#also I have so much fanfiction to catch up on

[starburstminibot]

Ok, seeing the post about the playlist, you mentioned how Breakdown only gets his act together after finding out that Bee was carrying

So it got me thinking (and this has actually been in my mind since i first came across the au tbh), but how was it while Bee was like, carrying?? There's the fact that, at first, many of the bots probably don't like Breakdown too since, well, he was not the best bf let's be honest.

Idk, I'm just curious to how things were before Breakcheck came to see the world

(Im going out of town for a week and cant draw so im just answering this with a straight up fanfiction-esk paragraph I’m so sorry wish I could be artistic for you anon)

Long story short: the Autobots are very forgiving but they can also be petty motherfuckers.

I mean they welcomed Megatron among their ranks and treat him (for the most part) as an equal and sometimes even a friend. Of course, Megatron earned that trust after years and years of repentance.

I imagine Breakdown is going through a similar arc. He’s never really been THAT loyal to the Decepticon cause. He just… kinda ended up there and didn’t care enough to do anything about it. He views Autobots as these goody, righteous people that he doesn’t feel like he belongs with. So really… what’s left besides Decepticons (considering yourself a neutral at one point was pretty much a death wish. A faction was the only way to acquire any sort of Energon or medical attention. Something Optimus tried hard to avoid, but the reality was safety in numbers.) the only kinship Breakdown ever felt was with the Stunticons… and they’ve been scattered to who knows where… if they’re even still alive.

Except he did have one friend. A friend he’s somehow managed to keep despite being on opposite sides of the war. He tried to convince Bee to join the Decepticons a few times but it was never with genuine intent. Bee was too good for the Cons; Breakdown knew that. He asked to get a rile out of him more than anything. Of course Bee would retort with his own argument of why BD should defect. He was serious about it… but Breakdown knew his place. He’d already done too much…

Now the war is over. And the leader of his faction doesn’t even believe in the cause anymore. Now, Breakdown’s never been a fan of Megatron anyways, but he sure as hell is pissed off when he abandons them to go be buddies with the Autobots. Maybe Breakdown is a little jealous (Of course, he’d never admit it) That Megatron, possibly the cruelest and most unforgiving of them all, is allowed to be redeemed.

He feels betrayed. All the Decepticons do really… He feels like he was led down a path that would only end in self destruction and at the last moment, the one who was paving the way jumped ship, leaving them all to suffer the consequences alone.

He never even wanted this.

But it’s way too late now. He dug this grave and he’s going to see to it that he’s buried in it. But despite the betrayal, and most of the Decepticons now stabbing each other in the back, trying to claim whatever power they can while holding on to this flimsy cause they can barely call a functioning faction, he still has Bee… who is maybe more than just a friend at this point but that’s a lot of feelings Breakdown isn’t ready to unpack.

And he still runs every time it feels a little too good to be true. Still proclaims his loyalty to the Decepticons because he’s too stubborn to admit he’s on a sinking ship. And he still keeps his distance because he refuses to take Bumblebee down with him when it finally goes under.

And maybe they’ve got a fling going… and maybe the autobots start to catch on. It doesn’t matter though, Breakdown doesn’t stick around long enough to see their sneers.

Until… he finds out Bee’s carrying that is… because damn he may not be the best bot in the galaxy but he’s not a complete deadbeat.

And when it hits him… that he’s going to be a sire… well maybe… he start’s sticking around to see the sneers. He hears the mumbles of disapproval. And boyyy does it make him so angry at first. How dare these holier-than-thou bots. They don’t know him or what he’s had to do to survive. How many comrades he’s lost thanks to them. They don’t know what Bee means to him. They don’t know just how much he loves Bumblebee. How he would lay down his spark for him in a klick.

Then Breakdown questions… Does Bee even know that?

From then on… Breakdown realizes, preserving his ego isn’t worth this. He has a chance now. A real honest chance. To do better… to have the life he actually wants… with the one bot who hasn’t ever given up on him.

He wants it so bad.

So he puts up with the comments and the obvious distrust. Because he’s willing to put in the work it takes to earn it. He’s going to prove how much he wants this. He’s going to prove how much he cares. He’s going to prove he is capable of doing better… and maybe along the way he’ll learn… he’s deserving of better too…

Breakdown is lucky Bumblebee has always been a little spoiled because it didn’t take too much convincing for the autobots to give him a shot. To attempt to accept him into their ranks.

He thought Optimus would be the worst of it. The one who practically raised the bot Breakdown knocked up. And for a while it is. Optimus lectures him every chance he gets. Any small hiccup, any little mistake. He doesn’t go easy on breakdown. Optimus at least pretends to be polite about it, or at least professional.He doesn’t yell, or make unnecessary insults. His words are always very honest (which makes them that much harder to hear) but Breakdown will take it… he’ll sit through it, no matter how hard he has to bite his tongue against saying something he’ll regret. He knows how thin the ice is. But he’ll do it for Bee.

The others are a little more brutal… Elita especially so… they are more sharp with their words (and sometimes their blasters) letting him know just what they think of him.

But no… the worst of all… is Megatron. Because Megatron is probably the only bot in the whole faction who looks at him and empathizes. Breakdown doesn’t want empathy. Especially not from the damn bot who betrayed him. Megatron doesn’t give lectures, he doesn’t verbally or physically abuse him when he steps out of line. He barely even raises his voice. And it pisses Breakdown off more than anything. Sometimes he slips up in front of Megatron just to push his boundaries, just to see if he can break this peaceful facade the ex-brutal-dictator seems to be taking. He’s witnessed the warlord beat bots into scrap for far less… and yet… Megatron won’t. Megatron seems to be attempting to guide Breakdown, to offer a new start to their relationship, and Primus Breakdown wants nothing to do with it. He’d rather be lectured and assigned extra training.

And it takes a long while… longer than Bee’s carrying term, and a little while into Breakcheck’s sparklinghood for the Autobots to really start to come around to him. Optimus’ lectures seem to have a bit of fondness to them. And perhaps Breakdown listens a bit more earnestly and takes to heart some of the genuine advice the Prime gives him. And maybe the sparring with Elita has turned less from a one-sided fight and into an enjoyable workout. And MAYBE… he doesn’t intentionally push Megatron as much, and has come to a realization of his own that his Megatron… is nothing like the one who betrayed him… and perhaps there is more in common between them than he’d like to admit.

And when people look at him now, he’s not just the Con Bumblebee has been sneaking around with. He’s a Sire… and a devoted Conjux…

And maybe this is what he’s always wanted. And he can be deserving of it too.

[ierofangz]

the worst part of being in rehab for two months without my phone is missing out on so many memes like why did i Just learn what hawk tuah is.

[twptwp]

Should I write or shall I read... I cannot decide..

[megwritesriddles]

Sweeter Than Fiction ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x F! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 7 - Queening / Face-sitting. Spencer meets Reader when she starts working at his local library and he's quickly in over his head. After he goes snooping for information on her online, he finds out a dirty little secret, she writes fanfiction.

Tags: Face-sitting, Oral sex (f receiving), Fantasies, Masturbation, Pining, Friends to lovers, Love confessions, Sub!Spencer, Autistic!Spencer (implied ig?), Both Spencer and Reader are NERDS, Set somewhere between seasons 1-3.

Word count: 4.6k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: Surprise!! I changed a couple things on my kinktober due to lack of inspiration so here's an unexpected extra Spencer fic!! This is soooo long and the plot is so self-indulgent and ughhh but he eats you out so...!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Spencer had never felt like this before, he hadn’t really had the chance to. Crushes had never really been his thing, having been significantly younger than his peers all throughout his education and being staunchly focused on his career ever since. He had physical attractions here and there, like an occasional reminder that he really was just a fallible human man as much as anyone else, but never any true feelings, nothing he ever wanted to try to pursue in a serious way. It wasn’t simple for him like it was for someone like Morgan, in many senses of the word. Not only was he just not socially skilled enough to pursue relationships, whether casual or otherwise, with any success, he also had a large set of difficulties that he would carry into any relationship. He was quite touch averse, not that he didn’t desperately crave it all the same, which could easily cause issues in any physical relationship. He also had a lot of emotional baggage, from his mother, from his job, from his bullying. He felt a mess emotionally and didn’t see the point in trying to bring in another person to see the mess in all its glory. So he kept to himself. He wasn’t completely without experience, but every experience he’d had was marred with difficulty and complication, none of it ever lasted. He was reasonably content to keep to himself.

Until he met you. He’d been visiting the library nearest his apartment since he moved to D.C. for work. One day he walked in and you were sitting behind the desk, all bright-eyed and excited. The attraction to you had been immediate, he’d found you to be beautiful, he liked the way you dressed, and he liked your sweet voice as you spoke to the customer in front of you. He thought it would end there, that he would silently find you attractive from afar but remained more focused on other things. Cursed to stammer nervously at you whenever you scanned his books, but never say more than necessary. For a long time, that’s all it was, until he was taking out a book that, unbeknownst to him, was a big favourite of yours.

“Oh my goodness, my favourite” you chuckle as you pick up the book from his pile. “This book is amazing, you’ll love it, I’m sure,” you smile brightly as you scan it onto his card. His fingers twitch where he rests them on the edge of the wooden counter. He hadn’t been prepared to talk to you, but it’s nicer than most things that catch him unprepared.

“Y-yeah? Uh… great,” he swallows, drumming his fingers on the counter as you scan the rest of his books, mostly textbooks. 

“Well, if you have any taste that is,” you tease. He laughs back stiffly, his mouth feeling dry. 

“I uh… like to think I do…” he smiles awkwardly.

“You’ll have to tell me what you thought of it,” you hand him the books and his brain blanks for a moment. You’re inviting him to speak to you some other time, to have an actual conversation. He moves jerkily, taking the books from you and packing them into his satchel. You smile kindly and wave to him as he leaves. “See you soon,”

The way his mind is spinning from that simple conversation, he knows that this is something different. He collapses onto a bench outside the library, taking a deep breath. Why is his heart racing? Is this what butterflies feel like? He rubs a hand through his hair, messing it up. When the anxiety fades away, he’s left with a warm feeling in his chest. You want to speak to him again. He flips open his satchel and pulls out the book you’d said was your favourite. It’s classic literature, something he’s been meaning to read for a long time now, but has somehow never gotten around to. He devours the book in mere minutes, thanks to his impressive reading speed. It’s an amazingly compelling tale, with feminist undertones that were ahead of their time and he feels he understands you just a little better by knowing you like this book. He packs it back into his satchel and stands, heading back into the library. The queue to your desk is a few people long, but he joins it anyway, fiddling with the strap of his bag. You don’t make much small talk with the people in front of him in the line, making it feel all the more special that you’d spoken to him. He reaches the front and you smile, but tilt your head in confusion.

“Forget something?”

“The book was great,” he blurts, and you look even more confused.

