyone about ‘em you can come to the next one.”

He shrugged, “Deal.”

“So, wait.” You pointed at Laura, “You went to the clash with Graham? Like with him?”

“Yeah.” She folded her arms indignantly, “But he was literally staring at you the whole time, so I left to flirt with Luke.”

Your cheeks dusted pink, and both Laura and Percy realised she was talking to Luke, not you. She turned to Luke, clearing her throat, “Sorry. He was staring at you the whole time. So I left to flirt with…uh, Luke.”

A collective breath ran through the group, everyone putting the pieces together in their own heads. Percy was still a little unsure, but he had the gist (maybe). Just as he was about to suggest they go find this Graham guy and ask him to undo his spell, one of the Demeter girls Percy had seen talking to you earlier gasped and looked between you and Luke with wide eyes.

“So when we were talking before…” She looked at you, “We were talking to Luke?”

You — or Luke, but as you — stammered, and Percy couldn’t help but let out a little laugh. Luke looked on, confused, and the girl looked at him with a smirk,

“Earlier, we were gossiping about hot guys.” She chuckled, pointing at you, “And Luke suggested his own name, as you!”

“What?” Luke exclaimed at you, partially appalled but also holding in a laugh.

You stammered for an excuse, but then her face contorted and she zeroed Luke with an accusatory stare, “Well, you said I walked around camp acting like I had the biggest cock out of them all!”

Luke scoffed, “You do.”

“I do not!”

“You kind do.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“You sorta do, man.”

You turned to Chris, scandalised, “Bro.”

The boy shrugged, “Sorry man. It’s true.”

Eventually, you managed to convince the kids to finally go to the campfire and leave Luke and yourself to fix your problem with Graham when you got down there. They agreed, although not without making as many jokes as they could on the walk down to the clearing.

“So, how did you guys pee?”

“Have you seen each other all naked and stuff now?”

“Did Luke have morning woo — ?”

“Alright.” You smacked Chris hard on the back for that one. “To your sections, please.”

Percy sat down on the end of a log, and watched as the two of you walked over to Graham and spoke to him in hushed but harsh tones. At one point, Graham was looking between you two with the most genuine look of confusion and Percy assumed he only agreed to reverse the spell because it was making his mind go all wobbly just talking to you.

When he saw Luke again, it was at lights out. Percy was tucking himself into his thin sleeping bag when the boy came over, crouching to his level and dropping something on his lap.

He lifted the bag of coins to his eyeline and then raised a brow at Luke, “What’s this for?”

“Drachmas.” He explained, “Just enough to get you a new shirt at the camp store. Or a thicker pillow, some three ply toilet paper. Whatever you want, really.” He shrugged, “Partly a welcome to camp gift, partly hush money.”

“Right.” Percy lowered the bag and levelled Luke with a curious look, “How was being in another person’s body? Weird?”

“Oh yeah.” He nodded, looking into the distance like he was having some awful flashbacks. Percy remembered seeing you walk out of the bathroom earlier, a look of terror plastered in your eyes.

He cleared his throat, “Well, thanks for the money.”

“No problem, kid.” He patted him on the shoulder, “Get some rest. It’s capture the flag day tomorrow and guess what?"

"What?"

"We're teaming up with Demeter."

#i can’t believe i wrote this #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #pjo #crack fic #loser!luke

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norrizzandpia · 2 months

Text

You Don’t Even Know What She Looks Like? (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: Spencer’s girlfriend has always been mentioned. Never has the BAU team been shown a photo or given a small rundown of what she looks like. So, when Spencer announces that she’ll be visiting the office to bring him food on a late night, well, you can guess the chaos that ensues.

Warnings: none, very fluffy

Note: aww my first Spencer Reid fic! I hope you all like it <3

The BAU had only ever heard about Y/n. Never did Spencer show pictures of her or give descriptions on her appearance because he wanted to keep the majority of her to himself for as long as he could. Even though she had told him numerous times that showing them pictures and giving them more than the occasional chaotic story was completely fine by her, he never could bring himself to. That was until he started being away a lot more because of a continuous string of cases, making it harder for him to see her outside of the office. The first time she asked to bring him food when he was up late at the office doing paperwork, he declined, rambling about how he didn’t want to have to deal with all the screaming that would go on from the introduction of his girlfriend.

However, the second time she asked, he had had a hard case, one filled with innocent children and one that hurt him the most. As he sat in the chair of his desk, eyes staring at the wall as everyone around him scribbled down words onto paper, he knew he needed to see her. He would’ve left right then and there, but the stack of folders sitting to his left made him completely reject the efficiency of that idea. So, when her name popped up on his phone with a small plea to bring him food, knowing he hadn’t eaten as much as he should with the case, Spencer couldn’t say no.

”Guys,” He said, standing from his chair and turning so he could face the rest of the team.

Everyone’s eyes averted to him. Morgan leaning back in his chair, “What’s up, pretty boy?”

He twiddled his thumbs, “Don’t freak out over what I’m about to tell you, okay?”

At this, Emily and JJ perked up. Penelope, the woman passing by in the hall and overhearing his suspicious sentence, slid into the bullpen.

With everyone’s slow nodding, Spencer broke the news, “My girlfriend is coming in to bring me food.”

”WHAT?” Penelope shouted, completely disregarding his wish for them to be calm. She dropped the folder in her hands, not concerned that classified information lay beneath, and sprinted over to the tall man she knew as her friend.

She shook him, her hands on his shoulders, “SPENCER, ARE YOU MEANING TO TELL ME I’M ABOUT TO MEET YOUR GIRLFRIEND?!”

He giggled, “Yes,”

Morgan gave a glance to Rossi, who was standing against the railing and smirking, before standing from his own chair and making his way over to Penelope, prying her off Spencer, “Okay, babygirl, Spencer asked us to be calm about this.”

She turned to him, eyes widened, “Calm? No way will I be calm about this.”

”I’m with her on this one. Sorry.” Emily admitted, the woman standing next to JJ as the two joined the group.

Spencer rolled his eyes, “Seriously, guys. Don’t scare her away.”

Rossi cocked his head, “Scare her away? If you haven’t already after six months, I’m sure we won’t.”

Spencer frowned just as Penelope yelped, “Is that her?!”

Spencer turned his head to the door of the bullpen, seeing a blonde woman emerge from behind it. He shook his head with a laugh, “Penelope, no. That’s not her. You don’t even know what she looks like.”

Penelope stuck her tongue out at him just as JJ hollered, “That her?”

A random stranger passing by, Spencer shook his head once more.

Morgan joined in, “What about her?”

A man. Morgan pointed to a man. Spencer gave him a glance as Morgan giggled, never getting bored over a good teasing.

Emily tried to guess as well, “Hey! What about her?”

”No! Guys, I will tell you when she’s here.” Spencer said with a slight annoyance. His girlfriend had just texted him she would go to get his food. There was no way she was here yet.

The group got tired after a moment of pointing out random women and all fell back into their paperwork. After about ten minutes, Spencer stood from his desk.

Everyone in the BAU froze.

When he saw their stares, he laughed, “I’m just going to the bathroom. She’s not here yet, but if you stare at her like that when she comes, I swear to God she will run the other way.”

”Hey!” Emily exclaimed, throwing a crumpled up piece of paper at him as he pushed open the door and turned down the hallway.

