#I took pictures to cope

[circusislife]

I am on a holiday with my family, which Is good.

I Is the ird day and we already have visited Seven museums, about three churches and a couple of locali points of interest, which Is also good.

What Is not good, Is the fact that my sister an mother (but primarly my sister) have a trak record of leaving museums only when they have to (aka closing hours or having enough time ti visit another Museum before closong hour) and the current record for longhest time spent in a Museum Is eight hours (without break)(It was the Vatican Museum, so Fair, but still).

We are now visiting an etnical (?not sure that's the right Word but don't have the energy) Museum of cultures around the world. It Is beautyful, Amazing and has tons of things that are simply breathtaking. But...

BUT WE'VE BEEN HERE FOR THE LAST FOUR HOURS,HAVE TO SEE YET ANOTHER QUARTER OF THE PLACE AND CLOSING HOUR IS STILL 1.5 HOURS AWAY.

I think I'm going to go INSANE.

Thank all that is good and holly the last section Is on asian culture (which I find particularly interesting), but my attention Is limited and already strained. There's only so much I can take before I loose It, and that limit Is 4 h MAXIMUM.

Afterwards It Is a Battle between wanting out and wanting to actually see things and both sides are loosing.

Also, we have been walking and standing around visiting museums for the last three days and my feet are killing me!!!! T_T

Even the history entusiasts are dead on their feet, I Just cant!!!

Update, se finally got out, After a Total of 4h 30min. I have seen sunlight again !!! T-T

[nono-uwu]

First oc post i am shaking crying throwing up for multiple reasons and also anxious as hell- anyways, meet the man, the failure disaster gay, the forever doomed ginger(derogatory/lh)

I forgot to add his birthday omg, it's march 13th

Lore utc (i wrote a lot lmao), the uh post ch 134 stuff will be elaborated on later (or if asked. Actually, ask me anything about him. And my other oc's once they're posted. Please. I will answer in great detail. I also need a distraction. Pls.)

So basically, among the first few vampires (a 4th progenitor to be percise) turned by Shikama was a woman who showed great potential for spells and magic. She had a loving husband and child which she tragically lost in an accident. Upon turning into a vampire, her family was still the only thing on her mind. She accepted to help Shikama in his endeavors to revive Mikaela since she hoped she could revive her own family in the proccess. Unfortunately it didn't work. Disillusioned, she abandoned vampire kind and started searching for the possible reincarnation of her beloved husband, whom she may be able to have a child with and have family again.

Fast forward a a lot, and I mean a lot, of years and she arrived in 60s japan. None of the people she had hope for turned out to be the reincarnation of her late husband until that fateful day. She encountered a (rather pathetic may I add) man in his late 20s and it was like a miracle. The woman cornered the man in disbelief and from this awkward first meeting blossomed true love. Then everything went to shit lmaooo

The first problem was that the mans family didn't approve of the woman. Tough this didn't stop their love. Next was the issue of bearing a child, something that a vampire simply can't do. Well, an ordinary one but this woman was anything but ordinary. By some impossible miracle she bore a child. A biological child. (GIRL HOW?? We will never know and frankly, i don't want to think about it💀)

The child was, as expected tbh, kind of a disaster. Already born with pointy ears and sharp fangs. The child needed both human food and blood to properly sustain themselves. Drinking blood outside of their family would permanently stop their aging. Despite this, the couple was overjoyed. (And then named their child "mistake" bc that would help /s.) They named him "Machigai". Why tho?? I dunno man something along the lines of "a mistake but the best mistake of their life" bruh

So after Machigai was old enough to walk, but not old enough to remember, the mother diappeared, leaving father and child behind. The father did his best to raise such an... extraordinary child but it was understandably kind of impossible. Machigai grew up alone and isolated from his peers. He was always wearing a hood of some kind and rarley opened his mouth to talk. In high school, he met a girl who he became good friends with but she is another oc I'll post about sometime adlf,wpl.

Anyways! Come Machigai's high school graduation and 18th birthday, his father... disappeared. All he left was a note saying, that Machigai now owned the apartment and that there is enough blood in the fridge to sustain Machigai's thrist while he could grow and mature. To an already depressed and disillusioned Machigai this obviously didn't help. Throughout the next years he became a shut in, who only left the house if absolutely necessary. All he did all day was play video games, watch tv and later be on the internet. Once he ran out of his fathers blood was when things changed. He had to go out and actually find a new source of blood. Welp, sorry to unlucky bastards who went into dark alleyways at night bc these types of people became Machigai's source of blood. (That's when he stopped aging)

On one of these nightly escapades, Machigai was greeted by a large man in a neat black suit who called himself "Saito". Saito claimed to have known Machigai's mother and offered a deal: Machigai would offer up his unique constitution to the Hyakuya sect's research and in turn get a well paying job and a guaranteed source of blood. He agreed. "Welcome to the Hyakuya sect. I look forward to your performance"

Machigai was practically a lab rat for the development of cursed gear. Thanks to his half-n-half physiology he could tank wounds from cursed gear/magic n shit while still providing useful data to how effective it is. During this time Machigai aquired knowledge of vampire culture(?), became familiar with magic and it's quirks and learned how to perform simple spells and whatnot.

Around 2011, when the internet was already fairly well used, Machigai came across a forum dedicated to paranormal sightings. Various users claimed that a secluded spot in Kyoto was home to vampires. (Ferid was the one spreading these rumors btw) Most would have dissmissed this as someone wanting attention, yet Machigai was intrigued. He was well aware that vampires existed across the world but he mever knew how to actually contact them. Perhaps out of morbid curiosity, perhaps out of a genuine want for connection with people like him, he went to check out the spot. There, he met none other than the eccentric Ferid Bathory who specifically manufactured the rumor to meet Machigai (extra much?). He was well aware of Machigai's work for Rígr "Saito" Stafford and was trying to one up his father by stealing his most prized lab-rat. Machigai declined, not trusting a single thing out of that vampires mouth. Ferid left, already proclaiming that one day Machigai would be working for him.

Machigai stuck around that area as it was already well into the night and public transport wouldn't start up until the early morning. There he met another vampire: Crowley Eusford. Their meeting wasn't planned or meticulously calculated, it was actually rather awkward. Their chat was meaningless and short but in the end leagues above whatever Ferid likes to plan. Crolwey has already unwillingly heard about this curious being from Ferid and seeing Machigai himself left him wanting to learn more about him. Machigai was left a little hopeful, that perhaps it's not too late for him to look for connections.

So the apocalypse rolls around-

Machigai makes a deal with Saito that in exchange for his freedom (*eagle screech*) he would keep his mouth shut about anything the Hyakuya sect discovered while Machigai was there.

Machigai seeks out the Demon Army where he successfully keeps his half vampire identity a secert until someone on his squad gets blackmailed into revealing it. Before that, he gets a cursed weapon, a pair of daggers. And lo and behold, the demon possessing the daggers is his own mother. Unfortunately since the now demonic mother didn't witness Machigai growing up, she falsey believes to be able to still shape Machiagi to her will. After getting locked up by the army, Machigai completley gives up, only wishing for his miserable existence to end (spoiler: It won't! Ever. :) ). He ultimately loses any and all trust he has in humanity or just anything in general.

After about half a year of grueling torture and some experimentation, Machigai gets freed (kidnapped) by Ferid and promptly brought to Kyoto Sangiuem. Krul Tepes, finding Machigai to be useful in her fake-ish war against humanity and whatever she's planning with Yuu and Mika, lets him be part of the japanese vampires under Ferids faction. Ferid found himself unwilling to deal with the often uncooperative and irritated new "recruit" so he did what he does best and made it Crowley's problem.

After a rather agressive and disrespectful first impression, Machigai was officially a... coworker? of Crowley and thus also Chess and Horn in Nagoya. The three got the additional task by Ferid to somehow domesticate this feral and angry stray animal and get him to open up. At least that's how Ferids orders were phrased. Shenanigans, Drama and FeelingsTM ensue.

(How did I write so much??)

[luvsavos]

i deserve financial compensation for the amount of fucking hoops i had to jump through to enable tipping on here

[unproduciblesmackdown]

don’t forget the reason for the season (would you kiss your clone? yes. and you’re mr. maccabee)

[gfwooyo]

cannot stop thinking about yungi youth mv

[crowdsourcedloner]

35. How do they feel about the fact that they've killed a lot of people and/or things?

Nailah's been a mercenary most of her life. She knows she's good at it and carries herself as a consummate professional - it's her life or theirs and she has work to do, it's not personal.

This is what she's told herself, anyways.

Truthfully, Nailah struggles with seeing worth in herself under all the blood on her hands. There's a lot of unspoken survivor's guilt just under the surface, bubbling up whenever things are a little too quiet.

[textmel8r]

[ DRABBLE + SMAU ] 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ! ( seventh installment ) in which you find toji fushiguro’s number off a sugar baby site .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight.

୨୧˚ incl; toji fushiguro

୨୧˚ cw; sugar mommy! reader , sugar baby! toji , masturbation , angst , profanity , descriptions of violence , toji being a pathetic little sicko :D

୨୧˚ an; sorry this part is on the shorter side😅😅 it’s more of a filler chapter but i still like it!

It’s well past midnight when Toji slips his way back into his motel room. It’s dingy and drab, the once-white walls twinged a sickly yellowish tint from chain smoking guests. Ugly bedspread details different flowers that Toji couldn’t name, the same aged pattern clinging to the drapes that were pulled shut over the front window, never to be opened. It smells of heady sweat and open wounds, though maybe that’s just him. No, it definitely is him. He’s hyper aware of the grimy layer of filth that acts as a second layer of skin. It’s gritty and uncomfortable.

The bathroom cubicle is claustrophobic; if Toji were to stand in the center of the room, he could easily touch all four walls that boxed him in. He sits on the closed toilet seat lid, staring at his hands. They’re huge, intimidating. Trembling, spattered in blood that’s long since crusted into a dark concretion, cracking at the hinges of his fingers. His hands that took the lives of two innocent men just hours prior. Toji didn’t want to kill them, but they wouldn’t cooperate. Oh, how they shrieked and hollered for their lives as he dragged them into that alley. They just kept fucking screaming. 

“Fuck…” The man sighs grimly, letting his head dip forward to rest in the cups of his filthy palms. His bangs feel matted and crunchy with remnants of sweat. Disgusting self-pity blooms at the base of his hollow chest, and suddenly Toji has the urge to ram his skull into the drywall. Or dislocate his finger. Or do anything to punish himself for that feeling of defeatism. The nerve to possess such a shameful victim mentality, as if he deserved sympathy. He’s a killer; the best he deserves is a fucking electric chair.

Toji showers. A long, scalding shower that singes him to the bone. Water stained red cascades down the rippling wall of muscles that was his body and swirls down the rusty drain. These post-slaughter showers used to be blank canvases of his life. Ones where Toji’s brain would shut off and try to forget the atrocities committed by his hand. He would scrub his flesh raw, scrub scrub scrub mindlessly until he ached all over. But now, he only thinks of one thing.

You.

Maybe it’s some sick coping mechanism, turning to thoughts of you in times like these. In a pathetic form of self comfort, he reminisces. Your hands holding his face, your know-it-all smile, your way with words. God, your fucking way with words. 

“My sweet boy,” Toji whispers under his breath, touching himself. As if he could replicate the delicate way in which you spoke to him. His eyes shut, desperately clinging onto the mental image of you beneath him in his bed. Your arms outstretched, reaching for him like you want him. Like you love him. “My sweet…” Toji tries to fade into the warmth of the spray, imagining it to be your body heat encapsulating him instead. But the water is far too hot, it hurts; you wouldn’t hurt him like this. He tries so damn hard to disassociate into the pleasure, as if his hand would magically dissolve into yours. Yeah, right. His hand is too big to ever compete with yours. Too fucking rough and gritty and mean.

The flat of his palm finds the greasy tiles of the shower wall. Toji fucks himself with all the roughness he deserves, lower lip staked between two rows of teeth to cease its quivering. He’s going to cum. Your face appears in his psyche once more, but this time, it’s from the first time you visited him in the hospital all those months ago. He can see the picture so vividly, it scares him: you seated at his bedside, poking and prodding over his obliques, muttering a stream of concerned questions. But you were never upset or angry. No, despite the worries, you were still smiling. At him. 

Fuck, he’s really going to cum.

Toji grits his teeth, climaxing with a harsh shudder and a broken gasp of your name on his lips. Small jolts force him into a twitchy state, and he leans forward to rest his forehead against the tiles beside his hand. Semen paints the wall below, too far to the left for the shower spray to rinse it off. He doesn’t bother to clean it off. He’s too repulsed by himself to do much of anything. 

The plasticky sheets stick to his skin. Sleeping in just a pair of boxers was probably a stupid idea, bed mites were a real cause for concern, or so Shiu had told him. But it’s hot. He’s hot. And restless. And uncomfortable. He always had trouble falling asleep in foreign beds. Lidded eyes peek over to the alarm clock perched on the side table, its cherry digits splaying 2:47am. You were asleep. 

He reaches for his phone anyway, wracked with guilt all the while. The tension in his thighs still persisted, still succumbed to the aftershocks of his orgasm he fucked himself to with your face in his mind. He’s fucking gross. This is gross.

She’s sleeping, jackass. Don’t wake her up because you’re lonely.

Be a fucking man and lick your own wounds. That’s what his father would say.

He texts you anyway.

He presses the call button. It only gets through half a ring before the line cuts on and he hears a groggy “hey” filter through the receiver. How long has it been since he’s heard your voice? Not that long, only three days and yet it feels like it's been three lifetimes. And that’s truly the moment when Toji knows you’ve fucked him for life, because when did he start thinking such sappy shit like that?

“Hi,” he answers, melting back into the stiff mattress. His gaze wanders along the waterlogged ceiling, tracing the abstract damp stains that have settled in its popcorn surface. He thinks offhandedly that one of them vaguely resembles a rabbit. “Sorry for waking you.”

“You already apologized, silly. I told you it’s okay.” There’s a pause. “It’s nice to hear your voice.”

It’s nice to hear yours, too. “Go to sleep.” 

“Yeah, okay.” The sound of sheets stirring crackles, Toji assumes you’re tossing in bed. “You’re sleeping now, too, right?”

He paws at his stomach, the pads of his rough fingertips tracing the gutters of his abdominal plates before he sinks his blunt nails into his own flesh. “In a bit.”

“Soon. It’s late, Toji.” You order him to bed like a mother would her child.

He nods as if you could see the gesture. “Soon, then.”

You bid him a good night, turning once more into bed before settling back into the depths of the slumber Toji had interrupted. He clasps his cell between his ear and shoulder, basking in your gentle breaths. It’s the same sounds you made the night you fucked him. He slept upon your chest, head over your heart, listening to its beats. You drooled on his pillow, he gave a quiet scoff at the memory. Are you drooling now?