“What?”

“The book, the one you said was your favourite, it was phenomenal, and surprisingly progressive for its time! Having those sorts of sentiments about a woman's role in a marriage in the 18th century, while seeming slightly archaic by today's standards, must have caused quite a stir at the time, especially coming from a female author. British law in 1764 actually suggested that women–” he doesn’t realise he’s rambling until you cut him off.

“Hold on, you read it already?” you look disbelieving. He smiles sheepishly. “I only lent it to you, what?” you glance at the clock on your desktop screen. “15 minutes ago,”

“I can read very fast,” he mumbles, looking at the scuff on the toe of his shoe for a moment. You giggle.

“Yeah, clearly,” you study his face. He goes quiet, eyes flickering over the small decorations you had scattered across your desk as a means of personalising your space. “You were saying?” you prompted softly. He looked up at you in wonder, no one had ever requested he resumes an info dump, usually, he was told to shut up and looked weird, but you seemed to wait with genuine interest. Perhaps that was the moment that he was well and truly done for. He steps aside so that the person behind him in the line can get their books scanned. He talks at you for almost a whole hour, getting lost in tangent after tangent as you work. You occasionally pipe in to ask a question or make a comment, but you seem happy to listen. Suddenly, your already beautiful appearance becomes more like that of an angel or a goddess to him. He’s never wanted something so bad in his life. He leaves the library after you excuse yourself for your lunch break. Once he gets home, he sits down on his couch, smiling dopily. Then, it slowly dawns on him that he’d just stood there and rattled on about various topics that he had no clue if you even had any interest in. He buries his face in his hands and groans. Has he already ruined things with the first person he’s ever felt anything genuine for? It was bound to happen eventually, but this soon? He goes to bed miserable that night.

Fortunately, his misery had been for nothing. The next time he visits the library, you’re there, all smiles at him like usual. When he comes to return his previous book haul (yes, maybe he hasn’t used the returns box since you started working here, what of it?), you greet him, asking if he has any more facts for you. At first, he thinks you’re mocking him, but the genuine smile you give tells him otherwise. He scrambles through his mind for something interesting to tell you, feeling less than a genius at this moment. He settles to ask what your favourite animal is, then spends the next several minutes telling you all the nichest information about that animal he could think of. This time, you start to talk too, though instead of spewing facts, you’re telling him personal anecdotes, or about new books the library has got in. The next several times he comes in, you end up talking for long periods of time. You never interrupt him when he rambles and in return he allows you to ramble too, not bothered by the slightest if he has to listen to you for hours. He’d do it happily. Things escalate over time, and he realises the two of you have truly become friends. The thought excites him, as he is closer to the object of his affection, but also because he doesn’t have all that many friends outside of his work. With you, he has somebody to talk books with, and that means the world to him. You text daily, though they’re not particularly long conversations, just whenever something comes up that you think might interest the other. You’d originally given him your email address and he’d explained that he didn’t use email. He felt completely silly, but you’d just shrugged it off and given him your number. Despite that, he still keeps the piece of paper onto which you scrawled your email address, tacked up by his seldom used computer. Just in case.

The team at the BAU tease him relentlessly when they find out about the ‘sweet girl from the library’ that he texts everyday. Any hint of him interacting with a woman, they latch onto like rabid wolves, but when the texts from you keep popping up on his phone now and then for weeks, they absolutely won’t leave it alone. They all know he likes you, even if he’s been very careful to not reveal this fact and they tease him about it. He’s just glad you’re never there to hear it, as he might just die from the embarrassment. One week, while staying back from a case due to a mild cold, he sits in Garcia’s office and watches her work while he does his own. She had insisted he come keep her company, and he hadn’t quite dared to tell her no. He’s scribbling down some notes about the latest crime scene photos they’ve been sent through when Garcia receives a call. It’s Morgan, asking her to run a check on an email address that may potentially belong to an unsub, to see what kind of accounts can be linked to it, and if there’s anything untoward and potentially warrant-worthy. He watches over her shoulder as she types the email address into a program, which spits back out several accounts all over the internet. He rolls his chair over, watching curiously.

“How do you do that? Is it for FBI stuff only?” he asks nervously, twirling a pen around in his fingers. Garcia laughs and glances over her shoulder. 

“No, you can find programs to do this in various places online,” she answers, highlighting accounts of potential interest. He nods, still watching over her shoulder, working his lip between his teeth. He tries to convince himself that he’s not going to do it, even as he asks Garcia to write him down one of these websites. She gives him a knowing look but obliges. He keeps telling himself he won’t do it, and that it’s creepy as he gets the train home, but as soon as he’s in his apartment, he heads for his computer and boots it up. He searches up the site that Garcia recommended and tells himself one last time that he isn’t going to do it, before copying your email address into the search field and hitting enter. He waits as the website loads the results, glancing at the door to his apartment as if you’re going to burst in and tell him off. Oh, how he wishes you’d be in his apartment one day, or he at yours. He’s never really wanted to share a space before, but lately, everything he does he imagines what it would be like to have you there. Your arms around him as he cooks, your head on his lap as he watches TV, your body against his in the bed. The website finishes its search and he takes a deep breath, investigating the results. There are various common social media websites, accounts with academic journals (which he appreciates you for), and a couple of other sites he doesn’t recognise. He clicks on the first and furrows his brows. Fanfiction? He supposes that you are a voracious reader like he is, and you mentioned liking to write, but never admitting to what you wrote. This was it then, was it? Your secret writing? It wasn’t that secret, the account was registered in your name, all the works listed being for books and media that you talked about often. You had quite a decent following, at least in his eyes, you were no celebrity, but you had a decent collection of comments and likes.

He starts to read, beginning with your most popular piece. He digests it in moments, his cheeks burning bright. It was pure pornography. Well not purely, there was quite a well-woven storyline behind it, but the focus was undoubtedly the filthy sex scenes. He loosens his tie, feeling hot. He double and triple checks that this is definitely your account, but it clearly is. He’s feeling a little disbelieving, you had just always seemed so innocent to him, but he supposed the two of you had never discussed sex in any way. Spencer would have combusted if it had ever come up. He inhales the rest of your work, getting unreasonably hard in his slacks as he reads. He’s impressed by the skill of your writing, but more than anything, by how delicious your imagination is. It’s like you’ve plucked every fantasy he’s ever allowed himself to have out of his brain and written it up with beautiful flowery language. He doesn’t know half of the characters that you’ve written for, but it doesn’t matter to him, as he imagines the two of you in their places and it works perfectly. Almost like it was written with the two of you in mind. He discards that thought, but not before noticing that you’ve been writing a lot more in the past few months you’ve known each other. He notices how many of your stories centre around a more submissive male, a favourite trope of yours seeming to be having the female partner sit on their face. He imagines you sitting on his face and groans aloud, having to palm his bulge through his slacks. He imagines you’d be like the protagonists in your stories, dominating but kind. He reaches into his slacks to stroke himself, not something he does often, but something that has certainly been more frequent lately. His eyes skim a passage of one of your stories as he tugs at himself, picturing your face between the words. He cums harder than he thinks he ever has because this feels that much closer to the real thing. Once he’s done, he sits catching his breath, staring at the mess on his hand and stomach. He thinks he should feel ashamed, but he’s still aroused, terribly so. He wishes he could show you what you do to him. Before he can stop himself, his aroused brain much less intelligent than he usually is, he makes an account on the site with his name and leaves a comment on your most recent work.

“This was the hottest thing I’ve ever read,” 

He sends it and sits back, wiping the rest of the residue off his stomach. As the haze of arousal lifts, he realises what he’s done. Panicking, he tries to delete the comment, but there’s no option to. He swallows, taking a deep breath. It’ll be okay, he tells himself, if she ever notices, I’ll pretend I was just being sarcastic, teasing her for writing this kind of thing, not genuinely rocked by it. However, his phone is already ringing. It’s you. You never call. You couldn’t have seen the comment already, could you? He seriously debates not answering, even as he’s desperate to hear your voice. Against his better judgment, he picks up the phone.

“Am I speaking to SpencerReid1981?” you chuckle over the phone, your voice teasing as you recite his username. His plans to pretend he was mocking you go out the window the second you talk. He can tell you have one over him by the confident tone in your voice. You’ve had one over him since the day you first met. 

“Y-yeah,” he relents, seeing no way out of this now. What would the chances be of another Spencer Reid born in 1981 having commented on your fanfiction? If he wasn’t so nervous and lingeringly aroused, he could’ve told you. He decides to just be earnest. “You’re a really good writer,”

“How did you even find me on there?” you scoff, laughing gently. He blushes, glad you can’t see it.

“You don’t want to know,” he mumbles. There’s a moment of silence.

“So… you found it hot, huh? What part?” he chokes slightly on his spit, going bright red, you can probably tell, even through the phone.

“Don’t make me say it,” he squeaks. You hum softly on the other end.

“Oh come on… you started all this,” you coax. He’s silent for another beat, you hear his laboured breaths on the phone. 

“The- when- when she uh… sat on his face,” he stutters out. You smirk.

“Really?” you stretch out the last syllable in a playful manner. “You a big giver then?” you say it to tease him, expecting him to sputter and deny it, to beg to change the subject, but he doesn’t.

“I– I would be for you,” you both go silent, you in shock and him in fear of your reaction. You’re dumbfounded that he would ever be so direct with you. It’s been clear to you for a while that he has a thing for you, you’ve caught his lingering looks on your lips or your thighs, the way you’re able to fluster him, but you’d assumed he’d dance around it forever. He’d just essentially admitted, leaving it hanging in the air.

“Come over,” you answer simply, hanging up the phone before he can ask questions or change his mind. Spencer feels completely dumbstruck by your words. Come over? His legs are carrying him to his door before he can think about it. He grabs his bag and his coat and hurries to his car. He’s never driven so fast in his life, he’s only been at your place once, to drop you off after your work, but the way there is memorised like the back of his hand anyway. He worries in the back of his mind that he may get a speeding ticket, but any fine is worth it for you. He’s sprinting up the stairs of your apartment building, his long frame moving nimbler than ever before. He reaches your apartment and knocks at the door.

You answer the door, dressed in some loungewear and he suddenly realises how real this all is. He stands there staring, unable to do anything else, even as you greet him and tell him to come in. You have to take his arm and pull him inside, your hand on his arm lighting him on fire. But he’s shy again, he needs you to take control of this because he has no clue what he’s doing here. He’s never done something like this before, and he's never been so reckless. Did he even lock the door when he left home? You look so beautiful that everything could be stolen from him and he wouldn’t bat a lash. He fidgets, looking anywhere but your eyes. You’re talking to him but he can’t figure out what you’re saying, his brain feeling like mush. He tries his best to pick out some words from the pleasing hum of your voice. You’re saying something about your bedroom. He connects the dots when you start to pull his arm.