There was silence for about three minutes seeing as Spencer wasn’t there, watching his mannerisms and determining if Y/n was close or not out the window with him gone.

A creek sounded throughout the floor as the door was pushed open. Y/n stood, with a white plastic bag in her hand, looking out at the people working at their desks. They completely missed the entrance. With no eyes on her, she moved to Spencer’s desk and placed the bag on top. Her eyes glazed over everyone before she cleared her throat, “Um, does anyone know where Spencer is?”

Morgan’s head snapped up as JJ and Emily stopped writing. Rossi’s door swung open and he stepped out forcefully, not graceful in the slightest. As if she was summoned, Penelope flew through the door of the BAU, almost tripping on her heel as she returned from her hibernation in her office.

With all eyes now on her, Y/n blushed slightly. Spencer had mentioned that everyone would be a bit overbearing, but she didn’t know even the smallest thing like their stares would be intimidating.

Penelope moved toward her first, looking at her as if she was an alien, “Are you Y/n?”

Y/n nodded and the entire group erupted into loud overlaps of coos and compliments. Spencer’s girlfriend stood in the midst of them all, being pulled into Penelope’s arms as the colorful woman hugged her tightly. JJ and Emily told her they loved the way she had styled her hair, asking how she had done it, and Morgan interrogated her on how Spencer had managed to “smooth talk” her. Rossi just nodded his head at her and extended his hand, murmuring his name and how nice it was to meet her.

Spencer was walking back from the bathroom, down the hall, when he heard the excited voices. He knew then and there what the situation was, and his feet began to pick up. He was practically running toward the BAU glass door and when he reached it, he yanked it open.

Everyone turned to him, his girlfriend’s face peeking out from behind them all and he immediately softened. The twinkle in her eye, the blush on her face, he could tell she appreciated finally being given the opportunity to meet his chosen family. Spencer wondered why he even waited to introduce her in the first place.

The man made long strides across the office, muscling through the small number of bodies before getting an arm’s length away from Y/n, pulling her into him by the waist.

He turned to everyone, smiling widely as his hand smoothed over her back lovingly, “This is Y/n, my girlfriend. Now, you can pick her out of a crowd.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fandom #Spencer Reid fanfic #Spencer Reid x reader fluff #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!readr #penelope garcia #derek morgan #david rossi #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau

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lovebugism · 3 months

Note

Okay soooooooo

How bout something like King Steve picking on shy!reader, then later finding out she has a shitty home life plz

ty for requesting!! this can be read as a prequel to this fic — steve comforts you when he accidentally makes you flinch (enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, cw for brief mentions of abuse, 1.8k)

Sitting alone at the Hellfire table, you feel a little like fishbait.

Your spot in the very back of the cafeteria is normally full and loud — with Dustin’s bickering, and Eddie’s laughing, and Gareth’s stupid jokes — but they’re not here now. They’re off getting their trays while you sit in wait for them (and the cold fries you’ll ultimately steal from Eddie’s plate). It leaves you perfect prey for circling sharks.

You hear laughter from behind you, over the sounds of the bustling lunch room. You’re certain they’re laughing at you — ‘cause you always think someone’s laughing at you — but you try hard to ignore it. You disregard the subtle pang of anxiety in your chest and stick your nose in your book, eyes flitting across the words without reading any of them.

Someone flumps down at your side then, where Mike usually sits. The overwhelming scent of spiced cologne stings your nostrils. With watering eyes, you look beside you. At Tommy fucking Hagan.

“Hey, Wallflower,” he greets like it’s normal — like he hasn’t spent the past four years pretending you don’t exist. You think he only calls you Wallflower now because his friends have been doing it for so long they don’t remember your real name.

The boy props his elbow on the table and puts his chin in his fist, trying hard to hide his boyish beam and accompanying laughter. He fails.

You cower at his presence, all but shrinking into yourself. “…Hi?” you reply in a tiny voice.

“How’s it hangin’?”

“...Fine?”

“That’s great!” he answers instantly, like he hadn’t heard you at all. “You see, my friend Steve, over there— you know him, right?”

You don’t bother to look where he’s pointing. Of course, you know Steve The Hair Harrington. You don’t think there’s a single person in Hawkins who doesn’t.

You nod in response.

Tommy’s smile widens. “Well, he’s got this massive crush on you,” he confesses, choking back a laugh halfway through. “I mean, he talks about you all the time.”

You know he’s lying. And not just because he’s grinning so hard that his eyes are crinkled and his freckled cheeks are turning pink. You’re almost certain Steve Harrington doesn’t even know who you are. He never had a reason to. Why would the King of Hawkins High ever stoop so low to know someone like you?

You glance at him over your shoulder, a couple tables down from you. He’s almost magnetically pretty. You couldn’t ignore him if you tried — with his pretty hair and his pretty eyes and his pretty smile. His golden cheeks flush as all his friends start poking fun at him.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs a laugh you can tell is forced from here. He doesn’t think any of this is funny. You can see it on his face. But he isn’t trying to stop it all from happening. You’re just collateral damage, really.

You turn back to Tommy with a disbelieving look in your eye.

He continues to ramble despite it. “He was just a little nervous coming up to you, that’s all. So I thought I’d do him a favor and slip you his number. You know, as his wingman and all.” He tosses a folded-up index card onto the pages of your opened book. “You should call him tonight— It’ll make his day, I swear.”

He pats you a little too hard on the back before he goes. His laugh echoes over all the rest when he sits back down at his table. You watch them over your shoulder as they fall over themselves to crack jokes about you.

Steve’s the only one not smiling. “Not cool, Tommy,” he mouths.

—————

Locker 148. The one right across from yours. Property of Steve The Hair Harrington.

You shove the thick card with his number written on it between the slits in the metal. You’d carried it around all day, utterly unsure of what to do with it. You decided ultimately to return it, figuring he might feel a little better if a total stranger didn’t have his phone number.

You struggle to slide it through the thin gap, though. The paper gets caught halfway through, and you try to yank it back out again. The old locker moves with you, like it’s not completely shut but still somehow latched.

You’re so in your own head you don’t hear the gymnasium door down the hall squeal open and shut again. Steve pants heavily and tries to recover from a ruthless basketball practice. He hunts for a water fountain and finds you instead.

“What are you doing?” he calls as he nears you, not malicious or unkind but genuinely curious.

Your heart lurches into your throat as you all but jump out of your skin.

Steve laughs, a pretty sound in the silent hallway. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t— I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” you assure with an averted gaze, though your frightened demeanor says otherwise. “I was just— I was trying to give you this.”

You hold the paper out towards him. He takes it with hesitant hands. “What is it?”

“Your number. Tommy gave it to me earlier, and I know it was just a stupid joke, so I… I thought you’d feel more comfortable if I gave it back to you.”

Something in Steve’s chest aches. He doesn’t understand why you would care about what might make him comfortable. It’s not like he ever gave you the time of day — or ever tried to stop his friends from being total assholes. As far as he’s concerned, you’re the last person who should give a shit about him.

“Oh. Right— Yeah… Thanks,” he stammers and shoves the thing into his pocket. “And I’m— I’m sorry about Tommy and everything. He can be a real douchebag sometimes. I didn’t… I didn’t tell him to bother you or anything—”

“I know,” you assure in a mousy voice. “Tommy gave me your number hoping I’d be dumb enough to call while your friends were over so you could all… laugh at me? I guess. He could’ve been a little more original, honestly.”