Toji never sleeps.

likes and reblogs are appreciated !

tags . • @4imhry @sugurubabe @mastermasterlist1p1 @mikisspeak @fluttershyfangs @iluv-ace @xstom @bratbby333 @mizzfizz @sserafin @wo-ming-bai @maexc @r0semultiverse @r0ckst4rjk @aesukuni @taelattecookie @purple-obsidian @hqtoge @khaothick @saintkaylaa @ya9amicide @crayzyaarna @saiki-enthusiast @haesify @nyamocka @sixxze @lifesucksweswallow @darkstarlight82 @megumisdivinedogs @celestialol @yunho-leeknow @ghostfacefricker6969 @aizawa19 @lupicalbestwolf @nymphsdomain @makuzume

[pathologicalreid]

Okay before i say my request can i be your 🐚 anon ??? that's all i ask in terms of that BUT:

hear me out- so spencer reid x bau!fem!sunshine!reader gets kidnapped outside of work and her kidnapper tortures her and the works, but the worst part is he has a live feed directed for the bau so they just have to watch the poor girl get borderline killed but she's still fighting back and so eventually he turns the feed off and they go to the unsub once they find his location but before they burst the door down they hear the reader like genuinely begging for him to just kill her and it's GUT WRENCHING. then they get him and she free and she's immediately back to her bubbly self until randomly she like shows up at his door and spence tells her it's okay to not be okay and she just breaks down RAGHHHH

i'm so sorry for writing you an essay but I got the idea and simply couldn't let it go to waste 😭

-🐚 (i hope if that's okay with you???)

epiphany | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst; re: hurt/comfort content warnings: bau!reader, sunshine!reader, kidnapping, violence against reader, reader begging for it to be over, gun violence, general cm violence, exhaustion, hospitals, poor coping mechanisms and unhelpful therapists. word count: 2.92k a/n: of course you can be my 🐚 anon! this is a story in four parts, before, during, after, and epiphany! i hope you enjoy it <3 thank you SO much for requesting!

epiphany - a moment of sudden revelation or insight.

before

The horrified look on Garcia’s face couldn’t possibly be a good sign, “Uh, sir,” she addressed Hotch, “I’m being sent an encrypted link from an admin on the UnSub’s site.”

Responding with a stiff nod, Hotch looked toward the screen in the roundtable room, “Open it.”

Each team member had an instant reaction to the image projected onto the large screen. JJ had covered her mouth with her hands, Morgan had to peel his eyes away from the screen, and Spencer couldn’t get himself to do the same thing. Despite his better judgment, he kept his eyes on the screen.

“He’s killing her,” Emily observed, watching with a horrified expression as the UnSub hand his hands around your throat. You were dangling from the ceiling by your bound hands, leaving you flailing as your body begged for air.

Hotch leaned intensely over Garcia’s shoulder, “Is this live?” He asked, voice raising ever so slightly as he watched the tech analyst’s fingers work nimbly across her keyboard. As she nodded, he continued, “Can you find where he’s streaming this from?”

Parting her lips, a determined look settled on the blonde’s face as she continued to type, “It looks like he’s running it through a boatload of different proxies – it’s gonna take me a minute.”

Rossi shook his head, leaning over the roundtable, “She might not have that long.” It was the truth, a harsh truth, but the truth, nonetheless.

It had been one minute and thirty-seven seconds already, brain death would occur after four minutes, maybe five if you were lucky. Spencer didn’t want to have to take that chance. “Oh god,” Penelope cried, working through the tears that had started to stream down her face, “Okay, she’s in this general area.”

“Keep going,” Hotch ordered succinctly. “Everyone else, look at the picture. Is anything recognizable about the background?”

The lighting was dim at best, which didn’t leave the team with a lot to work with while they studied your surroundings. At one point, your attacker shouted, and Spencer’s attention moved back to you.

In the midst of your struggle, you had managed to strike him between the legs, sending him stumbling away from you, shouting expletives as space was put between the two of you. The BAU took a collective breath as they listened to you breathe, spluttering as the UnSub regained his composure. “Do you see that? The ridges in the wall?” Derek said, using his index finger to point to what he was talking about.

“It looks like a storage container,” Emily replied, furrowing her brows as she comprehended what Morgan was talking about.

Wholly focused on you, Spencer watched as the UnSub got in your face, screaming horrible words at you until you spit in his face. He swung at you, causing your face to turn with a nauseating smack until your head lolled forward and you stopped moving.

Still typing, Penelope spoke up, “Got it! Sending the address to your phones now.”

during

There was a maze of storage containers at the port, and so far, you had turned up in none of them. “Shh, wait,” Emily hissed, “Do you guys hear that?” She asked, looking over each of her shoulders, ears perked up like a bloodhound.

Straining his ears, Spencer straightened up, lowering his firearm as he focused on listening to the world around him, waiting for whatever Emily was talking about.

“Just fucking do it!” Your voice reverberated off of the surface of the numerous shipping containers. Spencer found himself torn as he knew you were alive but recognized the fear and anger in your voice. The pain as you screamed nearly stopped him in his tracks, but he found himself trudging forward.

Following closely behind Morgan, they stopped for a moment, trying to determine which direction you would be found in. Your shouts rang out into the pitch black of the night, “Stop being a coward and pull the fucking trigger!”

His steps faltered, leaving JJ stumbling into his back. “Reid,” she whispered, prompting him to shake himself out of his surprised state and continue moving. You didn’t know what you were saying, he tried to convince himself.

You couldn’t see the camera the same way he had seen it so many years ago, kidnapped and drugged against his will and hoping the team would understand the clues disguised as conversation. He had been taken from an UnSub’s property, and your apartment had been broken into – the only thing taken had been you.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar fear in the BAU, worrying about an UnSub breaking into your home, but you weren’t targeted because of your work in the bureau. You had been targeted because you fit the victim pattern.

If he never had to see the word “missing” under your face again, it would be too soon.

“Please,” you begged. “Please just kill me. Just let me die. I don’t want to do it anymore,” your voice started to grow quieter, but the team could still hear you – they were getting closer.

Emily and Morgan went to one side of the doors, leaving Spencer and JJ on the other side – Rossi and Hotch were elsewhere on the property, waiting with first responders and calling the shots via comms.

A small whimper came from the container at the same time as the click of a gun cocking. “Just pull it,” you pleaded weakly. “It’ll be so easy for you. It’ll be so much easier with me dead,” you informed him despondently.

“FBI!” Morgan called out, pulling the heavy metal doors of the container open, revealing the four FBI agents with their vests on, guns raised.

Just like it had happened in an action film, Spencer watched as the UnSub moved his hand to the trigger of his weapon. Your eyes were closed, tears streaming through the dirt that was caked on your face. Without a second thought, Spencer pulled the trigger on his firearm, sending a bullet through the UnSub’s temple before he could have the chance to kill you.

Emily went over to the body, gingerly picking up the weapon and disengaging it while looking over to you. Spencer was knelt in front of you, debating whether or not he should touch you before he decided on speaking to you first, “Y/N?” His voice was no more than a whisper as he expected your eyes to open, but they didn’t.

“His pocket,” you rasped, your traumatized vocal cords straining on every word.

Spencer hummed, “What about them, love?” He kept his voice gentle, watching you as you squeezed your eyes shut.

Sniffling, you hung your head low, “Keys,” you mumbled helplessly, unable to speak more than you already were, each word only drained you of energy you didn’t have in the first place.

Understanding, JJ crouched next to the stiff body of the UnSub and fished a keyring out of his pants pocket, handing them to Spencer.

With shaky hands, the third key unlocked the handcuffs around your wrists, and your body slumped forward, practically falling into Spencer as he tenderly wrapped his arms around your torso, “I’ve got you,” he reassured you.

It wasn’t until you were sat in the back of an ambulance that anyone got a good look at you. There was a fine layer of grime coating your skin, causing it to look at least one shade darker than it normally was, but what concerned Spencer the most was the petechiae of your eyes. The burst blood vessels were a direct result of his hands around your throat.

The paramedics looked over you despite your protests. It was non-negotiable, and that instruction came from Hotch. The strangest part of it was that you were continuously trying to wave off concern, insisting you were fine, kicking your legs off the edge of the rig while the female paramedic looked at the bruising on your cheek. “It might be a fractured ZMA, she’ll need a CT to confirm,” she continued to list even more ailments, including potential internal bleeding and extensive damage to your throat. The swelling in your neck was beginning to catch up with you, affecting your ability to talk.

Spencer rode with you in the ambulance, holding your hand while you told him, “I knew you’d find me. I never gave up.”

I don’t want to do it anymore, your pleas for the UnSub to end your life rang in his head, he’d never forget hearing you say that, and you didn’t even know he heard you.

He didn’t have any good answers for anyone while you were getting a CT. By the time you returned from surgery to repair your fractured cheekbone, he shut the door to your room, sequestering the two of you into your own little world.

The bruising around your neck had already begun to darken, and by this time tomorrow, your throat would likely be a sickening reflection of what had happened to you. Your doctor had elected to leave you intubated because they were afraid of the swelling affecting your ability to breathe.

There was nothing for him to do, nothing except sit at your bedside and hold your hand, skimming the pad of his thumb across your bloodied knuckles.

after

You were skipping - well, maybe the step pattern wasn’t technically a skip.

Spencer watched as you waltzed into the bullpen with far too much pep in your step. “I didn’t know you were coming back today,” Morgan said, being the first to greet you once you passed through the glass doors.

Waving a hand in the air, you shrugged, “I have to pass a final psych eval with Hotch, but then I’m all set to be back next week.” You were grinning as you embraced your friend, but over your shoulder, Derek sent Spencer an inquiring look. Asking a silent question that Spencer himself didn’t even know the answer to.

What was going on with you? Four weeks ago, you had been struggling to stand after being beaten within an inch of your life, and ever since, you had been nothing but smiles.

Before you could settle into the hug, you pulled away, placing your hands on Derek’s shoulders, and holding him at arm’s length. Approximately the same distance you had kept Spencer at for the past month.

As you passed behind Spencer’s desk, you left a featherlight touch on the top of his head before continuing your way up to Hotch’s office, smiling as you passed the roundtable room. The same room where the team had watched your torture as it was live-streamed to them.

“Is she..?” Emily started to ask the question on everyone’s minds, but the major issue was that no one quite knew what the question was. Had you finally cracked? Were you okay? He wasn’t sure, and it was starting to eat at him.

The only thing they could do was watch as you greeted Hotch with a chirp, entering his office and firmly closing the door behind you.

epiphany

The knock on his door was the first thing to pull his attention away from his book since he got home from Quantico. Looking down at the inside of his wrist, he frowned at the time – just past midnight.

Still, he peeled himself up off of the couch before making his way to the front door, peering out of the peephole just to see you on the other side.

Slowly, Spencer set the book on his entryway table and undid the lock and deadbolt to his apartment, swinging the heavy wooden door open to reveal his girlfriend. You were donning flannel pajama pants, not unlike the ones he had on, and an old college t-shirt. There was a crumpled-up piece of paper in your hand, but he couldn’t make out any of the words on it.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, the question slipping easily off his tongue. He didn’t wait for the answer, ushering you inside his apartment and toward the couch. He redid the locks on the front door before joining you on the supple leather.

You furrowed your brows, staring at the piece of paper in your lap, “I failed.”

Leaning over your shoulder curiously, Spencer looked at the piece of paper, quickly recognizing it as your psychological evaluation. He read over what he could see, noting the words “deflection” and “coping mechanism.”

“You haven’t been sleeping,” he observed aloud. You must’ve been wearing makeup this morning when you came to the BAU because now he could see the clearly defined dark circles under your eyes. He hadn’t seen you much over the past month, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. Spencer had spent many days sitting outside of your apartment, waiting for you to let him in. He didn’t dare use his spare key, it felt like an invasion of your privacy.

Turning to meet his eyes, you shrugged helplessly, “I haven’t been tired. I mean – I’m… I’m fine.”

Nodding gently, “That’s a deflection. You’re telling me that you’re fine when I can clearly see that you aren’t.”

Your lips parted in apprehension while he read you like an open book. “I’m exhausted,” you admitted, tearing little pieces off of your evaluation form as you grew anxious. “I get into bed, and I can’t sleep, I can’t convince myself to close my eyes,” you elaborated, watching as Spencer reached out and took the paper from you, setting it on the coffee table.

“Have you talked to anyone?” Spencer asked, tentatively taking your hand in his.

Humming, you leaned back on the couch cushions, “Like my mandated FBI therapist? No, I don’t really talk to him much. I’ve started pretending we’re having a staring contest. I usually win, but that’s probably because he has no idea that we’re playing.”

Raising his eyebrows, Spencer inclined his head toward you, “You’re doing it again.”

You clamped your lips shut, shifting on the couch so that you could withdraw your hand from his and sit on your hands. “I don’t do this very well, huh? Talking about the bad stuff,” you murmured to Spencer, looking over at him. “I hate the bad stuff,” you informed him.

“But we have to talk about it eventually, sweetheart. You can’t keep all of that inside,” he told you, moving over on the couch, closer to where you were seated.

Shaking your head, you pulled your knees up to your chest, and Spencer recognized that you were trying to make yourself seem as small as possible. The UnSub had made you feel small – another reason that Spencer had to hate him. “I wish I was her again,” you whispered, a tinge of fear entering your voice.

“You want to be who again?”

Looking over at Spencer, you sighed, “The me that I was before. I want to feel good and happy and perfect and free,” you spoke earnestly.  

He gave you an understanding smile, pulling at your hands so that he could hold them in his own, “Nobody expects you to be perfect right now.”

You closed your eyes, “but I want to be her again.” Small tears started to stream down your cheeks while you mourned the previous version of yourself.

“I know,” Spencer reassured you. “I know you do, but if you can’t quite get to her, I’ll still be here for the you that you are now,” he said, welcoming you with open arms as you began to lean into him. “It wouldn’t have been easier,” he murmured into your hair.

Humming, you grew content in Spencer’s arms, the only place he had wanted you over the past month. “What wouldn’t have been easier?”

Ever so slightly, Spencer tightened his grip around you, “If you had died. It wouldn’t have been easier for anyone. I know it felt like that at the time-“

“You heard that?” You asked, horrified at the thought of Spencer and everyone else hearing what you had thought were your last words.

Nodding, Spencer hummed a confirmation. “I can’t stop thinking about it, and I just needed to tell you that I understand. I don’t want you to feel guilty about what you said, and I don’t want you to feel like you need to regret it. You needed a way out, and that was the one you saw,” he told you.

You were silent for an eerie amount of time, without being able to see your face, Spencer was afraid that he had misread the entire situation. “Thank you,” you whispered, straightening up and looking over at him, bleary eyes meeting his. “I’m just… thank you,” you whispered reaching out for him, embracing him as your tears sept through the fabric of his t-shirt.

The both of you stayed like that for a while, your body was tucked into his side as his fingers lazily trailed up and down your back. “Did you want to try to get some sleep?”

You lifted your head, resting your chin on his chest, “Can I stay here?”

Frowning, Spencer cocked his head to the side, “Yes, isn’t that what I just asked?” Maybe it was more of an implication, but he felt it was fairly straightforward.

“I mean, can I stay here for a while? Maybe for a couple of days?” You asked, pressing your lips together nervously.

Moving his head forward, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, “You can stay here for as long as you want to.”

[rowarn]

okay i'm back to expand on toxic situationship simon vs smitten golden retriever könig fighting for ur attention!!!

when simon first met you, he had no intention of interacting with you let alone "dating" you. but it just kind of....happened. you had a way of worming your way into his thoughts and his life.

the problem was that he was not build for a relationship. he had problems. a lot of them. he wasn't the type to work on himself, he was the type to find distractions to cope with the mess that was in his head at all times.

the closer you tried to get to him, the further he pulled away. but then when you backed off, he remembered he needed you as a distraction. so he'd rein you back in only for the cycle to continue.

he ignored how much it hurt you, how sometimes your eyes would swim with tears when he gave you the cold shoulder and told you to leave him alone. it wasn't like you understood what was going on — simon refused to open up and tell you that he was just...fucking messy in the head. instead, he just let you think he was some sleazy douchebag who used you for a quick fuck only to toss to the curb when you annoyed him.

part of him wondered (but didn't care bc it benefited him) why you kept coming back after how much he hurt your feelings. but when he wasn't being an intentional jackass to get you to leave him alone for a week or two, he was a great guy. a gentleman. he spoke to you with a soft but not condescending tone and was patient even when you asked stupid questions. when he had you as his distraction, he enjoyed your company and you enjoyed his — only for him to turn around and spew vitriol out of left field.

it was during one of the times he had chased you off that you met könig. on an elevator of all things. the entire mechanical box shuddered with his weight and you were downright shocked as the hulking mass of him ducked to step in.

when you asked what floor, he spoke with a quiet, almost nervous tone to tell you. as you rode the elevator down, you couldn't help but notice how he sort of shrunk in on himself as if he was trying to take up as little space as possible — as if that was even possible. he was massive. he avoided your gaze in a way that was shy instead of suspicious.

it was kind of...cute.

when you both got off the elevator, the lobby, you took a deep breath and stopped him, asking as confidently as you could if you could have his number. his eyes had widened but he surprisingly didn't say no — jackpot!

tho you couldn't see all of his face — the bottom half of it covered by a mask and his large hood concealing his hair, you felt a bit of an attraction to him.

as you walked out, hastily typing his number into your phone as you parted ways, you realized you may have a thing for masked man since this man — könig, he had said with an accent, and the ass that was simon both wore masks.

in between the time of The Simon Cycle, you went on a couple dates with könig. he was charming and sweet, if not a little shy. he was clumsy and almost always bumped his head on doorways before shamefully rubbing the spot he bumped with a look of embarrassment in his eyes.

he was excitable and energetic. he loved animals and always pointed out whatever animals he saw while walking with you — people walking dogs, cats in windows, ducks floating on ponds.

the more time you spent with him, the more you forgot about simon.

until his name popped up on your phone one evening when you were spending an evening in with könig. it was nothing crazy, he wanted to watch his favorite horror movie with you (an ancient black and white).

könig caught sight of your frown as your phone rang, catching sight of the name 'simon' with a blank picture.

