#it feels like gibberish! it makes sense but it feels like it makes no sense! does that make sense?

[cookies-over-yonder]

the quiet he holds runs a river that'll never find home

Sklonda uses her spare key to unlock the door of Riz's office when he doesn't answer after the third time. He's passed out on his desk, much like she expected, but when she goes to wake him up she feels just how warm he is. She sighs, pressing the back of her hand against his forehead. Of course he'd end up working himself into a fever at this rate.

title from Fireworks by Mitski

ao3

Sklonda uses her spare key to unlock the door of Riz's office when he doesn't answer after the third time.

He's passed out on his desk, much like she expected, but when she goes to wake him up she feels just how warm he is.

She sighs, pressing the back of her hand against his forehead. Of course he'd end up working himself into a fever at this rate.

The contact wakes him up, and she watches as his eyes crack open, bleary and unfocused.

"Ma...? Wha—wha—what time is it?" Riz asks, breathing faster and starting to tremble. "I miss... I missed..."

"Breathe, honey," Sklonda says, brushing away the hair stuck to his forehead and helping him sit up properly.

"Wha's going on...?" he asks, his eyes fluttering shut again. He reaches for his glasses with shut eyes, and Sklonda hands them to him.

"You have a fever, and you need rest," she says, helping him stand, "Let's go home, hon."

Riz doesn't protest, he doesn't have the energy for it, Sklonda suspects.

And then she's tucking him into her bed on Pok's side, and bringing him water, meds, and a cold compress for his forehead.

"'M gonna miss class," Riz whines, his eyes shut, "need to work... Kristen's campaign... aviation club..."

"What you need is sleep, honey. Everything else can wait until you're better," Sklonda says, kissing his forehead.

"Mm...m'kay..."

Sklonda leaves the room with the door ajar and calls Jawbone to let him know.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Jawbone, it's Sklonda. Riz isn't gonna be at school today, he's worked himself into a pretty nasty fever."

"I hate to say it, but that doesn't surprise me one bit.

Sklonda sighs. "Same here."

"I'll let the kids know. They'd been worrying 'cause of his radio silence."

"Thank you. He's asleep right now, but if I'm not careful, I'm sure he'll try to sneak right back to the office. Or to school."

Sklonda sighs, thinking for a moment about how calling off work today is a huge setback money-wise, but she has to do what she has to do.

"I'll make sure to get all the work he missed from his classes and keep it ready for when he's feeling better."

"Thank you, Jawbone."

The call ends, and Sklonda looks back at Riz, dead asleep. He's got one leg under the covers, and one leg on top. His eyebrows are still knitted together in the way they always are when he's deep in thought—it reminds her of Pok—and his breathing is slower now but still slightly unsteady. His ears and cheeks are a deep green, and his tail is flicking back and forth beside him, occassionally hitting him in the leg.

She sighs. "What am I going to do with you, kid?"

She grabs a pair of pyjamas and sets them at the foot of the bed for him to change into when he wakes up, and heads into the kitchen.

Cereal doesn't seem like the best choice. It's not very filling, not for Riz. He needs something with more substance.

They don't have any meat. Maybe Sklonda could run to the store, but it's best not to leave Riz alone.

As she's in the kitchen trying to figure out what to feed Riz, she hears a sob coming from her room.

She rushes over, to find Riz curled in on himself, sobbing.

"Hey, honey, I'm here, what's wrong?"

Riz reaches his arms out for her weakly, his eyes shut, and she's quick to wrap him in a hug. He's still incredibly feverish.

"Did you have a bad dream?"

Riz nods, crying harder and babbling gibberish that probably doesn't even make sense to him. Who's this Baron?

"Okay, okay, it's okay baby, you're safe, I promise," Sklonda says, rubbing circles into his back as she shushes him.

Riz whines, before relaxing and falling back asleep almost immediately.

It's almost eerie, the way he just passes out like that.

Sklonda thinks the last time Riz got this sick was before he was ten. After Pok died, he wouldn't sleep, and he wouldn't eat, and he would only bury himself in cases to solve around the neighbourhood for weeks on end, and eventually it all caught up to him, just like it is again now, Sklonda supposes.

She tucks Riz in again, brushing the hair out from his face and the tears away from his eyes. She runs a towel under cold water to wipe his face properly, and then fashions it into a new rolled up cold compress for his forehead.

There's a knock at the door.

She gives Riz a quick kiss on the cheek before heading to the door, and upon looking through the peep hole, she sees the other five members of Riz's adventuring party.

She opens the door. "Shouldn't you all be in school?"

"Where's Riz?" Adaine asks.

"We brought food!" Fig says, lifting up a bag.

"He's asleep right now," Sklonda says, letting them inside and leading them to his room.

The chatter must have woken him up, because Riz shifts to face toward them, his eyes cracked open just slightly. "Don't... skipping... go to class..." he mumbles as the Bad Kids approach.

"You look like shit, The Ball," Fabian says. Sklonda scrunches her face up at the nickname.

Riz hisses back, trying to lift himself into a sitting position with trembling arms before giving up and collapsing back down.

Fig puts down the bag of food and helps lift him into a sitting position, all while he continues to hiss at her.

"Chill, dude, I'm trying to help," she says, putting the back of her hand against Riz's forehead, "Shit, dude, what the fuck did you do to yourself?"

"He overworked himself," Sklonda says, grabbing the cup of water from the bedside table and helping him take a sip. From helping all of you, she doesn't say.

"Go to class, Fig," Riz mumbles, his head dipping forward and his eyes falling shut. He draws his knees up to his chest and buries his head in them, breathing heavily.

Sklonda sees Kristen cast a quick healing spell, which makes his breathing steady a little.

"He's right," Sklonda says, running her fingers through Riz's hair, "you should all be in class. Thank you for bringing food, we really appreciate it, but school has already started."

They all show varied expressions of anger and sadness at that.

"Riz wants you guys to go to school," Sklonda says, and Riz nods. "Come on," she says, leading them back to the door. They all grumble about being forced out, but they obey.

Except for one.

Sklonda heads back to the bedroom, and Adaine is sitting next to Riz on the bed, handing him her shockingly round frog familiar.

"Adaine..." Sklonda starts.

"My grades are as good as his, he doesn't need to worry about it, and neither do you," she says, and Riz nods, looking comforted by her presence.

Sklonda sighs. "Fine. You can stay."

Maybe this means she can go to work. Adaine is responsible enough.

"I've helped Fig and Kristen when they were sick before, so if you need to go to work, you can."

"I really don't think that I should put that pressure on you."

"We'll be fine, I promise."

"Alright."

-

Riz passes out almost immediately after saying bye to Sklonda, and Adaine watches as he shifts in his sleep, tightening his grip on Boggy.

She sends a text to Jawbone, letting him know she's staying with Riz while Sklonda is at work. He says he'll swing by after school to check on him and pick her up.

Riz had said before that he felt too sick to eat, just before Sklonda left, but Adaine told her she'd make sure he did, so while he's asleep she gets up to get the fast food from the fridge and prepare him a plate.

When she walks back into the bedroom, she sees he's awake, staring back at her.

"I brought you food," she says, sitting back next to him and helping him into his own sitting position, his back propped up against a pillow.

It seems like he's feeling well enough to eat, because he passes Boggy back to her and the plate is cleared in only a minute.

"Thanks, I—I'm fi... I'm fine now," he mumbles, his eyes fluttering shut. "I can go to school."

"You're staying here," Adaine says, passing him his water cup, and feeling his forehead. "The rest probably helped, but you're still sick, and you need more of it."

Riz whines, and then takes a sip of his water before passing the cup back to Adaine. "Where's Ma?"

"She went to work, remember?"

"Right," Riz nods, before looking at her quizically with bleary eyes, "Wait, shouldn't... shouldn't you be at school? When did you...? Wait... I remember."

"God, Riz, you really need to let yourself rest sometimes."

"Can't," Riz says, and he shakes his head, but then he freezes and holds it in his hands with a groan.

"Yes you can, and you will," Adaine says, brushing hair away from his face.

"I can't, I'm missing, missing all my clubs, and Kristen's campaign, and I... I... I need to..."

Riz trails off, and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, breathing faster.

"Riz, hey," Adaine takes his hands in her own and gives them a squeeze. "It's okay. It's not the end of the world to miss one or two days of school."

Riz is trembling now, and Adaine sees tears sliding down his face as his shallow breathing continues.

Adaine hasn't experienced it herself, but from her research, she knows that sickness can worsen anxiety. And Riz is already so, so, so anxious.

