write me?

I often write for Harry Potter, COD141, JJK, TSHD, The Pitt, and DC. Open to writing for other fandoms.

Willing to write:

- Sexual Scenes

- Gore

- Assualt

- triggering acts (with warnings in tags)

- Adult x Adult

- Minor x Minor (Non-sexual)

Hope to gain some traction for writing things I like as well as things you guys like.

Not willing to write:

- Pedophilia

- Minor x Adult (sexual + romantic scenes)

- Gratuitous or Glorified Abuse

- Hate speech, Slurs I cannot reclaim, discrimination towards a certain demographic.

- Disrepectful animal killings, animal abuse in a positive light, beastiality

- Content that disrespects religious/spiritual beliefs

The bathroom mirror is fogged up from three hair straighteners and the scent of hairspray. You and your friends piled in the bathroom, swiping lip gloss, zipping and adjusting dresses, and blasting music on one of your phones. Glitter has somehow found it's way everywhere, small shot glasses set aside from the small pre-game. The smell of cheap perfume, vanilla body spray and burnt hair leaks into the hallway.

One of the taller girls crouches on the toilet lid, dabbing her bottom lip to diffuse the bright red lip from her lipstick, humming to the song playing. Other girl has ruined her eyeliner three times, her mouth open a bit as she concentrates. Her dark hair curled on curlers and left alone to set.

You're in the bedroom with another friend, bra and underwear, trying to find something to wear. Finding one of your old dresses that you haven't worn in a while, you wiggle into it and adjust your boobs to fit better. You can barely hear the conversation in the bathroom.

"You're gonna mess it up again!" One girl takes the eyeliner from the other. "Just don't do eyeliner."

"No, I've got it this time, trust."

You laugh to yourself, the bickering was dumb. You slip into the bathroom as two girls slip out, giggling with you. You hair was frizzy, you tried to flatten it a bit before using hair oil. As you finished the girls started to put their bags and stuff on the living room couch, getting ready to go. You spritz sparkly body spray, your collarbone shimmering with the glitter.

"Everybody Ready?" Someone calls out from the door.

"Coming!" You say while grabbing your bag and heels.

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The club is a living, breathing organism. Loud and sweaty and electric with bodies moving against bodies. The bass from the music thrums through your chest, a deep, pulsing rhythm that makes your heart beat a little faster. The smell of beer, sweat and whatever cologne the man you're dancing with is wearing. Somehow you end up in the middle of it all, one of your friends grinding one a random guy and another laughing so hard she's crying.

Someone shoves a cup in your hand, "Drink up, birthday girl!"

"It's not my birthday!" You yell over the music, already chugging the drink back. The liquid is sweet and burns a bit, made for summer nights out.

The night blurs together after that, alcohol and the dancing getting to your head. Music still blasting, still dancing and skin getting slick with sweat, lips parting to catch your breath. At one point one of your friends, Viv, pulls you over.

"I'm about to leave with this guy," they yell over the music, nodding over to a blonde nerdy guy over by the door. He looked nervous. "Don't die, 'kay?"

You wave them off, already pushing them toward the door. "M'kay! Don't kill the poor kid."

They blow you a kiss, leaving with the nervous blond. You hesitate, suddenly aware of how loud and overwhelming everything is. But then the DJ drops another banger of a song, the energy snapping back. You dance again before drinking so much your head is swimming, stumbling outside into the freezing cold air. It was late, but everyone was out and going in and out of the club.

You pull your phone out to text your brother's best friend since your brother was out of town.

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Reiner's truck is parked crookedly when he pulls up, engine still running. Headlights warm, you squint at you stumble over to his driver's side. He's already out of the car, jacket unzipped, sleeves rolled up his forearms that you started to stare at. He leads you over to the passenger side, gentle.

"C'mon, get in the truck, Kid." He helps you in. Leaning over you to buckle you up. His dog tags dangling in your face, the shine catching your eye. "You alright? Nothing happen while you were waiting?"

You blink, trying to focus on his words, "No.."

"Okay. I'm taking you home," He shut your door and walked over to the driver's side.

He carries you inside, nothing he hasn't done before. You'd often end up like this, partying with your friends, you brother coming to get you and then being carried inside. But this time was different, it had been a while since since you had see Reiner. He had got into a college with a hockey scholarship, which meant he had to go out of state and you hadn't seen him in months. He'd come back for his summer break, since hockey season had ended.