“Wha- wait, what are we doing?” he asks, his voice shaking. You freeze, tilting your head.

“What do you mean what are we doing?”

“I mean– uh– I wasn’t really– are we…?” he stammers, his fingers fidgeting. 

“Don’t you want this?” you frown, worrying you’d misread this somehow, even though he’d come rushing over here. He stares at you, eyebrow twitching. You move closer, gently smoothing your hand up his arm. He closes his eyes, losing himself in it.

“Yeah,” he breathes, even though he’s not entirely sure what he’s agreeing to. Whatever it is, if it’s preceded by you touching him like this, it must be good. He follows you like a puppy as you guide him to your bedroom. You place your hands on his chest and he whines, somewhere deep in his throat. The feeling is just so overwhelming in all the best ways. His eyes are wide staring down into yours as your fingers twist, gripping his sweater vest. You lean up, touching your lips to his and he’s whining again. He kisses back, his hands finding your hips, hovering. Your hands are raking through his hair.

“Lie on the bed for me,” you mumble between kisses. He shivers.

“Are you going to sit on my face?” he asks bluntly, needing to know if he’s getting what he’s been thinking about non-stop since earlier this evening, probably even before that. You chuckle at his candour, he’s always been like this and it’s endearing that he’s no different in this situation.

“That’s the idea,” you grin, tilting your head to the side to press closer as you kiss him. He shuffles toward the bed and you push him back to lie down, disconnecting your lips to pull his sweater vest off. He looks up at you pleadingly until you lean down to kiss him again. You straddle his stomach, his hands lie awkwardly at his sides. His breathing is erratic and his fingers fiddle nervously with the material of your sheets. “You okay?” you ask between slow wet kisses.

“Just nervous… I don’t– I can’t disappoint you and I– I don’t really have a lot of experience here,” he admits, his lips pressing needily against yours between words. 

“It’ll be fine, I’ll take care of you,” you promise, he nods against you. Even he’s surprised by how much he trusts you. You pull back, watching as he stares up at you, his eyes practically black. He’s panting heavily. You pull your shirt over your head, feeling his hips buck under you as your breasts come into view. He’d always known every inch of you would be perfect for him, and he was right. He was a genius after all. You move just enough to shed your pyjama pants, taking your underwear with them. You stuff your panties into Spencer’s slack pocket with a wink. He takes a shaky breath. 

“Thank you,” he exhales, eyes drinking you in. You giggle, shuffling up to straddle his chest. He swallows loudly, his mouth watering from the little glimpse he can get, craning his neck. “I’m so… glad we’re doing this,” he whispers. You chuckle again at his behaviour. You stroke his hair gently and his eyes flutter. He usually hated unexpected touch, but everything you did was blissful.

“Ready?” you ask softly. He nods, eyes fluttering back open, determined to get a glimpse of you that he can commit to memory. 

You lift up and shuffle yourself over top of his face. He gasps like he’s just seen God. You, spread open above him, glistening with want. He grips tightly at the sheets, trying to keep himself grounded as the heady smell of you fills his nose. He leans up and places a gentle, experimental kiss on your folds, whining as he does so. You hum softly, leaning forward to brace yourself against the headboard. Puffs of breath wash over your core for a moment, before Spencer leans up, flattening his tongue and laving it against you, up and down, slow and steady. You can tell he’s still finding his way, so you let yourself enjoy the gentle pleasure. You sigh encouragingly as he gets acquainted with the area, exploring it with the tip of his tongue. Never in a million years would he have guessed that you tasted so good. Though he was new at this, he knew anatomy well and knew the spots he’d be looking for. His tongue finds what he assumes to be your clit and he gives it a soft kiss, feeling your hips gently buck. Success. He swirls his tongue carefully around it, not wanting to overwhelm you. Your sighs increase in volume. Spencer takes a chance, lifting his hands and wrapping them around your thighs, pulling you down so you’re more seated on his face. You gasp slightly and he smiles, eagerly returning to his work. His tongue laps at you hungrily, getting into a rhythm. He breathes through his nose, not wanting to stop what he’s doing for even a moment. The taste of you gets stronger and stronger against his tongue as you approach your peak steadily. He groans at the taste. Your hand snakes down into his hair, gripping his long locks to keep yourself anchored. You moan above him, your head lolled forward against the headboard. As he starts to focus his tongue more pointedly on your clit, flicking gently like he read to do in a book once, your hips rut slightly. 

“Suck it,” you pant. He doesn’t register your words for a moment but when he does, he happily complies. His lips close around the little nub and he sucks carefully. Your hand tightens in his hair and you wail in pleasure. You grind yourself down onto his face as he suckles at you gently. You both know what’s coming and while Spencer is thrilled he could get you there, he almost doesn’t want it to end. It’s as if you read his mind. “Don’t stop,” you whine, your eyes squeezed shut, nails digging slightly into his scalp. He pulls you closer to his face, focusing all his efforts. He switches fumblingly between licks and sucks, but it seems to be working nonetheless as you become louder and louder. “Oh! Spencer!” you cry out, your whole body shuddering. He almost comes in his pants at the sound of it. “Ooooh!” you wail, reaching your peak. Your body tenses and then releases, going limp with bliss. His lips stop moving and he stares up at you, waiting for your next move. “Oh, that was amazing Spencer,” you sigh, sluggishly moving down his body until your faces are level. He licks his lips, gazing at you adoringly. You reach up to wipe his wet chin with a small smile.

“I was okay, then?” he chuckles nervously, his hand coming to your waist, a little unsure.

“What do you think, genius?” you tease, kissing his temple. He sighs and flutters his eyes closed. Everything had happened so fast, he wasn’t sure what this meant for the two of you and your friendship, so blinded by lust when he got over here. But you were kissing down his jaw and neck, not indicating that you were kicking him out, and he felt a little better for it. He notices that your lips are straying quite low, over his chest and stomach through his shirt. His eyes flutter open and his breath hitches as he sees you gazing seductively up at him.

“Wha–?” he stammers as you start to unbuckle his belt.

“Returning the favour,” you smile, pressing kisses where his shirt had ridden up. He moans softly, his brain starting to turn to mush once more.

“God, I love you,” he gasps. You both go still for a moment as his words sink in. He can’t believe he just said that, especially right now, with your head hovering over his crotch, even if he desperately means it. He opens his mouth to try and fix this but you beat him to it. You press a kiss just below his belly button.

“I love you too,”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

xoxoxo

[archive-of-the-lost]

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮?)

Content: No pronouns, reader is referred to as "you", a lot of these are more fem (ex: makeup) though

𝐈𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢: Thigh-high boots. Thigh-high socks are appealing to him too, but boots have a more assertive air to them. If you ever wore them out, your legs will be the only thing he looks at the entire time.

𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐚: Eyeliner. He has an eye fetish, so eyeliner that defines your eyes will have him making eye contact 24/7. It's almost unnerving. He doesn't care what style, as long as it suits your eye shape.

𝐍𝐚𝐠𝐢: Soft hoodie or sweater. It's so nice to hug you when you're wearing something soft, like cuddling up to a soft toy. If you don't push him away after a while, he'll try to fall asleep right on top of you.

𝐑𝐞𝐨: Blazer. He doesn't think much of blazers normally, but they look fantastic on you (simply because it's you). The way you look so suave and professional. It makes him want to take you to a work dinner, but as a date. Does that make sense?

𝐊𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐢: Necklaces. Not so much the necklace itself, but really the part where he offers or you ask him to help you put the necklace on, and he gets a good view of your nape while he does it. He takes way longer than he should every time.

𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐮: Any black chunky shoes. Doc Martens, Mary Janes. Especially if they sound heavy. He'll be taking pictures of you and your shoes as you walk down the street like you're a model or something.

𝐒𝐚𝐞: Thin jewelry. Necklaces, bracelets, anklets. As long as it isn't eye catching, he'll paradoxically be drawn to staring at it. He likes messing with the chain, rubbing it in between his fingers or twisting it around his index finger if it's long enough.

𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫: Chokers, especially the ones that look like collars. It's hot. Before the both of you head out for your date, he likes to hook his finger under your choker and pull you closer, usually for a kiss. He gets the urge to do it in public too, but controls himself because he cares about his reputation.

𝐍𝐞𝐬𝐬: Glitter. Glitter eyeshadow, shimmer mist. Any makeup products like make you look like an ethereal fairy will have him staring at you in awe, as if you cast a spell on him. You can put it on him too, if you want. He'd be interested.

𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐳𝐨: Any lip product. He likes a cute smile, so anything that highlights the lips is attractive to him. He's partial to more unusual shades like purple, black, blue and green. But any colour that suits your skin tone best looks great to him. He also finds braces endearing.

Note: It's been so long since I last posted fanfiction on tumblr. I'm kind of nervous.

[r6eduss]

Sweetness.

•Summary: Daryl and reader haven’t had time for each other lately, because of this the reader begins to have doubts and insecurities but Daryl is quick to ease them. (Fem reader)

•Warnings: 18+, Soft Dom!Daryl, Smut. Major character death spoilers.

•Word Count: 3.1k.

•Setting: The Commonwealth.

•A/N: Guys this is my first fic, I was bored and decided why not make fanfiction soo.. 😭 also inspired by @/corvidcrossbow ‘s I like it long fic 🫶🏼

You had been overly busy, overwhelmed with the labor that the Commonwealth had brought upon you. Having to deal with the changes of when the world just fell was difficult enough, finally adjusting to the wickedness and horrors of this world just to have to adjust to how the world used to be all over again? It’s been a hassle on you and Daryl’s backs.

Before the world had fallen, you were still in college, studying and planning to pursue to become a doctor. When you arrived at the Commonwealth, you had been beyond confused what your occupation before the apocalypse had anything to do with why you should’ve been accepted into this place, soon finding out that you would receive a position of employment that would be just like what you used to be before everything went down.

Not only have you been beyond exhausted with your position, lately Nabila has needed extra assistance with her and the children, and who are you to decline? You’ve always been a shoulder that your family can lean on.

Today was finally one of those days that you had off, and of course you had spent the majority of your day babysitting the children. You didn’t hate spending time with them, in fact, you enjoyed it. But you were beyond exhausted and craved some time alone with your unofficial husband, Daryl.

It was around around 9:45 pm at night, and you at last entered your shared apartment. The silence was loud, feeling ringing in your ears from it. Judith and RJ had been at Carol’s house for the day, and Daryl had been out being a soldier for our community, so you were accompanied with quietness and some time for yourself. It was honestly quite comforting, considering how overwhelmed you have felt lately.

You had sat down on your couch, pinching the space between your eyes that rested at the top of your nose and closing your eyes. “God..” you let out a sigh, feeling drained and spent. You gave yourself a couple seconds of emptiness then proceeded to get up and head for your shared bedroom with Daryl.

