#I know it isn't about that but it feels so familiar with regards to that experience

[shrews-studies]

Thinking about Anna Akhmatova's poems on this fine day

[candy69gurl]

Noncon w gojo but reader is resisting the whole time so he ends up tying them down. And he’s not even trying to be nice about it, he’s degrading her and choking her all that stuff 🤭

BREAKPOINT

PAIRING yandere Gojo Satoru x f!reader

WARNING non/con, unhealthy relationship (red flag Gojo), use of vulgar words, manipulation, humiliation, fingering on kitchen counter, bondage (hands only), blowjob, cumming in mouth, raw sex, breeding kink, orgasm denial, forcing to say stuffs, clit rubbing, pussy eating, nipple play, choking, degradation, lactation kink, multiple orgasms, oversensitivity, creampie, manhandling, so much yanderee

NOTE twitter link here.. sorry for posting late

Dating Gojo, the incredibly good-looking and powerful guy, isn't as simple as you'd think. He frequently reminds you of your perceived inferiority compared to him, and that he could find someone better.

Every time you're with him, he's makes you feel insecure. He keeps putting you down for your mistakes and flaws, always reminding you of all the things he can do that you can only dream about. He often says mean things about how you look and what you can do, making you feel like you're not good enough for him. Even though he's rude and acts like he doesn't care, Gojo still wants you around, making sure you know he's more important in your life.

He's always flirting with other people, which makes it clear he doesn't respect you. When he's with his friends, he completely ignores you, leaving you feeling invisible and unimportant. Your feelings never seem to be a priority for him. It's clear he's more focused on other things, yet he still wants you to stay. You're beginning to realize this relationship isn't healthy for you, but you still crave his approval and validation, hoping he'll see you as worthy.

Your best friend advises, 'You should leave him, girl.'"

"But I love him," you counter.

"But does he love you?"

You stay quiet. Gojo's words may say one thing, but his actions speak differently. Your best friend is right; you realize you need to do something about it. So you send him a text asking to meet at your place, you need to talk to him over this.

Satoru arrives at your house, his long legs carrying him up to the door with an air of confidence. Knowing he's the strongest sorcerer in the world makes him feel untouchable. As he knocks on the door, a thrill of excitement courses through him, anticipating what awaits inside. The familiar scent of your perfume greets him as you open the door, and he smirks, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

He takes off his dark blue jacket, tossing it carelessly onto a nearby chair. His gaze lingers on you for a moment, taking in your appearance before he speaks in a low voice, ... "Been missing my dick, huh?"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" you snap, glaring at him. He smirks, stepping closer to you, his body heat enveloping you as he looms over you.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" Satoru repeats, a hint of amusement in his voice. He raises an eyebrow, letting the question hang between them, challenging you to elaborate. When he doesn't get an immediate response, he crosses his arms, sitting on your couch and regarding you with a cocky grin.

"So, why the fuck did you call me if you're gonna give me this attitude? " he asks, feigning ignorance. His eyes gleam mischievously, daring you to confront him about your issues head-on.

You stand there, silent for a moment, searching for the words to express your frustration. Before you can say anything, Satoru turns away, sauntering towards your kitchen like he owns the place. He opens the fridge, pulling out a beer and cracking it open with a satisfying sound. Your heart pounds in your chest, your frustration mounting as he drinks it so casually.

As he turns back to you, he raises an eyebrow, the unopened beer in his hand. "You gonna talk, or are you just gonna stand there?" he asks.

"This...this relationship isn't working," you finally manage to utter, your voice wavering slightly. Satoru freezes mid-drink, the beer halfway to his lips. The surprise in his eyes fades quickly, replaced with a cold, hard stare. He sets the beer down on the counter, taking a step towards you.

"Break up?" He repeats, the word hanging in the air like a challenge. "You think you can just toss me aside like an old toy?" He growls, his eyes burning with anger. The force of his personality filled the room, making it hard to breathe. Satoru leans in, his face inches from yours, his blue eyes burning with a fire that matched his temper.

"You better think twice about this, princess," He snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "Once you break things off with me, you'll be all alone. No one is going to love you."

"I'm sure," you say firmly, standing your ground despite the fear in your chest. Satoru's eyes narrow, a dangerous glint flickering in their depths. He steps back, a sardonic smile playing on his lips.

"Did you find someone better than me?" He asks, his voice dripping with disbelief and accusation. The air around you thickens, the tension palpable. Satoru crosses his arms, leaning against the counter, his expression a mix of amusement and contempt. "Tell me... Is his dick bigger than mine?"

You shake your head, your voice trembling as you reply, "No, I just..." Satoru cuts you off, gripping your wrist harshly and pulling you towards the counter. You gasp in surprise, trying to pull away, but his grip is too strong.

He pushes you down on the counter, his dick pressing against your ass, the intensity of the contact leaving you breathless. His eyes bore into yours, the challenge in them undeniable. "Does he fuck you better than me?" he growls, his lips grazing your ear.

You struggle against him, your heart racing as you beg him to let you go. "Please, Satoru...let me go!" You plead, your voice shaking with fear and desperation. Satoru chuckles, his grip tightening around your wrist.

"Not until you realise, what a huge mistake you did by making me mad." he growls, grinding his erection against your ass harder. His eyes bore into yours, daring you to defy him.

Satoru pulls down your pants, revealing your ass. He smacks it hard, the sting of his hand making you yelp in shock. Before you can react, he slides his long, cold fingers inside you, groaning softly at the wetness he finds. His eyes gleam with satisfaction as he mocks you, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, well, looks like someone wants more of my cock even after saying she wants a break." He chuckles, twisting his fingers inside you roughly. His eyes are full of malicious.

You can't help but moan in spite of yourself, your body betraying your intentions. Your mind screams at you to fight back, but your body responds to his touch, betraying your resolve. Satoru's grin widens, his eyes gleaming with triumph.

"Looks like you can't resist me, princess," he taunts, thrusting his fingers deeper inside you. "Maybe you don't want a break, maybe you just want me to praise you while I go down on you."

Satoru grips your head tighter against the counter, his fingers thrusting into you relentlessly. Your body buckles under the onslaught, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. You moan loudly, unable to hold back your pleasure.

Within moments, you're screaming his name, your body convulsing as you cum hard. Satoru watches you with a satisfied smirk, his thumb rubbing your clit in time with his fingers. He continues to thrust into you, milking every last drop of your pleasure.

Satoru carries you mercilessly to your bedroom, leaving you with no time to rest. He quickly sets you down on the bed and his hands rich to unzip his pants. Desperate to get away, you try to crawl away, but he grabs your ankle and uses his weight to pin you down. With a flick of his wrist, he removes his blindfold, revealing his piercing blue eyes. Your heart races, fear and desire warring within you as he takes his blindfold and ties your hands above your head, effectively immobilizing you.

"Please, stop!" you plead, tears streaming down your face as you beg him to release you. "I'm sorry, I take back everything I said! I don't want this!" Your words hang in the air, heavy with regret and fear.

Satoru leans down, his gaze hard and unwavering. "The only sorry I accept is by your mouth showing me how sorry it is by sucking me off." He growls, his finger tracing the shape of your lips. Your heart races and your body trembles at the command.

He pulls himself in front of your head, and you hesitate, your heart racing in your chest. The room spins around you, and the scent of him overwhelms you. You understand you have no choice but to obey, swallow your pride, and submit.

Taking a deep breath, you wrap your lips around his shaft and reluctantly start sucking him off. Satoru growls in approval, his hand entwined in your hair, guiding you. Your mind screams at you to resist, but your body obeys him, your mouth moving rhythmically, pleasing him.

As you continue to suck him off, Satoru's grip in your hair tightens. His movements become more erratic, his breaths growing heavier. Your heart races, a mixture of fear and arousal coursing through you. You're determined to make this quick, hoping he'll release you soon.

You rest your head, waiting for him to untie you. But instead, he parts your legs, grinning wickedly as he rubs his cock against your clit. You flinch, but he doesn't hesitate. With a swift movement, he pushes into you, stretching you painfully. A cry escapes your lips, tears streaming down your face. You beg him, your voice trembling with fear and desperation. "Please, be gentle..."

Gojo grins, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Well, well, I thought you'd be fucking other guys, but you're still tight as hell." He says, thrusting harder into you. "Feels so fucking good." His voice is thick with lust, his movements becoming more aggressive.

Your body tenses, your mind spinning in the turmoil of conflicting emotions. You're angry, yet you can't deny the pleasure he brings you. His words fill you with shame, your skin burning with embarrassment. Despite your struggles, his grip on you is ironclad. You moan, a mixture of pain and pleasure washing over you as he continues to thrust into you. Your mind screams for him to stop, but your body betrays you, responding to his touch.

Every thrust is a reminder of your weakness, your inability to resist him. You can't help but wonder who else he's been with, who else has shared in this intimacy. A wave of jealousy washes over you, your heart beating wildly.

"Fuck, you're gushing," he growls, his hips thrusting into you with increasing intensity. He reaches down, pushing your top along with bra up, his fingers roughly pinching your nipple, twisting it. Your eyes widen, a gasp escaping your lips. "Yet you say you don't want it?" He grunts, his voice thick with dominance.

You can't help but moan, your body betraying your anger. His words echo in your mind, reminding you of your place. Despite your struggling, your body responds to his touch, your clit throbbing with each thrust.

Gojo mocks you, his voice dripping with venom. "What's that, are you enjoying it, slut?" He asks, his movements becoming more frenzied. "You think you can find someone better than me? Someone who fucks you better than me?"

His words cut deep, your heart racing with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. You can't help but moan, your body betraying your anger. He laughs, his eyes gleaming with malice.

"Look at you, begging for my cock, you worthless slut." Gojo sneers, his movements growing rougher. "I'm the strongest sorcerer in the world, and you think you can insult me? Ha!" He laughs, his eyes shining with malicious delight. "Listen up", he slows down his thrust making sure you listen to him instead of moaning, "Don't you dare bring that break up again, I own you, I own this pussy, I own your fucking heart, I know it, you love my baby and I love you too.. So let's.. let's be like before, me and you, together.. We can have a baby too, our own family .. so beautiful.", with that he starts pumping into you again hard and fast, desperate to fill you with his fertile seed.

Your cheeks burn with shame, your toes curling as his thrusts grow stronger and rougher, and just before you hit your orgasm, he pulls out, "That's what you get for disobeying me."

You gasp, your pussy gripping on to him as he pulls out. "That's what you get for disobeying me," he growls, his eyes blazing with anger. You feel a wave of disappointment wash over you, your orgasm cut short.

He stands over you, his chest heaving, his gaze locked on your face. You shrink under his gaze not daring to question him why he stopped, you know everything is your fault. NO, he made you believe everything is your fault, but you cannot help but accept it, you cannot help but accept his cock inside you.

Gojo leans down, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "Look at you, clenching around nothing, desperate for my cock." He mocks, his hands gripping your thighs. "Worthless slut."

He licks your clit, a cruel smirk on his face. You whimper, your body trembling with need. His tongue teases your clit, your moans growing louder. He chuckles, enjoying your helplessness.

Gojo's hand glides over your body, his touch electric. "Do you want me to finish you off?" His voice is a combination of cruelty and seduction.

Your heart races, your body trembling with need. You nod, unable to speak, your mind filled with a mix of shame and lust. He grins, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Gojo raises an eyebrow, his gaze locked on your face. "Beg for it, slut." He demands, his voice thick with lust.

You hesitate, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. He slaps your pussy, making you jolt. "Beg," he repeats, his voice cold.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding, "please, make me cum..." You whisper, your voice barely audible.

Gojo's eyes squint, "Hmm, how about you say you love me 69 times then I will think of it."

Your eyes widen, your heart racing with a mix of anger and desperation. You know you have to do it. "I love you," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "I love you... I love you... I love Satoru..." Your voice grows stronger as you continue, each 'I love you' more genuine than the last.

Gojo watches you, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He leans down, his tongue darting out to trace the curve of your clit. "Keep going.." He orders, his voice rough with desire

You nod, your face heating up with desire and shame. "I love you... I love you... I love Satoru..." You repeat, your voice growing stronger with each word.

Gojo's tongue traces your clit, his movements slow and deliberate. You moan, your body trembling with need. He smiles, his eyes locked on your face. "Good girl," he growls, his voice thick with lust.

He slips two fingers inside you, his movements slow and deliberate. "Keep going..."

Your heart races, your body trembling, "I love you... I love you... I love Satoru..." You repeat, your voice growing stronger with each word.

Gojo's fingers slide inside you, his movements slow and deliberate. You moan, your body shaking with need. He smiles, his eyes locked on your face. "Yes.. yes" He encourages, his voice rough with desire.

You continue to profess your love, your body trembling with a mix of desire and shame.

After what feels like an eternity, Gojo slides his fingers out, replacing them with his tongue. You whimper, your body trembling with anticipation.