"I'm so... I'm fucking... stressed... Adaine... I can't, I can't, I can't do this..." Riz mumbles, curling in on himself and starting to hyperventilate.

Adaine swallows her shock at Riz's vulnerability—she knows he's not in his right state of mind, so it makes sense—and she's quick to hand him Boggy again. He gives Boggy a squeeze.

"Riz, I think you're having a panic attack, can you look at me?"

He lifts his head and looks at her with half-lidded, teary eyes.

"Okay, let's take in a deep breath," she says, doing an exaggerated inhale.

He follows along, opening his eyes wider and giving her the most intense stare.

"And now we breathe out," Adaine says, doing a big sigh for Riz to follow along.

He follows along, squeezing Boggy tighter.

"Now relax your jaw," she says, and he follows. "Relax your shoulders," she says, and he does. "And we're gonna keep doing deep breaths together, okay?"

She does a few more rounds of deep breathing with him, until he's back to breathing at a normal pace, and the shaking has (mostly) subsided.

"There we go. See? You're okay," she says, giving him a hug.

"Feel like shit..." Riz mumbles, relaxing further in her embrace.

"I know."

"Don' wanna sleep..."

"Why not?"

"Baron," Riz says, like it answers everything.

So far, Adaine understands that Baron is Riz's partner...? But not really? But they were clearly a lie, but then they became real...? She has no idea. But Riz never wanted to talk about it.

And asking about them doesn't seem like the best idea right now...

"Says 'm gonna die alone..." Riz continues, maybe sensing her confusion.

"When... when you sleep?"

Riz nods. "Nightmare."

"You're not gonna die alone, Riz, why would..."

Adaine trails off. Somehow it feels wrong, talking to Riz about this while he's sick. She thinks if he were well then he wouldn't say a word.

"Somethin' wrong with me," Riz mumbles, and Adaine feels her shirt getting wet. He's crying. "'M broken."

"Riz, wha—" she pulls away for a moment, to look him in the eyes. "You're not broken. I don't know why you think that, but it's not true."

Riz whines, covers his eyes, and lets out a sob.

Adaine wraps her arms around him again and hugs him tight, and he just cries harder. "I don't know what's going on in your head, but I love you, and I'll always be here for you, you're not gonna be alone."

She runs her fingers through his hair in what she hopes is soothing enough of a motion—it's always helped her calm down—and the sobs start to fizzle out.

And lo and behold, he's fast asleep.

Adaine wonders briefly how much sleep debt he has, and then brushes off the thought. Too scary.

She adjusts their positions so he's lying down with her arms wrapped around him, and Boggy in between them. Riz's ears twitch a little in his sleep, and his tail flicks back and forth, hitting her leg. A moment later, it curls around her ankle.

Adaine will make him eat more later, and maybe she'll ask him more about his nightmares when he's feeling better, but for now, she holds him tight, burying her face in his hair, and she's just glad he's getting some rest.

Because god knows he needs it.

[floral-hex]

Writing is stupid! It’s dumb! It doesn’t make any sense! It’s all just jumbles that don’t mean anything and I hate it forever goodbye!

[idkimnotreal]

i think it is a product of my autistic brain that i never really “know” things, that is, i never feel that a thought i have is right, i’m never really sure about stuff; what i would describe my thoughts as instead (or my process of arriving at a conclusion or decision, which is what most thoughts are about) is having a map of information laid out and being able to access all the pieces of information about something whenever i think about it (every thought i think about has several other thoughts connected to it, it’s about perspective, if i focus on one of those other thoughts then it will have other thoughts connected to it too), but it never becomes more than that - a map of displayed information. 

it’s not that i can’t connect the dots (or thoughts, or pieces of information), but there are so many dots that i can’t ever connect all of them at once, and once i’m done connecting two dots, some other connection is already undone, left behind, and i can’t make out the entire picture. medication (stimulants) helps with this, but then i’m always afraid it makes me have so much tunnel vision that i am finally able to connect all the dots available to me at the time, but i’ll miss out on dots i might otherwise know of when my brain is unmedicated (what i would describe as unmedicated “horizontal thinking” vs. medicated “vertical thinking”). in other words, it makes me able to conclude/decide, but leaves my thinking “incomplete”, which is why i prioritize thinking some things in advance before taking my meds, and think about other stuff while on it as it suits me.

[gurorori]

Yeah the he/him russian transphobic girls is phenomenon. Like I guess there is some gender trauma bagge going on? Or sexism against women. Or they just kin male characters very very much idk

oh this one runs deep I AGREE. i honesly never seen this talked abt cuz most of dat group is like least self aware slash gen.

its Def an egg moment for some. we don have many dms in russian but we did use he/him online for a while before really findin out abt the wondrous world of transgenderism

HOWEVER i say some & i mean some cuz a lot of those ppl r like the furthest from buried-deep-down-transness & r definitely jus. gender trauma shit goin on like ya said. idk how common it is now, but it was veeeery prevalent jn like a lot of 2010s anime fandoms. it def carried over into now as well. rus enstarries goin strong with this one

idk if i can dig into this too hard without bias 😭 but yeah its a.. phenomenon. a strange one. OBVIOUSLY pronouns =/= gender yadda yadda but its a bit of a different environment in russia so i feel like its a deeper thing at play here

[cgogs]

omg you're so right about those tags. they do look lime someone's parents in the 90s

if I wasnt I to mcyt and my friend showed me a Polaroid of one of those pictures and was like "this is my mom and dad! they're young here, just graduated" id be like wooooow those jeans are so cute

[featherstcnes]

[ lie ] sender catches receiver in a lie — from anja for nikolai!

nikolai had perfected his sturmhond act over the years. he'd spent so much of his life as captain of his ship, of a crew that had trusted him. that had blindly chosen to follow him of all people. they could have chosen anyone else, but they'd chosen him. he'd never faltered in his persona that he'd adopted. not that his words to them were ever a lie, he'd always been honest. supportive. he'd been a captain that he was proud of. he'd never let the visage of himself slip. he'd perfected a story and stuck to it, regardless of who he was speaking to. even the entire time he'd been with alina and mal all of that time ago, he'd kept his act up perfectly. he'd never spoken out of line until he'd revealed himself later down the line. then, he was still practically the same person aside from his appearance. he'd never tried to hide who he was, not his personality, anyway. if anything, sturmhond was just ... a concentrated version of nikolai.

today, somehow, he'd slipped. he wasn't sure if it was the conversation that had distracted him, if it was her ( was he too comfortable around her now? could he not even keep a story straight in his head? ) -- but in the middle of a story, he'd started to speak of things that most definitely contradicted what he'd already told her previously. stupid facts about the palace, about his past... he knew it the moment he left his lips. he'd been talking about a certain time period when he knew he'd told tall tales about being on the sea, about chasing after mystical creatures that him and his crew had been hunting. more specifically, with dominik. nikolai often added him to his stories as sturmhond. it was a way to remember him from his young years back at the palace when they'd sat next to each other during classes. when they'd shared endless hours together before and after battles. and so he made dominik into this amazing man -- a confident, imaginative, perfect image in his stories that defied all odds. him and nikolai's supposed glory days, which, to some extent, wasn't all a lie. it just was not at all when he'd said it was. he could see it in her expression, or, well, he thought he could. maybe it was his paranoia. maybe it was nothing.

so talking about his death during a battle when he'd previously said he was still part of his crew didn't exactly look good for sturmhond.

" i mean, i - " he paused. was it worth digging himself in a deeper hole? " there's no skipping over that, is there? " he let out a laugh that he hoped sounded somewhat confident. maybe he could just gloss over it and pretend as if it had never happened. he quickly scratched that idea off of his list. he was good at deflecting, but not with something like this. there was that unsteady beat of his heart that he tried to calm but failed, the twitch of his finger against his leg. " can we start over? "

[https-chaos]

I just watched the state trivia video for... possibly the first time? And I'm just going 🥰 because we truly share a special interest & you can tell he's into regional and state differences, sports rivalries, food fights, flags, etc. in his stand up as well as other videos, and it's not just in the table sketches. I love seeing him like states stuff outside states videos you know?

[feralfoxfeels]

Okay I'll admit that I'm making up 75% of the pataphysics talk in my fic but um as long as it sounds plausible I guess!!