Steve cracks a smile. He almost laughs, but he can’t tell if you’re joking or not.

“I’ll talk to him later. Tell him to leave you alone—” He rambles and walks closer to you. You watch him with tentative eyes as he approaches. “—He’s a total dumbass sometimes, but he usually means well. Most of the time, anyway—”

Steve raises his hand suddenly. And, because you’re frightened by everything little thing, you flinch and stumble over yourself in the process. The lockers catch your fall, and you hit the back of your head. Hard.

“Shit— Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you squeak, holding the crown of your hair and squinting as your skull pounds.

Steve rushes to your side, then idles just ahead of you because he doesn’t know if you want him touching you. His brows pinch, chiseled features swimming with concern. His cinnamon eyes glitter with it, too. “I wasn’t trying to scare you—”

“It’s okay.”

“—My locker was just jammed. I was going to shut it.”

The metal door is open now, from where it wasn’t shut all the way and where you just smacked your head on it.

“I just wasn’t expecting it,” you assure in a tight voice, trying hard to ignore the sharp throbbing. “It’s fine. I’m fine—”

“You’re hurt.”

“It’ll go away—”

“Let me get you an icepack.”

“—I’ll be fine once I get home.”

Steve, feeling purely at fault and aching at how effortlessly you shrug him off, decides to approach you fully. He curls a warm hand around the outside of your elbow. A touch surprisingly gentle. “No. C’mon. Let me help.”

You don’t feel much like you’re in any position to fight him about it. Not with the world still swaying under your feet.

Steve guides you the short distance to the empty cafeteria. Slow and kind and dreadfully patient. He sits you down, makes sure you’re still okay, and then rushes to fix you a makeshift icepack — a ziplock bag filled to the brim with chipped ice.

He sits at the chair beside yours, slightly askew so his knees bump your thighs. He holds the pack to the crown of your head and gazes at you attentively. You’re not looking back at him to see it.

“Does it still hurt?”

You shrug, eyes flitted to the wringing hands in your lap. “It’s fine. It just feels a little like I have a migraine.”

Steve winces. “I’m sorry.”

Your doe eyes peek at him from beneath your lashes. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I scared you.”

“Everything scares me.”

It’s a dumb joke. You mean it, but you still expect him to laugh about it. He doesn’t even crack a smile, though. He just keeps looking at you with that puppy-like twist to his features. The worry is evident in his face.

“Do you wanna, like, talk about it or something?”

“About what?”

“Why you flinched.”

You freeze, breath hitching in your throat. No one’s ever noticed your incessant panic — outside of making jokes about it anyway. No one’s cared enough to ask about it, either. Steve Harrington is the last person you expected any kind of concern from.

You shake your head after a few long moments. “No.”

“You could,” Steve assures, suddenly shy. You didn’t know he could be anything other than totally full of himself. “You know, if you wanted to. I wouldn’t— I wouldn’t tell anyone—”

You scoff a disbelieving laugh.

Steve’s features swirl with hurt. You hate that it makes your chest ache. You hate most that he hasn’t stopped being soft with you. The hand holding the pack to your head hasn’t yet wavered, even though you know his arm must be tired now.

“I wouldn’t. ‘Cause I— I know what it’s like to… to have a bad home life or whatever,” he confesses, stammering hopelessly. He forces a laugh at himself. “Probably more than most people do, honestly.”

His admission takes you by surprise. It comforts you in a way you didn’t think someone like him could.

Even still, you shake your head. “I— I can’t—” you murmur, clearing your throat when the words get stuck there. “I can’t talk about it…”

Steve nods, firm and reassuring. “That’s okay. You don’t have to, I was just… I was just saying, you know? I get it.”

You swallow through a tight throat, nodding wordlessly in response.

“Plus, you know, you have my number and everything… If you ever wanted to talk…”

You flash him a timid look and crack a quiet smile. “I gave it back to you, remember?”

“I’ll write it down for you again,” he promises with a shrug and a lopsided grin. It’s easier to ignore his aching arm and the ice stinging his palm when he’s looking at you. “For real this time.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble

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markanddebbie-protectionprogram · 9 months

Text

Let's address the MVP in the atom eve special: Zak

He gave Eve an opening to show her interest. And when she got into detail, he listened to every word.

He didn't disregard her intelligence or bitterly called her a "know-it-all" or called her names like "nerd" or "weirdo", instead, he was fascinated with her. He openly showed interest in wanting to know what she knows.

Of course there's a little personal agenda that he needed to learn these things but you can tell that he was genuine with her.

What really made me feel so emotional is that Zak celebrates Eve, he proudly compliments her to her parents. And he's aware/probably aware that she's not a very verbal kid around her parents so he took it upon himself to prove her genius.

He showed every model Eve built and carefully picked them up to show them off. You can even see Eve smile when he showed the magnesium model. And even if he doesn't completely know what the final model is, he still praised it.

And can we applaud this dude? He literally understood what was happening to her, what she was seeing, before her own parents did. And if this was his first time babysitting her? That's just all the more impressive of him to be able to realize.

Even as Zak said all that about Eve being able to see and memorize molecules, you can feel that he was amazed by Eve the entire time.

You can see that Eve was visibly distressed in this moment cause her parents aren't the least bit happy.

But Zak handled it well. Teens would fold or agree when the adults seem to disagree or don't want to hear them out (especially if they're babysitting, wouldn't want to lose that pay). But that's not the case with him. He didn't raise his voice to be heard. But he made it known that he thinks what Eve knows and what she can do is cool.

And most importantly, Zak didn't forget his manners. He thanked Eve and made sure she knows that she helped him a lot by showing that he's confident he'll do well in his test.

He literally did every single thing right. This boy was raised right. We don't have much info on him but he was a great character in the entirety of his screen time.

I don't think I can stress this enough but his whole scene was amazing.

Eve looks super young here and she might not remember this moment but I'm sure she's glad that at that moment, someone made her feel okay with herself.

That what she's seeing is okay.

That what she knows is okay.

And that it's okay to show it to others too.

#atom eve #samantha eve wilkins #invincible #invincible series #summer.txt #i cannot stress enough how incredibly important this scene im literally that meme of the girl in a hair cap visibly near to crying just GOD

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fvsm4x · 4 months

Text

#MAYBE IN ANOTHER LIFE? [Gojo Satoru] part III

SUMMARY: Your boyfriend, who you loved more than anything, who was your will to live, broke up with you.

— C.W: ex-boyfriend! Gojo satoru x depressed! female reader , geto suguru x reader , dark themes , suggestive , hurt no comfort.

— WORD COUNT: 4.2k+

— A/N: I wonder what happens next..😋

PREV | NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST

Moved on? No..that can’t be true.

The sight before him felt like a nightmare, a cruel twist of fate that tore at his heart. His ocean blue eyes stared deep into his best friend's darker eyes, searching for any sign that this was all a terrible mistake. But his best friend only glanced back at him, devoid of any emotion, as if their actions held no consequence.