He licks your clit, his tongue tracing the curve of your most sensitive spot. "Good girl," he praises you, his voice thick with lust. "Sixty-nine times, I counted each 'I love you.'" He chuckles, his eyes locked on your face. "That's a lot of love for me, baby," he teases, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Now, let's make you cum."

His tongue traces the your walls, his movements slow and deliberate. His eyes locked on your face for your reaction. "You taste so good, so wet and needy."

Your abdomen shaking as you move your hips against his face, you cry out, your body trembling with pleasure as you cum. You collapse there, your heart pounding with a mix of ecstasy and shame.

"Untie me now," you plead, your voice shaking with emotion. But Gojo shakes his head, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction, "Nah uh, not till I cum, filling your little pussy."

He inserts himself back inside you, his movements slow and deliberate. Your pussy is oversensitive, making you cry out in pain. "No more," you beg, your voice filled with desperation.

Gojo grits his teeth, his eyes squeezing shut as he feels your walls clenching around him uncontrollably. He slows his pace, allowing you time to adjust to your oversensitivity.

As you recover, he starts thrusting into you, his movements slow and deliberate at first. His pace gradually increases, his eyes locked on your face. "You like being a slut for your boyfriend, isn't it?" He growls, his voice thick with lust.

You moan, your body trembling with a mix of pleasure and pain. "Yes," you admit, not caring about your self respect anymore.

As he thrusts into you, his movements become faster, his eyes locked on your face. "Good girl," he growls, his voice thick with lust. "You're such a good little whore, aren't you?"

You moan, your body trembling with a mix of pleasure and pain. "Yes," you admit, not caring about your self-respect anymore. "I'm your little slut."

Gojo chuckles, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Hmphh, keep squeezing me.. A-ah," he growls, his pace increasing even more.

Your eyes roll at the way he's choking and fucking you like a monster, his hands around your neck, his thrusts relentless. Gojo leans down, his lips colliding with yours in a rough kiss.

You moan into his mouth, your body trembling with a mix of pleasure and fear. He pulls back, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Hah! You gonna cum again?," he mocks.

You groan, your body trembling with a mix of pleasure and fear. "Yes.. Hngh- please I am gonna cum again" You admit, your voice shaking with emotion.

As he thrusts into you, his movements become frenzied. "Y/N, let's... try it again.. together... Can't you imagine? How lovely you will look with your tummy swollen and round with my baby, and milk flowing from your breasts. Just think of it", he bites his lips imaging all of that. He unties your hands, letting them grip onto anything they find.

Your mind is unable to make out his words, you just nod, taking his cock like a doll.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your skin as he sucks on your nipple. "Gonna fill you, hmmph," whimpers escape his lips, "You are so obedient for me baby."

As Gojo nears his climax, his thrusts become frantic, his movements fierce. You cry out, your body trembling with pleasure and pain.

His thrusts become stronger, his movements more intense. Your walls clench around him, milking him as you cum again. He roars, his eyes locked on your face. "Yes, cum for me, baby, cum for your strongest boyfriend," he growls, his voice thick with lust.

He fills you with his seed, his movements slowing as he finishes. "You did well, baby," he pants, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He loosens his grip on your neck, allowing you to breathe.

You collapse against him, your heart racing with a mix of pleasure and fear. "F' me, am your little.. slut.. ." You whisper, before passing out .

Gojo's lips caress your bruised neck, licking them before giving you a small peck on your lips. "I love you, Y/N, I appreciate you," he mutters, his voice thick with lust. "But I ain't gonna spoil you."

He wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Both of you fall asleep in each other's arms, exhausted from the passionate night.

In the darkness of the night, he whispers in your ear, "Never gonna let you escape me, my little play thing."

[fox-guardian]

hey guys did you know that um. did you know. first of all did you know i'm losing my mind, secondly, do y'all remember in tma how when someone reads a written statement, they don't really Stop unless they're interrupted? and they read the whole thing easy cheesy, no issues with reading whatever words are there? like. jon literally could read french for a whole statement and was Fine. granted, that's Jon, but like nobody else struggled with pronunciations and whatnot (that i can recall)

presumably, this is an eye thing. either as employees of the institute, or because everyone there is just also eye-aligned in some degree (melanie had the ghost hunting show, the eye is fond of martin, etc)

and then there's tim in season 3 ep 86

[Sigh] Statement of… uh, Benjamin Hatendi… Hateendi? Regarding a… [papers rustling] a blanket. Dead friend. Monster. Regarding his unavoidable and gruesome end. How he tried to hide. He couldn’t. Statement is from… 1983, March 2nd. And I guess… [long sigh] I guess I’m doing this one. Tim Stoker. Archival assistant… Archival prisoner at the Magnus Institute.

correct me if im wrong but i don't recall anyone struggling with pronunciations before this bit. but that's not even the biggest thing here, that's just a lil Taste, a lil Flavor.

note the phrasing there. "Regarding his unavoidable and gruesome end." why would he say this when the written text on the statement says this:

Uh, right. Benjamin Hatendi’s account of… [rustling pages] oh for… a, a strange encounter. Er, statement date, March 2nd, 1983. Melanie King recording. Apparently.

"a strange encounter". that's it. nothing about an unavoidable death, just a "strange encounter". Tim Why Did You Say That.

why would our dear timothy bimothy, who is being pushed to the brink, who is becoming rapidly more depressed and losing hope, say this?

this isn't the only time he's said some weirdly grim shit tho (ep 104)

There was never really any hope for me, though, was there? This was how it was always going to go.

and then there's this bit from elias apparently having Looked into tim (also 104)

TIM All right, hit me with your X-ray eyes then, boss. What do you see? ELIAS Disruption. An unpredictable, angry man with nothing left but the desire to feel in some way revenged. TIM [Sarcastic] Ooh, terrifying! Surely only magic could have let you see so deep inside my very soul.

"nothing left" but the desire to feel revenged. and tim doesn't dispute this, because it's true.

when he first joined the institute he did so in order to look for answers about danny, but then he stopped seriously looking. and now that the circus is back, this is all the drive he has left. not looking for answers, just wanting revenge. closure. an end, if you will.

this is Literally It For Him. a couple lines later he suggests elias kill him, he's At The Breaking Point.

he is so tired, he's lost all hope, and he's saying all this grim shit about "unavoidable death" and "this is how it was always going to go" like hmmmm sounds familiar doesn't it. DOESN'T IT (<- is going insane)

(ep 11) [....] despite the rapid response of the paramedics and how much of his medical history I had immediately to hand, there was nothing I could do to save him. (ep 11) I have no responsibility to try and prevent whatever fate is coming for you. Based on my previous experience, such a thing is likely impossible anyway,[....] (ep 121) There. That was it. That was our fate; where we would always be.

hmmmm sounds a bit like oliver huh? everyone's favorite ex-accountant avatar of the end?? right??

but then there's this last bit i have from ep 86.

why did he stop reading the statement

Statement. “My parents never let me have a nightlight. I was always afraid, but they were ju–” Ugh, this is stupid.

why did he do that. again, correct me if im wrong but when else has someone just Stopped Reading like that without someone or something else interrupting them? why could tim just stop himself?

my theory is this: at this point, tim is completely gone from being aligned with the eye. he no longer seeks to know what happened to danny, he just wants closure. he doesn't wanna do any statement work, and he keeps mentioning these tidbits about hopelessness and the inevitability of terrible events, specifically death.

the eye isn't compelling him to read the statements like it does the others, because it doesn't have as strong a hold anymore. the grip is slipping from him. and by the time the unknowing rolls around, maybe it's lost him for good. maybe he finally fell into a different power he never meant to serve, and yet, he does.

and maybe. just maybe. because i'm so not in denial. but MAYBE. he did die in the unknowing. but maybe he got better.

basically end!tim truthers rise up, this is how end!tim kayaking with his bf oliver banks can still win, etc etc I'm Going Feral <3

[woso-dreamzzz]

Mignon's Halloween

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: The eleventh of my Halloween-centric fics

It's Jana that finds the headline first. It's Jana who opens her phone one day on camp to see it trending.

'Barcelona Superstar to Return to her Childhood Club?'

With her contract running out in the summer, question marks over whether young French star y/n l/n will stay at Barcelona remain but eagle eyed fans think they've solved the mystery.

In a recent TikTok posted on her girlfriend's account, the young star seems to have been pictured wearing her old Olympique Lyonnais jersey.

Click Read More below to see what our experts think of this startling discovery:

It's Jana that slides her phone over to Alexia at breakfast. It's Jana who has to explain that the site looks kind of sketchy and it likely isn't true.

But then you start posting things while you're away on camp with France.

Most of it is harmless stuff. The kind of stuff Alexia expects from a teenager back in their home country - a few harmless pranks on your teammates, a picture of you and your parents, a cute video of you kissing your girlfriend's cheek.

But then there's a random selfie of you in your childhood bedroom.

You're relaxed back on your pillows, your family dog laying on your chest.

His snout is covering the emblem over your heart but Alexia can recognise a Lyon jersey anywhere.

That's when she gets a bit worried.

You left Lyon because you wanted game time they wouldn't give you. You'd pushed a bit too hard for game time and they'd told you they weren't going to renew your contract.

Surely you wouldn't go back to them now.

Surely even if they begged and begged and begged, you'd hold yourself in a high enough regard that you wouldn't go back to them.

But the Lyon shirt pops up a few more times while you're away.

There's even a video of your girlfriend wearing one of your old jerseys as she walks her own dog.

"Don't tell me you're stalking the girlfriend now," Mapi gripes as Alexia stares down at her phone," The kids can have fun without you hovering over them."

"I'm not stalking anyone!"

"You haven't even met her girlfriend yet you follow her on every bit of social media you can find her on."

"That's for safety. I'm making sure she's a good one."

"I think y/n is capable of choosing her own girlfriend."

Alexia makes a face and Mapi corrects herself.

"I think y/n's parents are capable of approving a good girlfriend. Don't be so worried."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Alexia mutters, looking up from her phone when you finally walk in with Vicky.

The both of you are speaking in hushed whispers, giggling to yourselves until you both split off to go to your own cubbies.

Back when Lucy still played with the team, your cubby used to be next to hers but now that she's gone back to England, you've been moved next to Alexia so she can keep an eye on you.

"So," She says, trying to be as casual as she can," How was camp?"

You give her an odd look. "Yeah it was alright. But you know that already. Because you're a stalker."

"Why does everyone think I'm a stalker?!"

"You follow my girlfriend on all your social media. You didn't even create a fake account."

"Fake account? What's that?"

You smile at her, the same smile that Vicky does at camp when Alexia tries to show off one of those dances from TikTok that she knows young people like.

"Don't worry about it." You pull on your training shirt. "Is the Halloween party thing still on for tonight?"

"Yes, why?"

"Just checking. I might be a little late though. I've got a meeting with my agent."

Alexia tries to make it seem like she's not all that interested in it but she isn't quite sure it works. "Oh? What about?"

"Just contract stuff. I'm going to head off with Vicky before training," You say," We're going to see if we can break into the vending machine again."

Normally, Alexia would try to stop you but her eyes catch on the familiar white of the Lyon shirt you have stuffed in your bag.

The sinking feeling in Alexia's chest returns in full force, staying with her for most of the day to the point that she finds herself glancing at you much more than she usually does.

"She's not going to just up and leave," Patri says that evening at the Halloween party," She loves it here."

"She had Lucy here with her," Alexia points out," They spoke French together. None of us speak French. What if she misses speaking French?"

Irene rolls her eyes, slightly preoccupied with making sure that her son isn't eating all of the sweets that Marta has been spoiling him with. "She calls her parents regularly. She calls her girlfriend. And I can speak French. She's not been missing the French language in the slightest."

"But what if-"

"If she's leaving us," Marta says, reaching across the table to give Matteo another skittle," Then it won't be for Lyon."

Alexia finds it kind of hard to believe Marta when she's dressed in an inflatable pig costume.

"She's meeting with her agent and-"

"And she's here," Patri interrupts, chin jerking towards the door that you've just slipped in through.

"She's wearing it!" Alexia hisses, heart thumping in her chest," The Lyon shirt! She's wearing it! This is it. This is it. She's leaving us."

"No way!" Vicky laughs from across the room," You actually did it?"

You grin back at her, showing off your ripped shirt. "I think Laporta thought I was crazy when I pulled out the scissors and the lighter. What do you think? Do I look axe-murderer victim enough?"

"Do you mind if we add blood?" Vicky asks.

"You have fake blood? You should have led with that!"

You and Vicky barely take a moment to look at the congregation of captains at the table before you're pouring blood all over your head and shirt, really rubbing it all over the white fabric.

Alexia's mouth hangs up just as Jana's phone chimes with a notification from the Barcelona Femení account.

Happy Halloween Culers!

FRENCH SUPERSTAR HERE TO STAY! Find out more below!⬇️

[moonsaver]

Context before getting into the actual idea: I recently saw some fanart based on concept art for Dr Ratio where he has slightly longer, messier hair and the fanart interpreted this as him having a bit of a rebellious phase when he was younger.