"who is this?" he had asked, tho it wasn't out of jealousy, just pure concern and interest.

you let out a sigh, "i dated him....sort of...? not really..." you had responded, earning a confused look from him.

you explained everything to him, from meeting simon all the through his on and off behavior. by the end könig looked upset on your behalf, shaking his head.

"if he cannot decide if he wants you, then he should leave you alone," he said softly, smiling under his mask with a crinkle of his eyes, "that way someone who knows that they want you can move in!"

that was one thing you liked about könig, he was actually open to communicate his thoughts and feelings with you. he told you were pretty, how he liked your laugh, how much he enjoyed your company and was excited to see you again when you both had time.

simon was closed off. he was quiet, mostly listening rather than talking. but he listened well. you remember mentioning that you broke your lamp and had bought a new one but couldn't figure out how to set it up. a week later, after a nice evening spent in bed together, you woke up to find him sitting on your living room floor putting together that lamp for you.

even though könig was...lovely. there was something about simon that was so intoxicating that you couldn't seem to let it go. but also the sex with simon was....spectacular. you never had a man so eager to make you cum until you were incoherent — never had a man who could.

and könig was....traditional. slow. he wanted to date for a long time before jumping into bed. he wanted to properly court you and go through a whole process. which you respected but...you were impatient. greedy.

it wasn't like könig was against you seeing simon. he had told you that you were free to do what you wished, but unless you made it official with the other man he was not going to back down from trying to court you.

so when simon called on you again a couple nights later, you answered.

he was glaring when he opened the door for you, motioning for you to enter before shutting and locking the door.

"why didn't you answer?" he grilled. clearly you ignoring his call when you were with könig annoyed him more than you thought.

you raised an eyebrow before slowly answering, "i was on a date, simon."

that seemed to make him freeze where he stood, eyes narrowing even more into a glare.

"a date?" he spat, "with who? you don't need to go on any dates, you're with me."

that made you roll your eyes so hard it nearly gave you a headache, "a nice guy named könig. simon, i'm not even sure you like me beyond wanting sex. i want a boyfriend." you huffed, "and clearly you don't want that!"

"oh yeah? then why are you here instead of with your boyfriend?" he hissed the last word in disgust.

"we're not official. he hasn't asked but we've been...seeing each other." you decided simply.

at that, simon jerked his mask over his mouth to kiss you in that heated way that made your legs tremble, "does he fuck you as good as i do? hm?"

that got your attention, a sly smile coming to your lips as he worked you out of your clothes.

he was jealous. this revelation was exhilarating to you. simon, the guy who acted like he couldn't care less about you, was actually jealous that you were seeing another guy!

the sex that night was as phenomenal as usual and more. he spent a good half of it with his head between your thighs, pinning you down with strength alone as he ate you to orgasm after orgasm until your cum was a sticky, stringy mess on his lips and chin.

then he worked you to two more orgasms on his cock, the last one he hadn't even needed to touch your clit before you were creaming around him with a sweet little squeal.

simon had a point to prove. you were his and he was not going to lose you to some asshole. deep down, he knew he didn't deserve you and that he should let the better man have you but he just couldn't. he needed you. he wanted you. he was selfish and greedy.

simon disappeared after that. but for once had actually communicated what was going on — deployment, he said. didn't know how long he would be gone. he had actually gave you a goodbye kiss that left you spinning.

the next time you saw simon, you were on a date with könig. it was a quaint little bar that könig said he liked. so there you were, sitting across from him at a booth, nursing a drink and softly talking with one another.

you didn't even know simon was back. he hadn't said anything. when he walked into the bar, his eyes scanned the place like they always did before landing on you.

his gaze lit up as he took a step towards you but quickly halted when he saw you were sitting across from another man. but that didn't stop him for long.

you cursed under your breath, catching könig's attention before simon was right there at the end of the table, glaring at könig.

"can we help you...?" könig asked softly, clearly a little nervous.

"hi...simon..." you sighed softly. könig straightened up in his seat at that.

"official yet?" he asked you, ignoring your greeting.

you gritted your teeth, casting a glance towards könig who looked confused.

"no." you answered simply.

with that simon, yanked a chair from a nearby table and sat right at the end of your table. you concealed a groan of despair.

simons glare fixed upon könig, a challenge clear in his stare alone. he reached forward and grabbed your drink from your hand despite your protest, lifting his mask enough to take a sip, the cocky smirk visible briefly on his lips.

könig quickly understood what was going on and his own eyes narrowed into a glare. you could practically see the sparks going off between them and buried your face in your hands.

it was going to be....a painfully long night, you feared.

[writingoddess1125]

You get a very dumb cat that loves Simon

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Gnreader and Beans the Cat!

Fluffy Fluff Corniness! 🌽

Support me on Ko-Fi

Or Gofundme

• Being the long term partner to Simon 'Ghost' Riley definitely had its up and downs. One of the downs however is how lonely you'd get when he left for missions

• So after a particularly long Mission were your love was gone for months, you decided that a pet was a good way to help cope with the worry and hollowness.

• You'd gotten a cat from a shelter and had it for only a few weeks before Simon returned. One thing you had realized in the short time you had owned the cat was... he wasn't the brightest

• After returning from picking Simon up from the airport and sharing in more kisses then you knew was possibly Simon walked through the door with a happy sigh at being able to return home till he spotted the changes and the cat sitting dead center of the livingroom-

• "What the Hell is that thing?" He says gesturing to the feline staring up at him with his tongue hanging out.

• "I got a cat!" You say cheerfully, Gesturing to the feline he was staring at. Simon stares at the cat. Watching it blink one eye then another as he took a heavy breath.

• "His name is Beans!" You said cheerfully, Simon raiding an eyebrow at this. Before looking back at the cat and could clearly see there was no greater thought behind the damn things eyes as he meowed at him.

• Simon closed his eyes like he was trying to keep himself from either laughing or crying at the same time-

• "Fucken Hell-"

• He finds Beans to be a constant reminder that some creatures don't need brain cells to survive. The cat while sweet is a fucking idiot, it likes to stare at nothing get what you call 'Zoomies' at the most random times and it perplexes Simon how the damn thing survived more then a day. Especially when it clips a wall during one of these Zoomie moments and he has to turn away to keep from laughing.

• The only time he gets mad at it is when he's doing the Dirty with you and feels a pair of eyes staring at him. Turning his head to see God Damn Beans in the doorway staring at the two of you getting it on.

• "Damn that fucking cat-"

• After a few weeks home and with Beans, Simon wakes up from a terrible nightmare/panic attack. Panting as the shadows of his mind had creeped in on his dreams and plagued him with fear and reliving the worse in his life.. Getting up gently as to not wake you he ventures down to the living room to sit and watch TV to hopefully settle his mind just enough to sleep.

• He sighs still sweating from the panic attack and takes a seat on the plush old couch, Running his hand over his naked face as he tried to relax- feeling the itch to grab his balaclava just to add some security to his troubled mind. He heard the gentle sound of bells catching his attention as he watched Beans get up from his fluffy cat bed and walk to him.

• Jumping onto his lap Beans began to gently knead Simon's chest and stomach region. He remembered you saying this was called 'Making Biscuits'

• "Tryin' to comfort me eh?" He questioned as he gently began to pet the cat who was continuing its late night action.

• After a while of this which did distract Simon enough to feel the panic attack start to fade away, Beans curled up high on his chest and begun to purr loud and hard. Vibrating the whole man's chest like a old school massager.

• He felt himself start to relax as the gentle sound of purring began to lull him to sleep, his hand still on the back of the cat gently as he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

• The next morning when you get up you walk downstairs to see Simon sitting on the couch with Beans still asleep on his chest, curled in a relaxed ball under his warm hand.

• You take at least 100 pictures of this.

• After that night Simon is more okay with the cat and Beans just adores Simon now. Following him everywhere and sleeping on the soldier at every opportunity.

[chuluoyi]

enduring love

- nanami kento x reader

love is kind. love is patient. Nanami Kento taught you all that—love and the absolute durability it brings.

genre/warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—in the form of soft sex, pregnancy

notes: based on a whole package request an anon sent me a while ago. there isn't much i can say without spoiling... just that i love soft loving nanami :( check out a very recommended track for this piece!

general masterlist

Nanami Kento was not your first love, but he was the one who taught you about love that endures, even against the worst of odds.

Haibara Yu was your boyfriend when he died, giving his life in exchange of yours and Nanami’s. And his death destroyed you, leaving you devastated, as you not only lost your childhood best friend but also a significant part of yourself.

And he made Nanami promise something to him—taking care of you. And of course, Nanami would. Even if Haibara didn’t ask for it, he would. Because when it came to you, he was willing to do anything.

He couldn’t say it back then, that he was already and utterly in love with you.

You were so grateful for his sheer presence. With Nanami by your side, you felt a sense of security and comfort, which helped to fill the void left by Haibara to some extent.

“Thank you for checking up on me. I’m fine,” you had said to him with a soft smile. You remembered it clearly—it was Haibara’s second death anniversary. You still shed tears before his picture at the columbarium hall, but you meant it when you said you were fine.

“That’s... good then.” Nanami didn’t look like he was convinced, but he nodded regardless.

“You can stop doing it now, you know,” you mumbled with a sigh. It wasn’t fair to him, you realized it from the get-go, but unconsciously, you too needed him to cope with your dearest’s death. “It’s never your responsibility in the first place. I’m… thankful that you’re always there for me.”

At that time, Nanami was already in love with you, but he was also a coward. A coward who had decided to leave the jujutsu world behind, and so he took your words and left with a broken heart. But unbeknownst to him, you would never forget how he looked—downcast eyes, clenched fist, as if you had told him to begone altogether.

In the years that he spent away from curses and the sorrow that followed, he did try to forget about you, but in the end, he just couldn’t. You were like sunshine that brightened his younger, happier days. To him, your existence helped him to get past Haibara’s death too. And his love for you was already engraved in him by default, even if he couldn’t act on it.

Nanami’s departure hurt you more deeply than you thought. You were incredibly lonely. Gojo and Shoko were there, but it hardly filled the void left by his absence. They say life goes on, and so you continued to live the life Haibara had saved for you, with the hope that someday, Nanami would return.

Life is funny because no one can predict how it turns out. Nanami found it ironic, that he left only to come back.

But when he saw you again after four years, still the same but even more beautiful than ever, with tears in your eyes as you welcomed him back, he thought it was all worth it.

“I’m… glad,” you muttered amidst the flowing tears, trying to wipe it away in embarrassment. “Sorry, ugh… I didn’t mean to cry. It’s just that it’s been so long…”

And Nanami only laughed at that. A genuine chuckle. Your heart soared at the sight.

He was different. He no longer sported that geeky haircut. Now he was suave, neat and of course—handsome. You never realized how attractive he was until now.

“I missed you too, Y/N,” he said with a warm smile. To him, the fact that you cried at his expense was enough to make him happy. It signified that you regarded him as an important presence in your life, and that was enough for him.

“Are you doing this temporarily?” you asked warily afterwards.

He responded with a thoughtful hum. "I believe... no, I've concluded that this is way better than my previous banking job. At least here, I can fully utilize my abilities."

Your eyes seemed to glimmer with something at his response.

“Then, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Can you…” Your cheeks flushed with warmth as you asked, but you brushed it aside. “Can you promise me that you… won’t leave again?”

It was as if everything he had known was nullified with that question. Nanami had always assumed he might hold significance in your life, but he thought that to you, he was dispensable.

"Yeah, I won't," he said resolutely. "I won't leave again, Y/N."

On that day, he came to the realization that it was perfectly fine for him to express these feelings for you now.

To outsiders' point of view, it was bound to happen anyway. Gojo had always known that Nanami held this not-so-hidden affection for you and wholeheartedly supported him when he witnessed the effort he put into pursuing those feelings. It was comical really, that you heard it first not from Nanami himself but rather from him.

You remembered that day too—he was so furious at Gojo that he kicked him out. He looked so embarrassed. Granted, this was not at all how he had envisioned confessing to you.

"I won't hide it any further. I... have been harboring these feelings for you." He couldn't even look at you in the eyes. The two of you were no longer those teenagers in Jujutsu High, but oddly it was hard to say it out loud. "You're free to reject me, of course—"

"Nanami Kento." It bugged you, how formal he was acting around you, and no, you were done with this too. You returned his feelings, had been for a while now. "We should just get together."

And just like that, you were finally in a relationship. It was long road to reach this point, and yet it was only the beginning.

Nanami was supportive, affectionate, and ready to shield you from any harm. You loved him with all your heart. Whenever you two visited Haibara's memorial, he would grip your hand tighter and reassure you of his presence, and if there was one thing you were certain of regarding Haibara, it was that he would have complete trust in Nanami to care for you.

Birthdays, anniversaries, and other milestones, you two celebrated it together. It was almost picture perfect—you were so happy together, as if you were made for each other.

"Kento," you gasped when you opened the gift box he had gotten for your birthday, discovering a pristine watch inside. "This..."

"Do you like it?" he asked softly, smiling, brushing your hair aside. His eyes crinkled with delight when he saw your elated expression.

"I love it!" you exclaimed heartily. And normally you wouldn't be this impulsive, but since it was your birthday, surely you could afford a whim or two.

You kissed him on the cheek, making a playful smooching sound that left him pleasantly reeling and flustered.

You dated him for two years. In those two starling years, Nanami proved to be an exceptional boyfriend. You were confident that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him, and he felt the same way about you.

Regardless, when he dropped down on one knee with a ring box in his hand, you still couldn't help but tear up.

"Will you marry me?" He knew the answer already, but he was determined to make it the most memorable day of your life, with him promising his undying love for you.

Through tears, happiness and everything else, you laughed. A free laugh that conveyed your love for him. "Yes!"

The two of you were married for three years, and Nanami was the best husband you could ask for, and being his wife was the honor you'd never turn down no matter how many times you were asked. If there was one thing you'd rather see less from him though, perhaps it was his tendency to rush headfirst into danger.

Once, he went back home with bloodied side and you immediately rushed and fussed over him with concern.

"What sort of cursed spirit did you face?" your hands were shaking as you dabbed alcohol to his wound. He wasn't usually injured, so this came as a shock.

Nanami winced, but he still smiled, trying to convince you that he was fine.

He didn't want to tell you about it, because frankly, even he didn't know that much. He only knew that his attacks weren't effective against that sadistic cursed spirit with stitches all over his body.