This was a betrayal of the highest order in Gojo's eyes. His best friend, the person he had trusted and confided in, had slept with his ex-girlfriend, the same ex-girlfriend who gojo had left for someone better. The pain was like a knife twisting in his chest, leaving him breathless and shattered.

Gojo wiped away the tears that streamed down his face, his mind swirling with a mixture of anger, sadness, and disbelief. He turned away, unable to bear the sight any longer, feeling a deep sense of loss and abandonment. It was as if his entire world had crumbled before his eyes.

As he walked away, his mind wandered back to the past, to the moments when he and you were still together. He remembered the warmth of your presence, the way you fit perfectly in his arms as you lay in bed together. Your bodies intertwined, your chest rising and falling with every breath, and the gentle rhythm of your heartbeat. It was a moment of pure bliss, a moment he had taken for granted.

His eyes were wide open, gazing at your peaceful face. Your eyes closed, your mouth slightly open, and a small droplet of drool escaping from the corner of your lips. Without hesitation, Gojo gently wiped it away, his touch filled with tenderness and love. He pressed you closer to his chest, wanting to protect you from the world, to shield you from any pain.

But now, those memories only served to intensify the agony he felt. He had promised you the world, vowed to be the person you needed and deserved. Yet, he had failed you, repeatedly breaking your heart with his thoughtless actions. He had kissed other women in front of you, disregarding your feelings and causing you immeasurable pain. And yet, you forgave him every time, always giving him another chance, always saying, "It's okay. I forgive you."

You were an incredible person, too good for him. Most women would have walked away, refusing to tolerate such mistreatment. But you saw the good in him, the potential for growth and change. You believed in him, even when he didn't believe in himself. Your kindness and forgiveness were boundless, and he took advantage of that.

And now, he had left you for someone he deemed "better." He claimed that this new person had a stronger mind, a better physical appearance. But those reasons seemed shallow and insignificant compared to the love and devotion you had given him. He had discarded your heart, your everything, for someone who later betrayed him.

The pain of it all was overwhelming. The tears continued to flow down Gojo's face, his heart heavy with regret and self-loathing.

The weight of his actions bore down on Gojo’s shoulders, a heavy burden that threatened to crush him. The pain he felt now mirrored the pain he had inflicted upon you with his thoughtless words. As he walked out of the room, his steps heavy and slow, he couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of remorse and regret.

The hallway stretched before him, a long and seemingly endless corridor that mirrored the vast expanse of his guilt. Each step he took felt like a painful reminder of the hurt he had caused, the trust he had shattered. As he reached the front door, he paused, his hand trembling as he grasped the doorknob. It was as if he was standing at the precipice of a deep abyss, unsure of what lay beyond.

With one last glance back at the room, his eyes filled with a mixture of longing and sorrow, Gojo closed the door behind him. The sound of it resonated in his ears, a finality that echoed through his soul. The outside world greeted him with a torrential downpour, raindrops falling heavily from the sky, as if the heavens themselves were mourning the loss of something precious.

The rain soaked through his snow-white hair, clinging to his face, mingling with the tears that streamed down his cheeks. The droplets cascaded down his body, drenching his white dress shirt, the fabric becoming slightly translucent under the weight of the water. But Gojo paid no attention to his appearance, his focus consumed by the turmoil within his heart.

As he walked through the streets, the rain continued to pour, washing away the remnants of his pride and arrogance. Each step he took felt like a penance, a physical manifestation of his remorse. He stopped and turned around, his eyes fixated on the apartment where you and his best friend now resided. The desire to apologize, to make amends, burned within him like a flickering flame.

The pain of being left for someone else, the feeling of abandonment, was a sensation he couldn’t bear to imagine you experiencing. He longed for the chance to rebuild a connection, to salvage what was left of the bond he had foolishly shattered. The thought of being friends, of starting anew, provided a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that engulfed his soul.

Yet, doubts lingered in his mind, fueled by the harsh words his best friend had spoken. Could it be true that you had moved on, that you had forgotten about him? The possibility seemed unfathomable, but he couldn’t deny the consequences of his actions. The pain he had inflicted upon you was immeasurable, and he questioned whether forgiveness was even possible.

The realization of his own wrongdoing hit him with a force he had never experienced before. The magnitude of his actions, the way he had left you for someone else without a second thought, haunted him. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to forgive someone who had treated him in such a callous manner. The guilt gnawed at his conscience, a reminder of the monster he had become.

But despite the darkness that consumed him, Gojo couldn’t bear the thought of losing you completely. He yearned for your presence, your love, even though he knew he didn’t deserve it. The fear of being alone, of facing the consequences of his actions without you by his side, gripped his heart with an iron vice. He was not ready to let you go, to accept that he had destroyed something beautiful.

In his heart, he knew he had been a horrible person, a monster who had taken away everything he had once given you. The stability, the security, the love that he had provided when your life was falling apart had been ripped away, leaving you vulnerable and alone. The realization of his own cruelty left a bitter taste in his mouth, a bitter taste he was determined to change.

But even in the depths of his remorse, Gojo held onto a sliver of hope. He wanted you to stay, to give him a chance to make things right, even though he knew he didn’t deserve it. He was willing to fight for your forgiveness, to prove that he could change, that he could be the person you deserved.

As Gojo continued his solitary walk in the pouring rain, his mind raced with thoughts of the past and the future. The weight of his mistakes pressed heavily upon him, but he couldn’t help but cling to the hope that he could somehow make amends.

The memories of your first meeting flooded his mind, a stark contrast to the present. He had offered you a lifeline when your world was crumbling, providing you with a roof over your head, nourishing meals, and a sense of security. But then, in a moment of weakness, he had torn it all away, leaving you with nothing.

The guilt gnawed at his conscience, reminding him of the pain he had caused. How could he have been so thoughtless, so selfish? The realization of his own actions being mirrored back at him was a harsh reality he couldn’t escape. He knew that he had been a horrible person, capable of inflicting unimaginable pain.

But the desire to do things right burned within him, a flicker of hope that refused to be extinguished. He couldn’t bear the thought of you moving on, forgetting about him, as his best friend had claimed. The doubts lingered, but he clung to the possibility that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for redemption.

The rain continued to fall relentlessly, the droplets merging with his tears as he walked through the deserted streets. Each step brought him closer to a decision, a determination to rectify his mistakes. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, that rebuilding trust would take time and effort, but he was willing to do whatever it took.

He vowed to find a way to help you regain your independence, to provide you with the means to support yourself once again. It was the least he could do, a small step towards making up for the pain he had caused.

As he walked through the rain-soaked streets, his thoughts consumed by the desire to make amends, Gojo couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for forgiveness, for a new beginning. He knew he didn’t deserve it, but he was determined to earn it.

Back in the apartment where you and Geto had spent the night together, the scene was serene and peaceful. As you lay there, still deep in slumber, your body nestled against his chest, a sense of tranquility filled the room. Your thumb found its way into your mouth, a comforting habit that you had carried into adulthood, and your eyes remained gently closed.

Geto, unable to resist the urge to admire your serene face, gazed at you with a mixture of tenderness and longing. He delicately brushed away a few strands of hair that had fallen across your face, his touch gentle and affectionate. As he did so, his arm instinctively tightened around you, as if to protect you from any harm that might come your way.