You placed your bag around one of the clothing hangers in your closet, and made your way to your dresser. You picked out a pair of panties, and a nightgown. With your clothes in hand, you headed towards the bathroom. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you gave yourself a moment to reflect on all the events that took place before finally arriving at the Commonwealth. All the loses.. Carl, Glenn, Abraham, Sasha, Jesus, Tara and the list still goes on! You can't help but miss them and wish they were here to see the community that has been built here.

You catch yourself lost in your train of thought, and then work on stripping yourself of your clothes. You move to turn on the water, giving it a moment to get warm, then getting into the shower.

After your shower, you quickly slipped into your clean nightgown and panties. You took your used and dirty clothes and stuffed them into a basket, where you and Daryl’s laundry needed to be done. Standing next to your’s and Daryl’s queen sized bed, you quickly got comfortable under the sheets. A sigh left your lips, thinking of how much your mind and soul craved Daryl. Lately, you guys have had no time for yourselves.

You and Daryl have known each other since the quarry in Atlanta. At first, you thought he hated you, but sooner or later you realized that he isn’t one for communication. He showed his acts of love through his actions, always making sure you were safe.

Since the quarry, you had always stuck by his side. Sticking up for him when Rick, Glenn, T-dog and the others decided to leave his brother Merle on a rooftop alone. Daryl had refused your company at first, but with time, he warmed up to you and tolerated your presence. And eventually, he found himself falling for you, but of course you were the one to make the first move on him.

When you guys had arrived at the prison, that is when you made your move. It took a lot of self sabotaging on Daryl’s part before you guys had become official. And even then, Daryl isn’t particularly fond of label’s.

It had taken a lot of time for Daryl to start opening up to you even after you guys had established your love for each other. It was also awhile of staying at Alexandria for you guys to start getting intimate. Eventually with each other’s time together, you learned all about his trauma’s, the backstory of his scars and his childhood.

You were utterly in love with Daryl Dixon, and he was in love with you, he just had trouble saying those things out loud.

Your train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the door opening, your tummy immediately felt as if it was filled with butterflies while blood rushes to your face, knowing that it was Daryl finally coming home.

You lift your head up as Daryl enters your shared bedroom, he looks tired, exhausted.. His hair is laced with sweat while he’s in the commonwealth’s standardized white-color armor. You’ve always thought he looked quite handsome coming back from a run.

“Hey..” you begin to sit up, now facing your lover.

“Hey.” he gruffed out. Your heart began to ache as your thoughts were laced with worry. Daryl has been so worn out lately, and has barely had any time to see you. What if he was starting to lose the attraction he had for you? What if he was starting to realize he’s interested in someone else? That possibility could become a reality considering you found yourselves in a community of 50 thousand other people.

“So, how was the run today?” You try your hardest to ease the silence, the quietness that had comforted you earlier was no longer comforting. Your nerves began to eat you from the inside out that you began to fidget with your thumbs, that’s something you’d always do when you were nervous, everybody knew.

Daryl knew.

“It was ‘ight.” He quickly took notice of how you began to fidget.

“Wha’ is wrong with ya?” He looked right into your eyes, his tone infected with slight concern. He was waiting for your response as he began to take off the annoying armor that he was required to wear.

Your heart race began to speed up, worried that he would view you as insecure and pathetic, you decided to avoid telling him what you were truly worried about. “Nothing! Just.. had an exhausting week.” You hoped he’d take your answer and roll with it, you were deathly afraid of Daryl seeing you less than you are.

After Daryl finished taking off the armor, he decided to accept the answer you gave him for now. He was tired, and was in no mood to go back and forth.

“Daryl, you should probably take a shower.” you just wanted him to relax for once, even with Ezekiel being the leader of this place, he never once let his guard down and you just wanted him to finally rest.

“Hm. Ya wan’ to get in wit’ me?” Daryl is never one to initiate things, but one thing he always loved was being able to share a shower with you. It felt romantic. Intimate.

“I already showered. We can cuddle when you get out?” You didn’t think anything of your response, well that was until…

He let out what seemed like an annoyed grunt. He took his clothes and headed to the bathroom. You’ve never been more anxious. Did what you say bother him? Did you piss him off? You released an irritated grunt from your lips as you hear the shower head turn on. You decide to lay back down, feeling your brain fall into a spiral of unpleasant anxious thoughts.

It’s been almost 20 minutes, and you’ve been in a complete swirl of negativity. Your chest felt heavy, feeling your heart completely sunken. Were you having an anxiety attack? You eventually hear the shower head stop and you could’ve sworn you were on the verge of passing out, since when were you so nervous around Daryl? You’ve always been super comfortable around him, feeling safe. Maybe it’s because of all this time trying to survive and to keep our loved one’s alive.

Hearing the sounds of him getting dressed, you can’t help but feel more uneasy. You were never fond of people being angry at you, and especially Daryl of all people. Sooner or later, the bathroom door opens. You look up and see Daryl wearing a regular dark gray T-shirt with gray sweatpants, he never was one to sleep without a shirt, considering his scars.

He walks over to the basket of clothes that needs to be washed, and puts the clothes that he was wearing under the uncomfortable set of white armor in the basket.

He looks in your direction, catching you once again fidgeting with your thumbs.

You refuse to look at him, feeling strong tension between you and him. Your breath hitches as you feel the bed dip, noticing that he was getting right into bed, next to you. He starts to get comfortable, getting under the sheets and closer to you.

The both of you lay completely flat on your backs, That’s when you feel him put his arm around your shoulder and pull you closer to him, head laying on his chest.

“I know somethin’ is up.” He takes your hand, making it rest on his chest. “Talk t’me.”

All the warmth went immediately to your face. It felt as if you stopped breathing for a moment, you didn’t wanna be difficult, that’s when you decided to just tell him about your worries, he has a right to know after all.

“Daryl, I'm scared.”

“Scared of wha’?”

Taking a deep breath, you continue. “I’m scared that one day you’ll realize that maybe i’m not enough for you.” You pause for a moment, then resume. “And, are you annoyed with me?”

His eyes widened a bit, it’s not what he was expecting. Not in the slightest. He lifts his head a little.

“Nah, m’not annoyed with ya.” He proceeds to lay on his side, facing towards you. “An’ why are ya thinkin’ ya wouldn't be enough?” From the bottom of his heart, he doesn’t have a single clue where this is coming from. Daryl is the most loyal person on this shitty earth, and he can swear up and down that he loves you to death.

“I don’t know.. We’ve been so busy lately getting used to the Commonwealth, and there are so many people here! So many options.. Maybe eventually you’ll realize that i’m not what you truly want.” Shamefully, the truth escapes your lips. You’ve never felt more insecure. Usually, you felt secure within your relationship, but the stress has truly gotten to your head.

He moves closer to your face, and puts his hand on your cheek, cupping the side of your face. His thumb gently rubbing against it.

“Don’t want nobody here but you.”

Your heart skips a beat, Daryl isn’t one for being upfront, and he isn’t the greatest at comforting people, but he loves you, and he’s very sure of that.

He locks eyes with you, admiring you and your beauty. For a second you could’ve sworn he had stolen a glance at your lips? Or maybe you were seeing things.

Your mind feels more at ease, and you break out a slight giggle “I’m sorry. I know I sound stupid, I just miss you.”

He uses his other hand to move your hair strand out your face, and cup the other side of your face, moving closer. “Ya’ don’t sound stupid.” He’s quick to lean in, closing the gap between the both of you, finally stealing a kiss from you.

His lips are kind of chapped, but oddly enough, still soft. The kiss was soft and tender, only having pure love behind it. Your eyes flutter open, just to see him staring at you. “I love you.”

Your lips curve up into a passive and cute smile, he never says it first.

“I love you too.”

You lean in for another kiss, the both of you have been so touch starved these past couple days. The kiss was gentle and sweet, but more ambitious. Even the slightest things about Daryl can get you going, and you sure as hell are in need of some sex. Especially after these couple weeks.

You lean more into the kiss, and that’s when you hear a grunt come from him. You swear you could turn into a puddle right then and there.

Eventually, you pull away, obviously needing to breathe. “Daryl, i’ve missed you.”

The corner of his lips turn into a slight smirk, and he begins to gently place his hand on the back of your head, playing with your hair.

“I know.”

That’s when he kisses you again, only this time using his hand on the back of your head to lean you in closer. This kiss was more needy.. More intimate.

You accidentally whine into the kiss, pressing your thighs together as you can already feel your panties start to get wet. He moves his hand from the back of your head to your waist, caressing and feeling your curves. He slowly makes his way to your thighs, where he takes the opportunity to pull you on top of him, and have you sitting on his lap while he lays on his back. You could feel his hard on.

“D-daryl.. I need you.” you say in a whine, you felt his cock twitch under you, he has his hands rested on your hips and has the most perfect view of you. He could stay like this forever.

“Yeah?” He said it in such a sweet and gentle tone it could drive you insane. One thing Daryl loved to do was tease you, he knew how flustered you could get. “Mhm.” You begin to tuck at his pants, looking into his eyes for approval.

With a slow nod, he consents. “G’on.” He wanted this as badly as you did, and tonight, he was going to make sure you were taken care of.

You were quick to go ahead and start to take off his pants and boxers while also taking off your nightgown, wanting nothing more than to feel his cock stretch out your tight cunt. He watched as you stripped him, missing every inch of you and your body.

Witnessing as his cock sprung out, your clit throbbed and you could feel your nipples harden. Daryl gently runs his hand through your hair, making sure that you are enjoying every inch of this. You prop yourself up, sliding your panties to the side and gripping his shaft while slowly lowering yourself onto it. You could’ve came right then and there. He stretched you out, and was always able to make you feel full and complete.

He lets out a low grunt, not only watching you lower yourself onto him, but also feeling the tight and warm sensation of you around him. You needed a moment to adjust to his size, you both haven’t made love since before the war with the whisperers, you just haven’t had the time.

After a moment, you began to move, slowly rocking your hips and lifting yourself up onto him. “Fuck..” You couldn’t help but let out a moan, you were full, and you were overly sensitive. Daryl squinted his eyes shut for a moment, he too had forgotten the bliss and feeling of him inside of your cunt.

With time, you sped up, bouncing on his cock. You threw back your head, rolling your eyes and having your mouth agape, It was almost embarrassing how slutty you looked. His hands roughly gripped your hips, hard enough to leave bruises, while also thrusting up into you. You were close but you felt yourself starting to grow tired.

You buried your head into Daryl’s neck, whining. He took the chance to flip you over onto your back, and take control. He pounded into you, the sound of skin slapping and the headboard rutting into the wall filling the room. You heard Daryl growl and you let out a loud and filthy moan, feeling embarrassed you were quick to slap your hand over your mouth, until Daryl grabs your wrist, and puts it above your head.