So now I’m just thinking about Reader going to school with him when he was going through this phase. He had a bit of a crush on her but didn’t know how to express it so he just messed with her constantly.

And now they meet again when he’s changed and he hasn’t gotten over her she’s just getting massive amounts of whiplash from how wildly different he is. Could be yandere 👀

Anon. I am GRIPPINT YOU BY THE SHOULDERS. Listen. Unfortunately i doubt i did this justice but i tried my best PLEASE okay

A bit long, under the cut!

Its not exactly easy to imagine Dr. Ratio of all people being rebellious, but that just makes it even more possibly believeable in my opinion. I am deeply convinced he has had his crazy scientist, jerkward asshole phase at least once and was soo deeply embarassed the moment he left it.

But listen. His professors all probably HATED him because he would probably constantly correct them, be so disgustingly overeducated to the point they'd send him to the library or tell him to get lost just so he wouldn't disrupt class. He's the infamous asshole who sits wherever he wants, and hoardes an entire table to himself if he's at the library or at the cafeteria. Any student who needs a pen or eraser or a pencil knows he's NOT the one to ask, even if it was in the middle of an exam worth half their grade and he was the only person beside them. He does literally anything he wants and no one can stop him except probably by force, and if they do, something worse ends up happening to them instead.

Anyways, here comes in reader. Probably already knows his sour reputation. Regardless, maybe you're the poor soul who's his seatmate. If the crush is already established, he's constantly bothering you. Asking for stationaries like the entirety of his desk isn't covered by it already (he likes the miniscule interaction), taking your notebooks without your knowledge and sometimes even scribbling inside of them (its his horrid handwriting, he's just trying to help you with detailed notes), he comments on how "lame" your outfit is, asking about your social life, rolling his eyes when your response isn't exactly.. pleasing (he's actually a bit content with it. Perhaps you'll hang out with him more, instead?). You note the smell of alcohol trailing him a bit everytime you interact with him.

It's not easy for him, especially when you can't seem to keep up and look so queasy around him. Aeons, his heart is so twisted up and squeezed everytime he seems to be getting more distant from you, but he just has no idea how to convey his feelings. Not when he didn't even account for the fact he'll have a crush on anyone in the first place.

Anyways, timeskip!

You're probably a researcher of some sort, maybe not so well known. Let's just say for the sake of simplicity you're a researcher on Herta's space station. It's not too soon before he runs into you, probably after the whole mess at the station's been "cleaned up" regarding the curio and whatever. Maybe he doesn't leave right after that interaction with Screwellum, and he decides to, by his curiosity, take a look around once again before he leaves (certainly not because he's heard a familiar name thrown around a few times).

And there you are. In your little research-getup, professional vernacular, hair all neat. He's probably right behind you in an instant, and you turn around to look as the colleague you were talking to suddenly starts stuttering and becoming squeamish while looking behind you. There he is, in all his (cruel?) Glory. The infamous asshole who was your classmate.

But.. it's surprising how much more mellow he's become (at least towards you?). His hair are neatly tamed, his build is taller and more muscular than it was back then, but his attire is also quite tame (if not a little.. fancy?), compared to his brash taste back then. His eyes still seem to hold contempt, but more distantly so.

Veritas figures your mouth is agape and you're speechless considering the change in his countenance as of recent. He's also not yet come to terms with the fact that his heart still twists and squeezes whenever he sees that unsure look on your face. If you were made of clay, and if he could, he'd meld the most beautiful smile on your face with his craftful fingers. Alas, he resorts to tamer methods. At least he supposes he's a wiser man, now. He's more aware of different courting methods.

He asks about your station, your current life, family, friends, etc .. in a seemingly disinterested tone. There's a bit of resignation but hidden constrain in his voice, everytime you mention a "close friend" of yours or a colleague you worked with "closely". But he hasn't been berating you the way he would have back then. His fingers slightly constantly strain, folded behind his back, trying desperately not to taper towards you – there's stray strands of hair on your face. Your headpiece is off centre. Your pen is slanting in your pocket. Your shoulders are too tense. Your eyebrows are furrowed. your eyes look tired. Have your lips always been chapped? They were fine back then.. hold on.

While you stutter out useless formalities and pleasantries, Veritas' eyes scan you over. Time has weathered you well, in his opinion. The thin line of his pressed lips dont quite indicate that. He sighs almost grimly, shutting you up in an instant. He offers you to accompany him and possibly consider joining the Intelligentsia Guild (is it not worth a shot trying? It may be foolish, but he's a tad too desperate when it comes to you). You timidly mumble out a refusal, the words barely leaving your mouth. He nods.

Catching up makes his heart squeeze and rush all over the place. Topics he once tried to teach you back then (by.. VERY unsuccessful methods,) seem to be elementary knowledge to you now. You work more efficiently, hold yourself in a better, more confident way, and you seem to be smoothsailing in your life. Granted, it's technically the bare minimum, but its been so long since he talked to you. The chirp in your voice, the chuckle you let out every now and then despite your nervousness around him, has his heart in his throat. He can't bring himself to try and even "set you straight" by giving you (unwarranted) advice or piddling your achievements, there's a soft smile he's duly hiding behind his scorning face.

He offers you again, if you are unsure about joining the Guild, and discreetly mentions it being filled with imbeciles regardless when you deny again, pulling another string of laughter out of you. Hmph, you weren't so joyful when he made those statements back in high school.

Granted,you're obviously still not quite sure about Veritas' new look. He's still got his infamous reputation as an extremely strict teacher, the oddball with an alabastor head and having worked with the IPC, it's not a pleasant image per se, but it's heaps better than his reputation back at school. You politely make a joke about it, and he groans, earning another cautious, light chuckle from you. He has become different. You prattle on about the length of his hair, his refinement of speech, the difference in how he holds himself now.. it does leave him melting a tad bit inside. You noticed it? Hm. Clever little thing.

Of course, goodbyes are seldom sweet. He does manage to pry out your contact information once again, before. If you don't budge,he finds another way regardless. Your network of colleagues aren't exactly as strong as you might have thought. He remembers this information carefully.

Like the old days, maybe he'll manage to keep slipping notes into your reports and files. Perhaps pull a few strings back in the old days to keep you in his class, he'll slowly knot and twist a few strings to bring and budge you over to his little workplace. Sooner or later, you'll end up in his home. He's sure of it.

And just like the old days, his little seatmate is by his side once again. Care to put up with him for a bit longer? Probably forever, in this case.

[nonbinarypirat]

physical affection and how it relates to iruma: part 1, parental touch

iruma reads as someone who is touch starved and doesn't like/understand touch until he now has affectionate people in his life. His parents have probably never touched him besides the required amount when he was a baby and maybe a headpat or quick hug (which would more than likely just be a manipulation tactic to get him to do their crazy schemes). They left him alone for days on end, there's no way they even could have been affectionate with him. And it's not like he ever went to school, his "friends" at school couldn't even remember him because of how many days he missed.

Overall, Iruma reads as touch starved but doesn't know he's missing it since he never had it to begin with. Here comes the love trio, the misfit class, Balam and more. Suddenly he has a lot of people in his life who are comfortable with touching him, even want to as a sign of how close they are. And we can see iruma very much becomes happy with it in turn.

That's why Balam and iruma's relationship is important, a parental type person he trusts is actively choosing to be affectionate with him, not to manipulate him but just because he cares about iruma. He even told him the reason is just to bond and get to know iruma, not some sort of underhanded method. This is just Balam's way of connecting. And they are close to each other enough to be comfortable in each other's spaces. Whether Iruma reads balam as a parent or not, balam is very much like a momma bird, keeping him close and safe in his arms. And Iruma becomes more open to it as time goes on with them knowing more about the other.

This is also a great dynamic because balam gives him the affection that he doesn't recieve from kalego, someone he clearly holds in high regard. Almost every time iruma reflects on the people that matter the most to him, kalego is there. which i find fascinating because what is kalego to iruma? on a subconscious level, i think he views kalego as a parental figure to him as well, one of the first to give him clear and concise rules to follow. his parents were just a fucking mess, they barely parented. never really taught him life lessons besides "just say yes" and "run." Kalego clearly cares a lot while also helping iruma navigate the netherworld making it easy for him to project a father role onto kalego

But kalego isn't an affectionate man from what we have seen. And even if he was, he is his instructor first and foremost so he may not feel comfortable being so with iruma (and also imagine the fucking annoying comments about favoritism from the other misfits LOL). Any touching has been fairly limited to him picking up Iruma like during the teacher dorm visits and Kalego's final hours as a familiar. Which honestly make these few scenes even more precious. Because he is actively choosing to be like this with Iruma. Affection does not come easy to Kalego like it does Balam. More than likely because of his upbringing and family beliefs (always needing to remain vigilant, dignified) and him as a person. So while he doesn't touch Iruma often, his one on one moments with him are extremely personal and parental in nature. And when he does interact with Iruma physically, the rarity adds to the specialness.

And then there's Opera. Opera has been especially more affectionate in the latest volumes with hand holding and hugs and all sort of touching. Which is very wholesome to see because Opera wasn't a character that had much of a strong relationship with Iruma at the beginning besides guarding him. I always got the impression that Opera didn't know how to feel about him, not to say they wouldn't protect him with everything they have. But the feelings and affection started up after the battler/batra Party when Iruma grabbed both Sullivan and Opera (though the care for him had been growing steadily before that). I have seen two main headcannons for their relationship, some see it more as a big sibling relationship while others see it as a parental one as well. For the sake of this post, I will be using it as a parent and child one.

Opera has been right there with Sullivan watching Iruma grow more and more confident as time goes on. And through Iruma growing up, we see how proud of him Opera is. From a scared child to a more bold child, Opera has helped cultivate this in him. I also love that whenever Sullivan isn't around, Opera takes over for taking care of him, allowing the two to have solo family time. Obviously their relationship is more of a weird dynamic seeing as how Opera is a security devil, but that doesn't stop the story from developing their relationship. The physical affection for the two is started from both sides, Iruma hugging Opera or Opera holding out their hand to hold as they walk home. In this case, their relationship is the most parent like as the story progresses.

And finally, we have Sullivan who is the most affectionate of the four. Come on, you can't beat grandpa when it comes to love and devotion to Iruma. He is the first one to introduce Iruma to physical affection in the first place. Now granted, in a slightly overbearing way at first because Iruma is not used to this and Sullivan is too happy to have a grandson. But now, we can see the genuineness behind each of his interactions with Iruma. He very much acts like a doting grandfather, and he really does love him too. Touching clearly comes more naturally to him so it's his way of showing Iruma love which opened the doors for more people in Iruma's life to show this too. When Iruma first started touching Sullivan back at the battler/batra party, it highlighted that Iruma is now more comfortable with Sullivan to do so back. He has been taught by Sullivan this way of caring and cares about him in the same way too. There's a lot of mutual love.

They have come a long way as a family unit. Sure, grandpa has always been Iruma's number one supporter, but at the beginning of the story it felt way too over the top? As the audience we were right there besides Iruma in feeling overwhelmed by Sullivan. This far into the story though, the emotional trust they have in each other is beautiful. They are no longer just two individuals thrown together by fate, they are two people who care about the other and their weird little family. And its even more wonderous when we think about Sullivan's past, having lost someone deeply close to him and has no way of knowing if he'll ever return (aka Delkira). From what we know, it seemed that Sullivan truly loved him like a son/grandson/family member and loosing him is still something he's grappling over. And yet, he was still able to create this, push through his pain to make a family with Iruma. He's not a replacement for what he lost, but somone he allows himself to care about in a similar way in the past. By pushing through the trauma, he has been able to give Iruma what he never had in his past life.

I see both Balam, Kalego, and Opera as parents who provide him with different styles of parenting (with grandpa also providing that but also being a "ill give you anything you want" guardian hehe). Through this, he can learn varied viewpoints and, more importantly to this post, the affection he never had as a child. Does it make up for never having grown up with it? No, it never could. But it's not about making up for what it lost, rather its about making new connections and love with what you have now. And displaying that love in small and bigger ways with touch.

[shakingparadigm]

I'm really enjoying these new glimpses of Till where he seems rather calm? Naturally he still has big feelings and expresses them accordingly, but compared to past instances it's a lot less explosive.

Most of Ivan and Till's fights seem to happen when they're younger. This is most likely because they weren't familiar with each other yet and were still at the age where most things were taken at face value. They're still getting used to each other's "strangeness", and that could be the cause for certain misunderstandings.

By the time Ivan started developing his "attractive" persona, he was much more aware of what made Till tick. Instead of toning down on his behavior, he used it to his advantage.

Throughout childhood, all Ivan knew was that if he performed certain actions he would get a response from Till (whether he intended it or not). Their shenanigans were incredibly childish, but they made a prominent impact on Ivan's perspective. His thoughts gradually transitioned from "I didn't know" to "oh. this is what I need to do so that Till will notice me."