His gaze shifted from your face to your neck, and he couldn’t help but lean in closer, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. It was a gesture of intimacy, a way for him to feel even closer to you in that moment. As he did, your hands found their way into his hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands, cradling them with a tenderness that only deepened his affection for you. Your fingers gently massaged his scalp, creating a soothing sensation that brought a slight smile to his lips.

But that smile quickly faded when he heard you utter a name in your sleep.

„S’toru..“

It was his best friend's name, a name that held a power over your heart that he could never compete with.

The weight of that realization crashed down upon him like a tidal wave, drowning him in a sea of self-doubt and heartache. How could he have been so naive to think that he could ever replace the one who had captured your soul?

A bitter taste filled his mouth as his grip on you tightening. The pain of knowing that your heart would forever belong to another pierced his soul, leaving a deep, irreparable wound. He couldn't help but question his own worth, wondering if he would ever be enough for you.

The thought of you, still yearning for his best friend, tore at his heartstrings, leaving him feeling hollow and broken.

In that tender moment, as Geto’s ears caught the gentle melody of your soft breaths and he felt the comforting weight of your slumbering body nestled against his chest, a wave of bittersweet emotions washed over him. It was in this very moment that he couldn’t help but question whether he would ever summon the courage to release his grip on you, to let you soar freely into the vast expanse of the world. For he understood that true love meant granting you the freedom to pursue your own dreams, even if it meant relinquishing his own happiness in the process.

A deep sigh escaped his lips, as if carrying the weight of his internal struggle, and he slowly closed his eyes, savoring the precious connection between your beings. In this fleeting moment, he knew that he had to cherish every second, for it might be the last time he would experience such profound intimacy.

As you slowly opened your eyes, the sight of an empty bedspread greeted you. Gradually propping yourself up on your elbows, you pushed yourself up from the bed, feeling a sense of disorientation. You looked around, attempting to restore clarity to your vision by rubbing your eyes gently.

After finishing the brief moment of eye-rubbing, you opened your eyes again and surveyed the room. It was devoid of any presence, with the curtains drawn wide, allowing the warm sunlight to filter in. Your gaze shifted to the end of the bed, where a small pile of clothes caught your attention. Carefully removing the blanket, you prepared to rise to your feet, only to find your legs betraying you. The lower half of your body ached from the events of the previous night.

Wincing at the pain, you instinctively held onto your stomach, where the most intense discomfort resided. Determined to ignore the discomfort, you summoned the strength to stand up, taking hold of the pile of clothes and proceeding to get dressed.

The aroma of freshly cooked pancakes filled the air, instantly making your mouth water. The tantalizing scent seemed to beckon you towards the kitchen, where you found Geto standing by the stove, his skilled hands expertly flipping golden brown pancakes.

As he heard your footsteps, Geto turned around, a warm smile spreading across his face. He greeted you with a soft “Good morning,”

You returned his greeting, taking a seat at the kitchen island. The smooth surface felt cool against your fingertips as you watched Geto meticulously arrange the pancakes on a plate. The sight of the fluffy stacks, topped with a generous drizzle of maple syrup, was enough to make your stomach growl in anticipation.

As Geto carefully placed the plate of pancakes in front of you, you couldn’t help but admire his attention to detail. Each pancake was perfectly cooked, with a delicate golden crust and a fluffy interior. The aroma of the warm maple syrup mingled with the buttery scent of the pancakes, creating a symphony of flavors that danced in the air.

You picked up your fork and knife, ready to dive into the delectable feast before you. The anticipation grew with each bite, as the soft texture of the pancakes melted in your mouth, leaving behind a sweet and satisfying taste.

You glanced up from your plate, catching Geto’s gaze fixed upon you. His expression was vacant, devoid of any emotion. It was as if a wall had been erected between you, separating the intimacy you had shared just hours ago.

„How are your legs?“ he asked, while you flushed red as you remembered last night‘s events.

Placing your fork down on the plate, you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, avoiding Geto’s penetrating stare. The soreness in your legs served as a physical reminder of the intensity of your encounter. “I- uhm… They’re sore,” you muttered, your voice barely audible.

Geto’s face contorted with guilt, his voice barely a whisper as he apologized. “Sorry,” he uttered, his voice filled with regret.

You tried to reassure him, your voice tinged with a mix of understanding and self-blame. “Ah- It’s okay, don’t worry. It was also kinda my fault,” you replied, the words escaping your lips almost involuntarily.

You reached for another pancake, attempting to distract yourself from the discomfort of the conversation, stuffing it into your mouth to fill the awkward silence.

But Geto’s next words pierced through the air, shattering the fragile peace that had momentarily settled between you. “Listen… I don’t want to make things awkward between us, but I think it’s best if we just forget about what happened last night,” he spoke, his gaze averted, avoiding the intensity of your gaze.

Your eyes widened at his words, a mixture of shock and hurt flooding your being. It felt as if the ground beneath you had shifted, leaving you unsteady and uncertain. The vulnerability and connection you had shared now seemed to be discarded, deemed insignificant and disposable. Your lips trembled slightly as you struggled to process his request.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, attempting to steady yourself amidst the storm of emotions raging within you. The word “okay” slipped from your lips, barely audible.

But as you uttered that single word, a whirlwind of thoughts and questions consumed your mind. Did you do something wrong? Was your presence a burden to him? Did he regret sleeping with you?

Your gaze shifted towards Geto, who still avoided your eyes, his own turmoil evident in his body language. The pain of his words reverberated within you, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. In that moment, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were nothing more than a temporary distraction, a regrettable mistake in his eyes.

—

Days had passed since that fateful night when you and Geto had shared a passionate encounter. In the aftermath, you found yourself retreating to the confines of your room, seeking solace in the familiar walls that surrounded you. Occasionally, you ventured out to the grocery store, trying to distract yourself from the whirlwind of emotions that consumed your thoughts.

But amidst the mundane routine of your days, you began to notice small gifts appearing by your door. They were simple tokens, accompanied by a note that simply read, “I’m sorry.” The identity of the sender remained a mystery, leaving you perplexed and intrigued. You couldn’t help but wonder who was behind these gestures of remorse and what they were apologizing for.

Curiosity got the better of you, and you decided to confront Geto about the mysterious gifts. His reaction was puzzling, as he glanced at the note with furrowed eyebrows before simply stating, “I don’t know.”

As the days turned into weeks, you couldn’t help but notice a shift in your relationship with Geto. The once easy camaraderie and shared activities seemed to fade away. Eating meals together, watching TV, playing board games - all those moments of connection became a distant memory. Every time you suggested doing something together, Geto would find an excuse to avoid spending time with you. The distance between you grew, leaving you feeling isolated and confused.

You had convinced yourself that sleeping with Geto would help you move on from your lingering feelings for Gojo. You had hoped that by giving yourself to Geto, you could erase the memories and emotions that tied you to Gojo. But it didn't work. The feelings remained, stubbornly clinging to your heart, making you question the choices you had made.

Guilt washed over you, a heavy weight that settled deep within your being. You realized that you had used Geto as a means to an end, using him to distract yourself from someone else. The realization left you feeling remorseful and remorseful. Why hadn’t Geto spoken up before? Why hadn’t he expressed his reluctance to engage in such intimacy?