[wcters]

𝗖𝗛𝗥𝗜𝗦 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗔 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗪𝗛𝗢 𝗡𝗔𝗣𝗦 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: chris with a girlfriend who is obsessed with naps/naps all the time

warnings/notes: established relationships, i love naps, my favourite things

- you love naps, you’re obsessed

- always down for one

- you can nap anytime, anywhere

- cars, planes, beds, couches, you name it

- you probably have an iron deficiency

- #hot girl shit

- you can and will fall asleep in the most uncomfortable positions and in any positions really: crisscross, curled up, head leaning on your knees, on your back, starfish, etc

- you could call yourself an expert 💅💅

- you look two ways when you’re sleeping: peaceful . . . or a victorian child dying on the plague

- that tiktok trend? that’s you, and you own it

- and chris had definitely posted you to that

- if not him, either nick or matt

- you also look like that polar bear waking from hibernation when you wake up

- or you went through a tornado

- dorothy from the wizard of oz who?

- so many pictures and clips of you alseep in the background of a video, tiktok, livestream, etc

- the triplets were filming a walk though of the tour bus and you’re just fast asleep in chris’s bunk wrapped in your blanket

- a lot of your friends bereals are you sleeping

- have a humidifier in your room at your house/apartment

- sleep with rain sounds on

- a shit ton of stuffed animals

- and that will be the same for chris’s bed

- they’ll take up most of the space on the bed and he will have a leg hanging off

- you refuse to take them off unless he begs

- you feel bad 😭😭 they’re you kids, you have to care for them

- spend a lot of money on stuffed animals, pillows, and blankets

- comfy fit 24/7

- uggs, sweatshirts, sweatpants, like a living and breathing fresh love ad

- everyone’s jealous

- chris loves you for it, but also dislikes it sometimes because it’s his clothes and he’ll want to wear them

- slippers 24/7

- naps with him!

- most cuddle sessions will end up as nap sessions

- or you alseep on top of him while chris is stuck sessions

- he says he hates it (he secretly loves it)

- a lot of the time even watching movies or hanging out will end up with you alseep in his lap because he likes to run his fingers through your hair (if it won’t mess it up and it’s not styled, scalp if he can) and your skin

- will carry you to bed

- you always wake up disoriented and covered in marks from the bedsheets pressing into you (signs of a good nap)

- you react to the word nap like a dog does to the word treat

- always excited for bed

- definition of snug as a bug in a rug

- you were an avid after school napper

- one of the only consistent things in your life

- you’re fighting a literal WAR between two and five pm to stay awake

- you fully expect (and deserve) a medal for staying awake 🏅🏅

- and you’re grumpy if you don’t have one. you were rude? you were acting like a bitch? didn’t have your nap.

- someone comments on how you sleep to much? immediately dislike

- like sis . . . what’s it to you?

- unless it’s a health concern, and even then, mouth. shut.

- if you’re sick, you’re napping/sleeping even more than you already do

- you’re the first one asleep at all nighters

- nick jokes that you might love sleeping more than you love chris

- . . . don’t tell him that.

- just kidding! . . .

- some of your favourite tiktoks are the ones where you get to choose where you’re sleeping

- you sleep talk sometimes (mostly gibberish) but not a lot, maybe like once or twice a month

- but you absolutely have had full on conversations with people and your answers make sense, and you will not remember them at all

- “hey, do you remember when i told you about that idea i had?” “no, when was this?” “last night.” “oh.”

- NAPS WITH TREVOR

- that dog lovesss you

- and loves taking naps with you

- will also nap with you in the car if you’re going on a road trip with chris and his family

- you love the feeling of his weight in your lap

- you’re a MENACE to wake up

- there have been times where chris just gives up and let’s you sleep if it’s not important because it’s taken him too long (he also gets lazy)

- a lot of the time it’s on their couch because you love their couch

- it’s so comfy, you’re favourite thing

- PISSED if you’re woken up by something stupid

- like one of the boys will make a loud noise and then they’ll all stand there like ‘oh shit’

- if you wake up and chris isn’t with you but he’s in the house, you’ll make a beeline to him and just hug him

- probably fall asleep in his arms standing up

[angxlofvenus]

Hii! I saw your requests were open and I thought I'd give you a hc/fic idea:

The brothers (or whoever you'd like to write for) reacting to Mc using their shampoo/ soap in the shower for whatever reason ^^

I hope this makes sense to you lol, anyways I hope you're having a wonderful day/night, don't push yourself too hard, and drink water!! You can also take any creative liberties you seem fit, or if you decide you don't want to write it I won't be offended ^^

°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Thank you so much for the request!! This is absolutely adorable, I hope everything is to your liking, Have a great rest of your day/night !! Genre: fluff Ship: Reader x brothers + Diavolo (individual headcanons) TW: clingy demons, minimal cussing, no use of readers' pronouns, second-person pov

When You Use Their Shampoo

Stepping into the shower, You were greeted with the nice hot/cool water raining from above, Going to start your routine, You reached for your shampoo bottle only to find it empty! Looking around you spotted his shampoo and conditioner, surely he wouldn’t mind… right?

Lucifer

100% smells it on you no matter how little you used

Won’t tease you in public but as soon as ya’ll are alone? Ho ho, he’ll never shut up about it

Smug, the definition of smug

You had to go and inflate the ego of The Lord of Pride even more

Very possessive afterwards

Congrats, You know have a scary guard dog demon!

Mammon

He probably wouldn’t even really notice at first

He’d probably compliment how good you smell, Then would slowly realize…

Great, Now he's yelling gibberish while his face slowly gets redder and redder

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack, don’t do that to me!” But will become very clingy

If you say his shampoo smells good, he may lose his mind.

“Well of course ya wanted to smell Like the great Mammon!” 

Levi

Poor awkward nerd

He never saw this coming

I think he would realize you used his shampoo but won’t say anything

Flustered to the max

You have broken him

Levi.404 has stopped working, please reset.

After like the third day, You’re gonna have to bring it up

Secretly really likes it, Won’t tell you that though

Satan

I think he is very picky about scents so he knows as soon as you walk into the room

A little bit of a tease, asking if you were trying out a new shampoo

Smug 2.0 

He would tease you a little bit around the others but not bad

He would flood you with compliments, You using his shampoo would make him very lovey-dovey

Expect him to ask for ya’ll to just use the same stuff from now on

Asmo

Oh honey, he knows.

He knew before you even got out of the shower.

But that doesn't mean he's any less excited!

Better plug your ears because he will let out the loudest squeal known to mankind

Seriously, Lucifer may come and check on ya’ll helicopter mom

Asks what you do and don’t like about it

He just wants you to feel as fantastic as he does when using it

Everyone will know you used his shampoo, He brings it up in every conversation

Would also 100% ask you to use his bath products 24/7

Beel

Now Beel has never been really into insane products like Asmo or Luci

So he may not really recognize it at first

If you decide to tell him, This man will become a happy demon puddle

He’ll give you a big smile and tell you you’re free to use any of his stuff at anytime

We don’t deserve Beel

Will bury his face into your hair and just stay there

Takes you out to Hell’s kitchen that night just because he loves you so much

Belphie

Oh this little shit

Tease! He won’t quit bragging!!

Smug 3.0

Such a brat about it too, He won’t let anybody near you, Well of course he’d let Beel, but who wouldn't?

He has practically locked you up in the attic with him

Why go outside when ya’ll can cuddle? 

Diavolo

Has really expensive products 

He may even have a custom scent

If so, He’ll know instantly that you’ve used his shampoo

He’ll bring it up with a large grin on his face

When you confirm his suspicions, he’ll just laugh

He’s so happy ya’ll are close enough to share things like that, You have no idea!

He may make a sly comment to Barbatos or Lucifer just because he’s a little possessive

Will follow you around like a lost puppy, Now Barbatos is mad at you because even less of his work is done

He can’t help it! He just loves you!

Will be the third on my list to offer ya’ll to just share bath products

[catermeow]

The DHP office is so… liminal. Misplaced. Hidden away from sight, a building and parking lot one might expect to see in a major city instead located in the middle of a forest, no roads in or out. There is no way in. If you force entry, you are greeted by a vast empty room, the only furniture a receptionist desk and filing cabinets in the center of the room. There is a single light hanging above it. 

There is a man standing behind the desk. There is no one else there. You approach, and inquire about… something. The words don’t feel like your own. The man smiles, an average customer service smile, but there seems to be some tinge of malice behind it. He explains the forms that need to be filled out, the paperwork that needs to be signed- this is such a long process, you know. 