Despite maturing a great amount and presenting a princely image to everyone else, Ivan never grew up when it came to Till. He continued to apply the same tactics from childhood just to keep Till's attention.

This is why the Anakt Diaries mention that though Ivan is mature for his age, he acts childishly when he's with Till. It's what he knows best.

As they grew older, they both became more fine-tuned to certain aspects regarding each other. Ivan understood what would get a rise out of Till and began messing with him on purpose, hoping to get a reaction. Unfortunately for him, Till started getting used to it (for the most part).

Despite his rebelliousness and bold expression, Till is timid when it comes to people. He only attacks when provoked, and unfortunately for someone as sensitive as him, that's quite often. Ivan took great joy in poking and prodding at him until they resorted to pulling hairs.

However, an older Till seems much less inclined to attack a pestering Ivan. In fact, he seems to brush it off suprisingly well. Of course he reacts, but he no longer reacts violently.

He goes back to a neutral (probably mildly annoyed, definitely weirded out) state almost immediately afterwards. The important part is that no hands are thrown. At this point, it's been years of Ivan and Till knowing each other. Till has watched Ivan grow from this gloomy little boy to the literal "Prince Charming" of Anakt, yet one thing has always remained the same: Ivan stayed by his side. Whether they like it or not, being close for so long will eventually endear someone to another. Thanks to the Ivan Exposure Therapy (and probably a bit of his own growing maturity), Till isn't so phased by Ivan's antics anymore. At the very least he seems to reply instead of taking full offense, poking fun at Ivan's lack of a birthday instead of just saying no. Older Till seems less irritated and more like he's just exasperated. Familiar, accustomed to Ivan's presence.

@geospiral already made a great post about what Ivan's side of this whole development might have been like. It's really interesting, so I recommend checking it out!

[puranami]

✿ It's The Little Things ✿

A/N: My first time writing! Admittedly I'm very nervous, but also so excited!! Kept it simple with a small headcanon list to start, but I tried to write a decent amount for each point, and I hope that everyone is in character :0 Posting at 4am because I have no control over my life...

Summary: Little relationship things with the Strawhats. Can be interpreted as the anime/manga or the live action version of the character.

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Nami, Usopp, Sanji

Content: SFW, G/N reader, slightest hint of angst in Sanji's part, but otherwise, pure unadulterated fluff! ✿

(Part 2 - Buggy, Shanks, Mihawk) (Part 3 - Franky, Robin, Law, Kid, Killer) (Part 4 - Crocodile, Rosinante/Corazon, Doflamingo)

Luffy

✿ He absentmindedly draws shapes on your leg, back, or whatever part of you is there as you sit together, whether you are watching the waves, or listening to one of Usopp's stories. He is almost magnetic in the way he ends up attached to you. If you're not feeling it, he will do his best to keep his hands to himself, but as soon as his focus shifts onto anything else, they're back on you, drawing little clouds and hearts. He tried, he really did!

✿ This bottomless pit inhales food like it's going out of fashion, but, much to the bewilderment of the rest of the crew, he will actually feed you from his plate as he eats, even though you are eating your own food. It may be a case of "1 for you, 5 for me," but it's almost instinctive for him; he's sharing something he's passionate about with you, and making sure that, in his eyes, you are happy, healthy and strong. He values your wellbeing more than food; you are one of the most important things in his life.

✿ Despite how chaotic he is in every aspect of his life, his presence brings you to a state of complete peace, even when he's yelling about whatever currently has his attention. Just knowing he is there comforts you in a way that nothing, and no one else can. As long as Luffy is there, being the same old Luffy he always is, you know everything will be alright in the end, and if it isn't alright, well, it isn't the end yet.

Zoro

✿ He always places a comforting hand on your head when he passes by, or ends up in the same general space as you. It's his version of a hug, a reassuring touch that he is there, and that he's happy to see you. Zoro is very subtle with his affection, at least in public, but even when it's just the two of you, he automatically defaults to the head pat. It comforts him as much as it does you, and the simple action alone conveys his feelings far better than he ever could with words.

✿ You both love silently observing everything going on around you, and it's such a comfortable silence. You just enjoy each others company while watching the world go by, with Zoro also keeping an eye out for any threats, as he does. Sometimes you end up passing silent judgement on what you see, and you have both developed this uncanny ability to gossip without saying a single word. It's honestly unnerving at times, but you are just so familiar with each others micro-expressions that it's second nature.

✿ Insults are terms of endearment. If anyone else called either of you such things, all hell would break loose - swords drawn, blood spilt, bodies hit the floor, the whole song and dance. It actually started out as a form of deflection, with both of you being far too stubborn to admit any feelings were there, even to yourselves; "No, I don't like you, shitstain, I tolerate you." - "Whatever helps you sleep at night, arseface." As you connected though, it just became your thing, and you love seeing who can come up with the funniest insults. Zoro is surprisingly creative in this regard.

Nami

✿ Nami has a habit of fixing your clothes and hair if something is out of place. It can seem overbearing to others, but she knows you appreciate the gesture. She spent years putting up walls to defend herself, and this is a safe way for her to have a little moment alone with you, giving you gentle little touches without revealing to the world just how important you are to her. It is a very grounding experience for both of you, and you end up doing the same for her on the rare occasion that she isn't completely flawless. She may purposely put things out of place so you have the opportunity to fix something too.

✿ She has an eye for the finer things, and loves getting you little trinkets, and especially pieces of jewellery, which often match or pair with hers, like pendants that fit together to make a whole shape, and such. Just don't ask her where she got them; "Shhh, you don't need to worry about that." All that matters is that you now have a tangible connection to each other, no matter how close, or far apart you are.

✿ Another person who relishes in comfortable silence. Of course you love chatting with each other, and often do so later into the night than you intended. Nami is very quick-witted and your shared snark is always so enjoyable! But it's the moments when you are doing your own thing together, basking in the warmth of that closeness that brings the most joy. Every so often, you will share something interesting or amusing, depending on what you're doing, but you always return to that silence. It's very domestic.

Usopp

✿ You both end up in regular fits of giggles, that grow into raucous laughter, before devolving into the sounds of various suffocating wildlife, which only fuels the hilarious fire. He doesn't even have to say anything at times; he just has a look, and as soon as he catches your eye with it, you absolutely lose it. The amount of nonsensical inside jokes you have is absurd in itself.

✿ Ever the storyteller, Usopp will wind down the day with you relaxing under the stars, telling you fantastical stories about the impossible feats of the great 'Captain Usopp.' His creativity and imagination are something you greatly admire, and as much as you try to stay awake to appreciate those qualities, the comfort he brings has you dropping off every time. He'll carry you to bed most nights, but sometimes he can only manage to drag you around like a corpse he's trying to hide, and he'll end up waking you up laughing about it.

✿ You automatically link your little fingers whenever you are close enough to. It doesn't even register half of the time, only realising when you need that hand or try to go your separate ways. When this happens, providing there isn't anything that needs your urgent attention, you like to dramatize your parting, playing up that this is the most painful moment of your lives! "Don't you dare let go, Usopp! We can both make it out of this alive!" - "I'm so sorry, I can't hold on any longer, and I refuse to drag you down with me." - "No! Don't say that!" - "I love you so much, but you need to let me go..." Leading to you unlinking your fingers, and exaggerated fake cries of anguish. It annoys everyone around you immensely.

Sanji

✿ You shamelessly flirt with each other, making everyone around you uncomfortable, groaning at how painful it is. You weren't together when you started playing this romantic game of chicken, giving back everything Sanji threw at you, and then some, but once you figured your feelings out, you actually developed it into a legitimate game where you attempt to be as sickening and obnoxious as possible. If there is no one grimacing, angrily telling you both to pack it in, or simply leaving the room; you aren't flirting enough. There is a points system, and you're currently in the lead. Sanji ends up caving over the things you say, and his brain loses the ability to form words, let alone string them together in a coherent sentence.

✿ Sanji always leaves a drink and a bite to eat for you to wake up to, since he isn't there in person, having to wake up much earlier to prepare the food for the day. Growing up in a restaurant, early starts are just part of his natural rhythm, so it doesn't bother him, but sometimes you try to wake up with him to at least watch the sunrise together, before going back to bed for a couple more hours. He cherishes those mornings, and there is always an extra spring in his step on those days.

✿ He takes every opportunity he can to share a glance and a warm smile, a gentle touch of your hands, or a chaste kiss with you. They are agonisingly brief moments, but Sanji needs them to get him through the day, otherwise he would just cling to you, and neither of you would get anything done! Unknown to you, these moments are also his way of reminding himself that you chose him over everyone else, that he is loved unconditionally, and that he is enough, without having to, in his opinion, burden you with his insecurities. He'll open up to you one day, and you will be able to give him verbal affirmations along with everything else~

[bangchansdirty-slut]

Hi are you taking requests rn?

If so could i request a domtop yandere soobin x sub bttm male reader where the reader is a junior at a prestiges university and soobin is the senior above him that has a habbit of stalking and breaking into the readers apartment.

For kinks can soobin have a breeding kink and the reader can thete be degradation and some feminization

Can I Come In?

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

Paring: domtop yandere soobin x sub bttm male reader

Genre: Smut

Requested

More: Masterlist

A/n: Requests are open

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

It was a chilly Tuesday evening, and M/n was curled up on the worn-out sofa in his dorm, lost in the pages of his favorite book. He was a junior at a prestigious university, majoring in literature, and he lived alone in a modest studio apartment. The walls were adorned with posters of his favorite groups, creating a cozy and familiar atmosphere. As he read, he couldn't shake off the feeling that someone was watching him. He glanced around, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe it was just his overactive imagination.

He heard a faint creak coming from the window and froze. His heart began to race as he slowly turned his head toward the sound. Peering through the sheer curtains, he saw a figure crouched on the ledge outside. His breath hitched in his throat as he realized it was Soobin, the senior above him who had a habit of stalking and breaking into his apartment.

Soobin grinned devilishly at him, his pale, delicate features illuminated by the soft moonlight. He wore a black hoodie that barely covered his lithe, muscular frame, and his short, messy hair framed his face. His dark brown eyes sparkled with mischief as he slowly climbed through the window, deftly avoiding the creaky hinges.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my favorite Junior. How nice of you to wait up for me," Soobin purred, stepping inside and closing the window behind him. M/n swallowed hard, his heart still racing in his chest. Soobin locked the window and turned around, regarding him with those dark, intense eyes. "I guess you were wondering why I broke into your apartment again tonight, hmm?"

He walked slowly towards M/n, who couldn't help but retreat further into the couch. Soobin's movements were almost hypnotic, his every step deliberate and calculated. When he was close enough, he knelt down in front of M/n, their faces only inches apart. "I wanted to see you, M/n. You're so precious, and I just can't get enough of you."

His breath was warm against M/n's cheek, sending shivers down his spine. "I-I don't understand. Why do you keep doing this?" he managed to stammer. Soobin smiled softly, running a finger down M/n's cheek. "Oh, M/n, it's because I care for you. I want to make sure that no one else has you but me."

M/n swallowed hard, unable to meet Soobin's gaze. He knew that Soobin was dangerous, but the older man's words and touch sent a shiver of desire through him nonetheless. "So… what do you want me to do?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Soobin's smile widened, and he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against M/n's ear. "Oh, I don't know, M/n. Why don't you show me what you've been thinking about? The things you've been doing when you think I'm not watching?"

M/n felt a hot flush creep up his neck. He knew exactly what Soobin meant. In the days leading up to this, he had caught himself touching himself more often, fantasizing about Soobin's touch. He couldn't deny the desire burning inside him. But he also couldn't shake off the fear of what Soobin might do if he refused.

Slowly, tentatively, he reached up and brushed a lock of hair away from Soobin's face. The older man's features were beautiful, ethereal even. So close, his breath mingling with M/n's. M/n's heart pounded in his chest as he leaned in closer, feeling a sudden rush of courage wash over him. He closed his eyes and pressed a gentle kiss to Soobin's lips.

The older man's response was immediate and powerful. His hands gripped M/n's shoulders, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss with a passion that M/n had never experienced before. His tongue danced with M/n's, exploring every inch of his mouth, sending shivers down his spine. Soon, M/n found himself lost in the sensation, returning the kiss with an equal fervor.

As their tongues tangled, Soobin reached up and began unbuttoning M/n's shirt, revealing more and more of his chest. The older man growled appreciatively as he ran his hands over the smooth, warm skin. M/n arched into the touch, his own hands fumbling with the buttons of Soobin's shirt. The older man helped him, pushing the fabric aside to reveal his chest, pale and smooth in the dim light.

They broke the kiss, gasping for air. M/n's eyes drank in the sight of Soobin's bare chest, his muscles taut and defined. Soobin reached down and tugged at M/n's pants, and M/n willingly helped, shimmying out of them. He kicked off his boxers as well, revealing his aroused length. Soobin smiled wickedly and crawled forward on his knees, taking M/n's cock in his hand.