As you stepped out of your room and made your way towards the kitchen, the anticipation of cooking a delicious meal filled your thoughts. However, as you entered the kitchen, you were met with a surprising sight. A woman, unknown to you, stood by the stove, engrossed in her cooking. Her back was turned towards you, hiding her face from view. Yet, even from this angle, you couldn’t help but notice her captivating presence. Her long brown hair swayed with each movement, accentuating her graceful hips as she hummed a melodic tune. It was clear that she possessed a beauty that was hard to ignore.

Summoning your courage, you approached the woman and stood behind her. Your shyness threatened to overwhelm you, but you managed to find your voice. “Uhm, excuse me… but who are you?” you asked, nervously twisting your hands in front of you, attempting to conceal your timidity.

Upon hearing your question, the woman turned around, her gaze meeting yours. In that instant, your confidence evaporated, replaced by a mix of awe and unease. Her eyes, a mesmerizing shade of light blue that bordered on gray, locked onto your own. Her flawless skin and overall radiance only added to her undeniable beauty.

A warm smile spread across her face as she responded, “You must be Suguru’s roommate, if I’m right?” Setting down the spatula she had been using, she extended her hand towards you. “Nice to meet you! I’m his girlfriend, Hime!”

Your eyes widened, and your mouth fell slightly agape. It felt as if the world around you had come crashing down. The once inviting warmth of the kitchen seemed to dissipate, leaving you in a cold and desolate space. Hime’s revelation echoed in your mind, and a sinking feeling settled in your chest. You managed to muster a strained smile and a barely audible acknowledgment, but inside, a tempest of emotions raged.

The reality of Suguru having a girlfriend hit you like a cruel blow, shattering the hopeful anticipation that had filled your heart. Deep down, you knew that you still harbored feelings for your ex, Gojo. Yet, despite this knowledge, an overwhelming sense of jealousy consumed you. You couldn’t help but envy the happiness that radiated from Hime.

Why couldn’t you be happy? Why did Gojo have to find someone else and seemingly snatch away all the joy that was once yours? The pain in your heart was unbearable, throbbing with an intensity that seemed to overshadow everything else.

A torrent of thoughts and doubts flooded your mind. Perhaps you weren’t deserving of happiness, destined to be denied the same contentment that others seemed to effortlessly possess. You fought to conceal the sadness brewing within you, nodding politely as Hime continued to speak. However, each word she uttered carved deeper into your conflicted feelings. The once cozy kitchen, a space that had been filled with shared moments, now felt like a lonely battlefield where emotions clashed and waged war.

“Oh, there you are… it seems like you already met her,” a voice from behind you chimed in, interrupting your thoughts. Startled, you turned around, locking eyes with Geto, his darker gaze meeting your own. A wave of conflicting emotions washed over you as you processed his presence.

The realization dawned on you that perhaps Geto had asked you to forget about that fateful night because he already had a girlfriend. Maybe he regretted what had happened, considering it a mistake. Your eyes dropped slightly, a pang of hurt piercing your heart at the sight of him with someone else. Part of you wished you could be Hime, but another part resented the idea. It was a tumultuous mix of emotions that left you feeling lost and uncertain.

However, you knew deep down that you had no right to be jealous. Geto was an amazing and caring man who deserved all the happiness in the world. You should be happy for him, even if you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of sadness. You mustered a smile, determined not to let your true feelings show. After all, you had no right to claim any ownership over his heart.

Looking down, you muttered a small, “Yeah…” in response to Geto’s comment. Hime rushed over to him, jumping into his arms as he caught her. They shared affectionate kisses. It was a sight that stabbed at your heart, a reminder of the happiness you longed for but seemed forever out of reach.

Why couldn’t you experience that kind of happiness? It wasn’t as if your ex, Gojo, hadn’t showered you with attention. The problem was that you weren’t the only one receiving that kind of affection from him. He had cheated on you multiple times, and yet, you forgave him time and time again, despite the pain it caused you.

But you couldn’t let him go because your love for him was so strong, so all-consuming. You held onto the belief that he would eventually change, that he would realize the error of his ways. But that moment never came. Instead, he left you before any change could occur, leaving you broken and questioning your worth.

“I’m going out…” you spoke.Turning around, you made your way towards the door that led to the outside world, craving the solace of fresh air.

Geto turned to look after you, his eyes filled with concern and confusion. “But it’s already late. You shouldn’t go out now,” he spoke, releasing Hime from his embrace and following your retreating figure.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I just need some fresh air,” you replied, slipping on your shoes and jacket, preparing to face the world outside.

“But… fine. Just be careful, and call if something’s the matter,” Geto said, his hand nervously resting behind his neck as he watched you intently.

“Okay,”

PREV | NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST

TAGLIST [full]

@3zae-zae3 @sexeyess @silkija @dancinhhillary @musicarose @vanevafu @labelt-san @cl16void @feellaaya @animechick555 @nanmiik @ichikanu @cupidszvlvr @pinksaiyans @phoenix666stuff @coffeeluvr96 @alpha-mommy69 @isaacdaholi @xx-rfg-xx @3sodoney @ambalikadubeyy-blog @certainduckanchor @r0ckst4rjk @xxemmarldxx @starrylibras @lady-cryptstone @sparklydhokla @hoeforchoso @sweetlilhoshi @getou0309 @n8mareee @integers @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @skittleabyss @softnorth @maliakealoha @avalordream @dazaisfavgf @thebacksack @darkphoenix3432 @mwtsxri @nothisispatrick300 @andioopsworld @sup-hoes-its-me @yihona-san06 @s3r-en-d1p-ity @mandysfanfics @adanfore @rainydayssmokescreens @luvvmae @aquamarine001 @chilichopsticks @tinyjeo @adoretaylor @girlsvvish @misfits1a

A/N: I guess nothing bad happened yet😋

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purerae · 1 month

Text

╭────༺♡༻────╮

YANDERE!PERV X FEM!READER // PT1

warnings ;; nsfw themes, creepy behaviour, overall yandere themes

╰────༺♡༻────╯

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who didn’t really believe in love at first sight. ‘People were horrible and mean, loves not real at all!’

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who immediately disregards his previous statement the moment he saw you, his ears perking up at the sound of your voice speaking to your fellow classmates.

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who’s enamoured with you the first time you ran into the lecture hall, hair messed up, books all jumbled and bag almost falling off. You looked so perfect and sweet!

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who watches you so intently as you work, he stares at you as if he’s an eagle. Everyone notices him staring at you and thinks he’s a perverted freak, but you don’t pay any mind to it. That must mean you think he’s okay!? that must mean you like him..<3

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who doesn’t even have a conversation with you for months but just practically eye-fucks you. He remembers all your outfits and if you ever rewore them. Your favourite sweater, which he wants to steal so he can do god knows what to it.

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who almost whimpers when you sit next to him, He secretly thanks the person who stole your self assigned seat.

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who’s eyes widen as he realises he’s going to have to speak to you. shit shit shit what should he do?!

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who after 30 long minutes, has the courage to shyly ask for a pen. quickly hiding his stationary; he stutters, pauses, and whispers the 7 words. It’s practically impossible to understand him. “d..do you have…a p..pen that i can borrow..?”

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who almost combusts when you give him a polite grin, saying ‘of course!’ and lending him a pen before focusing back on your work. To you it was a conversation you don’t think twice about, for him? It made his entire month.