The light seems to be getting dimmer. You look up, and it has begun corroding, decaying as you stand there watching. Some of the words the man says don’t make sense- you’d think they were gibberish, but something about this place is off, and you don’t trust yourself right now. You ask what he means. He says he’ll have to put you on hold for a moment, and music begins to play. You feel almost rooted in place. The man stares at you silently. The light gets dimmer. You can’t move. The music, pleasant at first, begins to grate. Finally, the man leaves, disappearing behind those file cabinets. You still can’t move. It feels like an eternity. Moss has started creeping its way up the cabinets. The ceiling is leaking. The floor is eroding. The light gets dimmer. You don’t want to move. 

Something pops, and suddenly the music is gone. The man is back. You can move again. The light is back to normal, no sign of any damage. The room is pristine. The man says something about the paperwork not being quite ready yet, you’ll have to come back later. You aren’t really listening, something in your brain is screaming that something is wrong. You want to leave. You don’t want to come back. Something about the man’s blank eyes seems to look through you, and you get the feeling you won’t have a choice. You thank him. You leave. You want to run, get as far from that place as possible. You walk.

You enter the forest, and turn for a final look at that strange building. There’s nothing there but more forest. Something doesn’t feel right.

[crypticreid]

KINKTOBER DAY ONE

October 1st -- Praise

happy first day of kinktober 🎃🎃🎃🎃!!!

masterlist

summary: You've been secretly hooking up with your coworker Spencer for two months. He notices something about you and wants to try something new. (I personally imagined circa season 10 Reid, but you do you bestie 😘)

warnings: praise, lots of 'good girls', oral [m/f both receiving and giving], light dom behavior, finger sucking, piv, safe sex practices, and a little bit of begging

word count: 3.1k (this one got away from me a little bit oops)

this is adult content. 18+ plus only. minors do not interact!

You had never wanted to be one of those people, a girl with a huge crush on her coworker, but then you’d meet Spencer Reid. A year ago, you’d waved at him instead of shaking his hand when Hotch had introduced the two of you, and you’d felt the first flutter of butterflies. You had tried desperately to ignore your feelings, but the more you got to know him, the harder you fell. And then, about two months ago, you’d become another cliche. The girl who was sneaking around and secretly hooking up with her coworker. 

Now you were trying to avoid touching your knee against his as you sat on the plane on the way home from a case. The last time you’d simply accidentally brushed your hand against his, it had been like an electrical shock between the two of you. So it is just easier to avoid touching at all costs while in the presence of your other coworkers. 

The words in the book that you’re holding in your hands are absolute gibberish as you can’t focus on anything except the way Spencer’s hands glide over the page of notes he’s re-reading. You've always known he has captivating hands, but now you know intimately just how capable those hands were. This case was long, and before that, Spencer had been at a conference for four days. He hasn’t touched you in almost a week, and you’re becoming impatient. But you both had wisely made the promise that as long as you were on clock, so to say, you were only coworkers and nothing more. 

You look up as you hear him say your name. 

“Would you mind reading over this? I’m not sure it makes any sense.” He hands you his leather bound notebook. You place your book on your lap and look over into his eyes. 

“Me? I really don’t think I’m the person who…” 

Spencer interrupts you, “I trust your opinion.” It’s a simple statement, but it sets your skin aflame all the same. To hide your reaction, you focus on reading Spencer’s notes. 

“I think it’s great, Spencer. But you’re presenting this to college students, so I think it would be beneficial to use examples they may have heard in the news or at least know ‘cause of the insane amount of Netflix documentaries.” You roll your eyes as you mention the oversaturation of true crime television. But then suddenly you feel self-conscious and hand back his notebook. “I mean, I don’t know. It’s just a small idea.” 

“No, it’s insightful. You’re brilliant.” You can feel your skin heat in embarrassment, not comfortable with the compliment. Compliments often make you uneasy and you don’t know why. Well, that’s not entirely true, but you didn’t feel like profiling yourself to better understand this aspect. 

Spencer’s eyes observe you, and you watch as his tongue slips out and wets his bottom lip as he thinks. “I mean it.” He emphasizes. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly.   

“Good girl.” The words glide from Spencer’s mouth almost absent-mindedly and barely audible as he returns to his work. If he notices how much deeper your blush becomes, he doesn’t say anything. And you pretend you didn’t even hear him, or else you might make a fool of yourself.

Several hours later, you’re finally back at your apartment and getting into pajamas. As you pull a tank top over your head, you allow your mind to think about Spencer.

Good girl. 

He said it so flippantly, practically under his breath. Did he even mean for you to hear it? Did he know how it would make your heart hammer? You play it over again and again, letting yourself bask in the feeling. 

There’s a knock on your door, so you quickly pull on an old pair of yoga pants and race to your door. A brisk glance through your peephole causes that all too familiar heart tremor. Dr. Spencer Reid at your door, as though you’d summoned him with your thoughts. 

You swing open the door and let your eyes trail down his body. 

“I meant it.” He says immediately. 

“What do you mean?” You want to reach for him. He’s still dressed for work, and it takes everything in you not to wrap your fingers around his tie and pull him into your apartment. 

“When I called you brilliant.” He replies casually. 

“You came all this way to call me brilliant?” 

He smirks. “No, I came all this way to do this,” as he talks he steps toward you. 

You let a small breath of anticipation escape before he has his hands on either side of your face and is pressing his lips to yours. Your own hands find their way first to grasp at his waist and then around to his back, pulling him impossibly closer to you, desperate for the feel of his body against yours. The harsh sharp lines of him melding into the soft, lush curves of you. 

He moves you further into your apartment, shuts your door, and then pushes you up against the cool wood of the door, all without pulling his lips away from yours. Goosebumps spring to life across your skin as your body tries to process the head spinning sensation of the warmth of his body, combining with the chill of the door against your back. His hands are in your hair, possessive and needy, and you moan into his mouth. 

You feel the puffs of breath against your mouth as he laughs softly and then pulls away, his hands come to rest between your neck and shoulders. “I’ve missed you.” 

A small smile curves your freshly kissed lips. “It’s been like two hours since I saw you.” 

“I’ve missed being able to touch you.” He amends. The thumb of his right hand starts to move up and down the skin of your neck, and you wonder if he can feel how fast your heart is beating. His eyes search your face. “Did you like it when I called you a good girl?” 

Your lips part as if to reply, but no words come out. 

“Answer me.” He demands softly, his words are never harsh, but they still hold a sense of power. 

“Yes. I liked it,” you admit. 

He continues to watch you as his mind works, and then he makes a low sound of approval from his throat. “And would you like me to call you a good girl more often?” 

Need and want pools low in your belly, but you take a second to wet your lips before answering. You want your voice to come across as strong and sure, so there is no question that you want this. “Yes, please.�� 

Your head is swimming in the overwhelming sensation of his lips back on yours in a matter of seconds. His hands explore your body, grazing and grasping onto your breasts before settling on your hips. He uses his knee to push your legs apart, and you move without resistance. A guttural moan breaks free from your throat as that same knee connects with the place that has been begging for friction since the moment Spencer put his hands on you. 

Spencer breaks away from the kiss. “You’re so beautiful when you moan like that,” he murmurs against your skin as he kisses, licks, and nips along your jaw and neck. 

Your hips jerk involuntarily, but it instantly causes a wave of pleasure as you slide against him. “Do that again, baby.” You do as you’re told and again and again. His mouth continues across your clavicle, and then lower until his teeth scrape against one of your nipples over the fabric of your tank top. You gasp and push yourself closer to him, but he pulls away. 

He lowers himself to the ground as he works to push down your yoga pants. As soon as you step out of them, the pants are thrown across the room, Spencer not bothering to pay attention. All of his attention is on you. 

“Look at you, pretty girl.” His thumb traces over the damp spot in your underwear while his other hand travels up your leg, sending zaps of pleasure straight to your core. 

“All for me?” His eyes flash up to yours. 

“I’m yours,” you answer. 

“That’s my good girl.” You twist your hands into his hair when his mouth makes contact with your still clothed pussy, his tongue swiping against you. He only teases you for a second before he can’t take it anymore and pulls down your underwear to be able to taste you without a barrier. The room fills with the obscene sounds of him lapping at your core as he lavishes praises on you in between licking and sucking. “So perfect, so goddamn perfect.” 

You throw your head back with a deep moan. 

Spencer continues, undisturbed. “Yes. Keep moaning for me. I want your neighbors to hear how good you are for me.” His tongue circles and caresses your clit. “Do you want my fingers inside of you? Tell me.” 

“Yes, oh god. Fuck. Spencer.” You can’t think straight. The only thing your brain is capable of is focusing on how good you feel. 