"It was an accident, love," Nanami brushed it aside. "I just made a mistake is all."

"Still!" you lips quivered at the possible worst scenario. "Couldn't you just run away?"

"It was not that easy... I had Gojo's student with me too, I couldn't just leave him to face a special grade alone now, could I?"

Your expression turned horrified, and he regretted his slip. "Special grade...?"

You were like a flower, and Nanami cherished you greatly. He hated seeing you in distress, especially if it was caused by him.

You had to understand eventually, because you were a jujutsu sorcerer too. In this line of work, nothing is guaranteed. So you looked down and let out a sigh. "Can you promise me something, Kento?"

"Of course. Anything for you, love."

"If it ever gets too dangerous—if you sense that your life is in danger," you locked eyes with him, your gaze filled with determination and hope. "Please. I beg of you. Just run. Come back to me."

And he nodded, pulling you to his bare chest, as you sniffled against him. "Yes, dear. I will. I promise. Don't cry now, okay?"

Witnessing your tears never sat right with him, and he was willing to do whatever it took to erase that sadness.

The way he caressed you so fondly and gently was how he proved the extent of his love for you. A love that had been brewing for twelve years, ever since he was a first year in this unforgiving jujutsu world, only able to keep his crush hidden away at the furthermost corner of his heart as he saw you with someone else, until now, much later, as your husband who was yours as much as you were his.

Your body reacted with each of his tender touch. Your cheeks lighted up with the most adorable color of red, and lust was evident in your eyes. As Nanami towered over you, shushing you with soft words and asked you where you wanted to be touched, he was trying his hardest to be patient.

"Tell me, sweetheart," he whispered in your ear. "Tell me how I can make you feel better."

You were too shy to tell him, so you guided his hand to where you wanted to be touched the most, and then before you knew it, you were letting out several moans, unable to hold them in.

Nanami was always well in preparing you. He had to at least make you cum once or twice before actually inserting himself in you. Because your needs and comfort always came before his.

His thrusts were slow but deep, with your legs wrapping around his waist. He kissed every inch of your body that he could reach, worshipping you, reveling in your blushed face.

And when he came inside you, filling you full and warm with his seed, you felt nothing but sheer relief and bliss. The aftercare was wonderful too, as Nanami made sure that you were comfortable—cleaning you up and tucking you in, kissing your tears away.

Shortly after, you became pregnant. It wasn't unexpected, with all your intimate activities. It was a whole new experience entirely, and the two of you were looking forward to it, as the baby inside you grew day by day. You wanted a son, whereas he wanted a daughter who looked just like you.

You wanted this life with him. You wanted to grow old together with him, along with your baby too. And that was why, when Nanami was about to leave for Shibuya, you were sick with worry, a hand on your noticeable bump.

"Do you really have to go?" You wanted to cry, yell, and drag those in headquarters to see you—a wife carrying a child. How could they separate a vulnerable wife from her husband?

Nanami pulled you into his arms, consoling you. "It's going to be okay, Y/N. I'll be back once all of this is over."

"They named Gojo already. And for a curtain of that density to be pulled down—" your voice hitched painfully. "Kento, it must be a well-thought plan. I'm afraid for you, please."

To be honest, he didn't know how it would play out. This was a large-scale attack and every jujutsu sorcerer in the country was summoned in response. As much as he feared for himself, he had to, because it was his responsibility, and doing this would keep you safe.

With the tearful farewell and final touch on your belly to feel his baby kick him, Nanami left you to march towards the battlefield.

Life is funny because you never know how it turns out. Nanami once again came to see just how unforgiving this jujutsu world was when Gojo was sealed and half of his body was burnt beyond repair.

He wouldn't be able to make it back home now.

His chest constricted at how he wouldn't be able to go back to your arms again, or see you give birth to his child. Even though he had planned everything—in his dream, he would take you to Kuantan, away from jujutsu and live the rest of your lives there in peace.

This world was cruel to him, but all he could hope now was that it would spare you. He was sorry to leave you again. He was sorry to break his promise. He was so sorry that you would go through the anguish of losing someone precious again, because this time, it was even greater than when you lost Haibara.

He wasn't ready to leave you, but when he saw Itadori Yuji sprinting towards him, suddenly he was certain. Because when he saw his face, all he could see was the fact that he could trust him with everything.

Perhaps it was what Haibara felt when he trusted you to him.

"You've got it from here." He smiled at Yuji, as the boy looked towards him in pure terror.

Was it a figment of his imagination? Because he could see Haibara in front of him now, with that energetic smile of his.

A bloodcurdling scream escaped your lips when Yuji arrived in front of your doorsteps to inform you of Nanami's death. You were wailing and utterly inconsolable, especially when he told you that not even his remains were left.

You didn't know what to do. You just sat there, sobbing your heart out in Yuji's arms until you passed out. The next thing you knew was that you were in your bed, with the boy sleeping on your bedside table in a very awkward position.

You recalled the envelope from your husband that Yuji gave you last night. You scrambled for it, and found two plane tickets and a letter.

Y/N. I'm sorry. I'm not sure why I'm writing this either, but I can't leave you with nothing in case I didn't make it. First and foremost, I want you to know that I love you. So much more than you can imagine. Ever since our first year, and up until now and forevermore. I love you. With this, I'm letting you know that I've booked a flight for Kuantan for you and Itadori-kun as well, but I have a feeling that he wouldn't come with you. Even if he doesn't, I beg of you, please just go. I want you and our baby safe and away from all of this. Lastly, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for leaving you again. I'm sorry that I can't see and raise our child with you. You don't have to forgive me. Know that I'll be doing my best to come back to you, but if fate doesn't spare me, then please know that with all of heart, I love you and I won't leave you if I can afford it. You have changed the course of my life, and I'm grateful for it. Falling in love with you is my greatest joy, I want you to know that.

A bout of tears overcame you and woke Yuji up. You felt your insides churn with dread and your baby kick you with such fervor that it hurt. He was gone, really gone, leaving you in this perilous world alone.

And yet, to his last breath, all he could think of was you. It hurt so much, and yet you were glad, that you could light up his world the way he described it. His greatest joy.

Nanami Kento's love for you, the one he once endured and then held for years, reached you deeply. It is love unlike any other, more pure and heartfelt than you could ever imagine.

did I cry while writing this? yes.

[clairdelunelove]

around the clock

simon 'ghost' riley x reader

genre: fluff! (working drabble!)

warnings: slightly suggestive, cursing, handyman!ghost

synopsis: ghost finds comfort in always being busy, whether that'd be completing household maintenance or chores but what does he do when there's nothing else to fix? well, it's simple, he goes over to your place–

a.n. hi lovelies! life's been picking up BUT it's finally spooky season! 🕷 pls take handyman!ghost to compensate for the fact that I dropped off the face of the earth for a bit <3

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ghost would definitely have the characteristics of being a handyman– specifically, yours.

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paid leave was a valuable but rare benefit that many military personnel took advantage of. traveling, relaxing, or staying with family were typically on the itinerary for most. to catch up on lost time. to ground and comfort them with the humanity that they might’ve forgotten about while on the battlefield. a solace for their minds, souls, and hearts to rest. service members could request leave at any time, fortunately, but ghost never had a reason to. he found comfort in being constantly busy. proved to be less on the mind. an escape from the pain that frequents him whenever he opens his eyes and follows him into his sleepless nights. he recalls price mentioning his unhealthy coping mechanism– the word ‘escapism’ leaving his lips in a sympathetic grimace. a sensitive emotion that reached the captain’s eyes and caused ghost to uncomfortably shuffle on his feet. he wouldn’t label it as ‘escapism,’ per se, just favors his hectic life. so when he chooses is forced to take his paid leave, ghost keeps himself active; repairing his plumbing system, fixing broken light fixtures, or testing any of his home appliances to ensure they’re working properly. he’s continually restless. likes strenuous and taxing work. makes it easier to fall asleep at the end of the day. and, by the off chance there’s absolutely nothing left to maintain in his compact flat (because a couple bare rooms, small porch, and no backyard is hardly a feat to clean), he’ll sit on his threadbare couch. might tap his fingers against his thigh while the living room clock obnoxiously ticks. the silence is deafening, ironically. his heavy-set eyes float to glance at the time and upon noticing this is the predicament he’ll be in for a couple more weeks, he abruptly gets up, pockets his keys, and makes his way to you.  

ghost who stiffly stands at your front door when you answer the familiar knock. frankly, you’ve noticed the way he knocks on your door is strikingly different than how he does on missions. a strong rap but not powerful enough to scare you. it’s a sign that’s irrevocably him. served as an indication of his presence. it was up to you whether you wished to entertain his trivial inquiries. you peep your head out first, not quite believing the sight before you, and he raises a brow at your widened eyes. “simon?” you ask incredulously. his plain balaclava shifts when he catches how you intuitively open the door wider for him. to make room for him in your home. “remembered you asked about patchin’ and paintin’ your walls,” he explains like it’s ordinary to recall a conversation from weeks ago. astonishingly, he was right. you had, offhandedly, mentioned that you nailed picture frames to the wall which created noticeable holes that you didn’t know how to fix. you reminisce at how he held back an amused scoff when you emphasized that it was an honest mistake on your part. didn’t entirely think it likely that he’d personally fix it. “oh,” you glance at the rather large toolbox in his hand as your voice trails off, “like, you want to fix it right now?” he offers a singular nod as a response.  

ghost who’s a second away from packing up his home repair tools/gadgets and heading back home when you glance behind you to stare at your place in contemplation. your lower lip caught in-between your teeth. he hesitates. isn’t accustomed to the sensation even when he has a weapon in his grasp. his mind whirs. the green-eyed monster of jealousy bleeding its way into his heart. “unless,” he dreads the words before they leave his lips, “you have a bloke to help ya with it?” his words are stiff. ghost shifts to lean against your doorframe in an attempt to ease off the bitterness in his voice. drawn to the movement, you can’t help but become aware of how he fills the entire entryway with his physique. your cheeks burn. a quick shake of your head followed by a resounding, “no, I don’t and I haven’t called a handyman either.” and it’s the perfect remedy to quell his discontent. his rigid posture loosens with the answer. while you step to the side to welcome him in, you hurriedly clarify with an awkward laugh, “had to think for a bit because I didn’t want you to see how much of a slob I am,” and hope that the joke lands. the universally polite comment to excuse the untidiness. ghost isn’t focused on the clutter, however. he’s basking in the fact that you’re not seeing anyone. offhandedly throws in a murmur of, “not a problem, sweetheart,” when he eases by you. and the way it borders raspy satisfaction reduces you to a puddle. 

ghost who allows his gaze to wander to your decorated walls and dainty furniture while you explain where the tactless gaps in the walls were at. picture frames encasing friends and family were thoughtfully tacked onto the walls. trinkets lined the shelves to serve as memoirs. he stops himself from reaching up and picking one up for closer inspection. wouldn’t be fair if he did. truth be told, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d put up a photograph in his own flat. his loved ones and comrades stayed etched in his mind. recurrent and persistent. your place, on the other hand, seems well-inhabited, lived-in, and loved. he could almost spot the glow that you managed to sprinkle everywhere you went regardless of the situation. a feature that endlessly puzzled him. the addictive familiarity that accompanied you and made every place feel like home. ghost likes it. it’s comfy and cozy– you. and his mind slips into the possibility of adding a few pieces of him in your home. his work boots at the front door. his toothbrush residing beside yours in the bathroom. his shirt in your closet. “need any tools to help fix the damage I made?” your witticism forces him out of his train of thought. halts the delusion from straying too far. he’s quick to recover, however, and murmurs, “got everythin’ I need here,” while his eyes are solely fixed on you. a declaration that’s spoken as profound as a pass of thunder. and you wait with bated breath, mind whirring to reciprocate the sentiment but ghost is already trekking past you. he gets to work almost immediately by using a putty knife and a joint compound to patch up the holes in the walls. but goodness– his eyes. the raw dedication that manifests and bleeds out when he glances over to you. his words are a certainty that he grasps onto. 

ghost who, unsurprisingly, fixes the blunders in the walls with ease. it’s a minor task that’s covered with a gentle hand and some paint. nothing that he can’t fix. but truthfully, the afternoon passes far quicker than usual. with fleeting smiles and stolen glances whenever his focus shifted to you. it was spotting your figure, halfway hidden behind the kitchen entryway, from the corner of his eyes. it was finding you tampering with his tools whenever his back was turned and hearing your soft laughter when he halfheartedly chided your roaming hands. a serenity disguised as a luxury that ghost could never afford. “want to hear a construction joke?” your voice fills the house; he prefers it that way. yet, your inquiry falls flat because he’s short-circuiting. with a hand on his shoulder, you lean forward to inspect the spot that he’s working on. forces the two of you closer. your breath is a hot puff against the shell of his ear and he visibly pauses. you’re warm. he turns his head sideways, purposefully staring ahead, and decides to indulge you, “sure.” “hm,” you hum and the pleasant noise goes straight through him, “I’m still working on it.” and when you’re rewarded with an amused huff from his lips due to the punchline, a grin stretches across your face. it’s a meager detail that he imagines as he trudged back (with heavy feet) to his bare flat later that evening. yet, it’s the only solace that allows him to sleep a little easier that night.  

ghost who questions his rationale when he’s hauling his lawnmower and other tools onto the back of his pickup truck just for you. well, he supposes you never did ask him to mow your lawn but your front yard is in need of his care. his personal touch. afterall there were various benefits of keeping a lawn clean and tidy. encourages new grass growth and deters pests– or so he justifies. surely it’s not due to the appreciative smile you throw him when you tug your curtains back to find him trimming the edge of the grass. he hears the click of the window opening before your voice calls out to him, “you didn’t need to, si!” but ghost has never given half an effort to seek your favor. lives his life in extremes. so he spares you a glance while genuine words leak from his mouth that he attempts to mask in his surly voice, “jus’ wanted to.” and hastily wretches the starter cord on the lawnmower so it roars to life. pretends not to catch onto your longing stares when the sun’s rays are scorching and he’s compelled to shed a couple layers off. sure, you had tasks at hand rather than blatantly gawking but it could wait. and he didn’t particularly mind the attention. especially when you’re seated by the window so prettily with your face perched atop your hand. admiration pooling in your wide eyes. you watch with bated breath as he one-handedly tugs off his bulky sweater to reveal a fitted black shirt and dirty jeans. a combination that has you visibly gulping as he continues pushing the machine across the lawn. he’s a tantalizing brew of brawn and power. a darkness that you wish to traverse upon. satiates you with a knowing look when he stretches and the fabric of his shirt is pulled taunt across his broad chest. and he huffs in delight when you hurriedly reach out to yank the curtains closed. 

ghost who picks you flowers (weeds) but doesn’t know the difference. he ends up discovering a clump of golden dandelions growing near the edge of your fence and decided to pluck them. pinches the stems in between his fingers until it breaks. ends up harvesting a handful of them. the question is: what does he do with them? he saunters over to your front door, raps his knuckles against it, and patiently waits for you to answer. of course. then, he hands the dandelions to you, unblinking but brimming with good intentions. because he’s not aware that dandelions are the most notorious weeds that many desire to get rid of. just acknowledges that they’re pretty and you’re pretty– so it only makes sense. another gift for you. anything for you. he watches as you absentmindedly twirl the stems in your grasp, speechless. and, without warning, he’s flushed for a reason far beyond just the weather. a terrible queasiness that was unlike any he’s experienced. his mannerisms are fidgety, mind itching to leave, and save him the humiliation of offering you weeds. but then your lips break into a wide smile. a dazzling one. knocks the breath out of his lungs. you’re uttering repeated ‘thank you’s’ though, clearly too distracted to notice his predicament, before scurrying into your kitchen. he’s left stunned while you call out, “how did you know I have a pretty vase to match with these?” 