"You're so beautiful, M/n," he murmured, stroking him gently. M/n arched into the touch, moaning softly. Soobin leaned in, kissing and licking his way down M/n's body, teasing his nipples with his teeth before taking them into his mouth, sucking gently. M/n writhed beneath him, his hips bucking helplessly.

Soobin looked up at M/n, their eyes meeting in the dim light. He smiled, running his tongue along M/n's stomach before moving lower, flicking his tongue over the sensitive skin behind M/n's balls. M/n cried out, his back arching off the couch. Soobin chuckled, his voice deep and husky.

His lips and tongue danced over M/n's sensitive flesh, teasing and taunting. He sucked on his perineum, then moved up to lick the head of M/n's cock. M/n's hips bucked wildly, seeking release, but Soobin kept him just on the edge. He took M/n's cock into his mouth, sucking hard as he ran his tongue around the sensitive underside.

M/n cried out, his hands tangled in Soobin's hair, urging him on. He arched his back, offering deeper access as Soobin sucked him expertly. The older man growled around him, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine. He reached down, fondling M/n's balls, rolling them gently in his palm.

"You're such a dirty boy," Soobin whispered, his lips brushing against M/n's hip. "You know you belong to me now, don't you?"

M/n moaned, arching his back as he felt Soobin's hot breath against his skin. He was still panting from the intensity of the pleasure that had just consumed him. He couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of desire building inside of him as Soobin's words washed over him.

Soobin's hands gripped M/n's hips tightly, guiding him into position on all fours. He leaned forward, his body pressing against M/n's back, their cocks still slick with each other's cum. M/n felt Soobin's erection pressing against his entrance, and he let out a soft whimper.

"You're such a good little fucktoy," Soobin purred, his voice low and rough. "Just like your pretty virgin pussy." He thrust forward, pushing inside M/n's ass. M/n arched his back, letting out a gasp as the familiar yet foreign sensation of being penetrated filled him. "You belong to me now, M/n," Soobin continued, his hips moving faster. "I'm going to breed you. I'm going to fill you with my cum, and you're going to carry my babies."

The older man's thrusts were forceful but controlled, each one driving deeper into M/n's body. Soobin's hands gripped M/n's hips tightly, guiding him in time with his movements. "That's it," he whispered, his breath hot against M/n's ear. "Just take it. Take my cock."

M/n moaned, arching his back as Soobin's thickness stretched him wider. He could feel the other man's control beginning to slip, his thrusts becoming more erratic. It was almost painful, but M/n knew it was only because Soobin was so overwhelmed with desire. He wanted M/n to feel wanted, to make him lose control.

"That's it, baby," Soobin groaned, his hips slamming into M/n's ass. "You feel so good. So tight. You're taking every inch of me."

M/n moaned, arching his back as Soobin's thickness stretched him wider. He felt so full, so owned. The way Soobin was thrusting into him, claiming him, made him feel like a possession. Like something precious that belonged only to the older man.

"You're pussy so tight," Soobin groaned, his hips slamming into M/n's ass. The older man's thrusts were forceful, but M/n could feel the care behind each one, as if Soobin were trying to be gentle despite the urgency of his desire. "It's like you were made just for me."

M/n let out a moan, arching his back as Soobin's thickness stretched him wider. The familiar sensation of being penetrated mixed with the new, unfamiliar feel of being filled by something other than a cock. It was overwhelming and exhilarating all at once. "I-I'm yours, S-oobin," he whispered, his voice breathless. "I'll always be yours."

Soobin thrust deeper into M/n's ass, his hands gripping M/n's hips tightly. "That's it, baby," he groaned, his breath hot against M/n's ear. "Just take it. Take my cock." His thrusts grew faster, harder, each one pushing deeper inside M/n's body. M/n could feel Soobin's control beginning to slip, the older man surrendering to the force of his desire.

Their skin was slick with sweat, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony. Soobin's hips slammed into M/n's ass, his cock stretching him wider, filling every inch of him. M/n arched his back, moaning loudly as he felt the familiar tightness in his chest, the telltale signs of his own climax.

Soobin's hands gripped M/n's hips tightly, guiding him in time with his movements. Heat pooled low in M/n's abdomen, spreading outward in a wave of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm him. "Oh god, Soobin," he gasped, his voice hoarse with desire. "I'm close."

The older man's thrusts grew faster, harder, his body tensing as he neared the brink as well. M/n felt Soobin's cock twitch inside him, a warning of what was to come. With a final, powerful thrust, they both let go, their bodies arching in unison as they found release. Soobin's hot seed spilled into M/n's ass, filling him up and making him feel so full, so wanted.

M/n let out a long moan as the sensation washed over him, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm. He could feel every stroke of Soobin's cock inside him, each thrust sending a wave of pleasure through him. As they came down from their high, Soobin gently lowered M/n's legs, allowing them to rest on the couch beside him. He held M/n close, their bodies still connected as he continued to move slowly inside him.

Soobin's hands roamed over M/n's chest, teasing his nipples with his fingers. He kissed M/n's neck, his lips hot and soft against his skin. "You feel so good," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "I could lose myself in you." He shifted his weight, moving M/n's legs up so that he was now straddling his lap with his ass resting on the couch. His cock slid in and out of M/n's body, filling him in a new and intimate way. "Is this okay?" he asked, nibbling on M/n's earlobe.

M/n moaned, arching his back to meet Soobin's thrusts. "More," he whispered. "Please." Soobin's touch was electrifying, making every nerve ending in M/n's body tingle with anticipation. The older man's fingers danced over M/n's chest, teasing and taunting, before moving lower, caressing his stomach and hip. M/n's muscles tightened as Soobin's cock found a new angle, filling him completely.

He leaned forward, resting his weight on his arms as Soobin continued to thrust, their hips moving in perfect synchrony. The older man's lips brushed against M/n's neck, his hot breath sending shivers down his spine. "You're so beautiful," Soobin murmured, his voice husky with desire. "I never want this feeling to end."

[cookiekissers]

pls i need some yandere burning spice cookie 🥺🥺 just general headcannons or anything really 👍

[Yandere Burning Spice HCs]

Honestly, you could say regular Burning Spice is a yandere and I wouldn't disagree /j

But actual Yandere Burning Spice would dial his usual traits up to an 11.

Burning Spice is aggressive, possessive, and he always wants MORE. More of you, more of your time, more of your affection, more of your attention.

Burning Spice gets incredibly annoyed when your attention is on anyone but him, and he doesn't hesitate when crumbling the competition for your affection.

He will leave bits and pieces of those who dared to get in his way as "gifts" on your doorstep. It is a sign of his strength and conquest!

If you have feelings for Burning Spice, and haven't caught on to his darker intentions, he will ironically start playing hard to get. This is his way of testing you, to see if you're as intensely in love with him as he is with you.

He wants someone to reignite that SPARK he's been yearning for. And when he saw you, he felt an old, familiar flame flicker inside him. That's when he became obsessed. It was immediate and intense. And Burning Spice wants to chase that feeling.

Once he felt that spark, he won't waste any time trying to kidnap you. Burning Spice won't be subtle about it either. There will be no traps, no slow burn, or luring you into a false sense of security. He will pretty much break into your home in broad daylight and grab you. I mean... who's going to stop him? Unless you are protected by the Ancients, nothing and no one is going to stop him.

Burning Spice lives for excitement. He LOVES the thrill of the chase. So there will be a couple of times while he's bringing you back to Beast-Yeast where he will "allow" you escape, only for him to hunt you down again.

You never get far because he's only toying with you. Its merely a game to him. The only reason you have a chance to run is because he allows it.

From then on, Burning Spice essentially regards you as a trophy. You're always by his side, hanging on his arm.

Burning Spice isn't fully delusional. He fully knows that he took you against your will and that you want to escape him. Like how he gave you chances to escape when on the way to Beast-Yeast, he will do it here too.

You think if you play the loving "spouse" act long enough, Burning Spice will get comfortable and let his guard down. Once you think you have the chance to escape, Burning Spice quickly snuffs out any hope you had of freedom. He knew all along of your plans and little act. But, he's gracious, and will give you a head start before he hunts you down and captures you again.

[rickyriddle]

Agatha All Along Theory: The Road isn't real

(Disclaimer: I'll be using Teen's real name at some point so you better be up to date before reading)

Here's a theory I need to post before the last episodes air in case I'm right.

The actual Witches Road never existed. It was just a con Agatha created to trick witches and steal their magic. The reason why people think you can't survive the road is because everyone who tried to get there died (killed by Agatha). Alice even said the Road was just a con, because it was. Agatha's first reaction to Teen mentioning the Road is that it's not real, because she knows it's not. She even told him the Road would kill him- because the Road was always a con to kill witches and take their powers.

Agatha never intended to get her current coven there, she always planned for the song to fail and to provoke them so they'd attack her and she could get her magic back. She didn't want Teen to be there to spare him that fate.

That's why Agatha looked genuinely surprised when the Road does appear, and she doesn't seem to actually be familiar with it. She probably spread the rumour that she is the only one who survived in order to lure witches who are interested. The reason why she said she takes power from the undeserving is because she considered that witches who want to walk the road are too lazy to learn magic on their own, it's a way for her to justify killing them. She even told Teen that he wanted to take a "shortcut" with a bit of contempt in her voice when he mentioned looking for the Road.

Now as for this Witches Road... it's prob a hex Billy created without realizing it. The door only appeared after he started to be afraid of the Salem Seven, and it had a hexagon shape. Sounds familiar? Just like Wanda's hex. And I bet Agatha always had a doubt it was him, since she knew damn well the Road wasn't real since she made it up. She looked genuinely confused when it first appeared and definitely do not know anything about it and kept bullshitting her way to the others and acting as an expert.

Billy said "this is exactly how I pictured it" and Agatha replied "it suits you" because she knew he made it. It actually suited him. A lot of the stuff in the hex are based on him, lots of reference to his room as Billy Kaplan. And that's what Agatha meant by "you and your mother have the same tell". They both created an alternate reality unconsciously due to strong emotions. That's how she knew he was Wanda's son, the major clue. His magic works similarly to hers.

That would also explain Agatha's reaction to Sharon's death. "I didn't know you had it in you" was directed at Billy. Agatha wasn't expecting people to actually die since he created the road. So at that moment, she realized that child created a deadly hex, and didn't think he had it in him (not that he killed Sharon on purpose, but the road he made did).

That might explain Rio's reaction, usually the con of the road doesn't go that far, so she's feeling impatient because these witches should have been dead a while ago when Agatha lured them. That could also explain why Rio herself didn't seem familiar with the Road, since it never existed before.

That could also explain why Agatha argued with Jen regarding the lyrics of the ballad. If the road is her con, then she wrote the original lyric and might be unaware that some terms changed over time (like two becoming through).

So, the current road was created by Billy subconsciously, but the concept of the road was created by Agatha as long time ago as a con and ironically, it became real because of Billy. So, the title is true. It really was... Agatha all Along.

[roseadleyn]

Hi! May I get a yandere bertol axios x nonchalant willing reader? Where y/n is not bothered if he's too possessive and instead love him back?

dug this out the very bottom of my askbox,,,, here it is nonnie! a whole year or something later 🫶🏻

RED MEANS I LOVE YOU. || axion vergette

( / fan translation : berzet )

tw : blood, murder, two psychopaths in love ( how cute <3 )

'Axion?' You call upon waking up to an empty bed, tangled within the sheets. It was a little routine between the two of you for him to wake you and kiss you a good morning before he left for his duties, and Axion wasn't one to rise early either, so...

You pad out of bed, his shirt large and comfortable and sweetly familiar with his scent, looking for him in his office, his libraries. Nothing. Then, just as you resign yourself to worry, the huge, oak front doors creak open and your husband and lover walks in and you gasp.

He's covered in blood. Down his shirt, his jaw, his hands coated in the thick, viscous red. His teeth are gritted in irritation, but his eyes are strangely cold. He sighs heavily before his gaze finds you, fixed in place with horror and worry.

'Sweetheart.' His voice is enveloping, warm, but tired. It makes your heart throb with need and want and love. 'Why are you out of bed?'

'That sounds like something I should be asking you,' you object, moving closer to gently inspect his face for injuries, careful and concerned for him. He closes his eyes with a low hum of pleasure at your touch. 'I woke up in bed and you weren't there!'

He sighs again, irritable and weary, drawing you closer, arms tight around your waist, head on your shoulder. 'I was out for important work, darling.'

'I suppose that's why you're covered in blood, then. A massive paper cut.' You never talk back to him, but it just slipped back, and you wince instantly. 'S-sorry.'

He snorts at your snide remark. 'Remember, I don't appreciate that tone, sweetheart. But as I've scared you, I'll tell you. I was not busy with work concerning papers. With work concerning people.'