Spencer obliges your request and plunges two fingers into you. Your fingers tighten in his hair. “I can’t believe how wet you are. And you’re taking my fingers so good. I bet you’d take my cock even better.” He hooks his fingers and massages against the swollen pressure point inside you. 

You lean forward over him, trying to keep your legs steady. 

“Are you gonna come for me, sweetheart?” You simply nod your head even though he can’t see with his face buried in your pussy. “You’re gonna come all over my face and my fingers because you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” 

Your legs shake, but Spencer uses his free hand to hold onto your hip and hold you steady. 

“It’s okay, you can let go. I’ve got you.” His fingers buried deep within you speed up and he focuses all of his attention on the pattern of his tongue against your clit, ramping up the building pleasure that’s threatening to bubble over. “You’ve made such a mess, a beautiful mess. Look at you, so good. So good.” 

You clench around him. “Yes, that’s it. I want you to come. Just like that.” You jerk against his fingers and jaw as the pressure cascades and overflows inside you. His name is the only thing you can say in between your moans. “I love when you say my name when you come.” His fingers slow their pace, and his mouth becomes less frantic as he guides you through your orgasm and the small after-shocks. 

When he finally pulls away completely, you watch slack-jawed as he takes his two fingers and puts them in his slick mouth, cleaning away traces of you. “Tasting you makes me so hard, I love it.” You lean back against the door with a smile. 

“Do you want me to help with that?” 

He laughs. “I’m not even close to finishing with you, my beautiful girl.” When he starts to reach for you, you grab onto his tie first and pull him closer. You work on his tie as you kiss his mouth, tasting the remnants of yourself.

In a matter of seconds, you have his tie off and thrown into the abyss, your shaking fingers focusing on unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes watch as you strip him of his shirt and then pull on his belt. But he can’t keep his hands off you, and they create a path over your skin. You undo the clasp, the tingling sound of metal like a beckoning call. 

After taking off his belt and letting it drop to the floor, you also head toward the floor onto your knees. Spencer’s hand’s end up in your hair, and your hands travel up his thighs to the noticeable bulge in his pants. “Do you see what you do to me? Only you can make me this hard.” 

You bite your bottom lip and work to take off his pants and underwear as he kicks off his shoes. Your eyes look up to his eyes, and he smiles at you. “Go on, I know you’re desperate for it.” One hand holds onto the base of him as your tongue circles the pink tip. He lets out a sharp breath at the contact. 

You watch his reactions, flicking and teasing his head, gathering the stickiness of his precum on his tongue. Then you circle your lips around him and inch down, your hand sliding up and down on him to meet your mouth. His mouth is wide open as he watches you, the eye contact between the two of you almost overwhelming. Your body doesn’t seem to care that you just had an earth-shattering orgasm because you can feel the steady thrum of need building. 

“Are you getting wet again just from sucking me off?” You nod and take him deeper in your mouth, the hand resting on his thigh feels a muscle twitch. “You have the perfect mouth.” His fingers in your hair pull slightly, not enough to cause pain, but just enough to cause you to moan on his dick. 

“If you keep doing that I’m gonna come down that pretty throat.” You moan again, and he makes a low humming noise. “Is that what you want, sweet girl?” 

You pull off of him, a string of spit following you, “yes.” You take both hands and twist and stroke up and down him with a smile on your messy lips. 

“Open your mouth.” You do as he says, sticking your tongue out flat. He takes his two fingers and sticks them in your mouth, and you instantly start to suck on them, never stopping the motion of your hands. “My perfect, beautiful girl.” He mutters and then pulls his fingers from your mouth. Before you can put your mouth back on him, he’s stepping away and then helping you stand up. 

When you’re on your feet, he kisses you slowly, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth, and you reach down with one hand to continue to stroke him. He breaks the kiss and lightly guides you to turn around and bend over, using your hands to hold yourself up on the door. “You’re so good for me. Stay there.” You look over your shoulder and watch him find his pants to grab a condom. He quickly unwraps it and slides it on before returning to you. 

He glides his hands over the back of your thighs and over your ass appreciatively, then squeezes your ass. “Are you going to take all of me?” The whispers tickling the back of your neck as he leans over you toward your ear, you shiver against him. 

“Yes.” 

He trails a hand down your spine as he pulls away and then helps you to set your legs further apart. You bite your lip, so ready for him, when he squeezes your hips. Both of you moan deeply as he guides himself into you, inching himself in until he’s seated completely. His hands are back on your hips, holding you in place. He leans forward and places a kiss on your back. He whispers in your ear again, “now you’re gonna be a good girl for me, and you’re not gonna come until I tell you you can. Do you understand?” 

You nod swiftly. 

He presses another kiss. “Words please, sweet girl.” 

“I understand.” 

He stands fully and slowly starts to pull himself out of you, dragging against every inch of your core. When he’s out fully, he pushes forward, again at that agonizing slow pace. You squirm against him, needing more. “You think you can take all of it, baby?” 

“Yes. Yes. Please. Please.” 

“You’re so beautiful begging for me.” You think he’s going to continue to tease you, but he doesn't. He starts to move faster and faster, building up a steady rhythm. Your nails scratch against the wood of your door. “That’s it, so good. I only ever feel this good with you. Only you can take my dick like this. You take it so perfect.” He gasps and rambles as he pumps into you. 

The base of your spine zaps pleasure through your body and you shake on him. 

“Don’t come yet, baby. Not yet. I could spend forever inside you.” 

You feel your arms start to get weak, but Spencer holds so tight on you that you know that you’re stable. “I need to –” you gasp and squeeze your eyes shut. 

“I know. I know. But you can wait, I know you can. Do you know how I know you can?” 

You shake your head. 

“Because you’re my good girl.” You press your lips together and moan. “Yeah, and you’re gonna wait until I tell you. And then you’re going to touch that swollen little clit of yours. It’s aching isn’t it.” 

“Yes!” You practically shout. “Spencer, please.” 

“Beg again.” 

“Please. Spencer. Oh god, please. I need it. I need it.” 

“Touch your clit, baby.” You cry out as soon as one of your hands makes contact. “You still can’t come, honey.” 

You whimper, but try so hard not to give yourself over to the pleasure. 

“You’re all mine, aren’t you.” 

“Yes, yours all yours. Only yours forever.” 

He bites out a harsh moan, and you know he’s trying just as hard as you to keep it together. “You look so pretty.” The words are just rambles, almost imperceptible. “Come for me. Come all over me.” 

You do so instantly, Spencer tightens his grip on you to hold you steady as you lose yourself in the feeling. He comes with whimpers and sighs and deep grunts. When he finally stops moving, your legs are gelatinous, so he holds you tight against him, your back against his chest. He pulls out of you and then turns you around in his arms. 

“You’re perfect.” He peppers light kisses across your face and lips and neck. “You did so good.” His hands are wrapped around you, both holding you steady but also keeping close to him. “I’m so proud of you.” 

Your eyes flutter closed, and he kisses your lips fully. When he pulls away, you open your eyes and look up into his eyes. “Are you okay?” He checks in softly. 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” He kisses you again chastely. “That was beautiful. You’re beautiful.” Another kiss and his hands massage down your back and your hips, checking to see if you’re sore. 

“I’m fine.” You answer before he can ask. 

“Did you like that,” he asks earnestly. 

“I loved it.” 

He smiles brightly and you match it. “Are you hungry?” 

“Starving.”