ghost who’s knocking at your door in the early mornings, greets you with a gruff, “mornin’,” and slinks past you into your home. doesn’t even pause despite the fact that it’s barely the crack of dawn and the sky is still hazy from the remnants of last night. the birds are barely tweeting out to each other, still testing to find a harmony to start the day. you’re as bright as the sun, however, when he offers a glance to you. an expression of stupor and excitement conveyed on your face due to his arrival. he’s stopped by a couple times now yet the warm buzz never dims: if anything, it flourishes like the row of flowers he planted on your front porch. vibrant and all-consuming. “still finding stuff to fix, si?” you joke while tilting your head. you stop him by the kitchen counter just as he’s about to state that everything looks maintained for now. “‘course,” he rumbles as his gaze sweeps to you, “soon you won’t need me though.” his statement is heavier than he expected and he opens his mouth to thwart the abrupt negativity but you beat him to it. the words tumble from your lips, “pretty sure I can always find something here that needs to be fixed.” your voice is soft as you add, “just as long as you want to stay.” he watches as your eyes flicker to the floor but it’s too late. ghost has already seen the tenderness that belongs wholly to him. your vulnerability that he wishes to cradle in his grasp. his hands clasp and unclasp by his sides before he finally mentions, “your fence needs fixin’ today. don’t want the strays comin’ in and fuckin tramplin’ on everything.” 

ghost who’s true to his word and tirelessly works to replace your fence posts even in the scorching heat. scratches the back of his neck while muttering something about how they’re rotted on the bottom. and it’s almost hypnotizing to observe how he works. methodically checking each panel’s angle to see how severe it is. he detaches the surrounding pickets and stringers from each post in order to pull the wooden planks out. it’s demanding manual labor, more exhausting than his previous projects, which is why he requests your help. “just need ya to hold these up for me and I’ll straighten out the rest. can you do that for me, pup?” he explains as he hands you a singular fence post. and you try– you really do since he asked so nicely– but the wood is coarse against your fingertips and the sweltering sun hits the nape of your neck too harshly. you huff, voice bordering a whine, “I can’t do this anymore, si.” and ghost, the saint he secretly is, just raises his head to peer up at you. he’s currently on his knees, denim jeans caked in dirt, and dripping with enough sweat that the edges of balaclava curl at the edges to expose slivers of pale skin. “be good for me, will ya?” an inquiry that sounds more like a command due to his thick accent. his dark eyes search for yours, squinting in the sun’s rays, before he goes back to digging around the base of the fence post. however, when even the rare sight of his bare skin does little to serve as a reward against the extreme heat, you’re pouting again, “can’t we do this another day–” “oi,” he interrupts you when his large hand blindly reaches back to clamp over your knee. his thumb moves to caress the inner portion of your knee and you can vaguely discern how each of his fingers press against your skin. featherlight touches that sear your skin. his gaze snaps to yours, a dark brow arching at your unwillingness to move. the next demand leaves his lips in a low, tempting voice, “behave.” 

ghost who’s a sucker for your large, beseeching eyes and only shakes his head when you prance back into your house. you’re humming a light tune when you skip up the steps, away from the harsh weather, and leaving him to continue angling fence posts alone. it’d be a crime for him to deny your wish. and it’s not like he bends to your every whim. sometimes. he huffs, half in amusement and half in disbelief, before hauling another slab of wood. it’s not like the task was terribly difficult. he’s proficient– a machine that rather enjoys ruthless duties. just assumes that teamwork would lessen the strenuous work. and having your company was always pleasant. he’s in the act of lifting another fence post when he spots you bounding towards him, a glass cup in your hands, and a radiant grin on your face. his heart flips. pounds against his chest like a sledgehammer beating against fragile wood. “made some lemonade,” you offer and raise the glass to him, “for the hard worker.” notices the hesitant tremble in your fingers and your sudden shyness compels him to inwardly crumble. like you weren’t already the cause of his peace. there’s a swirly straw and a decorative umbrella in the drink which catches his attention. calloused fingers skimming the edge of the vibrant garnish, he’s silent. has never gotten this treatment from another person. it's foreign to him but not unwanted. his eyes are unblinking, caught in a trance, before he’s murmuring honest appreciation for your generosity.

ghost who prods, a bit of humor in his voice, as he sips at the beverage, “a bit sweet, yeah?” coerces himself to ease the smirk that threatens to overtake his face when he recognizes how your eyes widen in alarm. recognizes the panic that spreads within you when you quickly suggest, “is it? let me try.” and he’s more than happy to comply. wordlessly edges the straw between your glossy lips so you can take a sip. half-lidded eyes trained on how your lips curl around the straw, an action that serves as his newest vice. one that he’s certain will take ages to treat. constant time that’d be spent with you. always you. “you’re right. it’s kinda too sweet,” you naively remark, flicking your eyes up at him. you’re so sweet to him– soft voice and all. he’s not looking at you, however. no, ghost lifts the straw to take another sip and as he pulls away, his tongue darts out to lick his lips. to chase after the taste of you. memorizing it. saccharine and gloss. a primal act that has you aching for more. “m’fault then,” his amused voice was snuffed by his blank expression as he gently gripped your jaw. you watch as he slowly blinks, blond lashes sweeping against his cheek, and lowly hums, “forgot I like sweet things.”  

[chvrryzpop]

A TASTE

c. sturniolo x fem!reader

Summary: Three strikes, two times Chris didn’t lean into the temptation and one time you both let go your deepest desires after you got into a fight with your boyfriend Matt, Chris’ brother.

Warnings: soft dom!Chris, smut, a little angst, pet names, use of y/n, swearing, cheating (why would you do that?), use of drugs, making out, unprotected sex (don’t be silly), choking, toxic relationship, masturbating, oral sex (female receiving), praise kink and fingering.

a/n: If you checked that I haven't posted for like a month, no you didn't.

not proofread!

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

01.

Your relationship with Matt has gotten worse during the past two months, he will get angry out of nowhere throw a tantrum over you, and ignore your texts for the rest of the day or even the entire week.

ME

Fuck you, I fucking hate you, Matt.

The last text you sent to Matt and yet he hasn’t even replied to it. You hated him, you hated the fact that you couldn’t even break up with him because you were too attached to him.

Too attached to the idea of him being fixable, of being the version that he could be back again. The version of him that you fell in love with the first time you laid eyes on him.

The blunt on your hand wasn’t making this job of ‘forgetting’ your boyfriend any easier, it made things easier to cope, sure but it wasn’t doing what you needed to.

Move on.

Forget him.

Looking at yourself in the mirror across your room, you can see the traces of smoke flying away from your mouth, the dim light of the moon making those remarkable. The smell of weed intoxicates your lungs and senses, that sweet sound of being in a pool underwater filling your ears delicately.

You picked up your phone once more and yet no answer from him, the frustration getting more and more annoying for your fatigued brain. “Fuck…” You muttered as you placed the joint between your lips and inhaled a long puff of it.

Looking back at the ceiling, an idea came out of nowhere. Well, not out of nowhere since you've done this a couple of times so that Matt can notice you and forgive you for whatever nonsense he got mad for.

An idea that always worked but you hated.

Being closer to the mirror across the floor, sitting on the cold floor as your phone flashes to your figure revealing a white laced lingerie set on you, your thighs, hips, and waist being three things that are prominent from your body.

Looking at the photos that you took, you decided to send those to your boyfriend waiting for a response, you even added a small caption saying ‘Let me make it up to you.’

As soon as you sent those pictures, a notification popped up on your phone, and you eagerly checked if Matt answered.

And that's when you felt your blood pressure descend at an incredible pace when you opened to check.

CHRIS

Shit

Y/N????

I think you sent it to the wrong triplet, baby.

ME

Shit

Sorry Chris, I thought I sent it to Matt

CHRIS

Not answering you again?

ME

yeah…

CHRIS

He’s been in a mood tonight, so.

But don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll text you in the morning

Btw

Wanna join me tomorrow night for a quick smoke?

Bought the good stuff yesterday.

ME

Sounds good, count me in xx

Even though your best friend didn't make this situation such a big deal, it felt like that for you. What if he tells Matt and twists the entire story? What if Matt ignores you for the rest of your life? The paranoia consumed you, eating you alive, biting your nails you send the pictures to Matt, double checking if you are sending this time to the right triplet.

You place your phone on the bedside table next to you, staring at the ceiling again.

What if you didn’t want to send those to Matt? What if something deep down in you wanted to be seen by someone else?

Someone who will give you the attention that you crave?

02.

The headboard bangs against the wall, your moans filling Matt’s ears making his cock twitch inside you each time he thrust deep back inside you. Meanwhile, you were cock drunk after coming like two times already, you could barely say a word other than just emitting sounds every time Matt pounded relentlessly abusing your red, swollen cunt.

Drool pooling over the pillow underneath your face, you could feel the strands of hair sticking to the corners of your face “F-fuck b-baby…” You panted letting your head fall once again against the pillow and closing your eyes as Matt came to his thrill. His thrusts became sloppier within seconds and his grip on your hips got tighter.

You felt the burning sensation once again on your lower stomach indicating that you were also close to your own high, you squelched your walls around his shaft gaining a groan from him. “Cum for me.” He demanded sneaking a hand into your throat and gripping it delicately while his other hand gripped your ass before giving it a hard smack making you squeal.

Not even a split second after the knot in your stomach snaps and you release, your juices covering Matt’s dick, and some spilled over his bed making a big mess between the both of you.

The sweet sound of wet skin slapping skin is like music to your ears, the warm feeling of Matt being deep inside your pussy makes you salivate even more than you already were.

Your mind was fuzzy from the sensitivity of Matt abusing your cervix, you barely noticed when his load shot into your insides, painting your walls with his hot seed.

The noise was too much, the moans were uncontrollably loud and the massive boner Chris had was killing him slowly. As he was lying flat on his back staring blankly at the ceiling while he waited for the noises to stop.

He could feel his dick begging for being touched, for some sort of contact with anything. The only running thought wandering through his mind was you and only you.

He wanted to feel your lips against his, those soft lips that he could remember very well every time you wrapped them around the joints that you both shared once in a while. He could imagine how those lips must feel around his cock, how he could make you moan ten times harder than his brother ever could.

Fuck.

‘I’m so fucked for thinking this way.’ He thought to himself.

But he can’t help it.

Sneaking painfully slow his hand through his clothed dick he could feel his precum spurt all over his tip and inner thighs, the contact of his cold fingers against the base of his arousal as soon as he cupped his hand around it, his pace was slow and careful until he heard the most intense moan coming out from upstairs he has ever heard his entire life causing him to fasten up his speed with his hand.

The groans and whimpers that were slipping out of his mouth were uncontrollably loud but he couldn’t give two fucks about it, he didn't care if you could hear him or Matt, he needed it, he needed you deep inside him feeling your tight walls wrapping around his shaft until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“mm- Y/N” He moaned, his eyes squeezing shut and his head falling backward as his hand edged him to his release, his heartbeat increasing incredibly fast as his hand moved up and down, his thumb running circles on the tip.

A slight burning sensation hit on Chris’ lower stomach causing him to clench his jaw as he felt his release. His hot seed leaked all over his hand. His chest heavily moving up and down as he removes his hand from his sensitive cock, his mind all fuzzy from the ecstasy that he just got.

He was so fucked up.

03.

“So this is the reason you’ve been treating me like shit for days?!” You spat sourly at Matt whose tears were all over his eyes. You’ve been staying over for the past three days and you thought things got better between you and Matt.

Seems like it was all an act to cover his lies, his disgusting lies. “I’m sorry…you have no idea of how I’ve been feeling the last couple weeks….” He replied wiping his tears away.

“No, no, no, no you don’t get to pull the victim card on me! I’m sick of your bullshit, we’ve been fighting for months just because you felt guilty for fucking another girl?” Your voice cracked each time you jumped back into the subject.

You knew Matt was a total idiot but not the kind of idiot to cheat on you.

Not the kind of idiot to blame it on the alcohol, not the kind of idiot to do something wrong twice or even a third time, not the kind of idiot to treat people like shit just because of repressed feelings.

“She didn’t mean anything to me! I know I was fucked up for pulling this shit but I regret it, so bad and I’m sorry.” His voice also cracked, the tears breaming down his cheeks, he looked genuinely hurt, and that made this more fucked up than it already was.

You shook your head, the rage was more intoxicating than anything “If she didn’t mean anything to you, you wouldn’t have done it three times and even worse blamed it on the fucking alcohol!” You shouted as your index finger pointed at him moving it up and down repeatedly when each sentence came out of your mouth.

“I know, I know I’m fucked up, alright? But this mistake doesn’t mean that we have to end things.” He said, the stuttering of his voice getting worse every time he watched your reaction.

“You’re so fucked up, Matt. You’re fucking unbelievable, we’re over.” You said sternly, walking out of the room, you felt your hands trembling the anxiety devouring your mind and body, your heart pounding as if it was going to explode any second, your blood pressure descending incredibly fast, your breath hitching each time the tears warned to advert from your eyes.

The thoughts on your mind got interrupted by something or someone abruptly stopping your steps, you look up to see Chris murmuring a curse and picking up something from the floor. Looking back at you, his face shifted to an annoyed expression from a worried one. “Y/N? Baby, what's wrong?” He asked, his hand gently resting on your shoulder now while his thumb caressed it.

That's when you can't handle your emotions anymore, the tears rolling down your cheeks as if you had a waterfall coming out from you, instantly his arms wrap around you rubbing your back gently as his voice soothes you, “Shhh, everything is going to be alright, sweetheart.” He murmured as he placed a soft kiss on your head, the tears kept falling at a slow pace now, gaining puffiness in your under eyes.

“Why don't we go to my room so you can relax? Hm?” He asked pulling back from you as his arms still wrapped around you, his fingers now brushing delicately the strands of hair that attached to your cheeks, your vision blurry from the tears that kept falling continuously.

The dynamic between you and Chris has always been something else, hanging out with Chris made you feel different than hanging out with Matt and Nick, it felt like you two were made to understand each other without the need to communicate, it was as if he could read your mind and you could read his mind and it was a connection that Matt never liked.

Either the fact that he always accused you that someday you might cheat on him with his brother or the fact that he could never get that kind of bond with you, maybe that was the reason he cheated on you or maybe he just wanted to take those repressed feelings on another girl's pussy.

But at this point, you didn't care at all, the joint that Chris was carrying when he saw you a few minutes ago was having its effects on you and you never felt more relaxed than you were right now, “So let me get this shit straight, he just admitted that he was fucking someone else and he expected that you forgave him?” Chris retorted taking a large puff from the perfectly rolled cherry-flavored joint he had between his index and middle finger.

You replied with a nod as Chris let the smoke out of his lungs a small trail of it escaping from his lips, you had to admit he looked a little too good when you both were smoking, it was a scenario that you couldn't describe at all. He passed you the joint as you took a long puff, letting the effects relax your thoughts.

Chris scoffed before speaking “Matt can be my brother and everything but I've seen the way he treats you, the kid is an asshole and doesn't deserve someone as beautiful as you.” His eyes bore into yours for a moment before taking the joint off your hand to give another puff to it.

Beautiful?

You couldn’t believe the words that came out of his mouth and it seemed that neither did he because the puff that he took almost got him choking out, the coughs escaping uncontrollably from his mouth as he was trying to search for his water bottle.

You giggled a little seeing the way he chugged the bottle at an amazing pace as he held back the coughs that warned to get out of his mouth, “Are you okay?” You asked as you tried to hide the sheepish smile from your face.

“Yeah, it’s just—” Chris interrupted himself to take another gulp from the bottle, “I took a long ass puff and my lungs were at the edge of collapsing.” You both cracked up, the weed kicking in incredibly fast, the sensation of being high washing you over once again.

“What we were even talking about?” He was the first to talk after a hot minute of laughter between the both of you, “I’m not sure, but I can remember very well that you said that I’m beautiful.” You teased him as you took the joint out of his hand and inhaled more of the content of it.