You draw back, frowning in puzzlement. 'I didn't leave the manor, Axion! I promise.'

'I know you didn't,' he laughed softly. 'Oh, no use in hiding it from you, little minx. I didn't appreciate your butler's... gaze.'

'Wh-what do you mean?' You don't understand him. You don't care about any butler! You don't think you care about anyone other than Axion. If that makes you an awful person, then so be it.

'He was looking so lovingly at you, didn't you notice?' His voice is condescendingly soft. 'All those lingering touches, all those sweet words. He was getting in our way.'

How dare he? Trying to get in your way? If he did harbor his stupid feelings for you he should've cared for your happiness and in turn, known you were happiest with Axion! Ridiculous man.

You curl up to him in his arms. 'He... He's dead, then.'

Axion doesn't answer. He does that, sometimes — if he doesn't want you to know a particular thing. But right now it's useless. You know just how much Axion loves you, but also... how ruthless he could be in that regard. There's no way that man lived.

But whatever. He isn't worth thinking of.

Your husband kisses your temple and carries you upstairs after that, quiet but attentive. You wash the blood off of him, huffing over the particularly stubborn bits, before you drag him to bed. Your heart swells as he settles beside you in your bed, the room glowing with the pale blue and golden shine of dawn, curtains drawn defiantly against the sun. He wraps an arm around your waist, and you sigh blissfully and lean into him.

'I love you.' He whispers softly into the crook of your neck, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.

'I love you too,' you say instantly. Because you do. Despite the locks on your door. Despite the guards positioned everywhere around the house. Despite the shackles in the corner of the room, kept 'just in case' (they were just precautions, anyways. He'd never do that to you!). Despite the little flecks of red on his knuckles that you'd missed. Despite the bloody knife lying downstairs to be cleaned.

You do love him. Why wouldn't you?

[makeyoumine69]

Being Bateman’s Soulmate | HEADCANON

Pairing: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader; CW: Romance & Angst; Links: [MASTERLIST]; Song Rec: The Cure — Lovesong; A/N: This is dedicated to everyone who is madly in love with their fictional crush! 💗 If you find any mistakes regarding gn!reader, please let me know!

— “Soulmate? What the fuck does that word even mean?” Bateman would say the first time you mentioned it. His reaction would amuse you at first, although you knew that Patrick would understand its meaning in time, and that feeling when you could touch another person's soul as if it were material. The feeling of wanting to scream because you were so in love that you couldn't even believe it was possible to have such feelings. All of this would eventually overwhelm him, and then he'd never want it to end.

— "You think I have a soul, huh?" He would smile whenever you had sentimental conversations, and even though Bateman kept repeating that he didn't like them, you would sometimes see him sitting alone, thinking about his life before he met you. Did you make his life better? Well, was it even possible to judge such things? Since nothing in this world could be black or white, it was always gray.  But with you, his life was painted in new colors.

— “I remember you telling me that your favorite color was red.” Red like the blood that spilled on his perfect sheets whenever he treated you too rough, but you never asked him to stop. Sometimes those little scarlet spots on the white sheets could look like petals from the red roses Bateman used to give you, even though he knew how clichéd that was. "Why didn't you tell me to stop?" The man would ask, tracing his long finger over the red marks on your hip.  Sighing, you would roll onto your stomach and give him your most devoted look. "Because I like it," and that was all he needed to hear from you. "I'd tell you if I didn't." Having said that, you would sit up to find his lips and kiss him, slowly but eagerly, transmitting all the love and emotion you had for him through that kiss.

— "If you say you love me, why does it hurt so much?" He would ask you this question over and over again after he had a breakdown because he was so overwhelmed by everything you were giving him: your care, your affection, your understanding, and your support. Eventually, it all became too much for him, and when Patrick realized that he was probably in love with you, a sharp pain coursed through the very small pitch of his body like an electric impulse. He loved you so much it hurt.

— One night, you were sitting in the living room in Bateman’s slick apartment and watching some classic romantic comedy from the 1930s, the scenes from it made you think about something you never expected you would. "Patrick, have you ever thought about death?" You asked suddenly, holding his hand and noticing how tense he became. "I mean... I'm afraid of death because I don't want to be without you, if that makes any sense." At first, Patrick just laughed and gently moved closer to you, hugging your shoulders possessively. "Can you promise me that... if there is an afterlife, you will find me there?" Nearly sobbing, you looked into his dark, brown eyes, at the way his eyebrows furrowed as the man considered his answer. "And we will be together even after death?" Your voice cracked at the weight of your words, never before had you dared to speak of such things.

— The question of death, an abstract yet intimately familiar topic, drew a thoughtful arch to his brow. Death was not a stranger to him, nor was it an adversary he feared-not in the way that the average person might. "Death," Patrick began, his voice tinged with a cold amusement that belied the gravity of the subject. "It's the only certainty in life, isn't it? A final transaction, one we all must make." His arm tightened around you, a gesture that feigned warmth but held an undercurrent of something sharper. Bateman met your gaze, the hazel of his eyes unreadable yet intense, reflecting the black-and-white dance of images on the screen. "If there is an afterlife," he continued, weighing each word like a coin on a scale, "I'll find you. But let's not be so morose, darling." The man leaned in, his lips brushing your ear, his breath a whisper that carried the scent of the red wine you had shared earlier. "Life is for the living, and I intend to savor every moment I have with you. Making promises about the afterlife is... morbidly romantic, but unnecessary. I have you now, and you have me. Isn't that enough?"

— And that was even more than enough.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (5)

She never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye

Part summary: Spencer’s lack of experience on the female anatomy is educated by her. wc: 4,7k

Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murder

a/n: sorry it took me longer to update, kind of went through a writer’s block but finally got back the vibe

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

SPENCER WAS A MAN ON A MISSION. His steps echoed on the marble floor the next morning as he entered the mundane space of the bureau, hand gripping the strap of his bag. The glass door separating the familiarity of his disorganized desk greeted him, but before he could enter the room, his heels turned towards a certain part of the office he was accustomed to.

He pushed the door at the end of the hallway to find Garcia typing away on her keyboard, her eyes fixated on the screen in front of her. The sudden sound of his arrival startled her before she swiveled in her chair, because the man standing by the door hardly visited her this early, especially when he still had his bag thrown over his shoulder.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the good doctor." She leaned back in her chair and gave him a grin. "What do I owe the pleasure of your presence in the safety of my lair?"

Spencer took a cautious step into the room as he closed the door behind him. "I need you to find me an address."

"That is my specialty." She turned back to her monitors. "Hit me."

"Y/n L/n."

There was a heavy pause as her fingers hovered above the keyboard. The familiarity of the name had her eying him as he stepped into her line of vision. "Isn't she one of the witnesses you talked to last night?"

He awkwardly cleared his throat. "Yes, she is."

"And you need her address because...?"

"I..." A sense of dread and anxiety hit him as he felt the intensity of her scrutinizing gaze. "I—I have further questions to ask."

Garcia wasn't an expert in profiling, unlike most of her teammates, but she wasn't blind when it came to picking out other people's sudden change of composure. Spencer's usually calm demeanor was suddenly replaced with discomfort, something that rarely occurred unless the topic of conversation extremely flustered him.

"You know," she started, slightly twisting her body. "Morgan told me something interesting happened last night, and I'm usually not one to gossip—" She rolled her eyes at the look he gave her. "Alright, fine, maybe I am. But it's not gossip if it's true."

His face twisted into a frown. "What did he tell you?"

"That the pretty witness lady may or may not know you personally." When he didn't respond, she urged on, "So? Is it true?"

Spencer quickly dropped his gaze to the floor. He considered himself to be a very private person, one that didn't share much about their personal life. The introverted trait in him preferred the comfort of spending his time engrossed with his own thoughts than engaging in unnecessary, awkward conversations with others. So whenever he received attention regarding his private matters, he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable under the spotlight.

"I cannot confirm nor deny that."

She scoffed. "You do realize you're not making it any less suspicious, right?"

She then proceeded in typing the name of the woman he had met the previous night but immediately stopped, her eyes piercing back at him. "What?"

"I will give you the address if you tell me whether you need it for work or personal reasons."

This was why he disliked human interaction. Couldn't one go on with their own lifestyle without questioning another person's way of life?

He let out an irritated sigh. "Garcia."

"Reid."

He pondered whether he could get away without explaining the intention of his request. But this was Penelope Garcia, known to be relentless with an interest in exchanging information about the personal lives of the team members. There was no other choice than to cave in if he wanted to avoid her persistent persuasion, so he answered—although reluctantly—in a very low voice, "Personal reasons.”

"I knew it!" She gleefully laughed. She focused her attention back onto her monitor, her fingers working their wonders before a passport picture of a woman stared back at them through the screen. "Ooh, she's pretty."

She really was. The person staring back at him was smiling, something he hadn't seen the last time he saw her. Her smile was an incredibly beautiful thing to behold. It was also incredibly contagious as he found his lips curling into a smile of his own, his eyes scanning across every feature on her radiant face. He was completely enthralled, it was as if her beauty had a grip on him, putting him in some sort of trance.

She was absolutely beautiful.

"Do you want me to save her picture? Send it to your phone?"

He felt the warmth spreading along his cheeks. "No." He turned his gaze towards the address printed on the left side of the screen, memorizing the exact street and the number of her residential.

"When I said you were a Casanova, I didn't think it would come to this extent." He threw her a frown as she explained, "A few days ago you had a lady friend at your place, and now this."

Spencer pursed his lips together. His palms immediately began to sweat as she sent him a wicked grin. His silence was all that it took for her to bounce in her chair, hands clapping at the irony of the situation. "No way. Are you telling me this is the same woman you met at the bar? The same stranger you spent the night with is the exact witness you talked to last night?"

He turned on his heels. "Goodbye, Garcia."

"Wait—no!" She grabbed him by the arm, forcing him to face her again. "Oh my god, I am so invested. This is way more entertaining than the show I'm currently watching!"

He heaved out a sigh. "I'm glad you can find amusement in my misery."

"Misery? This isn't misery, sweetheart, this is amazing. When was the last time you were involved with someone?" Far too long, he thought to himself, but his answer must've shown across his face. "Exactly. Now, aren't you glad I didn't show up that night?"

He shook his head, deciding not to answer her question, and crossed his arms instead. "This stays between us, okay?"

She nodded eagerly. "Of course."

"And you can't even mention this to Morgan."

"What?" She groaned as he proceeded to scowl at her. "Alright, alright. He will not hear any of this."

He assessed her one last time, cautiously weighing any possibility of her bluff. But when she returned his gaze with a suddenly concerned stare, he had to double-check whether he was seeing right. The mischievous glint in her eyes was replaced by a deep sense of worry, her face melting into the familiar solemn look she flashed whenever she had something important to say.

"Hey, Reid." She leaned back in her chair, tilting her head to the side. "You'll be careful, right?"

The sudden grimness of her tone caught him by surprise. "What do you mean?"

She paused for a moment, trying to sort out her words without wanting to offend him. "I just want to remind you that we're currently in the middle of investigating a case that involves her."

"She's only a witness," he pointed out.

"Doesn't make her any less important. Reid, when you're emotionally involved with anyone who is linked to a case we're working on, there's a high chance it can get messy. You know that."

Oh, how he knew that all too well. He knew how very unhealthy it could be, and how getting emotionally attached to someone involved in a case could lead to irrational or compromised decision-making. It could be a potential source of bias and it could make anyone put their personal feelings above what was best for the investigation. It could cloud people’s judgment. This was something that he would never recommend, something that he would urge anyone on the team to avoid doing.

So was he being rational now? Was running a background check on someone for personal reasons deemed appropriate?

Probably not. It was a very risky thing to consider, but Spencer was smart enough to understand how important it was to keep his emotions intact. The possibility of things getting out of hand would only happen if he couldn't keep it under control, which he was certain that he could, and he would never let anything stop him from doing his job.

"I'll be careful," he finally responded. "Thanks, Garcia."

"You are most definitely welcome, lover boy." She gave him a genuine smile before turning back toward her devices. "Now go and get your girl so I can go back to my work."

His body tensed. "She's not my girl."

She threw him a look that told him she didn't believe a word he said, something he was starting to question himself. He quickly shook his head and strode out of the room, completely denying Garcia's admission, because in his mind, Y/n was merely the stranger he met on one random night. She was simply the woman who ended up in his bed. She was the mysterious enigma who slipped into the night with nothing but a nod. She was the one who looked at him in disbelief at their unexpected encounter.

She was all of the things above, but she was definitely not his girl.

"You need to install a security camera."

Tapping her fingers lightly against the mug in her hands, eyes fixed on the black liquid of the freshly brewed coffee, Y/n blew out a rough breath. "Please worry about yourself."

"Or better yet, get a dog," the man across from her suggested. "Those big hound dogs that would scare people off. They can easily sense danger when they see one."

"Why would I need a dog when I have you?"

He frowned at her. "I'm being serious."