[nymphomatique]

Thinking about reader getting rejected by some guy and she gets drunk and loser nerd miguel is there to comfort her and she is like "miggy you are so much better than him!!" (She won't admit she said that when she is sober) and she is crying and saying embarrassing stuff she likes about miguel while he is trying his best to comfort her. Things like "i actually think the glasses are so cute" "i love how smart you are, always so helpful" and it escalates into things like "i love sitting on your face and seeing the glasses fog up" "your dick is big for a nerd, i love sucking you off" etc. And Miguel is like 😳

she is finally here!! had a blast writing this one 🤭

cw: drunk reader, reader gets rejected and gets shitfaced, miguel being a sweetie, unprotected sex, overstimulation, erm like pantie sniffing? 😭 idk, cunnilingus, creampie, squirting (because why wouldn’t there be it’s me whose writing this), slightly drunk sex (can be considered dubcon), switch miguel??, undercover feelings if u squint🕺🏽i think that’s it lmk if i miss smt. and as usual, not proofread ❤️ enjoy my luvvies

wc: 3.0k

your head was pounding. but that’s to be expected with the excessive amount of alcohol in your system paired with the booming bass of whatever song was playing at whatever club you were at.

you felt so disoriented. at the beginning of the night, you wouldn’t have shown up if you had known what was going to happen. you came out tonight with your sorority friends because you had your sights set on hobie brown. tall, lanky, and fucking gorgeous. all night, you had done your best to push your tits up in your skimpy dress and sway your hips to the song that had been playing at the club to no avail. he left you alone, feeling high and dry to hook up with one of your friends instead. seeing him make out with her in the shared booth you had all pitched in for bad made you feel slightly insecure. was there something wrong with you? you had chosen not to dignify that question with a verbal answer but rather with shots of tequila, and that had been 4 shots ago.

your head was spinning, and you felt so so warm in the club. in this moment you found yourself thinking of one thing only, miguel. you hated yourself for it. and when a mysterious double shot of vodka had appeared in front of you, the bartender saying some guy had payed for them with you, you downed them no question. the burn in your throat quieting the burn in your mind. but only temporarily. you can’t stop thinking about him. his curly brown hair, his plump lips, his cut nose, his eyes, and those glasses he wears. you find yourself missing him in this moment, yearning for him to make you feel better. you’re ready to go home.

you push yourself away from the bar counter, and the push sends you reeling backwards and onto your ass with an “oof!”. with the strobe lights, loud music, and moving bodies, you were nothing in the sea of movement and stimulation on the floor. you figure the floor is your best option at regaining some sense of orientation, so you pull your phone out and order yourself an uber home to the best of your ability. through your hazy vision, you open your messages, scrolling through your contacts until you find the one you’re looking for, under the name ‘four eyes’. without thinking, your thumbs start moving, and you’re pressing send periodically.

you figure you’re done, and you brace yourself to get up and navigate through the sea of bodies ahead of the exit.

in his dorm at his desk, miguel sat quietly studying for his upcoming molecular biology quiz, when his phone starts to buzz.

my love <3

1:22 am. — r y awsje

1:22 am. — awake

1:22 am. — my roon in 15

1:23 am. — pls

miguel looks at his phone, trying to decipher whatever gibberish you had been typing. he figures you mean to meet him at your dorm, a little escape between you two at this time of night wasn’t unusual, but never initiated like this. miguel bookmarks his page in his textbook before closing it, grabbing some water and ibuprofen with him before he makes his way to your dorm.

when he arrives, he sees you on the floor leaning against your door, barely awake. you perk up however at miguel’s footsteps, your eyes fluttering open and a small smile plastering across your face. “miguellll,” you exclaim, throwing your hands towards him. “dunno my room code. piggy back me!” you giggle, rather loudly at that. miguel smiles a bit, walking over briskly to shush you. “okay baby, but you gotta be quiet, yeah?” he smiles, taking you in so.. free. happy.

a smile graces your lips, eyes hazy and blinking, hair messy and unkept like the clothes you wore, but to miguel you were as beautiful as ever, even at your most unguarded. he watches you with a smile, knowing this will be the last time for a good while he’s going to see you like this. he kneels, placing an arm at your back, scooping under you arms, the other arm at the back of your knees. with a swiftness, he steps back up with you in his harms with no sweat, and as drunk as you are damn do you find it hot. your face burries itself in miguel’s pectoral, covered by his soft grey sweater.

you breathe him in quietly as your head the buttons to your room door beep and your handle twist somewhere distant. all you can think about is miguel. as drunk as you were, your eyes would always find the time to focus on him. the way butterflies erupted in your stomach as you saw him walk towards you in his plaid pyjama pants and his loose sweater, glasses atop his head. he looked tired as ever, probably busy studying quantum mechanics or something. yet, here you were in his string arms. miguel, miguel, miguel. you look up at him as he walks you to your bed, and you catch a look at his resting face. he naw tense and sharp, lips pursed, brows bushy and furrowed, his brown eyes sharp and attentive. you’ve never seen him like this. you like seeing him like this. your hand creeps up to his jaw, tracing the muscle and vein, in brief brushes as miguel finally sets you down on your bed.

you’re sat with your back parallel to the wall the length of your bed sits along, head leaning back and reeling in the coolness of the painted wall.

“you enjoy yourself back there?” he teases, smiling softly at you, beginning to undo your necklace clasp. you smile sheepishly, feeling warm and embarrassed you let yourself get caught staring and touching him like that. “s’okay. you know i love it when you touch me.”

and there it is. the sharpness and the bite in miguel that you’re not used to seeing, the miguel who makes your stomach burn with a look, makes your chest pound by saying things like ‘i love it when you touch me.’ he’s long gone from your neck, his nimble fingers at your wrists, unclamping your bracelets and slipping off your rings, placing an occasional kiss on your knuckles. and you sit in silence as he takes care of you, stripping you ever so slightly more bare than you were before, not just physically.

you watch and see the attentiveness in his moved, how he’s careful with you. he moves to take your shoes off next, kneeling as he does so. the begins to unbuckle one strap of your heel, focus built in his face as he does so. he pulls your shoe off, massages your foot, up to your ankle, up to your calf, stopping right as the burning you feel on your skin begins to pick up. you break the comfortable silence with the whisper of his name from your lips.

“yes, my love?” he hums, rubbing soft circles in your calves.

“you’re so good to me. make me really happy,” you murmur.

“yeah? you make me happy too.”

“not just that,” you begin, perking up a bit from your slumped posture. “you’re really smart. makes you really attractive.”

he keeps rubbing soft circles into your supple skin, but this time he’s looking up at you, a slight redness to his cheeks. adorable.

“you’re big n’strong too. carryin’ me like that to my bed,” you giggle. you lean forward, your face a few inches closer to miguel’s. “made my pussy fuckin’ wet,” you whisper at him, leaning back against the wall to watch him, a stunned look on his face. “my other shoes not gonna take itself off.”

miguel doesn’t let your comment phase him, at least beyond the physical sense, as he moves to take your other shoe off. and he repeats. unbuckle, massage, foot, ankle, calf, thigh- thigh? you watch miguel quietly, his hands rubbing and kneading into the meat of your lower thigh. higher and higher his hands creep, until they’re sitting right below the rolled-up hem of your dress. miguel looks up at you, waiting for a sign, an order. wordlessly, you let your legs spread apart.

miguel takes heed of your cue, and his hands gently trail up your thigh and split at its junction, each of his large hands latched onto your hips. he abruptly pulls you forward, and you let out a small squeak. miguel pays you no mind, his eyes on the prize present between your legs. he burries his strong nose into your clothed vagina, rubbing at your clit a bit and he inhales, moaning at the smell. your stomach tightens a bit and you feel both embarrassed and aroused at his display.

“smell as good as you taste.”

you bite your lip and snake your hand up to the thick head of hair in between your legs, pushing him closer to your panty covered wetness. “quit teasin’ me, you breathe out, miguel’s strong nose prodding at your clit. at your expression he moves to lick a stripe up your pussy, licking up the taste of you from your soaked underwear. you let out a soft exhale, feeling sated at the kitten licks miguel gives you. he trails up your clothed wetness once more, and moves the gusset of your panty to the side, exposing you to him.

ever anxious, you hold in a breath, ready and waiting for miguel. after a beat he finally places his mouth on you, delving between your folds and training up between them to reach your clit, which he sucks into his mouth hard. you can’t help but let out a moan, praising him for his work. “f-feels so good, migs. keep goin’ for me.”

and he does, licking and sucking and thrusting up into you until you’re writhing writhin his grasp and you find yourself on the cusp of your orgasm. that is until he pulls away. he’s sat on his haunches, mouth wet and face flushed, lust heavy in his eyes at he looks at you.

“please, mistress, can i make you feel good?”

you lean forward and grab him by his sweater collar, pulling him up to your bed, his face inches from yours. your lips ghost his as you whisper, “you always make me feel good.” you pull him in for a kiss, your lips hot and heavy against miguel’s, swirling your tongues between each others. when you feel void of breath, you break up the kiss, taking a moment to look at miguel until you push him back against the bed, throwing your leg over his hips so that you were straddling him.