But when he came back, he, unlike before, was a bit broader than you had imagined. Due to conditioning and playing his sport he had gotten buffer. Arms a bit bigger, his t-shirt he wore when he came to visit almost dug into his bicep everything time he curled his arm a certain way. Chest bigger than you remember, the fat there more solid, muscle. Your cheek rests on his shoulder, breath cool against his neck. You eyes dart down to the necklaces, his dog tags from his hockey mates.

Your fingers move over them as he walks to your room. "I like these.."

He almost doesn't hear, he looks down at you. "You like what?"

"These." You tug the chain a bit. "The dog tags."

"Yeah?" He pushes your bedroom door open. "Why do you like them?"

You shrug, not fully sure. But the alcohol in your system seems to know perfectly.

"Think about them a lot actually." You mumbled.

He sets you down on your bed, taking off your heels, "What do you think about, kid?"

"You on top of me."

He hands freeze for a second before taking off your other heel, "Watch your mouth."

"I'm being honest, you always said you liked when I was honest."

"You're being too honest right now," He sighed.

"But it's true. I think about you on top of me," you almost whine, "Dog tags hanging in my face.. Fuck..you're so hot.."

"You're drunk and you shouldn't say things like that." He pulls the cover over you.

"Think about your fingers, god, you've gotten so buff since last time I saw you." You stretch a bit. "Bet your could hold me down without a problem."

"Kid, stop talking." He crouches down near your bed.

"Please, I'd be so good for you." You leaned over to look at him. "My brother doesn't have to know."

"Kid, you're drunk." He mutters, "If.. If you really want it that badly, tell me when you're sober."

You scoff as if he's unbelievable, "I will."

"Good, go to bed." He turns off your lamp.

You hear something metal clink on your night table, you don't think much of it when you drift to sleep.

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When you wake up you can feel the hangover slam into you, head hurting so badly. You lean over to grab your phone when you see them. Reiner's dog tags, shimmering in the morning light that was peeking through your curtains. And then the memories of last night slap you in the face. You said you liked his dog tags. You said you wanted him on top of you. You said you'd be so good for him. Holy fuck. Why did you say that, why would you ever say that?!

You sit up fast, headache pounding through your scull. You look for your water bottle, finding it under your bed. You chug whatever is left in it and stand up. Noticing your dress is still on, you look for Pjs or something else to wear. Finding a sweater and sweat-shorts, tying the drawstring on it. 

Opening your bedroom door you peek out, looking for any forms of life in the hallway. Stepping out you go to find Reiner. Looking in your brother's room first, then the kitchen then the guest room. Smelling the warm earthy smelling soap he always smelled like. You try to leave the dog tags on his bed but he had come out of the bathroom before you could set them down.

"You're awake." He says, putting on his shirt. 

"uh, yeah." You nod awkwardly, "I am.."

"Nervous?" He tilts his head.

"Why would I have to be nervous."

"I dunno, you seem nervous." He steps closer, "Do I make you nervous, kid?"

You stare at him for a second, "No.."

"No?" He hums warmly, his eyes darts to the dog tags in your hands. "You remember anything last night?"

"No.." You say too fast.

"Okay.." He blinks and speaks again, "I'll help remind you."

Oh no.

"You got drunk," he moves to sit on the edge of his bed, "you then texted me."

You don't say anything, a lump in your throat from embarrassment.

"When I carried you inside," He pauses, "do you remember what you told me?"

You shake your head.

"Yeah, you do." He coos at you, "C'mon, tell me what you said."

God, this was so embarrassing.

"I said..," you look at the dog tags. "that I liked your dog tags."

"Mhm, what else."

"And.. that I wanted you on top of me.."

"And?"

"And that I think about your… fingers.." you were barely saying it aloud, " that you could probably hold me down without an issue."

"Good girl, you can remember."

That did something to you.

"You still want that?"

You can't look at him, this was too embarrassing. "Yes."

"What was that? Can't hear you, kid." He was playing with you.

"Yes."

"Put my dog tags on me then." 

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Happy birthday! Having a birthday and being at work with hundreds of sickly and injured paitents is one of the best ways to spend your day, right? So much pain and suffering all while some of your co-workers pop in to say happy birthday to you. Unfortunately, your poor paitent thats having the worst time of their life isn't fond of hearing 'happy birthday' every so often.

Day shift crew won you over to go out, dragging you to a bar for your birthday. You were about 4 shots deep, music blasting in your ears, laughing too loud, and flirting with a guy at the bar that bought you a drink. He was cute, almost girl-ish looking but even then he was beautiful. So beautiful you ask him dumb questions. But so does he.