He rubbed his eyes before looking down, the pink tint on his cheeks started popping out, “Don’t do this to me.” He babbled nervously while fidgeting with his fingers.

“Do what?” You retorted playfully as you got closer to him, the sound of the wheels of the chair you were sitting on echoing in the space, you grabbed his chin softly lifting it so his eyes could meet yours once again, the blue hue losing up a bit by his dilated pupils.

“This, whatever this is. Don't do it.” He spat out, his tone a bit resentful as he expected to sound, his eyes shifting to your lips, his pursing in a thin line, that sensation that he had just a few nights ago, that thought coming back to him, the thought of your sweet lips against his, the thought of your moans making his crotch twitch against his sweatpants.

He needed you and as far as this seems you needed him too.

Something in common that can be easily done.

He didn’t hesitate to kiss you, he was eager to taste your lips for ages and it drove him crazy. He placed his hand right above your jaw, his thumb caressing your jugular vein that felt like it was going to explode any second, electric waves of adrenaline going down his spine. You gave him easy access for his tongue to slide into your mouth, and the clicking sound between kisses flooded your ears. Your hands flew to his hair grabbing a handful of it, messing it up as his hands moved to roam over your body; the kiss getting sloppier, and your breaths heaving by the amount of time this had been going on.

Chris began to attack your neck, trailing wet kisses around it as he lowered them further getting to your lower stomach, his eyes scanning every faction of your face, on the other side was a load of nerves.

What if Matt finds out?

Cheating on him wasn't a good way to get on his nerves, not even when it came to cheating with someone as close as his brother. And neither it was a good idea to fuck him while you were still wearing one of Matt’s shirts, his favorite one.

But this felt right, felt like it was meant to be.

However, you couldn't help but feel the guilt wash you over, “Chris, we shouldn't…” You spat out, your face contorted into a worried expression.

He kept playing with the hem of the black shirt, his eyes lingering from your eyes to your thighs “Why now?” His voice was deep now, a smirk showing off as clear as the crystal on his face.

You couldn't help but feel soaked to his response, your words coming out sloppier “Because I’m your brother’s girlfriend…” You replied nervously, he just scoffed softly the air hitting your legs delicately.

He looked at you before lifting your oversized shirt and spreading your legs wide open taking the sight of your soaking wet pussy, “Ex-girlfriend, baby.” He kisses your thighs, getting closer to where you need him most. “Do you think he deserves to taste you after what he did?” He kept getting higher and higher, his fingers grazing the waistband of your panties before pulling them down harshly.

He tsks before articulating his last sentence, “Now it's my turn to have a taste.” His mouth now making contact with your wet folds, his tongue trailing along your slick before sucking it, your head rolled back resting on the headrest as you let out the loudest moans you've ever had, your hand instantly gripping onto his hair as Chris kept devouring you.

Groans leaving his mouth, the vibrations cursing through your insides making the knot inside you get tight each time his tongue swirls around your sensitive nub. “F-fuck.” you panted, your tongue being dry from the amount of pleasure you feeling at this moment.

Chris’ fingers make contact with your entrance, his index and middle fingers sliding deep inside you as his tongue keeps working on your nub hungrily. Pornographic moans came out of you as soon as he began to pump his fingers in and out of you, curling them to hit that sweet spot of yours.

While you were ecstatic about the number of sensations you were having right now, Chris was enjoying the sight of you completely melting for his touch, his deprived touch, the way his tongue and fingers were driving you insane, and it was only making him harder and harder through his pants.

This was the moment he was waiting for his whole life, the moment where he could make you moan ten times louder than his brother ever could, the moment where he could claim you, the moment where he could make you feel good for the first time.

The moment when he gets to taste you, to see all of you.

Your walls clench on his fingers, the burning sensation in your stomach ready to snap any second as Chris works his way to make you cum for the first time in the night.

“Mmm—, y’like that?” He whispered as he pulled away, his other hand reaching out to rub your clit now as he kept fingering you, his tongue going back to trace circles.

You hummed in response, letting out a curse before the knot snapped, your juices dripping all over his face, a proud smirk smeared all over his face as he licked every single drop of your sweet liquid. Your chest heavily moved up and down as you tried to regain your composure, the grip that you had on his hair loosening up.

“You taste even better than I could ever imagine.” He said, sliding his fingers out of you a popping sound as he did so, and you squeezed your thighs by the sensitivity of the aftermath.

Chris leans to kiss you once again, this time it is rougher than the previous one, you can taste yourself on his tongue. Your hand places now on his hard-on, palming it through his sweats as you try to pull them down.

His hand stops you, pulling back to whisper in your ear, “You wanna fuck me? Hm?” He said, his tone dominant yet soft and caring.

You nodded desperately smashing your lips against his once again, his hands traveling to your waist as he picked you up and pushed you down to his bed, climbing on top of you in the process.

He signals you to take off Matt’s shirt and you don't even hesitate to think about it leaving the shirt tossed somewhere around the room, Chris' mouth moving to suck on your right tit and use his hand to draw circles on your left nipple, your back arching from the new sensation you've got.

You reached for his hoodie pulling it out of him as he helped you through the process, throwing it somewhere in the room as he kept working on your tits, his mouth switching sides to stimulate your nipples well enough.

There it was, once again that wave of pleasure hit your nerves once again.

Chris removes his sweatpants along with his boxers, his hardened dick hitting his happy trail as he did so, his tip now grazing against your swollen cunt making you flinch at the sensitiveness of your precious release.

He picked up one of your legs and rested it on your shoulders, the tip now making contact with your entrance sliding in slowly, his hand stroking your leg in the process.

His pace was slow and steady at the start, waiting for you to adjust to his size fully. You must admit that he was bigger than Matt and it felt ten times better than it has ever felt with his brother.

His pace picked up quickly, and his tip was now abusing your cervix sweetly, his cock was now pumping in and out of you at an ungodly pace, this angle that Chris had you on makes you see stars.

The moans coming out of you echo through the whole room, your hands gripping the sheets for dear life as Chris keeps thrusting in and out of you harshly, the sensation in your lower stomach returning faster than it did before.

Chris on the other hand was kissing your leg, his mind all fuzzy from your tight pussy, he could cum right there and right now but he knew that wouldn’t be the best timing ever. “You’re doing so good for me, baby. Taking me so well.” He whispered gently, his thrusts still going harshly.

You started to scream out loud his name, his hand went to your mouth to lower the screams “We can't let Matt hear, do we?” He said, the well-known knot getting tight, your mind was foggy from the raw ecstasy you were experiencing right now.

“So so close.” He groaned feeling your walls clench around his shaft his release getting closer.

That's when you felt the knot snap once again, a squeal escaping from your lips as your juices coated his dick, the overstimulation hitting as soon as Chris kept pumping in and out, tears forming in your eyes.

“Where do you want it?” He moaned as he looked down at you, his hand that was situated in your mouth slipping out to pick up a faster pace to reach for his own high.

“Mmm-, inside.” You babbled, feeling his cock twitching inside you and then his hot liquid filling you up. Before he pulled out he gave a few slow thrusts, collapsing beside you on the bed as you both tried to catch your breaths.

Chris moved closer, cuddling with you now as he stroked your hair gently, “You did so well.” He kept whispering praises at you, causing you to smile slightly.

“We should get you cleaned up, baby.” He mutters giving your shoulder a peck before he walks into the bathroom to pick up a towel returning to you as he cleans your inner thighs.

“Thank you.” You whispered at him before you shifted into your sleep.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

a/n: Was this a good comeback y’all? Bc I hope so, I’ve been reading a few requests and I promise I’ll be working on them soon! I rather do a good job writing each request instead of uploading trashy stuff (quality over quantity). Btw, I’ve been asked to write a third part for Brutal but tbh I don’t feel like writing anymore about Brutal, just lmk if you guys think it’s worth it to write a third and FINAL part of Brutal. BYEEE LOVE YALL (we’re so close to 500 wtf)

Tag list: @sturniolossss @tillies33ssss @chrisloyalgf @alorsxsturn @sturnioloslurps @cindylcuwhoknows @3mm4yung @chrissfavwh3re @blahbel668 @lov3bug @starsturns234 @junnniiieee07 @mstarniolo @sara2233445 @teenagetrash00 @mattsturnioloisbae @mbbsgf @thecynthh @braindead4l @freshsturns @lexisecretaccx @wh0resstuff

[wildestdreamsblog]

Latibule Season 2: III

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which he lost his latibule.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: As promised :) Leave a comment or reblog if you enjoy!

GIF by urmingirl

Masterlist, Latibule 2.II

Taehyung looked up from his cellphone to his eldest hyung that was currently cooking their dinner. He pouted when he was not given the appropriate amount of attention he should be given. Honestly, he deserved it! After a moment when he still did not get what he wanted, he finally asked the question he had been dying to know the answer to.

“Hyung, is it always like that?”

“Hmm? Like what, Tae?” he asked while chopping diligently the vegetables the renowned doctor was preparing for a certain psychologist and his brothers that insisted they were hungry as well.

“When it ends…does it always hurt like that?”

Seokjin blinked at Taehyung’s unprompted question. He paused before he finally brought his eyes to the actor. He knew that the younger man had always been eccentric. His clinical condition definitely explained his behavior, but not this. He was never curious about the emotions he couldn’t feel, nor did he ever show any interest on understanding emotions. As the years passed by, Kim Taehyung got better at masking and pretending by learning the root causes of the emotions he could see. The brothers had always thought that this was precisely why he chose to be an actor. Everytime they watched him cried, laughed, or acted furious for his movies and dramas, they thought he was a different person.

Jin thought it was just understandable why he dropped the knife he was holding.

“What brought this on?”

“He-“ he lifted his mobile phone to show Jin the picture Jimin snapped of their Yoongi hyung looking like he had lost all his will to live. Taehyung found it so ridiculous that Jimin even made a collage of him and a cat that depicted their hyung. “-looks like breathing is a chore and is only fighting to live so he can end his enemies.”

Jin would have laughed had this happened before he met his sunshine. But now, the mere thought of her leaving set him on edge, and he knew he would be similar to Yoongi if not worse. Slowly, he picked up his knife as he carefully chose his words. He was always like this with Taehyung ever since he knew that something was not quite right in his mind, well…more than any of them, to be honest. The younger man took things at face value, and all the brothers knew to talk in a straightforward manner so there wouldn’t be any confusion on Taehyung’s part.

He kidded you not, once when they were still teenagers, they asked him to go ahead and get them a table in a restaurant. He left without any qualms only to return not an hour later carrying a big ass table from a restaurant. That was a horrifying memory, Jin thought, and that was when they all decided to change the way they talked. It was Namjoon that took it too far and enrolled the man in a body language class to better cope with society. However, it was Jungkook that forced him to take psychology classes with him for fun.

“I think it’s different,” Jin started, busying himself once again with cooking. “Yoongi never has love like that, I guess. It’s understandable that he acts like a sad lonely cat.”

Seokjin could still clearly remember how Yoongi looked at you. It was like you were all he ever wanted and more, like you were his reprieve from the darkness in his life. You were, as he called you, an angel to him. And then he lost you.

“Why?”

“Well…she’s his personal slice of heaven,” he answered, his voice contemplative and understanding of what Yoongi was going through. Jin paused in his chopping, a thoughtful expression crossing his features as he carefully considered his words. “And he’s been living in hell the very moment he was born. What do you think would happen if he was given a taste of heaven and then lost it?”

“Just like Hoseok hyung,” Taehyung nodded, slightly understanding the downfall of these strong men.

“Seriously, you are all worse than the ahjummas who love to talk about other people’s lives. Be better than that, guys,” Kim Namjoon observed with his deadpanned voice as soon as he walked in the kitchen. He took in the scene of the two men conversing and the other man quietly eating the snack Jin prepared him.

Jin scoffed as he rolled his eyes at Namjoon. “As if you wouldn’t react like that when your secretary finally resigns.”

To which, Namjoon only smirked. “Who says she can leave?”

“How will you stop her and her son if the father finally shows up?”

Namjoon, with his hand in his pocket, calmly uttered words that no normal people would believe to have any other meaning. “Well, as you said, the dead don’t exactly come back to life, do they?”

 Jin chuckled at Namjoon. Of course, he did something about that man. It was apparent, he thought. He could still vividly remember the look in Namjoon’s eyes when he told him that his secretary was pregnant and that the asshole of a father even put his hands on her. Suffice to say, it was the most unhinged Namjoon ever was.

“I think Namjoon will be the worst among us if he ever loses the love of his life,” Jin noted with lightness in his voice.

“Nah,” Jungkook finally lifted his head from his bowl. “I sincerely think it’ll be Taehyung.”

The conversation never left Jeon Jungkook’s mind. Anyway, he didn’t need anyone to tell him to do this. He did this out of the bond he shared with his brothers. Had this happened to any among them, he would have done the same.

He thought that it was cruel to let them experience the same hell he had been living every single day.

And so, he worked tirelessly and utilized every available technology and connection he had just to look for Yoongi’s angel. When he said she was alive, when he said he felt in his heart that you could have not gone where he couldn’t follow, then he’d believed him. He wouldn’t lose anything by looking for you, Jungkook rationalized. But he didn’t want to unnecessarily get his brother’s hopes up until he had evidence that you were indeed alive.

One morning, it finally happened. There you were.

Jungkook’s eyes could not have gone any bigger as he watched the CCTV of a far province in his office.

That was you, he was sure.

Without a moment's hesitation, he reached for his phone and dialed the person he knew he could trust. "Hyung, can you come to my office?" he requested urgently, the excitement and disbelief evident in his voice.

“That’s her,” Kim Namjoon validated after a moment. He was standing beside Jungkook’s seated form as he leaned in the monitor. He was ever the image of calmness with his hand in his pocket, his suit immaculate and not a crease in sight.

Seokjin raised his brows as he sat in a relaxed manner on the couch. Jungkook didn’t even call him, yet he was here because he was, per his words, bored and that a certain sunshine was not where she should be. “So the dead can indeed come back to life,” he noted with a tone the two men couldn’t understand. “Pray tell, Namjoon-ah. Should we tell Yoongi?”

Jungkook blinked at the rising tension between the two men. Whereas Jin merely looked curious, Namjoon looked like he was looking at the end of the sword with the way his jaw was clenched. He stood up straight and took a second to answer Seokjin.

“Of course, hyung. This is a great news, after all.”

“Hmm,” Seokjin smirked, his legs crossed as though nothing could have fazed him. It was moment like this when Jungkook could see the mafia prince in his usually playful hyung. Everybody knew not to cross this man despite him appearing goofy and motherlike to them.

Jungkook thought that it would only take one momentous catastrophe for him to return to his dark persona. He didn’t want to see that, though.

“He’s suffered enough, right?” Jin asked the room with a light tone, yet his eyes pierced through Namjoon’s. “Right, Namjoon-ah?”

Seven Mississippis passed before he answered. Jungkook knew because he counted, and he hated the tension he didn’t know why was present.

“Jungkook, tell Yoongi hyung,” Namjoon ordered.

—-

Min Yoongi’s brows were pulled together as he walked in a bustling street of a faraway province. He had to drive almost four hours just because their maknae told him to be here at this exact hour, claiming that he desperately needed him to be there. However, Jungkook was not answering his phone despite numerous calls from him.

Where was even that little shit, Yoongi asked himself as he surveyed the whole place.  

Despite barely getting any sleep, he found himself in a situation where he might have to scold his youngest brother for the first time. He should have been in Seoul right now, but he couldn’t exactly say no to him. He had shit ton of things to do and yet he was indulging the youngest brother.

Maybe this was exactly why he was spoiled? Ah, but anyway, he was a good kid.

So where was he?!