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who can’t even focus on his work as he notices the bite marks on top of your pen. your lips and teeth touched the lid…his slender fingers slowly brush the bite marks, hands quivering with delight. Even a streak of blood couldn’t compare to how red he was. He’s keeping this pen no matter what.

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who gasps in relief when you leave forgetting to ask for your pen back, he quickly puts it in his bag and beams happily all the way back to his flat. The happiest he’s been in years!

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who places the stolen pen on his night desk, and kisses the top of it every night like a routine. ‘I’m practically kissing her~!’

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who slowly collects the things you accidentally leave behind. Half drunk water bottle? His. A tissue you used when it was getting a bit cold? In his pocket like it’s his hankerchief. A core of an apple you chucked into the trash can before walking into the class? Treats it like it’s Gods gift

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who built a mini shrine of your belongings at the back of his closet. His harmless little secret, no body, especially you needs to know.

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who loves you so so so much! he’d do anything for you! ..even if you guys have only ever spoken once or twice.

“Mmm hey! Can you help me with this question…?”

purerae<3

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 6 months

Text

Wrapped Around Your Finger

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.1k

Warnings: angst, fighting, kind of fluff at the end?

Summary: You and Spencer make it a rule not to bring your work home with you, but you can't help it when he blatantly ignores you on a case. You're pissed at him, and you decide to show him just how long you can stay pissed at him.

Square Filled: "I'm fine." for @badthingshappenbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

The worst part of being in a relationship with someone you work with is that sometimes, you bring your work home with you. You and Spencer try not to let your work affect your personal life, but you can’t let this one go. Everyone from the office felt the tension between you two before you left, and during the car ride, you prepared what you were going to say to him as soon as you walked through the front door.

“So, you’re just ignoring me now?” Spencer asks and follows you inside.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Spencer. Why do I even tell you things if you’re not even going to fucking listen to me?”

“What you suggested was wrong, and had I listened to you, someone else would have gotten hurt.”

“No,” you whip around to face him, “I told you how to get the unsub and where he was going to be. I told you he was going to be armed so I suggested bringing in the SWAT team as backup. What did you do? You and Derek enter the house alone and disregard everything I told you.”

“Had I gone in with the SWAT team, the unsub would have seen them and started shooting. Morgan and I were able to trap him by sneaking up on him. I can’t very well do that with a whole team behind me.” He sets his bag down on the counter and rubs his face tiredly. “Besides, I don’t know why you’re bugging about this. Everything worked out.”

“You don’t get it,” you scoff. “It’s not about how we got the unsub. It’s about the fact that you didn't even consider what I had to say. You went ahead and did it on your own. If that’s how you want to do things, then fine. I won’t help you ever again.”

You grab a water bottle from the fridge and make your way to the stairs.

“You’re overreacting about this.”

“I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight.”

With that, you leave your husband at the bottom of the stairs alone. He rolls his eyes and decides to let you have this night. Tomorrow, he’s going to make you see that your plan wouldn’t have worked.

In the morning, you’re already at work by the time he gets up. Normally, sleep is a cleanser for you. If you go to bed angry, you’re usually calmed down by the morning. However, he can see you’re going to milk this as long as you can. That’s fine. If you want to play games, he’ll play it your way.

Spencer walks into the office and sees you at your desk. You know he’s here because the chatter gets quiet. Your coworkers are curious to see how this is going to play out. Derek and Emily think Spencer is going to stay strong and stand his ground while JJ and Rossi think he’s going to fold because you have this man wrapped around your finger even if you don’t see it.

Spencer walks past him but you don’t look at him or even acknowledge his presence. He waits for you to say something. When you don’t, he gets a little annoyed with you.

“Really? You’re giving me the silent treatment?” You don’t give him a response. “Okay, fine. I’ll play your games.”

You grab some files and make your way to Penelope’s office without a look back at him. She swirls her chair around to greet you, a big smile on her face.

“What are you smiling about?”

“You’ve come to the right person.”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“I heard you and Spencer are fighting.”

“I’m fine. There’s no fighting because there’s nothing to talk about. He doesn’t see me as an equal and doesn't want to consider what I have to say. What is there to talk about?” you shrug and hand her some files to work with.

“So, you’re not going to be an adult and have an adult conversation?”

“No,” you wink and leave her office.

The only way you’re going to talk to Spencer is if it’s about work. He thought you were going to give in and apologize after the first day, but you’ve been this way all week. You’re at work before he gets up, you don’t greet him anymore, and you still sleep in the guest room. By the end of the week, you realize you were wrong about how to handle the unsub. Spencer’s plan was the right one. He knew how the unsub was going to behave and made a plan based on that while you based your plan on how to subdue him easily.

The last thing you’re going to do is tell him he’s right.

Now, it’s a game of how long you can do this to him before he breaks. Everyone, including Spencer, knows he’ll be the first one to break even if he doesn’t want to admit it. You’re very good at getting your way, and this is no different. Spencer can tell the shift in energy from you being genuinely pissed at him to doing it on purpose. He knows you too well to know that you’re only doing this to be petty.

He told himself to not go without speaking to or kissing you, but it’s proving to be a lot harder. His love language is touch and he’s craving yours. He hasn’t kissed you in over a week and he’s getting desperate. Like admitting-he-was-wrong desperate.

You have Friday off since you requested it off a month ago, but Spencer was called into work for a few hours to help with something. You’re sitting on the couch reading a book when he walks in. He debates on speaking to you knowing full well you won’t speak to him back. How long can you go like this? You’ll have to speak to him at some point.

He sighs and walks out of the front door to get to work, and you watch him go to the car. He gets in the front seat and starts the car, but he doesn’t drive off. He grips the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turn white. You wonder what he’s thinking. He looks behind him as if he is going to reverse but gets out of the car instead. He storms back into the house, and you immediately pretend like you were reading this whole time.

Spencer walks over to you, grips your hair tightly but not tight enough to hurt, tips your head back, and kisses you. The book falls from your hand as you kiss him back. This kiss holds a week’s worth of sexual tension. When he gets back from work, you know he’s going to take you to the bedroom for the rest of the day. He slides his tongue into your mouth and massages yours, leaving you wanting more.

When he feels you leaning into him, he pulls away with a smirk. Without saying a word, he leaves the house and this time, he actually leaves the driveway. People say he’s wrapped around your finger when really, you’re wrapped around his.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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singmyaubade · 1 year

Text

No Longer Yours

James Potter x Female!Reader

A/N: I am trying a new way of writing these stories, there won't be lots of dialogue in this part, but there will be more; this is just a look into where the story starts.

IB: In The Cold November Rain by @sweetsweetjellybean (Make sure to check it out, it’s amazing and one of the best I’ve ever read !)

Summary: James had disregarded you for multiple years, but when you have an epiphany in your final year, how does it feel to taste his own medicine?

Warning: It may contain swearing and soon-to-be smut.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You never considered yourself to be a pushover when it came to things. Instead, you would use the word "understanding" and used it the most when it came to James Fleamont Potter.

He meant the absolute world to you since you were nine when you first met him. He lived next to you, both of your rooms being next to each other. You could always see him in his window, not that you were stalking, but you could never quite get your eyes off him.

Every time he would catch you staring, he would give you a wave, never felt weirded out. Then he would ring you up and ask you to come for dinner with your family. You would always accept unless your mother insisted on not intruding on them anymore.