"And you think I'm not?"

He went completely still, his eyes trailing across her face. "Is that a trick question?"

She took a sip of the warm coffee, letting it calm her frustration as she pondered whether kicking him out of her own house was a better option than dragging him out through the door.

"Oliver," she muttered, her voice laced with annoyance while she carefully put down her mug on the countertop. "You have practically stationed yourself in my house, barking at anyone you think might be a potential danger."

"Y/n," he followed her gesture, leaning closer into the small space of her kitchen. "It's for your safety."

"You shouted at my mailman!"

"He took an awful lot of time talking to you."

She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying not to cause a scene in the sanctuary of her own home. She had woken up this morning, limbs tangled in her sheet and body aching from all the emotions she went through the previous night, and decided she would spend the day relaxing the tension in her nerves. Do some grocery shopping, head to the beauty salon to get a manicure and a nice haircut that was long overdue, and ravish herself with a delicious meal at the new restaurant she had been wanting to visit.

But all her plans went down the drain when she heard a loud knock the moment she opened her eyes. She found Oliver standing on her front porch, holding his trademark smile and amiable posture, before lunging at her with concern while asking a bunch of questions related to what had happened.

At first, she accepted his worry, what was she to do when a friend came to her house to make sure she was doing alright? But the longer he stayed the more she wondered whether letting him inside her home was the smartest thing to do. She knew Oliver was a very persistent person, but she wasn't aware of him being this insufferable.

"You know what would make me feel safe?" She walked out of the kitchen, expecting him to follow her, something he had been doing throughout the day. "For you to stop breathing down my neck and let me enjoy my weekend in peace."

Her plan worked, he was already hot on her heels as he watched her stalk toward the front area of her house. "I came by to check in on you."

"Since the morning, it's almost 5 PM." She tugged the door open before stepping to the side. "I'm sure I can manage on my own now—"

"Who’s that?"

Shd followed his line of sight and frowned when a black vehicle stopped right at her curb, its engine cutting off a moment later. She watched as the door wrenched open and felt her heart drop as a familiar face stared directly back. The shock of seeing someone unexpected took her by surprise, it was an incredibly powerful feeling that left her pretty shaken up and even a little bit stunned, because right on her driveway was none other than Spencer-fucking-Reid.

Seeing him in action for his job last night was enough to captivate her. But watching him in a tight FBI vest over a button-down with his sleeves rolled up, showing off firm arms and veins running along the back of his hands, mesmerized her in a way that had her weak in the knees.

Suits had become the sexiest thing she'd ever seen on a man after she saw him last night—firmly replacing uniforms, she had always been a sucker for military men... until now. The authority he held wearing that vest easily became her favorite clothing on a man. On him precisely, including the gun strapped to the side of his hip. How the sight of a dangerous weapon on him could be so attractive was beyond her.

She felt Oliver inching closer, his voice extremely low, "Do you want me to bark?"

She heard his words perfectly, but her attention was too focused on the other man as he stepped onto her porch. She wasn't questioning how he got her address—because authorities could easily search any citizen's information, right?—but she was curious why he bothered coming to her house. "What are you doing here?"

Sensing the recognition in her voice, Oliver addressed the unknown man with a hard stare. "Who are you again?"

"Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid," he introduced himself, flashing his badge. "I have further questions for Ms. L/n regarding a certain case."

"You mean Jamison's murder?"

Spencer nodded, leveling his gaze with the man who stood too close to her for his liking. "I need to talk to her personally."

It was another way for him to urge Oliver out of her house, Y/n noted, which was something she didn't oppose. Oliver tensed beside her, throwing her a doubtful look. "Will you be fine?"

Would she be fine being left alone with someone she wanted nothing to do after everything that happened? Maybe not. But it was better than to have Oliver gluing himself in her home. "I’ll be fine. You can go, Oliver."

The two men addressed one another, and the mood suddenly turned intense. Spencer was very cautious and deliberate with each of his movements, trying to be intuitive and on alert for any possible threat or danger. But then Oliver nodded his head and smiled at him, shrugging away any tension that lingered in the air.

He turned towards her. "Call me if you need anything."

She stepped aside and let him pass, breathing out a grateful sigh as she finally watched him walk down the street.

"Boyfriend?"

"No," she quickly replied, frowning at the idea of Oliver being her partner. Then she shot Spencer a look. "Not that it's any of your business."

He probably deserved that. He nodded behind her as his eyes scanned the entrance of her house. "Can I come in?"

There was something about letting the man into her home. It was a very special and sacred place that brought peace and joy after a long day of work. Letting him into the comfort of her house meant letting him into a personal part of herself.

She opened the door further before he stepped inside, his eyes scanning every nook and corner. She cleared her throat and closed the door behind her. "So, you wanted to ask me more questions?"

There was a moment of silence as he turned around. "I actually came here to apologize." When she didn't respond, he added, "About last night."

She narrowed her eyes. "What exactly are you apologizing for?"

"It seemed we got off the wrong foot yesterday and I want to apologize if I offended you in any way."

The memory of last night's encounter flashed before her eyes; their unexpected encounter, the way he acted as if he had never held her naked, and how he wanted no one else to know their tryst, keeping it as a mere rendezvous between two strangers. There was some truth in that, but there was also another truth in her disappointment, and suddenly she was extremely tired of all these emotions.

"Last night was... it was awkward for both of us,” she decided to say. "Why don't we forget it ever happened?"

"Forget what?"

"Everything?" She crossed her arms, shifting her weight from one foot to another. "About last night, about—" She mentally winced. "About what happened the first night we met.”

She noticed the way his shoulders tensed. His eyes had narrowed almost imperceptibly as he studied her quietly in return. "Why?"

"What do you mean why?”

"Why do you want to forget that night?"

There was something unnerving about the way he looked at her. One of her hands nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she eyed him. She felt her heart rate pick up slightly—there could only be one reason he was asking this, right?

"Do you not want to forget it?"

She could see the way his cheeks were twitching, the muscles working as if he was weighing his next words. He took a step forward, cautiously scanning his eyes across her face. Staring wasn't quite the word for what he was doing. His eyes rested on her, not unblinking but slowed; yet the effect was soft and inviting instead of harsh or demanding. Perhaps it was his lips that give away his intention, like a ghost of a smile peeking through his features in the stillness of the room.

"What if I want a repeat of it?"

She is nhaled a sharp breath, her heart rate drastically climbing in her chest she could feel her pulse vibrating through her entire body. His unvoiced suggestion hung heavily in the air. She felt that first warm flood of arousal struck her, the blood in her body abruptly shifting south.

A shiver ran down her spine, goosebumps abruptly rising along her forearms. "What are you trying to say?"

His mouth pulled back into a slow smile before she watched him inch forward, carefully closing the distance between them. A moment later he was leaning towards her, reaching his hands out deliberately slow. Her eyes followed their movements, her breathing increasing as his hands found her own. Carefully, he started to pull her, moving extremely slow, as if giving her plenty of time to register what was happening and a chance for her to pull away.

But she didn't, instead, her body followed his direction, letting him tug her across the small gap separating them.

"I grew up in Las Vegas," he suddenly said, hands moving up her arms. "I was a child prodigy in a public school, and believe it or not, I've suffered worse things growing up than in my line of work now."

Her brows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"Last night you didn't know the city I grew up in." A smile stretched across his lip. "And now you do."

The hands on her arms gripped a bit tighter, carefully urging her to move closer. The warmth radiating from his body was already driving her wild. How was it possible for one person to make her feel like she was completely losing her mind?

He was playing with fire, and she was practically a moth to a flame.

Her hands cautiously slid along his shoulders and up the length of his neck. She felt a faint rumble in his throat as her fingertips slid over the skin of it. Her eyes focused on the way he was watching her, eyes fluttering in a haze, mouth slightly parted. Biting her lip, she slipped her hand into his disheveled hair, carefully raking her fingers through the softness of it. He instantly leaned into the touch as she felt the growing need in her rising.

"Is this even allowed?" She breathed out, shuddering at the way the firmness of his vest pressed against her chest. "Fornicating with the witness?"

"It's probably not the wisest thing to do," was his honest reply.

She pulled him closer as she felt his arms settling around her waist. "Yet you still want to break the rules?"

Eyes dropping down to her mouth, his gaze lingered on her luscious lips. Gradually he leaned down towards her, his own lips parting as their breaths mingled in the small space between them. He shifted his forehead against hers, his nose lightly bumping into her own.

"Wouldn't be here if I didn't want to."

And then he closed the gap, caressing his lips just barely against hers, before thrusting himself into her open mouth, an obvious level of hungry desperation in the way he devoured her whole. He'd wanted this—wanted to taste her again ever since she stood unexpectedly in front of him. Sucking the entirety of her bottom lip into his mouth, she let out a moan. That glorious, soft, perfect, bit of flesh fit entirely into his mouth. His tongue danced along the length of it, a deep grunt coming from his throat as she melted further in his arms.

Spencer’s hands grabbed her hard by the hips as he tugged her into his body so tight she could feel his arousal pressing into her. She gasped in surprise, and he took the moment to lunge deeper into her mouth, feverishly in a flurry of tongue and teeth, his mouth only riling her further. The feeling of his tongue colliding against hers sent her into a nose dive of indescribable sensation. The longer the kiss lasted, the hotter she felt, and the warmer her skin got. 

She breathed out another moan, fingers carding through the lengthier parts of his hair. The more his mouth moved against hers, the harder it was becoming to hold back. She was pouncing on him, kissing him back with as much fervor, and slightly let out a whimper when he pulled back. His mouth broke from hers, slipping down to place kisses along her jawline. She bit her lip, head tilting back just as he muttered, "Tell me how you want to be touched."

The request had her pulling back, staring at him in disbelief. "What?"

"What you said last night..." He explained, a sudden insecurity weighing in his eyes. "It got to my head."

Mouth opening and closing, she stared at him in stunned silence. Then the realization hit her on what he was implying. "I said that out of the heat of the moment," she assured him. "I was simply mad at you."

Although the way she was trying to avoid his gaze told him otherwise. "I'm a profiler. I can tell if you're lying."

She couldn't stop the amused laugh slipping through her lips. "Look," she started, slightly tugging his hair. "It wasn't that you were bad. But you could've been, I don't know—better, perhaps?"

"You do know how to bruise a man's ego," he muttered, more to himself than to her. He let out a sigh as she stared at him in amusement. "Let me be honest with you, I don't have that much experience with women, but..." he trailed off, pressing a soft kiss at the corner of her lips. "I do want to know how you want to be touched."

She could feel her amusement slipping away as she struggled to wrap her mind around what was happening, breath coming in short, her body filled with a warmth that wasn't just from her growing arousal. "You're being serious, aren't you?"

"Very." His nose intentionally bumped against hers this time, the hand on her lower back somehow holding her tighter to him. “I have three bachelor's degrees and completed three doctorate programs, learning and excelling in new subjects is engraved deep in my blood."

She playfully shoved him. "Show off."

He simply smiled, slightly pulling away. His head turned just a fraction towards her, hands sliding along her hips. “Tell me how I can be better for you.”

She stared at him, completely enthralled with the way his eyes lingered across her face—her eyes, her nose, her mouth. This was dangerous, letting herself fall deeper into this lust, but somehow it felt right. It felt incredibly right to feel his arms around her. It felt perfectly right as she snaked her arms behind her, grabbed onto his hand, and pulled him deeper into her home.

Her mind was too clouded with a desire to think clearly, and even when a little voice at the back of her head reminded her how wrong getting tangled with an authority in this situation was, she simply decided not to listen. Instead, she guided him toward her living room and walked him over to the single-seated sofa before placing her hands on his chest.

Spencer’s brows drew together, a small crease forming between them. She gently pushed him back, the back of his legs hitting the furniture as he settled himself between the soft cushions. He sat there, staring expectantly at her standing before him. Ignoring any self-conscious thoughts, she gripped the bottom of her blouse and swiftly pulled it over her head.

His eyes went wide. “What are you doing?"

A coy smile stretched across her mouth as she undid her pants, noticing the way he is eyes were focused on every little move she made. His question was left unanswered as she slipped off her jeans, kicking them off as they finally slid down her legs. Then she unclasped her bra and his mouth opened, eyes narrowing as his head tilted back, his tongue slowly sweeping along his bottom lip. He instinctively reached out, his calloused pads brushed her bare skin and a shudder ran down her spine before she slipped away from his touch.

He groaned a moment later. “Where are you going?”

She shook her head, still not answering him. She then turned around with her back facing him, and because she found pleasure in the way his eyes glazed every time she teased him, her fingers grabbed the band of her underwear, slowly sliding it down her legs. He let out a strained whimper as the evidence of her slick arousal clung onto the fabric, and it took a lot of self-control for him to stay still.