He walked further into the thick of the plaza, his phone plastered in his ear as he listened to the annoying and incessant ringback tone of Jungkook. Seriously, at this day and age? His eyes roamed the area of happy locals, at which he rolled his eyes.

He was on the verge of deciding whether he should just go ahead and kill Jungkook when he finally answered.

“Where the fuck are you?” he growled over the other line, his patience running thin when the man just answered innocently.

“At Seoul, hyung-“

“Then why am I here?! I swear to heavens, if you made me drive here just to buy you a weird snack then I’ll really kill you!”

“Seokjin hyung will be mad!”

Right. The eldest was protective of the youngest. What a nuisance, he thought. “Then I’ll do it in secret.”

Jungkook chuckled nervously. He couldn’t place whether he was joking or not. His money was that if his hyung could get away with it, he’d be floating in the river at this very moment. “I asked you to go there because I have a surprise for you, hyung.”

“I don’t particularly enjoy surprises-” he began, but was swiftly interrupted.

“I know, I know. But this one, I’m sure you’ll like. This is the most beautiful, most precious, most amazing surprise ever. You’ll stop sulking and looking like a sad cat and Jimin hyung will finally stop taking badly captured and cropped photos of you and make it into a collage. Taehyung hyung will stop observing your miserable demeanor for his next movie. You’ll finally stop living like it’s such a chore and-“

His back was bumped by a force. Turning around, he prepared to glare at the perpetrator only to stop because there it was.

There was you.

It was as if the universe finally said that he had enough and stopped punishing him because he saw you when he was not even looking for you. Your mouth hanged agape, your hand going to your forehead as you murmured apologies to him.

He was stunted. No, he was bewildered.

Was this real? Or was this one of his cruel dreams again, a figment of his mind playing tricks on him?

But no.

He had been living in hell, yet moment he heard your voice, all the sufferings disappeared. This was really you. You were truly alive. He was frozen as his wildest dream was brought into life. His whole body went into a state of shock, something that he never thought could ever happen.

It didn’t really matter the years he spent without you because one touch, one word- these were all it took for him to forget the bitterness your separation brought him.

With a trembling voice, Yoongi dared to call for you. “Ange-”

But before he could say another word, you interrupted, your voice light and apologetic.

“I’m really sorry, mister. I didn’t see you,” you chuckled, slightly lifting your walking stick to explain the small accident. You bowed down at the man before going your way.

And he stood there, watching as the love of his life walked away from him, unseeing. He thought he could no longer hurt. He thought that nothing could have fazed him any longer. But he was wrong. Watching you walked, unseeing as you traversed the plaza with only your walking stick pained him.

How did this happen to you?

Was it because of the incident?

Was that why you couldn’t return to him? Because you weren’t able to?

Or did he miss all the glaring signs?

Slowly, he lifted the old phone you gifted him years ago to his ear. “You didn’t stop looking for her?”

Jungkook was quiet for a moment. “Well…I would never wish this hell on anyone, much less my brother,” he stated, his voice carrying a certain tone of sadness they often heard from him. “Go get her, hyung.”

The bustling city streets faded into a blur around you as you walked, your steps slow and deliberate despite the cacophony of noise that surrounded you. Your sight may have been almost gone, but your other senses seemed to have sharpened in response, each sound and scent painting a vivid picture in his mind.

You remembered that when you were younger, you read a passage from a book entitled, ‘The Song of Achilles’. You thought it was a well-written book, a love that transcended even death. There was a line your college friends always thought to be a masterpiece. But you never understood it. The line so many people loved never really touched you.

Until it did.

Until you understood each word written in that book.

“I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”

Because right now, the words made sense. You could recognize him despite your deteriorating eyesight. You knew him. He was here. And he was following you…to what exactly? Was he here to end you? Was he here to make sure that you wouldn’t tell the world of his secret identity?

Regardless of the reason, you tried to remain calm as Hoseok always ordered you to. You had no choice but to lead him back home, otherwise you were sure that he would be suspicious. The man that you used to love was perceptive, and any suspicious movements could alert him. From the moment you opened the front door to the time you closed it, you knew you only had a couple of seconds.

You fished the phone Hoseok gave you, one with tactile buttons and controls that made it easier for you to use it. You knew you couldn’t use the speech-to-text feature, otherwise he’d hear. And so, with a tense movement, you sent a message to him.

He’s here. Don’t come home. Leave with my son.

Part IV

[byuntrash101]

dirty laundry & wet dreams

reader x perv!han smut | mdni 2.4k jisung has a big fat crush on you and the only way he can cope with his feeings is to jack off to the thought of you with the clothes he's stolen nsfw tags under the cut

perv!jisung, roommates AU, somnophilia (that means non con), bodywhorship (f), panty snifffer!han, scent kink, jisung is just obssesed with you tbh, jisung takes pictures of you while you sleep, getting caught kink, groping, masturbation (m), oral (f), squirting, cum eating

a/n: i have been thinking about this for a long a time. thank you everyone that voted for han i think the perv thing suits him he just extra pervy and we love to see it <3 also dont mind me being obsessed with his hair (im fine) (no im not)

DISCLAIMER: PLEASE MAKE SURE TO READ THE TAGS AND TO CLICK OFF IF ANYTHING SEEMS LIKE SOMETHING YOU WOULDN’T ENJOY.

skz masterlist | navigation

Jisung sighed in frustration again. Still nothing! He’s been salvaging your laundry basket for this past week and there’s nothing he’s interested in. 

He settled for your dirty gym tank top and stuffed it in his pocket before leaving the shared bathroom and heading to his room.

You see, Jisung has had a silly little crush on you for a year now and that’s the only way he knows that helps him cope. That way he can act normal to you during the day, doing standard roommate stuff, like sharing a meal or watching anime together on your tiny laptop screen set on the coffee table in your student flat.

That way he can do all these without catching his eyes plunging into your cleavage showing every time you bent down a little to scoop food into your mouth. Or he can keep his hands to himself when you're sitting so close to him in the small couch, when your beautiful thighs are pressed to his own and he feels this rush through his body, grabbing a cushion to hide away the growing problem in his groin. His thumb lightly brushing over it under the cushion as he laughs at the show and comments casually on it with you. As if it’s nothing. 

Because he knows at night he’ll swipe your PJ's and press them to his face as if he was ready to absorb them through his nostrils. Snort your scent like a drug and let it take him to ecstasy, his mind traveling to a place where you are his, where he can smell and taste you. where he can feel your heated lips on his, where he can hear your blazing skin clashing against his, where he can feel how tight you are, how wet you are just for him, trembling, shaking, moaning for him.

But tonight it doesn't work. He took the sport top off his face out of frustration. He stayed there immobile laid on his bed as the heavy and hot  summer air engulfed itself through his cracked window. 

The smell doesn't do it for him… Of course it’s nice, it smells like you! But it also smelled like perfume and deodorant… that he didn’t like he liked your true smell, like nature intended it! To him you didn't need these artifices, your most natural self was perfect.

That’s why he would always steal your PJ’s because usually you hop in the shower at night then hop into your night clothes and spend the night in them, beautifully infusing them with your divine scent and refined flavour and Jisung would steal them in the morning to soil them at night. That was his perfect routine. He doesn't know why you’re keeping your dirty PJ’s in your room now, not putting them in the basket every morning like you used to. 

But tonight he decides it’s too much, it’s been weeks he hasn’t been able to take a good whiff of your scent and he decides he’s just going to get the clothes directly from your bedroom. Before he has the chance to chicken out he slips on his shorts back and heads to your room.

He almost levitates in the hall. He feels a light warm breeze on his bare chest as he tiptoes to your room. 

Thankfully your door is pressed shut not locked he doesn't even have to push on the creaking handle just lightly push in the door. But his heart stops when he spots you.

You are sound asleep, the city lights seeping from your open window, the light summer wind gently blowing on your heated and soft skin. Your breath quietly whistles as the air slither in and out of your lips between your teeth. Your hair beautifully spilled onto the pillow. You are absolutely breathtaking and also completely nude.

Jisung hears his heart beat in his ears, the accelerated blood flow drilling in his eardrums, making his chest heave up and down silently, sucking in one shaky breath after the other.

He only wanted to swipe a top and maybe a pair of panties from you he never ever even dared to hope to find you like this. Spread on your bed in all your glory. Never has he had the privilege to have such a view so he admired your body for long seconds, without a care for the discarded PJ’s next to your bed. Those were the last things on Jisung’s mind right now. 

He was only obsessed with you, with the way you breathed so calmly, with the way the light breeze made your perfect nipples harden, with the way your heavenly face seemed so peaceful, so tranquil with both your arms resting beside it as you laid on your back, your breast lightly spilling to your sides. Your beautiful legs extended in front of you. You looked fabricated, too perfect to be earthly. A piece of art, a masterpiece, a perfection only achievable by God themselves. 

Jisung swallowed thickly as he velvet traded to your bedside, entranced by your form. His eyes trailed down from your neck to your breasts to your stomach and even lower. What he wouldn’t give for you to spread your legs. Just a little so he could have a small peak at the object of his every thought. The secret and mysterious wonder he has been only able to imagine for this past year. If only you could just move, just a little bit.

Squeeeeek

One of the boards of the wooden floor creaked as Jisung stepped on it. He froze in his tracks, catching his bottom lip between his teeth, eyebrows knitting on his forehead. He stayed completely still and held his breath, his eyes instantly snapping back to your face. And he prayed, he prayed so piously in silence that you wouldn’t wake up to see him hunched over you like a creep.

And his prayers were answered. You didn’t wake up, instead you just lightly squirmed and parted your thighs.

Jisung’s jaw dropped to the floor as his eyes fell lower on your frame again, only this time it was right on your center. The brunette couldn’t believe his eyes he couldn’t process. You were absolutely beautiful. Every inch of you, from head to toe, was perfection and he couldn’t help but to stare you down right between the legs. 

But the uncomfortable feeling of his shorts restricting his hard on brought him back. There was no way he could just swipe the PJ’s now and go back. He couldn’t do it, whatever it was that he was trying to do in his room and failing miserably he had to do right here, right now. Why would he go back and imagine you when he could simply look at you?

With a shaky breath and trembling hands he whipped his painfully hard cock out. He didn’t even bother tugging down the shorts, only passing the member through one of the legs of the shorts. 

He grabbed his dick at the base firmly and slowly pulled his closed fist up to his tip, pressing the precum out of the slit.

Fuckkkk

He wanted to say this outloud but he possibly couldn’t. He couldn't risk waking you up.

A large bead of precum rolled out of his slit and down his shaft which he caught between his fingers, picking up the pace.

He wanted to go slower; he wanted to take his time looking at you and milking himself for you. But he couldn’t. He was too riled up, looking at you peacefully sleeping, unsuspecting of what he was doing right over you. The adrenaline pumped through his veins as his fist did around his hard cock. 

Jisung accelerated again, eyebrows meeting on his forehead as he felt himself inching closer to his release, he let out a barely audible grunt and immediately his eyes snapped up to your face which was still tranquil. He didn’t stop jacking himself off, soon the slick noises of his precum coated dick erupted but he couldn’t stop and you were so profoundly asleep that you seem like you didn’t notice the agitation around you.

Jisung felt himself twitch in his hand; he was so close. So close for you. 

Y/n, I’m cumming for you

Jisung screamed in his mind only moments before he crossed the edge, his upper body shuddering from ecstasy as he tensed his thighs, big spurts of thick white cum squirting from his pulsing and throbbing cock as he let his jaw hang loose. Thick ropes of hot cum crashing all over your stomach, thighs and even between your parted legs lazily dripping over your folds.

He was so entranced by your nude body layed and spreaded out for him to see that he didn’t think about the mess he would create if he let himself go right here but it was too late now and the mess was done. 

He fished out his phone from the pocket of his shorts. If he was already deep in it he might as well take a souvenir. He checked approximately two hundred times that his phone was on mute and that he didn’t have the flash on before snapping a few pictures of this breathtaking scene. Your body as his canvas and his warm cum as the art. 

Jisung started to panic when you started to squirm again, stuffing the phone back in his pocket, he looked over the room in a hurry maybe hoping to find a rag of sorts but there was nothing and he just stood there with his lip between his teeth once again praying that he didn't wake you. But fortunately you settled down again.

So that's when he had the craziest but possibly most brilliant idea he’s ever had. The only way to thoroughly leave your room without leaving clues was to eat his own cum off you. 

He thought about it for a second. If he used one of your clothes hanging on your chair, you would certainly notice the white stains later when you were going to do your laundry. If he took back the piece of clothing and washed it himself you would also notice your shirt disappear and magically reappear clean and folded…

So with this reasoning he kneeled on the floor at the edge of the bed and stuck his tongue out, inching closer to your stomach. He laid his tongue flat and swiped it across your burning skin, he scooped the thick and sticky cum right into his mouth. The strong bitter and salty taste took over his tastebuds. He then went down to clean his mess on your thighs and finally to your center.

He swiped his tongue across your folds. Much to his surprise -and contentment- he tasted something else blending with his own taste. 

You.

He looked back for a second to notice the slight glimmering of your slick barely peaking between your folds. Jisung couldn't hold back from bringing his nose to your center, taking a big whiff of you. 

So that’s what sex with you would smell like. He carefully licked again. That's how it would taste like. Both of your flavours and scents beautifully mixing to result in this intoxicating cocktail that was making Jisung’s head spin.

The addicting flavour spread through his mind like wildfire setting his soul ablaze. He licked again, this time a little less gentle and right on your clit.

And he froze when you let out a barely audible, very quiet little moan. Jisung felt his skin crawl back onto his flesh, the hairs of his forearms standing. He looked at you again, you were still sound asleep.

Was it possible that somehow you were feeling him between your thighs while you were still dreaming. Jisung didn’t know. The only thing that was certain to him was that he needed more of you. He licked again and he was rewarded by another moan followed by the brief mention of a word. A word he heard a thousand times hanging from your sweet lips. A word so mundanely banal. His name.

His name slipped out of your pretty mouth to crash onto him, hitting him right in the chest. His name said so perfectly.

“Jisung…aaah” you moaned softly, almost whimpering.

He froze again and carefully peeled his eyes off your center to look at your face. But you appeared to be still sleeping. So it meant you were dreaming of him. Your body felt good and your mind chose him to explain this feeling. 

He couldn’t take it anymore he started to swirl his tongue around your clit. Everything was just too much. Your divine nude form layed on the bed, your smell, your taste and now your voice moaning his name.

Jisung didn't want this to ever stop. He started to move his tongue rapidly around your now swollen little bundle of nerves as he jerked off his cock again with both his hands. Rutting inside his fists like a street dog in heat as he feasted on your taste, lapping at your entrance and plunging his tongue inside of you to swipe his tongue back up to your swollen clit, sucking around the erected nub until you were breathless, pearls of sweat rolling on your forehead. 

Jisung felt you throb on his tongue and suddenly your body tenses up, your head thrown back and you squirted all over his open and welcoming mouth. He relished on your cum, swallowing your release in big gulps as he made himself cum again with you, careful to only spill his seed in his hand this time around. Mind numbing euphoria coursing through his body from his lower stomach. He gently guided you through your orgasm, softly lapping at your throbbing clit until your body went limp.

***

Jisung started eating breakfast before you this morning. He couldn't help but smirk when you emerged from the hall with small groggy eyes.

“Hey sleepy head!” he greeted you with this signature adorable smile, his fluffy cheeks rising like bread dough. You responded by a sleepy groan.

“Actually I think I dreamt of you” You frowned trying to recall the blurry memories of the dream…

Jisung’s wholesome smile turned into a sly smirk as he attempted to hide it in his cereal bowl.

“Oh really?”