“wanna know something else?” you begin, leaning your head down to kiss his cheek. “you always make me cum. with that big dick of yours.” you grind your hips against his, feeling him throb against your pussy even through his sweats. “you always make me cum, even make me wet the bed and squirt. no other man has done that to me.” you continue kissing and suckung his neck, being sure to leave the unmistakable mark of hickeys down his jugular.

miguel moans, his arms tensing and hips jerking up at the sensation and you giggle a bit. “want you to fuck me and make me cum with that dick of yours. hard.” you leave him with your words as you get off him, stumbling a bit, the remaining alcohol in your blood making itself present. you watch miguel, still laying against your bed and you strip for him. you pull your tight dress up and over your head, shimmying it off you until you’re only in your panties. you wore no bra.

at the sight, miguel gulps and raises off the bed, ridding himself of his pants and sweater in record time, until he’s naked in front of you. you peel your panties off of you, throwing them at miguel’s face as you walk over to him and push him back into the position the two of you were in once more. you’re sat on top of miguel’s hard length, laughing at his eyes peeking through the gusset of your lacy underwear. “bet you like havin’ my panties on your face,” you tease, running your hands up his chest, ghosting his hard nipples. he lets out a sharp inhale and you roll your eyes, grabbing your underwear off of miguel’s face. “open,” you command, and his jaw unhinges without a spare moment. you ball up the lace fabric in your hands and shove it in his mouth, biting your lip at seeing miguel like this.

“you’re so fucking sexy, especially now that you can’t talk.”

you decide you’re done teasing, ready to finally satisfy yourself, and you lift you hips up. “put it in yourself,” you tell miguel, and a muffled sigh comes out of his mouth as he grabs his cock, aligning it with your wetness. miguel’s eyes close and his hips jerk up, his fat tipping pushing through you. miguel grabs your hips, squeezing and his keeps going, pushing the entirety of his length within you. you moan, the stretch burning so good along with the slight rush of liquor running through you. you feel hot and lightheaded, and good. so good. when miguel is fully sheathed in you, you don’t give him a moments rest before you plant your hands on his soft pecks and push your hips up to slam them back down.

miguel let’s out muffled curses, and your breaths become to come out faster and shorter as your hips keeping going up and down. “fuckin’ love this cock. s’all mine. don’t ever wanna share you,” you moan out. miguel’s feet plant into your bed and he matches your thrusts, his hands pulling your hips down as he thrusts up into you, causing you to squeal. he’s hitting you deep and hard and you don’t know how long you can take it like this. in the midst of it all, one of miguel’s hands leave your hips to make its way to your clit, rubbing your swollen bud. your body tenses and shakes, and your feel your orgasm build itself up quickly.

“g-gonna cum,” you moan out, looking at miguel. you already find him looking at you, his face in utter ecstasy. your underwear in his mouth is darkened from his saliva, his forehead covered in a light sheen of sweat, his hair strewn across your sheets. he makes your stomach clench, and you feel yourself shake from your orgasm. miguel doesn’t let up, he’s still fucking you and prodding your clit. he’s determined to make you squirt, just like you told him to.

“oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, i’m- ah!” you babble, your brain beginning to fog. your first orgasm doesn’t even let up when you feel a second one hit you, and a groan leave miguel at you tightening and leaking around him. “h-hurts to good, please don’t stop baby please please please.”

he has you begging, the pleasure feeling too much. he’s still not done yet, his determination to make you squirt keeping him going. he flips you both, so that you’re laying against the bed, with him kneeling above you. you’re in such a deep haze that you don’t even realize until you hear miguel speak. he took your panties out of his mouth.

“gonna soak me? i need it, baby. you can do it, huh?” you hear him in your ear. your legs are over his shoulders and he’s pistoning into you and you just can’t. your head falls to the side when you feel a pressure build in your abdomen and you think you did it. liquid spurts from you, soaking you sheets and miguel’s stomach, and he lets out the deepest groan at the feeling. he’s still fucking you, hard thrusts and skin slapping. you feel light and you don’t know how much more you can take until miguel comes, and your hand weakly pushes at his stomach.

“move your hand, baby.”

you moan, the overstimulation becoming too much, and miguel assures you he’s close, almost there baby, hold on for me, yeah? and you do, you hold on even though you feel like his dick is in your throat and you’re gonna pass out if he keeps fucking you like this. you swear your prayers are answered when his thrusts slow, his moaning becoming erratic and loud.

“fuck baby, m’cumming. so good for me, mommy, so fuckin’ good.”

his warm seed fills you up and his thrust still, your back arches at the feeling and a small stream of liquid gushes from you again with a heavy moan. “fuck baby, you still squirting f’me” miguel groans. he pulls out of you slowly, the feeling causing you to shake a bit. when he’s finally removed from yoh, you close your eyes, feeling a kiss to your forehead and sleep pulling a cover over you.

the next morning, you wake up with a blistering headache and a soreness to your body that just pisses you off, more than the sun peeking through your blinds. you groan as you get up, your sheets falling off of you and you see you’re in a grey sweater. huh.

you turn to your bedside table and see that it’s 10:37 am, with a glass of water and two white pills next to it. you reach for them when you hear your room door open, and none other than miguel o’hara enters your room. he greets you with a smile and you scowl at him, noticing the bag of fast food in his hands.

“brought breakfast for you. thought you would, um, be hungry.” he says. you look at him, the scowl leaving your face, and you feel the itchings of a smile poking at your face. if miguel notices, he doesn’t say anything, but he drops the fast food bag on your bed and kisses your forehead, before he disappears off into your bathroom somewhere.

you fucking can’t stand him.

[pixiecaps]

okay so roier first joins and says this. usual roier behavior. he logs off.

fuck your mother all of you fucking ball of assholes.

roier rejoins then this is where he starts mistyping and displaying stranger behavior to the usual.

how are we doing fucking assholes (gibberish)

forever in chat says to roier that he misses him and roier replies

good afternoon president you are the best.

then forever mentions how he’s been taking care of pepito and roier replies

thats good. how is pepito doing?

bagi asks to meet at spawn and

struggling to make sense of this one if anyone knows tell me so i can edit the post lol.

edit could be something like

aaaaaaa tell me that he is good. ??? pepito.

after this roier says something alarming.

i don’t know where i am. help me please.

he continues.

i think they drugged me or something.

and more.

very rough translation cause theres so many extra letters but i think he’s saying something like

i am in a dark street.

bagi asks, “a dark place?” and roier replies

i feel very dizzy.

and lastly

i think i’m going to leave.

edit this could also be a cut off sentence saying

i think i’m going to-

and roier logs off.

part two of roiers cryptic messages | part three

[thelampisaflashlight]

Rain, sighing: -looking at his phone- Swiss, looking over: "Something on your mind, bud?" Rain, picking up his phone: "Yeah, Dew sent me a text a little while ago, and it didn't make sense, so I texted him '???' and he's been typing for three minutes now." Swiss: "Oh, shit, did you guys have a fight or something?" Rain, shakes his head: "No, but, here, look at this, what does this mean?" Swiss, leaning in to read the text Dew sent: "...That's just gibberish and random emojis." -thinking- "Hey, what was Dew doing when you texted him initially?" Rain, scrolling up: "He was talking about feeling sleepy and needing to lay down... Oh." Swiss: "Ten bucks says he's passed out on his phone." Rain, embarrassed: "Man, I was getting worked up over noth-" -phone chimes- "...ing?" Dew, via text: "I just think it's funny that you assume when I'm texting for a long time that you think I'm mad at you, like for real?? Do you think I'm that rude of a person?? I care about you so much but you don't even-" Swiss, leaning away from the phone: "Oooohhh, someone's sleeping in the pond tonight, because Dew's gonna kick your ass off the couch, too, for that-" Rain, immediately heading off to Dew's room: "Baby, it's not like that!" Swiss, kicking his feet up on the couch: "Ugh, finally, he's gone..." -stretches out, tossing Dew's phone onto the coffee table- "...That's better." Dew, being woken up by Rain: -sleepy, confused ghoul noises- "SWISS-" Swiss, settling down: "It was good while it lasted." Rain, divebombing the couch: "BITCH-"

[shdysders]

letters with grief

pairing: jenna ortega & female!reader

summary: in which jenna visits you, with a letter.

word count: 2k

warnings: mentions of verbal fights & car accident

author’s note: i actually really like this one, lmk if something doesn’t make sense.

The air was all crisp and cool, the trees were wearing their fiery coats of orange, red, and yellow, and the breeze danced through the leaves.

The gentle wind tousling Jenna's hair, making it fall in front of her face, obstructing her view of the gravel path she walked on were a few orange leafs had made its appearance.

"Hello gorgeous.." Jenna said, receiving no answer except for the autumn breeze that blew heavier onto her figure.

She carefully lowered herself onto the velvety carpet of autumn's golden blades, crossing her legs. Hands digging in the pockets of her jacket. Your jacket.