“Wanna hear ya.” He whispered, his voice gravelly. He loved the sounds you’d make, especially knowing that you were making those noises because of him. He continued to fuck you into your mattress, having one hand pinning down yours, and the other on your hip. With your other free hand, you found it roaming up into his hair. His hand gripping your hip quickly moved under your thigh, lifting your leg above his shoulder and adjusting his position. He thrusted into you, hitting your sweet spot and going at a relentless pace. You whimpered and proceeded to tug on his locks, pulling it.

And that’s when he let out a whine.

You could feel your core tightening, knowing that you were close. “D-daryl.. Please don't stop.” Waves of pleasure were rushing through you, and his scent filling your nostrils.

“Ain’t gunna.” He then leaned into your neck, leaving kisses and love bites up and then down to your breasts. You could hear his accent begin to grow thicker, That's how you knew he was approaching his release as well.

You were head empty, feeling your walls tightening around his cock and clit brushing against him. You were both laced with sweat while also letting out gasps and whimpers. He knew your body so well, and knew all the right things just to tip you over the edge. Daryl was also incredibly gentle with you, this wasn’t just fucking this was love-making.

“Daryl.. Im gonna–” He interrupted you with a sloppy kiss, when he pulled away there was a string of saliva still connecting the both of you. He used his tongue to lick up from your chest to your neck, the feeling of his wet mouth against your skin, it sent shivers down your spine, and that’s when you couldn’t anymore. You gasped as you reached your peak, the knot in your tummy finally unraveling. He rode out your high, pounding into you a couple more times before he pulled out and came onto your belly, letting out a low groan and making a mess out of you.

He collapsed right beside you, the two of you were both a panting mess.

With both of you still slowly recovering, he moves to look towards you and uses his thumb and index finger to raise your chin. “Ya feelin’ better sunshine?” His little nickname for you forever gave you butterflies.

“Mhm! I think im due for another shower though...” You attempt to move, feeling Daryl’s warm serum drip down from your tummy to your legs.

“I’ll join ya.” He says, as he helps you up and directs you both to your bathroom.

Divider credits: anitalenia 🦋

[haikyu-mp4]

Kindle

word count; 394 – f!reader

You leaned your bum on the desk beside Tsukishima’s, since the original desk owner had long gone to get some lunch. Tsukki was once again reading on his Kindle, and you squinted to catch some words that didn’t give you much of a clue as to what it was about.

“What’s the latest fanfiction you got there, Suckyshima?” you cooed, leaning one arm behind you on the desk to get comfortable. You also knew it made your skirt rise slightly, so you locked your ankles together and swung your legs cutely to ensure his eyes went there when turning to you.

“I’ll have you know this is the latest scientific paper by the great-” he stopped when his eyes finally made the journey from your legs to your free hand, which was moving like a bird's mouth with every word he said.

“Yeah, yeah.” You got off and leaned both arms on his desk instead, which made him lean back with a defiant look on his face. You kept smiling. “I was just chatting you up, doll.”

Tsukki huffed under his breath, looking out the window instead so you wouldn’t see his smile. He wasn’t sure how to answer either, how to make your cheeks flush like you so confidently made his.

The day before, Tsukki had told his brother that there was one topic he hadn’t found any well-sourced papers on, and he wondered if he could lead him in the right direction.

Imagine the shock on Akiteru’s face when his closed-off brother asked him how to woo a girl he likes.

“How is your club project going?” he finally asked you.

Your head tilted slightly. The cocky edge seemed to leave your expression and was replaced with a softness he decided he liked even more.

“You can get very lost in your own thoughts, Kei. Make sure she knows you care about the stuff she does. Even the stuff that isn’t particularly logical to you.”

“It’s great, actually! I uh-” You stood up properly, pointing over your shoulder. “I was wondering if you would help me with it, just didn’t know how to ask. I know it’s not your area of expertise, but I could use an extra set of hands.”

Tsukki turned off the Kindle, getting up and smoothing out his uniform. “Of course. Let’s make it the class’ best one.”

masterlist

[rivkae-winters]

Edit: the app launched and Is down- I have the initial apology video in a post here and I’m working on getting a full archive of their TikTok up ASAP. I’m letting the rest of this post remain since I do still stand by most of it and also don’t like altering things already in circulation.

Warning for criticism and what I’d consider some harsh to outright mean words:

So I’ve just been made aware of the project known of as ‘lore.fm’ and I’m not a fan for multiple reasons. For one this ‘accessibility’ tool complicates the process of essentially just using a screen reader (something native to all I phones specifically because this is a proposed IOS app) in utterly needless and inaccessible ways. From what I have been seeing on Reddit they have been shielding themselves (or fans of the project have been defending them) with this claim of being an accessibility tool as well to which is infuriating for so many reasons.

I plan to make a longer post explaining why this is a terrible idea later but I’ll keep it short for tonight with my main three criticisms and a few extras:

1. Your service requires people to copy a url for a fic then open your app then paste it into your app and click a button then wait for your audio to be prepared to use. This is needlessly complicating a process that exists on IOS already and can be done IN BROWSER using an overlay that you can fully control the placement of.

2. This is potentially killing your own fandom if it catches on with the proposed target market of xreader smut enjoyers because of only needing the link as mentioned above. You don’t have to open a fic to get a link this the author may potentially not even get any hits much less any other feedback. At least when you download a pdf you leave a hit: the download button is on the page with the fic for a reason. Fandom is a self sustaining eco system and many authors get discouraged and post less/even stop writing all together if they get low interaction.

3. Maybe we shouldn’t put something marketed as turning smut fanfic into audio books on the IOS App Store right now. Maybe with KOSA that’s a bad idea? Just maybe? Sarcasm aside we could see fan fiction be under even more legal threat if minors use this to listen to the content we know they all consume via sites like ao3 (even if we ask them not to) and are caught with it. Auditory content has historically been considered much more obscene/inappropriate than written content: this is a recipe for a disaster and more internet regulations we are trying to avoid.

I also have many issues with the fact that this is obviously redistributing fanfiction (thus violating the copyright we hold over our words and our plots) and removing control the author should have over their content and digital footprint. Then there is the fact that even though the creator on TikTok SAYS you can email to have your fic ‘excluded’ based on the way the demo works (pasting a link) I’m gonna assume that’s just to cover her ass/is utter bullshit. I know that’s harsh but if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck it’s probably a duck.

I am all for women in stem- I’ve BEEN a woman in Stem- but this is not a cool girl boss moment. This is someone naive enough to think this will go over well at best or many other things (security risks especially) at worst.

In conclusion for tonight: I hope this person is a troll but there is enough hype and enough paid for web domains that I don’t think that’s the case. There are a litany of reasons every fanfic reader and writer should be against something like this existing and I’ll outline them all in several other posts later.

Do not email their opt out email address there is no saying what is actually happening with that data and it is simply not worth the risks it could bring up. I hate treating seemingly well meaning people like potential cyber criminals but I’ve seen enough shit by now that it’s better to be safe than sorry. You’re much safer just locking all your fics to account only. I haven’t yet but I may in the future if that is the only option.

If anyone wants a screen reader tutorial and a walk through of my free favorites as well as the native IOS screen reader I can post that later as well. Sorry for the heavy content I know it’s not my normal fare.

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Shaking (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have an anxiety attack in a public setting, but luckily, the doctor is there to help you through it.

Word Count: 2450

Warnings: Anxiety attack, mild cursing, mostly just ANGST and then comforting FLUFF

A/N: Wanted to write Spence comforting the reader during a panic attack. Fanfiction is better than therapy, right? At least, it’s cheaper! Also not my GIF

——

“You don’t want to just order it online?” Spencer asked as you walked beside him down the sidewalk. His longer legs would typically mean that he’d be several steps ahead of you, but he always slowed his pace so you wouldn’t have to strain to keep up with him. He also walked on the outside of the path because, let’s face it, he was a gentleman.

You shook your head. “No, I want the whole experience,” you said excitedly as you walked, your face lighting up in anticipation. You were on your way towards a local bookstore, where the third book in your favorite series was being released today. The bookstore was going to be packed, but you were so excited to be one of the first ones in the door, to get your hands on a physical copy. “I don’t ever do things like this, but it’ll be something I think about every time I look at the book sitting on my shelf.”

Spencer nodded, lifting his hand, his thumb and forefinger in an O-shape as he spoke. “Ah, the age-old concept of symbolic treasures. One of the main reasons why souvenirs are such a prevalent part of going on vacation. Did you know the tradition dates back to Ancient Egypt?”

You shook your head as you continued to walk with him. Your boyfriend carried on without fault. “As far back as 2200 B.C, Egyptian Prince Harkhuf traveled to what is now known as Sudan and returned with all sorts of objects to present to his father, the pharaoh,” Spencer explained. His words spat out quickly, compulsively, as though they had to exit his encyclopedic brain. “He brought back items such as incense, ivory, even the skins of leopards to show off to his father.”

“I had no idea,” you told Spencer as you neared the bookstore, smiling sideways at him. You loved it when he spouted off facts like that, like he had to get the information out or else he’d explode. He had confessed to you more than once before that most people found it weird or off-putting or even annoying, but not you. Rather, you loved learning new things. Whatever information he had to share with you was always relevant in one way or another, and it was just one of the reasons why you loved spending time with him - he made you a more knowledgeable, well-rounded person.

Before either of you could say much else, you’d reached the back of the line of the bookstore. You checked the time on your phone. The store would open in about fifteen minutes. The line stretched down at least a full block, from what you could see. Lots of people dressed like characters from the books, shuffling their feet in excited anticipation.

There were at least a hundred people in the line, and after a minute or two, a couple dozen more had filed in behind where you stood. You pursed your lips for a moment, scanning the crowd until your eyes met Spencer’s.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, inclining his head to the side.

You shook your head. “Nothing,” you said. “Just… lot of people.”

Spencer nodded understandingly, then reached down to take your hand. Your fingers twined with his and he squeezed his palm against yours. “I’m right here,” he reminded you. You didn’t love crowds. They always made you feel anxious, perhaps even a little claustrophobic. You and Spencer had gone to a fairly crowded French film festival a few months ago and there hadn’t been an organized line to enter; rather, it had been a cluster of people, all pressed together. And you had felt like you couldn’t breathe. Spencer’d had to pull you to a seat off to the side so you could catch your breath, and you’d missed getting a seat up front like you’d been hoping for.

Right now, you were okay, though. There were people in front of you and behind you, but they weren’t flush against you like they had been waiting for the film festival to open. And Spencer was holding your hand, and you were outside, with the cool, spring morning breeze hitting your face. It was fine. You were going to be fine. You inhaled deeply and exhaled, then nodded your head, feeling the anxiety dissipate. “I’m good,” you told Spencer, looking up at him.

Spencer nodded. He squeezed your hand once again before letting go, only so he could wrap his arm around your shoulders and tug you so you leaned against his chest. He kissed the top of your hair. “It’s going to be just fine,” he promised you, and you just smiled to yourself.