"So, uh.." He laughs gently, "You wanna get out of here..?"

You open your mouth to say yes, because you needed it, because the ache between your thighs was becoming unbearable. Santos wasn't helping it either, walking around the house with her hair down way more since she worn it up at work. But you stare at the guys as if you weren't fantasizing about her, mouth open and smiling. A hand clamping down on your shoulder.

"Sorry, dude," Trinity says in a very intimidating voice, "She's busy later."

Which makes the very pretty guy leave you alone, but makes you pissed off.

"What the hell!" You turn to look at her. "Why are you being a cockblock right now?"

"I'm not listening to you and pretty boy fuck just so he can leave and you can ride your fingers after." She was such an asshole.

"I wasn't gonna-"

"Yes, you were. And I don't feel like hearing it." She leans to speak in your ear. "If you want to get off, I'll get you off, but you're not bringing some loser to my house."

Which would be a bit weird to say if you weren't saying goodbye to the day shift crew and going home early. It would be a bit weirder if you barely made it to her room before her hands were on you. It would be weirdest you she had her fingers in you while telling you how much of a idiot you were being with that guys at the bar.

So weird. Right?

Her fingers curl upward, her mouth on your neck. Your thighs a clamped around her wrist, it doesn't stop her fingers but it does stop her from pulling them out.

"Stay still," her voice it muffled against your skin.

You choke on a moan, getting embarrassed. She laughs at you, coos and mocks you while curling her fingers into the soft spot inside you. You try squirming away, her open hand holding one of your hips.

"You aren't very good at listening, are you?" She scoffs at you.

You see stars, mouth parted, eyes squeeze shut. Her fingers feel amazing, so much better than some guy that only cares about himself. She uses her thumb to rub your clit, it makes you squeal.

"Aw, so sensitive." She mocks you, "Close, huh?"

You nod, fast and panting. You can feel the knot in your belly straining.

"God, you're clenching around my fingers," she laughs. "C'mon, you wanna cum, right?"

You can feel tears swell at the corners of your eyes, the knot popping. You flutter around her fingers as she helps you ride out the high.

She kisses your face, wiping the tears. She almost feels bad for making you cry, almost.

"You can give me another one, right, baby?" She murmurs against your cheek.

She moves on top of you, stripping her self of her underwear. Kissing up your stomach, stopping where your dress was bunched up. She moves one of her legs over yours, her heel under your calf, her left hip pressing against the back of your right thigh. Grinding against you, her clit catches against yours.

Oh. Oh wow, this was new. Feels so good, doesn't it? She's so pretty leaning over you, grinding against you.

"Feeling good, pretty?" She huffs, moving a bit faster for her own sake.

"Santos.." You gasp, "Too fast, wait-"

"No, you can take it," She kisses your jaw, cooing at you. "I need to cum too, it's not always about you."

"You're such- ah- an asshole!" You whine, grabbing at her waist.

"Yeah, I am." She hums, grinding a little harder. Not caring about you, just trying to get off.

"Trin, please!" You try squirming from overstimulation.

"'Trin, please,' god you're so cute." She mocks your yelp. "Just stay still, pretty, I'm almost done."

The slick between you made a muffled squelch, Trinity groans against your jaw. She holds your hips still while she grinds. And you can barely think, your co-worker, house mate, scissoring you dumb. Lucky you.

"Trin, m'close again-" your voice was so breathy, murmuring against her shoulder.

"C'mon, baby," She kisses your neck, gripping your hips tighter as her own high reaches its peak.

Your highs crash together, she groans against your neck as you claw at her back.

It takes a minutes for you both to think straight.

"Happy birthday," She adjusts herself into a more comfortable position, and peppers kisses on your face.

First year of residency, you're so excited. It's almost cute how excited you are to become something more than you already are. Unfortunately, your first day a homeless man jumped on you, somehow you made enemies with Langdon, and you still need to find a place to stay before your school kicks you out of your dorm. Poor you, being an adult isn't so easy, is it?

You look miserable on your second week of residency, typing your paitent's documentation. Your back is aching, head pounding from the toddler that screamed for a hour while you were doing a check up on him. Lets hope in the future you never have children, and if you do they don't scream and squirm during check ups.

You scrub a hand over your face, frustrated with everything. You let out a deep sigh before Nurse Dana grabs your shoulder to stop you from going back to helping paitents.