"I..uhm.. I wrote a letter..for you" She sniffled, her nose growing red and runny from the cold weather and the inappropriate garments for the fall.

Jenna carefully unfolded the letter, and as the paper unfurled, a gentle symphony of whispers filled the air, captivating her senses.

The piece of paper revealed the long text, the letters were messy and all over the place, looking like a jumbled puzzle, with words scattered and tangled like a messy room.

A chuckle erupted from Jenna's mouth as she could hear you giggle and make fun of her gibberish handwriting, like you always did. Every single time she wrote the grocery list or anything at all, you would joke and make small comments about her sloppy writing.

"I know.." Jenna smiled softly, tucking her brown hair behind her ears. "Who even writes letters anymore?.." She scrunched her nose, your laughter basically echoing in her eardrums.

She fiddled with the letter, almost considering the option of just not reading it at all, however she knew she had to. Otherwise she would never get this out, which meant she would have to feel this closed feeling within her at all times, and Jenna knew she couldn't live with that.

"But.. I didn't know how else I'd get this out of my head.." She continued.

A year ago, Jenna would be laughing at what she was doing in this moment, she would've felt ridiculous. Talking about a handwritten letter when she knew she wouldn't get any answers.

However she pushed those thoughts away, exhaling deeply before her shaky voice began appearing.

"I'm so sorry that the fame affected you and your family as well.." Jenna could already feel tears burning in her eyes, just the thought of you made her nose start to run uncontrollably, how could she ever tell you all of the things the letter contained?

Jenna knew very well that the fame would have a big influence on you, she had told you that multiple times before you became an official couple. But when she had explained it; she meant that the paparazzi and the headlines could be the influence, not that she would be it herself.

Everybody knew relationships in the spotlight were complicated, it was common knowledge. Even Jenna knew that. But she had never thought about what the complications might've been based on. In fact, she couldn't even tell when the conflicts actually happened.

Jenna never knew where all of the rage came from. It might've been stress, anxiety or something completely unrelated to any of those, regardless of the underlying reasons, she was aware that her actions towards you were inexcusable.

She would never be able to forgive herself for having those outbursts at you. You were never doing anything wrong. Never.

You would wait up for her whenever she was having late night shootings. You would prepare nice meals for her whenever she arrived home, so she wouldn't go to sleep with an empty stomach. You would hold her tight and brush your fingers through her hair until she fell asleep, knowing she always had a hard time sleeping alone.

You did everything she could've possibly asked for, but Jenna never gave anything back.

She hadn't realized it at first. Not until she had scared you so badly that you had stormed out of your shared apartment.

Jenna would arrive home, scream at you for things you couldn't control, start unnecessary arguments that were either non-existent or non-current or sometimes ignore you fully.

She would call you repulsive things just because you didn't talk back, sometimes even blaming you for the stress situations she met at her job.

You didn't know what was happening to her, watching her turn from this sweet loving girlfriend, to a ticking bomb who would explode any moment without any reason.

She would burst at you for being quiet, but she would also rage if you were too talkative. You had no idea how to act around her, she was never going to be pleased.

Jenna did know that she was being unusually unpleasant to be around. Although she had thought that it was only temporarily, that it would disappear when she finished wrapping the stress filled projects she was working on.

She wanted to be better. She wanted to be better for you. She knew you deserved way more than what she was giving you. Despite she never made an effort to get better. Even though she wanted to.

Yet that night. Everything had flipped.

"You were right.." Jenna mustered a laugh, but vulnerability seeped through, turning it into an awkward melody, while her tears danced, trying to wipe them away.

"I needed real help." She continued, swallowing the lump in her throat. Fiddling with the edge of the paper. "Like you told me."

The pit in Jenna's stomach got deeper when she realized that you had been right the whole time.

When Jenna had arrived home that night, you had been situated in the couch, waiting for her, like you always did. However, something had been different. The way you tensed when Jenna came home, the way your hands were almost shaking.

Jenna was trying to keep her outburst within her this time. She noticed you were scared, so she knew that was for the best.

But something inside of her switched when you had opened your mouth.

You had told her that you thought it would be suitable for Jenna to seek help for her recent outbursts and raging personality. You thought that if she would be able to talk about her feelings, maybe she wouldn't take them out on you.

Obviously, you were wrong. It had been the complete opposite.

The rage and stress had taken over Jenna's body, making her scream and ramble stuff she didn't know existed in her.

She couldn't remember everything she had said. But the things she could reminisce were things that almost made her feel the need to throw up.

You had watched Jenna with eyes wide open from fear, backing away from her, afraid that she would eventually get the idea to hit you.

You had apologized repeatedly while she was screaming at you, telling you everything she thought you 'had done wrong' and why you should've been the one seeking help instead.

Eventually, she had screamed for you to get out of the apartment, that she couldn't stand the look of you and didn't want to see you again. You couldn't do anything else but follow her screaming instructions, too afraid to revolt and see what she would do next.

When you had left, Jenna had tried to calm herself down. She had planned on apologizing to you when she got back, because she knew you would. Sure, she had been a bitch, but she was sure you would still come back. Right?

"I just.." Jenna exhaled and closed her eyes, trying to imagine your face in front of her, like that would make the letter easier to read out.

"I wanted you to know that what happened afterwards had nothing to do with you.."

The tears began rolling faster down her cheeks as Jenna recalled the thousands of text messages she had sent you that night. When she didn't receive an answer to any of them, she just thought that you were probably still upset.

But when evening time arrived and you had yet to arrive home, she began to feel worried; you had never been gone for the night whenever she raged at you. Maybe she pushed you too far? She couldn't tell, since she couldn't remember half the things she had said.

She didn't remember anything that had exploded out of her mouth. She didn't remember telling you that she couldn't stand the sight of you, when she was the one in the wrong.

The things she did remember was how the local police departments number had popped up on her phone, and how she had answered the call with a shaky voice and hands.

She remembered dropping the phone on the floor, the screen almost breaking due the hard tiles.

She remembered rushing to the hospital the second she heard you were there. She remembered running into the building, hearing the nurses explain that your survivor chances were low due the extreme crash.

You had been hit. By a drunk truck driver. He had survived. Almost leaving the scene with no injuries.

You weren't that lucky.

You didn't make it.

It had been revealed later that you had zero chances of living. The staff had just told her that you did because they wanted her to think that. But in reality, you were already unconscious when they arrived at the scene.

Jenna never got the chance to see you again. Just like her raging wishes had said.

That's why everything that happened wasn't your fault. It was all hers.

Jenna couldn't live with herself knowing you passed thinking she hated you. Nothing felt right when you weren't around.

When she now arrives home at night, the apartment is empty. There's no warmth when she walks into the hall, no embrace or cooked dinner, no lit candles except for the ones that remained lit next to the photo of you.

She hated thinking of it. The fact that you were gone. You weren't with her anymore, and you never would be.

Yet, at the same time she felt like that was what she deserved. She treated you like a burden, she told you that you were a burden. So why would she have the rights to feel sorrowful?

Jenna didn't deserve you. She knew that. That's why she liked to think that your soul went somewhere better than here.

You were too nice for this world. You had to be somewhere else.

You used write letters to Jenna every month, telling her your favorite things about her and how much you loved her. The letters lessened when she got so mad every night.

And now she'd never get them anymore.

Jenna let out a sob as she thought of you. The tears staining the letter. "I'm so sorry you can't be here..here where you wanted to be." Her voice was quivering, shaky breaths coming out.

Your zest for life was something Jenna always admired in you. Always seeing the positive side and wanting the best for everyone. Even if they did something horrible to you.

And it was for that reason Jenna knew that you probably would've forgiven her for this too. Even though it got you killed.

"I can feel you everywhere I go." Jenna wiped her streaming tears with the sleeve of her shirt, trying to prevent the salty water on the paper to smudge out the letters.

Your laugh, your smile, your love and touch. It was everywhere with her. Every single thing about you that she loved so dearly, the things that she didn't appreciate in the last months she had with you.

She had taken everything with you for granted.

If she closed her eyes hard enough at night, she could see you, hear you, and feel you, the way you were, the way you were always meant to be.

Jenna knew she couldn't get by without you. But she knew she deserved to live in pain for the rest of her life, for what she did to you.

No matter how much work and interviews she buried herself in, no matter how much she cried and begged for you to come back, no matter how many times she'd visit your grave and beg for forgiveness, you'd always be gone.

"I love you. And I'm sorry.."