About ten minutes later, the store opened. You only knew that because the line started moving, and more quickly than you thought. You squealed in delight and matched the pace of the people in front of you, Spencer by your side with an amused grin on his face. He loved books just as much as you did, if not more, but this outing was definitely just for you. He’d read the other preceding books in this series (literally just because you asked him to and it took him an hour, tops), but he wasn’t a total geek for it like you were.

You finally made it inside the bookstore, a small business, a local place. You’d been inside several times before, but you hadn’t realized just how small the building actually was until you stepped in now. It was two stories, but everyone was tightly packed, with the people and the bookshelves crowding around you as you made it fully inside the store. There was even a line to go up to the second floor, like a queue at an amusement park.

There was little to no breathing room. Everyone was talking as they waited their turn to grab a copy of the new book, and the sound seemed to bounce off the walls and the ceiling and smack you right in the ear. The air felt thick despite the front door and handful of windows being opened, allowing the cool spring breeze to ruffle the pages of the paperbacks on display.

But it wasn’t refreshing. Rather, it was another stimulant that caused the neurons in your brain to fire even faster. You felt your palms get slick. You felt your heart start to pound, and your knees wobble as you shuffled forward in the line. What were you even waiting in line for? You momentarily forgot, blinking a few times before looking up at the man beside you. Spencer was engrossed in looking around the bookstore, the corners of his mouth quirking upward as he seemed to find something amusing. But when his eyes came full circle back to you, they were immediately filled with concern. “Y/N?” He asked softly, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You couldn’t even hear him. The sound of his voice just bounced off your brain, like you were trapped inside of cellophane. All you could think was trapped. I’m trapped. No way out. Stuck. Caged. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe.

You felt your breathing go heavy, and your eyes fill up with tears. Your cheeks were red, bright red, judging from how hot you suddenly felt. “Leave,” you managed to choke out, your voice coming out from your throat. It felt like your throat was lined with thorns, like the words you wanted to say kept getting caught.

Spencer nodded. “Leave? Yeah. Yeah, baby, we can leave,” Spencer grabbed your hand, tugging you along behind him as he murmured “excuse me, pardon me,” to the other patrons, to get through the crowd. Moving against the crowd was so much worse than standing still. All those eyes on you, seeing your red face and the anxious tears trickling down your cheeks. It was so embarrassing, freaking out like this is such a public space. Everyone thinks I’m a freak, you thought. Your anxiety became not about the crowd, but about your anxiety, about how you were being perceived. Your breathing picked up, quickened, and by the time Spencer led you out into the morning sun, you were fully hyperventilating.

The thoughts in your head were racing at the speed of light. You hated feeling nervous like this, but moreover, you hated that Spencer had to take care of you because of it. You felt like you had ruined the day because your head wasn’t on straight, because you couldn’t stand in a crowd of people and hear the cacophony of voices and tamp down your panic.

Spencer led you down the block, about twenty feet from the store, away from the crowd, and your breath was still coming out staccato, unstable as you looked down at your shaking hands. You were crying and hyperventilating and the whole world felt like it was spinning. Spencer kept his hold on your hand and stood in front of you, squeezing his palm against yours. His eyes, those light brown irises with little flecks of green, stared into yours. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, bending his knees so his face was level with yours. “Breathe with me, okay?”

You shook your head, your eyes clamping shut. You were so mad at yourself in that moment. You didn’t want to have Spencer take care of you, to have to drag you out of a bookstore because you were having a panic attack. “Baby, you’re trembling,” you heard Spencer’s voice laced with concern. “Look at me. We’ll get through this together.”

You opened your eyes slowly, and that’s when you realized your entire body was shaking. You looked into Spencer’s eyes and he released your hand so he could cup your face. His fingers anchored under your jaw, his thumbs rested on your cheeks, and his eyes were wide, full of worry, but his voice managed to stay soothing and calm. “Follow my breath, Y/N. Do what I’m doing, okay? In for four, hold for four, out for four.”

He inhaled for 4 seconds, and you tried to follow his lead, but you just couldn’t control your lungs. “It’s okay,” he assured you as your brows furrowed, presenting frustration. “C’mon, try again.” He inhaled for 4 seconds, and you managed to match him this time. “Hold for four,” you held your breath while Spencer counted. “And out for four,” you exhaled deeply. “Good, okay, let’s do it again.”

Spencer guided your breath for a few minutes, until you finally felt like you could do it on your own. And when you finally felt yourself coming down from the rush of panic that had sent you into fight-or-flight, you wiped at your wet eyes. “I’m sorry,” you croaked, and Spencer just shook his head.

“No,” he insisted, taking your hand and placing it on his heart. You could feel it beating through his long-sleeved t-shirt. “No, you don’t have to be sorry.” You rubbed your hand against his chest, finding it comforting as you hung your head. “Baby, look at me,” he requested, and you met his eyes.

“Please don’t ever apologize for having an anxiety attack, okay? For one thing, it’s not your fault. You can’t control the chemicals and waves in your brain and how your body reacts to situations,” Spencer began, his hand on top of yours that rested on his chest. You nodded, using the heel of your free hand to wipe away your tears. The crying was over, you were fairly certain, but god, did this suck. “You also should never feel ashamed for having a panic attack, Y/N. It happened, and we’re working through it. It’s a lot like boiling a pot of water, isn’t it?”

You let out a garbled sounding laugh and your brows furrowed. “How so?” You stammered out.

“Well, you set the pot of water on the stove, right?” Spencer began, and you nodded. “And then when it starts to bubble, that’s your anxiety. Some sort of external stimulant - the stove, or, in your case, the overwhelming feeling of being in a crowd - is causing the water to bubble. And when the external stimulant increases in intensity, so too does your anxiety. And sometimes, yeah, the pot boils over.” Spencer shrugged like it was no big deal. “But then you just turn the stove off, grab a dishtowel, and clean up the mess. Problem solved.”

You cracked a half-hearted smile. “So in this metaphor, you’re a dishtowel?” You asked, curling your fingers around the fabric of his shirt.

“Technically, I think it’s a simile, but yes,” Spencer grinned as he looked in your eyes.

“But the book,” you sighed, looking back at the bookstore, which was still filtering people in and out slowly. The patrons leaving the store clutched their new copies of the book in their hands, grinning and taking pictures with their phones, laughing with their friends excitedly.

“Do you want to get back in line and try again?” Spencer asked, and you bit your cheek pensively.

“I don’t think so,” you said softly, defeatedly.

“That’s okay,” Spencer said. You loved that he wasn’t coddling you, he was just feeling it out, seeing what you were up for. “Do you want to get brunch somewhere and come back? Maybe the line will have died down by then?”

You nodded, your lips curling into a small smile. “Yeah,” you agreed. You realized your hand was still over his heart, rubbing at his chest. Your movement halted and you retracted your hand, but before your arm could fall completely at your side, Spencer scooped your hand up and kissed the back of your palm. “What if we come back and they’ve sold out of the book, though?” You asked as Spencer walked with you in the direction of one of your favorite brunch places, just a short walk from the bookstore.

“There are twenty-two independent bookstores in the D.C. metropolitan area alone,” Spencer rattled off. “If this one doesn’t have it, we’ll drive around until we find one that does.”

“What article did you read that told you how many bookstores were in D.C?” You asked. You often liked to challenge him by asking him to cite his sources.

“No article. I did a search on Google Maps last night,” Spencer explained.

“What, because you knew I’d freak out when we walked into this one?” You asked him.

Spencer shook his head. “No, just wanted to have a contingency plan in case our first stop sold out before we got there.”

“Always thinking ahead, huh, Boy Wonder?”

“Damn straight.” A smirk formed across Spencer’s lips.

You shook your head. “You’re the best dishtowel a girl could ask for.”

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 1

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Summary: The Atreides daughter is sent off to Giedi Prime to marry the Harkonnen heir in an attempt to quell the feuding Great Houses. The bride, however, must prove her grit and earn the respect of her new family if she is to survive her new life. Perhaps she will find that she had more Harkonnen in her than she thought.

TW: none (for now)

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut (just not in this chapter lmao), No use of y/n, Original Characters, cannon what cannon

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Please bear with me, it has been ages since I've written anything and this is my first ever work of fanfiction. I've never written in the second person before so if you catch any mistakes, especially in verb tenses, please let me know. English is not my first language. Also, this might start out a bit slow but I promise things will pick up soon.

The smell of grass and the crashing waves of Caladan brought you comfort as you stood before the starship that had been rented from the Spacing Guild.

Your brother had insisted on accompanying you to Giedi Prime, but a round trip would have been unnecessarily expensive, even with the vast wealth of your Great House. Besides, it would be foolish to deliver the heir of House Atreides to the home world of their sworn enemies. It was bad enough they had to send you there.

"Give them hell," Paul teased as he hugged you goodbye.

You laughed, but you knew his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He had faith in your strength and ferocity, but he had much less faith in the hospitality of the Harkonnens.

"I'll miss you," you pull away and try to give him a reassuring smile but you, yourself, are not so certain of your fate.

You made your way to your mother, next in line to bid you farewell.

"Remember your training." Lady Jessica held your face and planted a tender kiss on your forehead. She had already given you all the advice she could.

You take her hands in yours and kiss them. "I will," you tell her solemnly.

You finally make it to your father, whose eyes are already welling with tears.

"My darling princess," his voice cracks as he lays a hand on your cheek. The Duke may seem a stoic man to most, but those who truly knew him knew he had a big heart.

Perhaps it is because you are one of those people that you finally feel that weight in your chest that you've been dreading since the signing of your marriage pact. It will be a truly long time before you would see your family again. If you could ever see them at all.

The Duke waves at an attendant who approaches with a silver tray. Leto takes the dagger resting on it and places it in your hands. "To remind you that you will always be an Atreides, that you will always be my daughter."

You let your tears fall as you hold the gift close to your chest.

"Don't cry now," your father pulls you into a hug, hoping to hide his own tears, "or I might never let you go."

You let a laugh slip through the sobs. You knew it was already decided and it is your duty to fulfill. The Sisterhood and the Emperor himself endorsed the match. Nothing could change it now.

The harsh light of Giedi Prime's black sun assaulted your eyes as you made your way down the starship's gangplank. The stark, high-contrast black and white made everything a pain to look at. You were thankful for the veils of your travelling gowns for providing you at least some shade.

You were greeted by House Harkonnen's steward, Jaromir Naggul, and swiftly led into the imposing, Brutalist fortress of their stronghold. You were almost happy to escape the infrared outside.

"Your belongings are being sent to your new quarters as we speak," Jaromir, a lanky but stately man, informs you. "You may change out of your traveling clothes and rest there. The Baron will receive you in the throne room in the afternoon."

You note his accent and the mild contempt in his voice, as if you were an inconvenience.