You always caught his look of disappointment when you told him you couldn't come over, seeing him on the phone with you. It would always make your heart flutter, always having to stop the smile from forming on your face.

And then, after dinner, he would always come over, and you two would hang out (of course, with the door open). But you knew James would never try anything.

Your parents had suspicions when you both were fully formed teenagers and had hormones. Again, you knew James wasn't a perv; he respected you.

Even when he would slap your thigh in laughter when you said a joke or when his front pressed against your back when you two joked around, or his touch would linger when he ticked you.

But that was all besides the point; you loved James like no other. You loved the rest of the Marauders, too, but with James, there was no questioning if the love was different.

The only times you weren't sure about that 'love' was when Lily Evans would come around. He never truly knew how to pay attention to or regard you when she came around, but he claimed it was 'love.'

You wondered if he loved Lily the same way you loved him or if it was more complete, passionate, and extraordinary. You could never ask; James wouldn't know what to do. You couldn't blame Lily, it wasn't her fault, and she turned down his advances multiple times.

You were sure that James would move on, but then, during sixth year, Lily confessed that she was starting to have a crush on James.

You tried hiding your disappointment, but it was hard; it nearly broke your heart; you knew James would tell you all about it as soon as you saw him again.

There was no wish to be cruel, but a part of you, maybe the whole, was hoping she would joke. Perhaps she would again realize how immature James was and remember how he bullied Snape.

But that would be selfish and unfair to James; you were supposed to be his best friend, and he deserves this.

And you knew Lily was kind, beautiful, thoughtful, and honest. She deserved James more than he deserved her. You wouldn't break her happiness because it was pure; if you did, it would be evil.

So when she asked you if you were okay with that, constantly questioning your feelings towards James, you said,

"Of course, you should go out with James," You placed a hand on her shoulder, "I think you two would be amazing together." A genuine bright smile passed your face as she embraced you and thanked you for being truthful with her.

While they dated, James would always tell you every time he and Lily did something.

From every kiss, every date, and every cute moment to Lily laughing at a joke he made about crisps in Hogsmeade or the dove they saw randomly, which is a sign that they are genuinely in love.

After telling you every detail, he would embrace you in a tight hug so you could smell his scent entirely. He would thank you for being "such a good friend and say that "he loves you."

You knew he loved you but you wished he loved you in a different way. A way that his heart would scrunch when you were around or a way that made him want to compliment your hair or your smile like he did with Lily.

You wished it pissed you off enough to be mad at him, but every time he hugged you, you forgave him and knew it was just him being happy and wanting to tell a friend.

He still always joked around with you the same and bantered with you, but it was just less, you wanted more, but he could only give you so much time, and you knew that.

Only a few of your friends understood, like Remus and Dorcas. They would comfort you in every moment when you felt unsure of yourself, or you just wanted to talk.

You probably would have been misunderstood if it weren't for them, but they acknowledged and validated your feelings.

That's what got you through that time.

Nonetheless, there was no point in dwelling on past memories. James and Lily broke up at the end of that very year, it being mutual due to the realization of too many things clashing.

He was a bit of a wreck but recognized that it was for the better. It didn't stop him from sometimes crying in your arms, talking about how much he missed Lily.

Eventually, James started to move on, talking to you more, joking with you, and inviting you to sit next to him at dinner. You had missed this for so long and were grateful.

He went back to tickling you and playfighting with you. He would even make you sit with him during potions.

This was until the end of the year Quidditch match, Gryffindor had won, and excitement had raised. You went to congratulate James on the win, having a big jar of Fizzing Whizbees in your hand, his favorite.

You opened the door a crack, overhearing him but not wanting to interrupt his conversation with the rest of the Quidditch team.

"Come on, Potter, don't tell me you aren't going to snog her tonight," A boy you recognized as Matthew Collingwood teased, "She's been over you for years; why not just hit it and quit it?" Your face contorted to disgust after hearing his use of words.

"Don't tell me you are talking about Y/n," James scoffed, "There is no way I would ever think of her like that," A part of your heart broke hearing his words; he didn't even defend his last words.

"I mean, she does have a fat bum," Another boy laughed.

"Oy, she's like a sister to me, don't talk about her like that," James warned, his tone sounding half serious as the boy put his hands up jokingly.

A sister.

"Okay, but come on, Potter, you have to shag her at least once before we graduate," Matthew sneered.

"Listen, boys, I wouldn't touch Y/n if she were the last girl on earth," He belittled, "Besides, she would cling to my cock like crazy after that; I mean, look at her now, can't even take a piss without her peering over my shoulder." He gestured, pretending to take a piss and looking behind him to see if you were around.

The boys hollered, laughing at James’s visual representation of you.

Tears brimmed your eyes as you dropped the glass-made jar, shattering in the process. You let go of the door, turning your heel to run away.

The tears started running down your cheeks as you wiped each of them as they came. You went under a tree, crying your eyes out, wondering why James would be so cruel.

He was your best friend, and you thought he loved you enough to not make fun of you. James could sometimes be thoughtless, but he never was brutal to you.

Did he really think you were clingy, consistently all over him? Did he get annoyed by how much you were around him? Would he never like you even if you were the last girl on the planet?

You were humiliated, embarrassed by his words, his thoughts. Every feeling of James Potter that made you happy and wanted to fall into his arms turned into hate and resentment, his words reiterating in your mind a thousand times.

That night, you vowed never to make James Potter make you feel that way again.

So that night, you didn't join the celebration. You told your friends that your stomach was hurting and you weren't in the mood for festivities.

You didn't know if James had asked where you were during that night, and you didn't want to know after the words he had shared with others.

Since you were allowed to leave Hogwarts the day after summer began, you did. You didn't wait for James to go with you; you left without him, wishing all your friends goodbye, dismissing all questions about why you were leaving early and blaming it on your mother's wishes.

"Okay, well," Lily sighed, "Make sure to ring me over the summer and visit if you can." You embraced her and nodded your head, telling her that you will.

"And don't forget to ring me as well," Dorcas said from behind you as you went over to her and hugged her tightly, "Whatever he did," She whispered in your ear, "Give him hell."

You pulled out of the hug and gave her a smile, "I will."

As she left, you approached the Gryffindor common room to find Remus reading as usual.

"Gonna wish a good friend goodbye?" Remus questioned, looking over at you. You were glad he wasn’t questioning why you were leaving so early in the morning.

"How could I ever not?" You asked, embracing him for a minute.

"So, are you gonna tell me what he did?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"How do you and Dorcas know everything?" You said, rolling your eyes.

"How good of friends would we be if we didn't." He smirked, "I can ta-"

You cut him off, "No, this is not your responsibility; I will take care of it." You smiled, "But thank you for caring; it means the most to me."

"Of course," He said as you nodded and turned to leave, "And take care of yourself." You turned back, giving him a reassuring smile.

After saying all your goodbyes for the school year, you sat in a window seat, looking at the school you loved dearly. You never thought you could quite say this, but you were ready for home.

Once you returned home, a letter was waiting for you on your window seal stating,

Dear Y/n,

Give him hell.

Sincerely the only one you need,

Dorcas Meadows.

And what kind of friend would you be if you didn't do what was asked?

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