"What's the deal?" She looks at you almost concerned.

"Nothing, I'm tired."

"Sweetheart, we're all tired." She chuckles, "Whats your deal, though."

You stare at her before spilling your guts, from missing your friends to needing a place to stay because housing isn't letting you keep your dorm. It feels like everything is weighing on you, you feel sick with stress and grief for paitents and exhaustion for yourself. Nothing is going in your favor.

"Santos is looking for a roommate." She says, trying to get some of the load off of you. "I can mention you need a place."

"Dana, you don't have to, I just need to talk to housing again," she stops you.

"I'll just slyly mention you need a place to stay and Santos needs a roommate. It's a win-win thing, kid."

You can barely get a word out before she hands you a clip board with another patient. You don't even know what you've gotten yourself into.

Santos finds you in the break room, face in your hands. She leans against the counter before even trying to make conversation.

"So you're going to be our first homeless resident," Of course she'd take a jab at you. "I mean, you could always share a cardboard box with the old guy that jumped you the other day."

"Not funny." You look at her, too tired to argue. "What do you want?"

"A housemate." She looks at your irritated face and huffs, "Unless you like being the only homeless resident."

"I'm not homeless." You glare at her. "Don't even know what your house looks like. You could be living in a card board box."

She laughs at that, "Then come see the spare room I have. If you haven't paid the old guy rent yet."

She's such an asshole sometimes, most times. And somehow you aren't even sure how you became her housemate. The room was decent, wasn't huge but it was good for the rent she was charging you.

Now, not to get you wrong or anything, being housemates with Trinity wasn't the best thing. Specially when all you wanted to do after work was come home and be alone. Not have to see your co-worker in the kitchen making dinner for herself.

Which is probably how you started feeling irritated way easier than most times, and hot and weird. What the hell is this feeling and why does it have to come when you have stress filled work days. It came to a peak when you got snappy with Santos in the middle of the kitchen and she stared at you like you were insane.

"What the fuck is your problem," she furrowed her brows. "Ever since you moved in you've been on my ass about shit I can't control."

"No, I haven't," You get defensive. "You're just irritating."

"I'm irritating?" She scoffs, "Says the one who comes back to the house and bitches about everything that happened during her shift! News flash, everyone has bad shifts."

"You're such an asshole!" You groan, "I can complain about whatever the hell I want."

"Cause I was an asshole when I let you move in, right?" And suddenly she's getting real close. "I was an asshole when I listened to your nagging and bitching and complaining, right?"

Your back meets the counter, her hands coming to each side to trap you between her and the counter. She grabs your face to look at her.

"Look at me," she is pissed. "Look at the asshole you live with. Isn't she so mean?"

She slots a thigh between yours, it's not the first time but this time is way more embarrassing.

"C'mon answer me, baby," her thigh is pressed firmly between yours, "I'm an asshole and I'm so mean to you. You want me to be nicer, right?"

You let out an embarrassing whine from the back of your throat, hand grabbing on to her wrist. "Santos, M'sorry."

"No, cause I'm an asshole," She nods at you as if waiting for you to agree, "I was an asshole when I ate you out and let you ride my strap, right?"

"No, you weren't, I'm sorry." You are suprisingly embarrassed when she mentions everything aloud.

"Is that why you're being rude? Cause you need to get off," she scoffs as if she's finally put things together. "Poor thing needs to cum?"

You squeeze your eyes shut before nodding, embarrassed.

"Use my thigh then." She smiles, mean. "Grind against my thigh and show me how good you can be."

Hestitating is almost as embarrassing as doing the action, your hips buck against her thigh. Your pelvis moving frantically before her free hand grabs your waist roughly.

"No rushing, you wanted to cum, you'll go my pace." She guides your hips at such a slow speed it makes you whine. "Oh, poor baby, is it aching?"

You nod, tears swelling in your eyes out of frustration. She coos at you.

"C'mon, let me help you." She kisses your jaw before slipping the hand that was on your waist down your pj shorts above your underwear.

You hide your face in her shoulders, making so many embarrassing noises. You're so close. So close.

"C'mon, you can do it, rub yourself on my hand, pretty."

You choke up as your hips stutter, hands fisting at her clothes.

"M'sorry, you're so good to me.. I'll be so good, I'm sorry.."

She kisses away the tears in your eyes, you were so good for her. Maybe next time you'll remember if it's aching, you have to rub it. Or get her to do it for you.