"This is Iassa," he gestures to one of the servants that had been following you through the halls. "She is your assigned slave. Should you need anything, you may tell her."

The word almost knocks the breath out of you.

You eyes turn to Iassa in her pale gray robes and you give her a polite nod. She hastily curtsies in return.

You knew the Harkonnens and even the Emperor kept slaves, but you suppose it never occurred to you that you would be charged with one yourself.

"Of course," Jaromir continues, "any of the servants in the fortress will be at your command, but Iassa will be in waiting for you in particular."

"Of course," you reply coldly.

"You will be staying in the guest wing for now," Jaromir says as he shows you the door to your quarters. "Of course, until your wedding. When you will then be moved to the na-Baron's apartments."

"...of course," you repeat, grateful again for your veils that they hide your dread.

You are silent as Iassa helps you into a black gown for your audience with the baron. It is the fashionable color in the Harkonnen home world. Although there were many other 'fashionable' traits on Giedi Prime, this was the only one you felt comfortable adopting right now. The complete lack of hair in every individual you had seen was certainly unsettling, but you sensed it would be rude to speak about it.

"What is the na-Baron like?" you ask.

Iassa pauses her fastening of your dress, she swallows. "He is a fearsome warrior, my lady," she keeps her gaze averted, "handsome and popular with the people."

Her voice was shaky but she seemed genuine. You only wonder if those words hold the same implications here as they do back home.

You look over to Iassa as she fetches your shoes. It's not difficult to see that she fears you. You cannot help but feel that that is all there is. You are still an off-worlder. An Atreides no less. She harbors no respect for you.

You take care to style your hair in the fashions of Caladan, fastening a falcon-like pin at the back of your head. The symbol of your house. Perhaps it is a risky choice, to be seen as defiant by the baron should he notice, but you could already feel the black sun beginning to drain the life out of you. The thrill of quiet defiance would have to sustain you for now.

Jaromir returns in time to fetch you and you are led to the throne room.

The baron's grotesque floating body looms over you and his subjects. You had never met any of the Harkonnens before but you were sure that was him.

"Welcome to your new home, Lady Atreides," the Baron utters your last name with thinly veiled loathing. "Let me present my nephew, Feyd-Rautha."

A tall muscular young man steps forward. Stately and regal as a Harkonnen could be, he looks over you with condescending eyes.

He certainly looked like a warrior, and you could see how the people of Giedi Prime could find him handsome, but you find yourself wanting to spit in his face.

"Forgive me for not greeting you when you landed, my lady," the na-Baron bows to you. His gravelly voice sends a chill down your spine, "I was preoccupied at the time. I trust you have settled well?"

You curtsy in turn, "I'm sure my lord had important duties to attend to. I am grateful for your hospitality. My rooms are very comfortable."

"Do not find them too comfortable young lady," the Baron calls from afloat his chair, "your wedding celebrations are to begin and you will be sharing rooms with my nephew before long."

Feyd-Rautha smirks at this and you are almost willing to cast decorum aside to slap it off his face.

"Tomorrow, your groom will take part in the arena to demonstrate his prowess as a worthy husband and leader, as per the traditions of our house," the Baron announces. "I'm sure you will make a point to attend."

"I would not miss it, dear Baron."

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

[incorrectbatfam]

What are their go to conversation starters?

Alfred: Lesson #18 of behaving like a human being: initiating conversations.

Alfred: At a formal event, you are expected to engage with others in an appropriate manner. For this exercise, I want you to pretend I'm a guest and impress me.

Dick: Good evening, sir. I really appreciate you being here. If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask.

Dick: *smiles and gives Alfred a firm handshake*

Alfred: Excellent job, except one thing.

Alfred, holding up his arm: It was not necessary to take my watch. You're not a mission, Master Dick.

Dick: But what if I am?

Alfred: That's a lesson for another day. Next.

Jason: Now, hypothetically, if a very bad man killed your son, wouldn't YOU—

Alfred: That's enough. Next.

Tim: My name's Tim and I'm afraid of wasps because they have a photographic memory of all who wronged them.

Alfred: Dismissed. Next.

Damian: *walks away to play with the dog*

Alfred: We'll come back to him. Next.

Duke: Wanna beta-read my Luke Fox Final Fantasy MMA AU fanfic?

Cullen: Wanna beta-read my Destiel Superhell fix-it fanfic?

Alfred: Next.

Steph: Last night I dreamt I was a waffle, but I was also the plate and the fork and myself eating the me-waffle.

Alfred: That's disturbing, next.

Cass: *stares*

Alfred: You are supposed to say something.

Cass: Something.

Alfred, sighing: Next.

Barbara: Hi, I'm Barbara. You must be Alfred, right? How are you liking the party?

Alfred, acting: I'm enjoying it very much, thank you.

Barbara: Okay, so you didn't notice me remotely disabling an army of robot cockroaches. Phew!

Alfred: We were so close. Next.

Harper: Can you believe it? Some asshole disabled my robo-roaches.

Alfred: For the last time, Miss Harper, no robotic insects at galas. Next.

Carrie: Hello, sir. Can I get you anything?

Alfred, acting: A glass of water would be nice.

Carrie: Sure thing. One cup of locally sourced water, coming right up.

Alfred: Never mind. Next.

Kate: Your daughter is hot.

Alfred: Wrong answer. Next.

Helena: Tell me everything you know about the Maroni family or so help me—

Alfred: Different script, Miss Helena. Please turn to page 67 for gala conversations.

Luke: What does it mean when someone you know sends you their fanfiction about yourself?

Alfred, rubbing his temples: Next, please.

Bette: Head's up!

Bette: *spikes a volleyball*

Alfred, catching it: Next.

Selina: Wanna see pictures of my cats?

Bruce: Wanna see pictures of my kids?

Alfred:

Alfred: I think we should start again from the top.

[shuenkio]

Glass of Water | 엔.하.이.픈 ۶ৎ 제이⋆.˚ 🎃

Paring: Jay X M!reader | Genre: Heavy Smut

Synopsis: just a glass of water, take you back to your nightmare again.

Cw: size kink, cursing, rough play, mentioned of cum, unprotected séx(dni), cum inside, bad language(this fic), crush trope.

Non proof read | Eng is not my 1st

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

A💀N: I hate to be that person, but hey Jay fic is rare especially with the m so why not drop another Special Halloween gift~ (language is so bad in here so bare with me 😭)

Having those party friends was like being a kitten in a dog's cage, and as a nerd too, you were suffocating however at least you got friends to cure your boredom's life.

The sky shifted from gold to violet as the sun dipped below the horizon. Where in a club, you were drinking, dancing your ass out with your friends, forget yourself for the night just throw away all the worries.

However, it unfortunately happens when you are unconscious about yourself, last night until now, you find yourself in bed, an unfamiliar place In front of your face, not to mention there's someone else also in bed with you too. Panic sent down to your spine, as you get a closer look at that guy, seems familiar before you pull out the blanket out of his face, then it hits you like a bang of bullet, Jay? ... The senior that everyone loves on campus? What is he doing here? No way.

Feeling vulnerable and exposed, you dig your eyes down under the blanket to see you are actually naked, no this can't be happening. Not what you were thinking about it was right now. The atmosphere grows jarring, the silence inside the hotel room was so loud you could hear your own pounding heartbeat, it's very wrong. What happened last night, you can't recall, think head think. Epiphany, your body wide awake when you remember what's truly happened. You just having sex with your senior.

Couldn't take it anymore, you left the bed pulling the blanket off from the sleep jay, wrapped around yourself like a burrito before letting out a shriek.

Good thing the room is soundproof but Jay's ears are not. He jolted awake by the sudden screaming.

"HWAT WHAT? WHAT'S GOING ON" Starlet, he yells back out of panic, asking what is wrong but all he sees is you were there, wrapped around in blankets and immediately understands the situation.

"I see, let me explain M/N I swear" Jay rubbing his temple, already having a hard times to solve this. He was calming you down but before that, he soon realized he was exposed too in the sight. But soon cover by a pillow as his quick hand reacts. You slow down your heart and keep calm for a bit, giving him one last chance to explain, since all the events had happened last night are blurred in your head, and Jay was also responsible for this situation.

Later you discover, both of you and Jay are not at fault or else? By hearing his story side, it's actually an accident. Jay drinks too much vodka and also in heat at the time, while your story is also similar to him, your friends feed you too much alcohol until you lose control of yourself and boom, they put you guy in the same room out of prank, they know you had a huge ass crush on the senior.

Not to mention, The club is across the street of the Hotel which makes a lot of sense that this, happens on purpose.

"F-for real?" You spoke.

"I'm telling the truth. I know it's hard for both of us and I'm willing to take anything to make it up to you just k-keep it low alright?" Desperate of him, he asked for a favor in return for his responsibility, which he is willing to do as you wish just so you won't do bad to his image, and the priority was, the campus.

Biting your bottom lip, frustrated is not the word to describe how you feel for now, as if your world doing backflip from being bad to fine. lucky enough you were just a dude and not some of chic, wouldn't that be a disaster if that came true?

Taking time to catch his breath, Jay was thirsty from explanation and his sort of theory, oblivious as he took a full sip of glass of water on the night stand without knowing it was actually an aphrodisiac mix with water.

You are still in deep thoughts, thinking what would you do next after all of this thing happening all together. Unexpectedly, you glance at Jay who was looking out of the blue, uncomfortable on his feet.

"Are you okay there? Why are you fanning yourself? T-the ac is still on" stare at his body and began to tense and uneasy. You asked, It's really concerning at his state right now, why did he look like he was in heat,... Again?

"I'm i-m not sure I just drink this glass of water, n... Now I feel everything is burning ahh help m~me" unable to react, overwhelmed by the sudden hit of the mixing pill, to your surprise he lunches at you, as his strong hands harshly ripped off away of the blanket, wrapped around your body. The next thing you know, you were naked again. Now that's fuck up.

"Jay!! What are you doing HaHH waait what no—" taking a pleading sight In front of him right now, his intentions are clear as day what he wants to do, by the time you could figure what's wrong with him, you were already under his pair of arms, as he spread your legs apart like a pro, lifting you up in mid air. So then when Jay's hands finally found a comfortable place behind your nape, he quickly entranced himself on your vulnerable pink tint hole, he won't fear that he might break your hole again, cuz he was already done last night, before bucking his hip upward brutally, giving you no warning.

The nostalgia pleasure flashbacks again, this feels almost like what you recall last night, his long colossal length thrusting in with no mercy, fucking you out of your brain repeatably.

"FUCK JAY ST-OP WA-it I need to process AHHHHH" You cry out an arousing guttering pleasure, his fatal pace making you dizzy each time he thrust his hip inside out of you, giving you no room to fight back for what you want.