IF YOU ENJOYED DONT FORGET TO REBLOG 🖤

a/n: sooo how was it????? did you like it??? my first han fic and it broke me tbh. like im sucker for perv han i just love him okay? this blog is the official perv han lover support group <3

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[liketolovexx]

heyyy, can i request good old enemies to lovers with so much angst but ends with fluff with sirius??? maybe they used to be friends before and Sirius just suddenly turned cold? and the reader was giving the same energy and all they do is bicker and one time the reader just burst out about how siri is being a prick and then it ends with confession?? it's very long 😭😭im sorry

Hey guys!!! Sorry I’m going through requests VERRRRY slowly atm but please feel free to leave requests in my inbox for me to get round to <3 love u all so much

Also, I included reader seeing Regulus as a little brother figure and looking after him, because I can’t not :-( sorry if it puts u off the fic!!

(CW: LOTS of angst, child abuse from walburga, sad Sirius, sad Regulus, Sirius being cold and cruel to cope with loss, basically the reader being the black brother’s best friend, ends with fluff<3)

“I used to love you.” ~S.O.B

{you were from a pure blood family, best friends with Sirius Black. You comforted him through his mother’s cruelty, and fell in love along the way. Until Sirius ran away, leaving you to protect his little brother from harm out of the love you still held. Now, when you see him in school, you give him a reciprocated glare. But why does he hate you?}

“Sirius, come here!” Came the harsh, threatening voice of Walburga Black, she sounded angry, really angry, and you watched Sirius tense, looking up from the book you were reading together. His eyes were wide, face whiter than usual, holding much more terror than a little boy should ever have to endure. You put a hand on his shoulder, warming him in this cold house. “Hey, it’s fine. Whatever happens, you can come back up to me after. I’ll take care of you.” You told him. You may have been only children at the time, but the way Sirius nodded and his silver eyes softened and glittered with tears, you knew you had a certain way with him.

Alone in Sirius’s room, you played with your hands, shoulders stiff as you listened to the mother scream ruthlessly at her son, trying not to picture the broken, guilty, vacant expression you knew would be adorning Sirius’s tear-stained face. You couldn’t hear Sirius’s responses to Walburga’s yelling, you knew he froze up when he was scared, so he’d be mumbling in response. “I DONT CARE IF YOUR FRIEND IS UPSTAIRS. YOU ARE A DISGRACE ALREADY!” She yelled. You had to cover your ears when gut-wrenching cries and wails started to echo up the stairs. Walburga was using the crucio curse on her son. Again.

~~~

Soon, the screams ceased and Sirius rushed up the stairs and into his room where you still sat. He slammed the door desperately, and crumbled to the floor beneath it, shaking like a leaf and loud sobs starting to make his small back heave. You leaped off of his bed and knelt beside him. Hesitantly, you reached out to touch his back, but he flinched away from you with a sharp, choked gasp. That was when the first crack painfully sliced its way through your heart. To see your best friend weak and bawling on the floor of his bedroom, scared of even you, was an agonising feeling. Eventually, Sirius realised you wouldn’t hurt him, and wiggled into your lap, crying quieter now. His head found its way into your neck as he cried, and you could feel his wet tears snaking down your skin.

“Sirius, I’m here.” You whispered into his disheveled black curls. At that, you felt his body weaken in your lap. Before you knew it, he was asleep ontop of you, your arms wrapped around him. He stirred, turning slightly, slipping down your body so his head lay comfortably on your chest, and your face scrunched in both pity and guilt. A puddle of thick crimson blood stuck his hair to his pale forehead. You hated yourself for not being able to stop his mother from hurting him. Watching his body rise and fall with each peaceful breath he took as he slept, you spat on your sleeve and wiped the blood away, earning a harsh twitch and broken whimper from the raven-haired boy. He deserved nothing but peace.

With Sirius draped over your body like a snow-white blanket, hair splayed over you like he’d claimed you as his own bed, the door creaked open. You tensed, holding Sirius tighter, ready to give anything to protect him if Walburga showed in the door, but instead, a small frame appeared. Regulus. “Oh, Regulus.. did the shouting scare you?” You ask softly. The boy nods. He’s the spitting image of his big brother. “Is Siri okay?” He murmurs, rubbing his eye. You nod. “C’mere.”

Regulus tucks himself into the crook of your arm, head laying on the flesh of your shoulder. With big eyes mirroring Sirius’s, he peers up at his brother. “Heard mama shouting at him. He breaked something, I think.” Regulus explains shyly. “Mh. Your mother isn’t kind to Sirius. She isn’t kind to you either.” You say, more to yourself than him. He still nods in agreement. You stroke Sirius’s hair as he shifts in his sleep. “I’ll get you both out one day. And… and me and Sirius can get married. And you can be the best man-“ you describe your fantasy to the small boy, who has a wonderful smile creasing his little face, eagerly listening to each and every detail of the life he hoped to one day live.

~~~

You were now both in hogwarts. Over the years, Sirius had become rebellious, learning to fight back to his mother, but this always resulted in the crucio curse, which resulted in him collapsing in your arms. You were, admittedly, all he had. You and his little brother, who he’d noticed following the path of his parents. He hated the fact that regulus was so obedient to their inane beliefs. He hated it. It was only you who could calm his rushing mind.

It took only one night for everything to change. You weren’t over at his house, so he was alone, and he had a particularly bad row with his mother. After using the crucio curse on the boy until his thin limbs were tangled and trembling on the ground, his jet black curls tangled and his bitten-raw lip quaking like a child’s. While he was in this state, his mother mocked him. All he wanted was to be in the safety of your arms right now. He knew that although you came from a pure-blood family, you were not evil. You were good. You were like him, but braver. Kinder.

That night, Sirius knew he couldn’t live in this house anymore. He packed a bag full of clothes, essentials, and was unable to resist taking Regulus’s old teddy bear, an old shirt of yours and a necklace that was matching with you. He tied up his dark hair and slipped on his leather jacket. He’d grown out his hair because his parents didn’t approve of it: he wore the jacket simply because his parents didn’t like the 70s-rocker look. He’d do anything to escape those sleek black suits, hair styled tidily, silver and jewels everywhere he looked. In this house, he was nothing but a decoration, so he vowed to make his appearance undesirable to his parents. But, you always thought it suited him. While he crept silently down the corridor, boots hardly making a sound on the fancy patterned carpet, he heard a creak. His heart stopped. Fuck, he thought. Its mum. I’m never getting out. Oh, god, I’m never getting out.

“Siri?”

A small voice asked. It was Regulus. Sirius spun around where he stood to see an unruly mop of black curls matching his, framing a pale, soft face that didn’t at all suit the bitter yet elegant brutality of his family. “Reg.” was all Sirius could squeak.

“…you’re leaving aren’t you?”

“…yeah.”

“Oh.”

Regulus looked at his feet. He looked back up at his older brother.

“I’ll be by myself, Sirius.”

Sirius’s jaw clenched. He fought back the tears.

“I’m sorry, Reggie. I love you.”

Regulus’s daintily perfect face crumpled. “You can’t go, Siri, I don’t-.” He swallowed. “I don’t want to be alone. Not with them.” Sirius opened his arms. His little brother crashed into them like he’d disappear if he wasn’t fast. “I’m sorry, reg. I love you, but I can’t stay.” He murmured. Regulus was now sobbing into his shoulder. Sirius felt like the worst person on earth. He needed to get to James’s house before his mother woke up. “Regulus, I have to go.” He told him, petting the back of his head. Regulus suddenly pushed his brother back. Sirius recognised this; the anger that reg was displaying. When he was the same age, when he felt vulnerable, he disguised it with anger. He still did. “F-fine. Go. I don’t need you.” Regulus spat, his glistening silver eyes betraying him. “You’re… you’re really… really mean, Sirius, you know that?” He tried to hiss, but it turned out as a cracked whimper. Sirius felt his heart shatter in his chest. Stinging tears dripped down his cheeks.

“I love you, Regulus.”

“…”

Regulus walked to his room.

~~~

Sixth year.

Sirius had decided that he couldn’t hurt you anymore. With him leaving home, being a blood traitor, he knew he’d only cause you trouble. He couldn’t bare the thought of it. Little did he know he’d be doing just that.

When break had ended, you’d gone to greet your best friend. “Sirius! I’m sorry I didn’t see you much over the holiday, god, how’s regulus? Are you-“ your shoulders clashed together as he continued walking. much to your confusion, he walked straight past you with the icy glare of his father. “…Sirius?” You tried again, catching up with him and grabbing onto his shoulder. The physical contact from the person he loved most hurt like the touch of searing iron, and he flinched away. “Fuck off! Can’t you just.. just fucking go away?” He growled. His silver eyes were a stormy grey, he hated himself more as he watched your face fall. “What..?” You breathed, looking so heartbroken. He hated himself for making you hurt as well as his little brother.

He hated himself, he hated himself, he hated himself.

Trying to soothe the ache in his chest, he rushed past you. He left you standing in the ruins of what he had torn down.

From then on, everything changed.

~~~

Sirius Black was not your best friend anymore. He was cold and unresponsive, shooting you murderous glares whenever you saw him. He’d make offensive comments at you when he came close enough to communicate with you, and it confused you immensely. What happened to the boy who came to you for comfort? Who cried in your arms and begged you to keep him safe and warm? What happened to your boy? Your best friend? Only god knows.

You didn’t even know Sirius had run away until your parents informed you that you couldn’t go around to the Black’s house anymore. This had sparked a heated argument. “What? He ran away? He didn’t tell me!” You’d exclaimed. “Yes. To the Potter’s house, we hear. Walburga has burned his picture off of the tapestry, and-“

“Wait, what? I can’t go round anymore? What about Regulus?”

“No. Walburga doesn’t allow guests to see her children anymore.”

“What? No, no, no, I need to see Reg. come on, Dad, he needs me!”

Long story short, your argument was to no avail. You couldn’t see Regulus. You couldn’t protect him from his parent’s wrath like you had his brother. Alike Sirius, you spent some of your nights lying awake thinking about Regulus, alone and cold in that hellish house, and most of your night thinking about Sirius, and what you did to make him despise you so.

Soon enough, You and Regulus had fixed your relationship, and many nights you’d find yourself singing the youngest Black brother to sleep. You could comfort him from within the walls of hogwarts where his mother couldn’t hurt him. Even when Sirius hated you, you cared for his brother like he was your own.

~~~

At first, you’d tried to coax Sirius into talking to you. You’d stood with tight lips while he insulted you, and listened to his hateful, meaningless rants. You noticed how his friends, James, Peter and Remus, stopped egging him on when it came to you, and started nudging him or trying to distract him, as if he’d say something he’d regret. But you’d come to think that Sirius black was remorseless.

You weren’t sure why he’d switched up on you, become so mean. You did, however, decide that you would be just as harsh right back to him. You knew you could never bring yourself to hate him. He owned your heart, whether you liked it or not. You learned to hate that you couldn’t help that.

It had soon been a year. One torturous year of finding your spells book torn to shreds, looking at dark eyes that you once knew so well only to see an unrecognisable boy. The smirk that once brought warmth to your chest now opened a bottomless pit in your stomach. With each day, you ached more and more. So did he. Sirius loathed himself indescribably. He knew that if he told you, even after the torture he’d subjected you to, you’d kiss his forehead like old times and tell him it was okay. Tell him that he was good, and he’d never be like his parents, and that you were there for him. You were an amazing person, and he was horrible. But he couldn’t drop his facade now.

You were just trying to study when a voice you’d come to find agitating and grating permeated the silence of the library. “Ooh, little blood supremacist… what you studying? Dare I say dark magic?” Rolling your eyes, you slammed the textbook shut. “shut up, Black. You came from quite the same roots.” “Maybe: but I was brave enough to get out. I was good enough to get out.” He retorted with a grimace. Looking up to meet his cold gaze, you noted that his creased white shirt was unbuttoned, his crimson and gold tie hanging loose over his shoulders, only curls pinned up carelessly with his wand. A dangerous hairstyle, for sure.

“Would you give it a break? I was the reason you didn’t go crazy in that house.”

“I did go crazy in that house.”

“Yeah, I can fucking tell.” You said with a scoff. He pulled away your notebook. “So, have you got the dark mark yet? Godric knows you’ll be ecstatic-“ “why are you such a dick, Sirius?!” You yell hoarsely, jumping to your feet. His eyebrows furrowed at your outburst. Slightly, his eyes softened at the sight of your glassy ones, brimming with unshed tears. He said nothing, lips parted. “You’re.. you’re a fucking prick. I never did anything to you.” Turning away to hide your face which had turned pink as it did when you were about to cry, You started upstairs to your dormitory.

~~~

knock, knock, knock.

Someone rapped on your dorm’s door.

Knock, knock, knock, knock. Knock, knock. Knock.

Someone was incredibly impatient. You used the palm of your hand to dry your eyes slightly and sniffled. “What? Who is it?” You croaked. A voice answered, “please can I come in?” You frowned. This time, it was a voice you knew. You recognised it, broken and weak, pained, yet honey-smooth all the same. That was your Sirius. Your heart hurt again knowing you’d never have him back, not fully. You fully believed this was another of his cruel pranks.

“Come in.” You mumbled.

As Sirius muttered your name, you felt you were transported back to your childhood. When you’d play and read together. Laugh and smile. “What do you want, Black.” When you said that, his lip twitched, face scrunching slightly. He looked as if the words physically pained him. With that expression painted on his face, he looked just like he did as a child. Except now, his hair was longer, his face more angular, more beautiful. “Don’t call me that. Please.” He begged, voice cracking with emotion. You looked up at him with a waning expression of anger. “Why not? You have been awful to me, I will call you what I choose.” You say. He whimpers pitifully.

He shuts the door behind him. You hear him mumble something. “What did you say, Black?”

“I’m in love with you.”

Your body is tense. Everything is silent. You have one question.

“Why were you so angry with me when you left?”

He hesitated, before answering as raw and truthful as he can. “Because I was stupid. I knew nothing but that I loved you. And I hated myself, and I couldn’t hurt you any further.”

“What? Hurt me? Hurt me how?”

“I burdened you all those years, with my weeping and pathetic pleas for comfort after my mother hurt me. When I could only feel safe shrouded in your warmth. I needed you. And I need you now. I’ve loved you since the moment I met you.”

Nothing felt real. You reached a hand out, and Sirius lowered himself so that his cheek rested in your palm. It was cold.

“You’re cold.” You stated blankly.

“I’m fine.” He protested.

You pulled him into your bed. Seconds later, you stretched out your arms. With a sob of relief, Sirius fell into your embrace. He cried silently into your neck for a while, reminiscent of the time you helped him as a kid, except this time you were both much bigger. You pet his hair affectionately, a tear sliding from your eye. “I missed you so much. I’m so, so in love with you. You don’t even need to love me back. I just… need this.” He said, voice muffled as he presses his face into your shoulder.

“…I never stopped loving you.” You admit, pulling him in closer.

~~~

You both spoke through the night, smiling and laughing and talking, telling secrets and jokes and all of the inbetween. He was so beautiful in the dim light of the lamp in your dorm. He was so beautiful anywhere. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, sounding lovesick and dazed. You laughed softly. “You don’t even know how beautiful you are. But that doesn’t matter to me.” You kiss his forehead, before pulling back and looking deep into his eyes. “You are good.” He practically melts into you.

Sirius falls asleep safe in the crook of your arm, and you fall asleep with one arm under him and the other around his waist, with the peace of mind that you can protect him always, now. Your boy. Your Siri.

You looked down at him, running your fingers through the roots of his hair. He moans lowly in satisfaction, practically purring as he presses himself against you. “Now we can get married: with Reggie as the best man, just like we dreamed. With a pretty house and a four-poster bed.” You said, a sweet, hopeful smile gracing your lips.

“Mmmh.” Sirius groaned sleepily. “As long as we can christen that bed.” He added, eyes still closed, with that stupid Sirius Black smirk on his face. You scoff, hugging him closer, before falling asleep yourself.

~~~

(Please don’t copy or share any of my writing anywhere else!!)