And when she finally turned around, he took in the sight of her naked form standing before him. She was as beautiful as he remembered, so perfectly made—full breasts, hips, thighs—the body of a woman as a woman was meant to be. But before he could devour her naked flesh with his eyes, she took a step back before sinking herself onto the longer couch, a wicked smile playing on her lips.

There was something compelling being the one in charge, even when she seemed to be the only one naked, wearing nothing but a taunting smile while he sat there still in the confinement of his vest. Good lord—that vest. It was doing things to her. The vest. The hair. That look. The way he was watching her wrecked her and now she was wondering how much longer she could put on a show until he came undone.

"I'm not going to tell you how I want to be touched.” Her sultry voice rang in his ears as she leaned back, her knees falling apart. And when he thought she couldn’t drive him more insane than he already was, her fingers slipped between her legs painfully slow. Goosebumps rose along his skin, a shudder of anticipation running down his body.

“I think I might have to show you."

He let out a strangled sigh.

She was going to be the death of him.

>> NEXT PART

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[threepandas]

Bad End, Hidden Heir: Part 2

Prev <-

A pounding headache and cave air, that's what I woke up too. The air was being choked, though, by familiar scents. All trying desperately to make the cold, wet, and softly echoing quiet, hospitable. It was nauseating in my current state. Weak and... drugged? Had I been drugged? I certainly hadn't been drunk.

So why did my head hurt so much?

Why did every motion, make my stomach want to rebel?

My limbs felt so WEAK. Heavy and useless. Barely budging when I try to lift them. To rub my head? Adjust the blanket? Sit up? I can't tell. Thinking... thinking is so hard past... the pounding in my head. The fog. I struggle to concentrate. God, that SMELL.

Like a perfume store combined with... with... ugh. Everything!

I could pick out individual scents I knew I liked, on their own, added to the nauseating chaos. My favorite potpourri was there. But so was the one I like for winter? Fall? That one I liked as a kid until I found Mrs. Tianna's blend...

And perfumes! Colognes! The clean products and scents I preferred the maids used. God it... it blended together like a trash heap. As though someone drove a carriage through a perfume shop at speed. Cloying and musk and spice and fruity and-!

I sucked air through my teeth, trying not to smell it, hoping to god I wouldn't TASTE it.

Finally I managed to pry my eyes open. Either hunger or thirst giving my the strength to push past the nauseating pain. I NEEDED to move. Find out what was happening. Survive.

My gaze... met the most elaborate embroidery I had ever seen. Tapestries had less art. Almost to the point of gaudiness. Possibly past it. It was...

It was everything I had ever said I liked.

Too anyone.

Puppies and flowers, history and art, books scenes and more. It kept GOING! Hideous and magnificent. Chaos. Unhinged. Flowing down from above me, along the rest of the curtains, for the canopy bed upon which I rest. So I would be surrounded by it all. Even the blanket... it was a sea of my favorite flowers, made eternal through string.

This wasn't something people just DID. Could just FIND. I could feel my panic under the muting pain and exhaustion. This was the work of YEARS. Obsessive, continuous, YEARS. Some of these threads cost more then certain house hold make in WEEKS! And for what? A secret canopy bed?!

I struggled, body barely able to obey me but trying desperately to assist. The blankets were heavy. The curtain around the bed equally so, thanks to all the embroidery. I.. I manage to roll. Squirm. Wriggle my way, undignified, to the edge. Flop over it and out from under the blanket. Too freedom.

The air is cold.

The scents WORSE out here. Now, I can see why.

It is a museum to all that I am. Every like carefully gathered in one place, every preference. Stacked and shoved together, with no regard for if they fit. Hoarded like a collection.

I can not even tell... if I am sitting, flopped down, on my favorite winter bedside carpet or just an exact copy. My entire life is shoved together and suddenly... suddenly I do not like any of these things at all. They feel dirty. Dangerous. Like they have betrayed me. I want to cry.

But I am nauseous. Hurting. Tired and thirsty. So very hungry dispite it all. I just... I just need to know what's going ON! This isn't... this isn't how the Game goes! Not for Protag-chan. Not for me! I know I changed my "character's" behavior... but...

I... I don't understand...

Try not to cry. It's... it's really hard.

I was right. I'm pretty sure this is the Caves of Spring in the northwest of the Duchy. The offical Heir has an estate near them. The stone looks like the cliffs I'd seen in passing.

Crawling is hard. My legs keep getting tangled in my fucking nightgown. My... my f.. favorite.. nightgown! I'm not gonna cry. Damn it. I'm NOT GONNA CRY. How dare he? How DARE he ruin even that? What did he DO to me!? When I was... was...

No, don't think about it!

Move.

A decanter. Needlessly pretty. I probably loved it as a girl, fresh into this world. Everything was so FANCY and I wasn't used to having money yet. Hadn't developed any real class or taste. It looks so fucking gaudy to me now. But God, it has water. Please... PLEASE let that be water!

I drag myself up on badly shaking limbs. Nothing wants to hold. Wrists buckling, knees giving, legs shaking like a new born lamb. My arms are so weak. But thirst... oh thirst is a powerful motivator.

I force myself to move.

The water is not enough. It is everything. Cold and perfect, I force myself to go slow. To not spill a single drop, as I collapse against the dresser it was placed upon. Letting my eyes explore my cage in the way my poor abused body can not.

There are thick bars buried deep into the bedrock, separating the "room" I'm in from the hall that leads away from it. And it IS a "room". Made in cruel mockery to resemble the luxury of the dukes estate. Perhaps even more aggressively decadent in certain aspects, though that isn't a good thing. It makes it border on a storage room, for how crowded with luxury it has become.

It is the reflection of an unwell mind.

And staring up at the portraits of myself I KNOW I never sat for? The countless sketches pinned up beyond the bars? I am in trouble. I... I should have run. Not sent Creep away. I should have been the one to run. Before it was too late.

I think... I think it might be too late.

Footsteps.

I want to escape. But where can I run? I am caged. I feel close and far away. My head hurts. My body hurts. Everything stinks and I am cold. Why? Why did you do this? The foot steps are calm and commanding. Even. They do not break stride.

I do not bother to watch my hunter approach me. The monster I can not escape.

I close my eyes to spare myself the pounding in my head. Drink more water.

He makes a softly dismayed sound, as though he was not the one to drug me, to leave me here. The door to my cage opens. Closes. Ah... such a heavy lock. Should I be flattered?

Crisp steps, the rustle of fabric.

"My lady, the floor is so dirty! You shouldn't be out of bed yet. I was just about to make you tea."

The AUDACITY.

Tea? TEA! Ha ha! After DRUGGING my tea? He actually expects me to accept a cup from him again?! He truely IS insane, isn't he?

I am scooped up without my consent, unable to so much a truely struggle. Placed gently on a plush chair, a tea table moved in front of me. A familiar cup. My favorite blend. Pretty little snacks laid out deftly on lovely little plates. I grit my teeth. Slowly tip my head up to glare.

He pauses when our eye meet... then shudders, some terrible look of pleasure dancing across his face.

"That's right... look at me~" he whispers, leaning entirely too close. "I'm all that you have now. So you'll HAVE too now! No more others. No more distractions. No more sending me away! People trying to get between us. Trying to take you away. I'm all that you need, My Lady. All you'll EVER need."

"Just look at ME, your loyal dog. And I'll take such good care of you. I promise~♡"

[defectivehero]

Villian (hero's lover) locks up injured hero until they get better, hero was injured many times before and would always convince villian that they were fine, this was the last straw.

i am allergic to explicit romance (or romance at all), so i'm skipping over that part haha

"Well, isn't this fun," the villain remarks, raising their brows as they study the hero's form. They've been waiting for the hero to arrive. After all, the villain's misdeeds are never ignored for very long. And the villain has enough experience to know exactly how to unsettle and unnerve the hero—how to get them running over in five minutes; how to summon them without so much as a single word or action. They are the puppet master and the hero is their faithful mannequin, bending to their every whim.

Yet the hero has been running about with loose strings recently. Surely that is the only explanation for their current state: as they stand unsteadily, blood spattered across their clothes and bruises and scrapes nearly everywhere. It looks like they're favoring their left ankle over their right and there's a dazed glaze in their eyes, as if they're fighting off fatigue. "Just what makes you think you can take me on in such a state?" The villain asks lightly.

"Shut up," the hero hisses. They take a step forward—evidently intending to fight them—only to fall to the ground in a crumpled heap. The villain chokes on a laugh; after a few seconds, they walk over and look down at their enemy, clicking their tongue.

"This is embarrassing," the villain remarks. They lightly kick at the hero's side and the hero groans, flipping to lie on their back. The hero squints up at them as the sunlight evidently burns bright spots in their vision.

"Just... leave," the hero bites out. It's clear that their pride is wounded, if they're admitting that they can't fight. If the villain were a kinder person, they would leave the hero be. But they have never been kind, so they laugh instead.

"I don't think so," the villain says, regarding the hero with mild interest. "You were the one to seek me out, remember?" Indeed, the villain got here first, and the hero arrived shortly after. The villain stares down at the hero's form for a long moment, a plan quickly taking shape in their mind.

"What are you plotting?" The hero asks, breaking them out of their thoughts. The villain must've had a smirk on their face. They raise a brow and the smirk returns. Something in their expression must betray their intentions, because the hero immediately tries to back away on their elbows. "Don't touch me," the hero spits.

"Sure," the villain remarks easily, ignoring their request and instead bending down and picking the hero up into their arms. They're sure their rival wants to resist, but they're evidently much too injured to do so. Regardless, the hero looks positively murderous. The villain takes a deep breath and closes their eyes, until the familiar feeling of darkness encompasses them and they visualize their intended destination: their laboratory. Within moments, the villain is standing in the center of their lab with the hero.

"What the fuck are you doing-?" The hero spits, blinking rapidly as they recover from the quick teleportation. A person who is teleported against their will can experience dizziness, blurred vision, headaches... The list goes on. The villain supposes these side effects only further aid their current plans, making the hero pliant in their arms.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" The villain asks quizzically, walking mechanically towards the glass enclosure near the edge of the room. They feel an amused smile growing on their lips. "Taking a walk in the park? Honestly." The motion sensors activate and the door to the enclosure slides open. The villain walks to the corner of the space and unceremoniously drops the hero onto the ground. Their enemy groans at the

The hero is hardly able to move—they will not be able to escape. The villain watches as that realization crashes down on them, as they're forced to accept their sudden captivity.

"I don't understand-" They mumble, looking around the space with a sort of dazed confusion.

"You really do talk too much." The villain murmurs regretfully.

"I-" The hero sputters. It seems they've never been told that before. That is really a shame—they need more honest friends, the villain thinks to themself. "This isn't- I could die in here!" They stare up at them with panic.

The villain pointedly looks at the adjacent wall and the hero turns their head to the side. Their reaction is incredibly amusing—so much so that the villain wishes they had the foresight to record it, so that they could watch it over and over again. The hero regards the water machine with a truly nasty glare, as if the machine did something to personally offend them.

"You're joking," the hero seethes. "What is this, a fucking hamster cage? You're missing an exercise wheel." They scoff, looking around the rest of their new cage. "...And food."

"You know humans can survive for three weeks without food," the villain remarks helpfully. "And I've always wanted to test that theory..." They smile, clasping their hands excitedly.

"Seriously?" the hero hisses incredulously. "I'm not a fucking guinea pig for you to experiment on."

"You aren't?" The villain asks, slipping on a mask of genuine confusion. "Then why did you come when I called?" The hero stares at them in irritated disbelief. The villain hums in satisfaction. The hero's anger and confusion gives them immense joy. "Maybe now you'll learn to take better care of yourself," they murmur patronizingly, crouching down and placing a hand on the hero's cheek.

"Don't touch me," the hero repeats like a mantra. The villain isn't sure if that remark is meant for them or the hero themself. They don't think it quite matters.

"This is your own fault, you know," the villain whispers, standing back up. The accusation sinks heavily into the air and the hero must know it to be true, if the way the light in their eyes briefly flickers and dims. "if you hadn't come to me in such a state, this wouldn't have happened."

The hero looks to be considering their next words thoughtfully. It's clear they want to beg or plea, but they must know that their efforts will be to no avail. The villain has never bowed down to the hero's desires, and they don't plan to start now.

Evidently discouraged, the hero switches tactics. Their composure promptly shatters, as it is instead replaced with raw, unbridled fury. It's clear that they've come to one inevitable conclusion: they will be trapped here until the villain wishes to release them (if the villain wishes to release them). "You can't do this to me!" The hero screams, their eyes wide and their voice unsteady.

"I believe I just did," the villain says with a slight smile. They take a step backwards. "See you in a few days. Try not to die. Or do���just don't make a mess of it." They walk out the door and it slides shut behind them, leaving the hero caged in walls of glass. The villain sits down at their desk and busies themself with their newest blueprints. Their enemy's agitated screams and desperate shouts are a pleasant hum in the back of their mind as the villain resumes their work.

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me typing: "raw unbridled furry." me: wait. fury. i meant fury.

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