*Always so good, M/N you're so fucking TIGHT just like yesterday 𝗡𝗴𝗵 𝗡𝗴𝗵 𝗡𝗴𝗵 yeah just like that, taking my cock so well, why is your damn body react to 𝗠𝗲 when you don't hah?" His voice was alluring inside the soundproof room, dangerously and full of lust beneath those sounds. At each of his moan instances he would be pounding on you with his powerful hip, your body would bouncing along with your dick too, the sticky wet precum jumping, as he abuse your pretty hole again.

Meanwhile, on the other hand, you were low-key enjoying it, his god damn cock just hit the right on your sweet spot, silence you from whining again when you feel like you seen a shooting star in the bright morning sky.

All at once, jolt hitting on, spread over all your body and system, signaling you would need to release soon but before you even react and inform Jay, he was one step ahead of you greatly, chasing for both sides climax.

"JAY please h-Harder I will...come soon ermm AH"

"wanna cum? Hah? As you wish my prince, but let's do it together shall we" growling darkly under his hitch breathless air suppliers, Jay picks up the pace already lost in the deep sea, fuck your ass in a motion you can't even catch up. As your body continues to wear thin, in one last forceful arching, Jay finds himself empty inside you, extremely.

"Holy my Father, SHIT SHIT SHIT—"

"FuCk EheH..."

Both bodies shudder, choke up for air, you finally spill on the floor with your clear liquid. Your legs shake uncontrollably, the black pupils were nowhere to be seen in your eyeball which explains how much this makes you feel.

Jay crumbles down with you in his arm still, flop down on the bed exhausted, nothing much different from how you experienced, while the pill of the aphrodisiac slowly wears off.

"I fucking knew it I figured it out now Jay, all because of that glass of water"

"I'm sorry I'm sorry"

Ps; Happy Halloween day y'all, I just want to thank you for 600 followers 🥹🫶🏻 it's a milestone for me mwah mwah.

[chaoticace2005]

Reasons the Mothman should die, collectively written by the residents of the Hazbin Hotel:

Coding for Characters: Vaggie, Charlie, Pentious, Alastor, Niffty, Husk, pretty much everyone

TW: References to abuse

He’s holding back Angel’s progress. (Vaggie, is killing really necessary?) (I am concerned about going after a Vee)

I’m hungry (ALASTOR!)

Ms. Angel gets nervous when on the phone with him.

His coat is tacky.

He’s a bug! And bugs must be DESTROYED!

So Angel stops feeling like he has to be so damn fake. This is getting on my fucking nerves.

HE LICKED CHARLIE!!! (Vaggie, wait it’s okay.)

Color scheme sucks. Purple AND red?!

He makes Angel sad, NOBODY should make Angel sad.

Those obnoxious glasses just make him look stupid.

He’s a manipulative, abusive prick.

ANGEL DIDN'T KNOW BOUNDARIES WERE A THING?!?!?!?!?!? (Honestly that explains a lot.)

NOBODY deserves to be in an abusive relationship.

Too many arms. Nobody needs that many. (...Angel has that many?) (Well maybe he shouldn't.)

Ms. Angel keeps coming home all messy!!

He’s ruining hearts for everyone. Me and Angel already have enough. At least those are on our bodies, what’s his excuse?

Hearts should not even be ASSOCIATED with Valentino, THIS IS NOT LOVE.

I can do without all the sexual depravity. While I am in Hell this is NOT one of the reasons.

If I have to hear that ringtone one more damn time-

The Eggies found some of his films. They should never be exposed to such horrors. Now I have to explain what “a sex” is.

Makes picture shows that are a disgrace to the idea of “entertainment.”

He’s making a bad name for Uncle Ozzie. This is NOT “lust.”

So we don’t have to listen to another one of Angel’s pornos. (Agreed, it’s quite horrifying!!)

So Ms. Angel isn’t tired when she gets home and can save the kinky stuff for then :) (Niff, really?)

So the kid stops coming home with bruises and cuts that I fix up at 3 am. (Husk, what the fuck?)

Because what the FUCK Valentino?

He keeps forcing Angel to do drugs. (HE WHAT?! Like crack??) (That but also I’m pretty sure whatever comes out of him is an aphrodisiac.)

I want to use his antenna as a backscratcher

Has that whole red color thing going on. Only I am allowed to wear red :) (Al, your text isn’t even red.) (My what?)

What is up with his red spit and smoke? Seriously disgusting.

The red stuff from him may be what allows Velvette to create her “Love Potions” which funds Vax’s stupid endeavors (Do you mean Vox?) (Who?)

FOR MY COLLECTION :D (…yeah okay.)

Really is making a bad name for Overlords. And not in the fun way.

Angel’s shown trauma signs of abuse in our meetings. Im pretty sure it’s Valentino.

Make a doll out of his fur so I have a main villain for roach puppet shows!!!

His only purpose is to keep Veks occupied but considering Vixen’s inane attempts to catch my attention it isn’t working.

So Angel can have his soul and he and Husk can run off into the sunset together like in a fanfiction!!! (Ah, yes that would be nice.) (WE WHAT?!) (Oh Husker, denial doesn’t suit you.)

So Angel can get a good boyfriend THAT’S NOT ME to stop these bullshit allegations.

So Angel can admit his feelings to Husker because our cat surely isn’t going to be the first to do it. (ALASTOR I SWEAR TO GOD!)

Who knows how many other people he’s abusing.

Seems to give Vicks confidence. He has enough of that as is. It much more fun to destroy him.

He makes Angel sad which makes Cherri sad!

HE HIT ANGEL!!!

Called my dear Rosie an "old hag" NOBODY CALLS ROSIE AN OLD HAG.

Angel is a good friend and deserves so much better.

I’ve forgotten what moths taste like.

He keeps trying to get Angel to move out :(

Told the kid he had to lose weight. What the actual FUCK. (Ill kill him.)

He’s annoying and looks quite stupid. How has this not been added yet?!

He’s making a bad name for Spanish speakers everywhere. (Yeah it’s embarrassing.) (Wait… what?)

He’s making a bad name for pansexuals everywhere.

He’s making a bad name for wing-holders everywhere. (HE HAS FUCKING WINGS?!) (Oh, yeah, I didn’t tell you?)

Too tall. This is ridiculous.

Won’t admit he’s blind so he’s become even more of a public safety hazard.

If I get one more transmission of him and Box commiting lascivious acts someone will be eaten. I don’t care who. What the purpose of these are I don’t know. Advertisement? (I think it’s to make you jealous boss.) (Ha! Jealous of what? Mediocre sex with a pathetic excuse for a businessman with a TV as a head?)

Because Angel deserves fucking better.

[ouiouimochi]

Soshiro Hoshina headcanons

pairing: soshiro hoshina x reader

genre: romance, fluff, miniscule baby sized angst

wc: 1k

warning/s: short, there's mention of seggs but only that-not much details, no beta we die die, wonky phone format yey

note: "bold italic" means it was spoken in a different language

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he's deffo a polyglot— he's part of a renowned traditional clan. I'm sure he had lessons as a kid since he's a direct heir? he also reads a lot of literature so that's something

pre-dating, soshiro would definitely be telling you phrases in different languages

you may or may not understand some if not all of what he says

but one day, he made a mistake (or was it?) of saying his confession in a language you actually understood and can respond in

“I love you, you know?”

“I love you too” you'd respond

so when dating him, he'd call you all sorts of endearments in different languages

your favorite has to be the one he uses in your native language/the language you understood

that's bc it reminds you of how he confessed to you— wait maybe he's been confessing to you all this time but you just weren't aware

you loved it when he spoke in the language only you two knew (as far as everyone was concerned)

your flirting consists of calling each other by endearments in different languages

the poor defense force can only watch and listen

imagine what's it like to be in operations and hearing,

“Good luck, mi amor”

“Aking sinta, be careful”

although they barely understood, they knew the context from your tones

cue the groans of embarrassment from everyone aside from you two lmao

you two bond over reading

it'd be funny to have the two of you be the duo where one reads classical texts

the other reads ahem ahem fanfiction

we know who is who here

soshiro would be open to listening to your fanfiction rants

he thinks how fanfiction sometimes has better plot than some of what he read

he'd sometimes catch you smiling and kicking your feet up in the air and softly smiles at how adorable you were

he'd know what genre you were reading by your reactions too

he knows you're reading fluff when you're smiling and giggling to yourself

he knows you're reading angst when you bite your lips

he knows you're reading smut when your face is just blank

soshiro would definitely tease the heck out of you for reading smut while in his presence like,

“Dear, I'm right here?”

like why go for fiction when you can go for the real thing right?

he would definitely pout if you don't take notice of him while you're engrossed with reading

he definitely bites

like come on what are those fangs for if not for that-

imagine you two were just cuddling and he let the intrusive thoughts win of biting you

ever since then, he kept biting you randomly

his bites would hurt— sometimes would draw blood if he felt like it

it comes so randomly too like

he's having cuteness aggression? he'll bite you

he's hugging you from behind? he'll stuff his nose into the curve where your shoulder and neck meet then bite

he just want to bite you fr

even sometimes during bedroom activities ngl i dig that-

his breakup trope is definitely the “his first priority was his job, you were second” or “he had too little time to spend on and with you”

ik it's been covered by a lot of writers already but d a m n it hits like a truck

imagine he had to say at the start of the relationship that he can't promise to make you his priority

that you were not the first thing he'd come runing to

that he won't always be able to come home

that one day he won't even be able to come home

you were a fool to believe that you understood, that you accepted it

but to save you the pain, he breaks up with you, or you break up with him

he was fully aware of what a relationship with him implied

up to the imagination if you two ended up back together or just full on angst

when you get married or engaged, he'd give you a ring and would be absolutely obsessed with how the band looks on your finger

even though it's impractical for a soldier to have a ring on the field, he'd hang it on a chain around his neck

reminding him about the promise he must keep close to his heart

a promise to come home to you

he'd always touch and rub the ring on your finger

when he hugs you

when he cuddles you

when he claims you (aha)

one time he overheard you gushing about your ring to your friends and he couldn't help but smile

he'd note to himself to tease you about it at times

when there was someone hitting on you(if someone had the balls to lmao) he'd come up to take your hand in his

he'd bring it up to his lips to kiss the ring specifically so that the person trying to flirt with you focused their attention on the band

so that they'd take the hint to back the fuck off

you found his gesture to be endearing and he ends up habitually doing it every time you see each other

when you're on your period

he's very careful with you

very very soft and affectionate to you

absolutely spoils you

but there are times that he’s busy with his duties, so he stops by to check on you whenever he was free

he'd constantly be asking if you needed anything before he went to your quarters

suggestive 18+ CHILDREN LOOK AWAY

there would also be times when you two were cuddling

he would be horny— it just happens I don't make the rules

you know he's in the mood when he cuddles you from behind, digging his face into the juncture between your neck and shoulder

he’d leave behind light kisses at first, before proceeding with longer and wetter ones on your skin

“Soshiro?”

“Hmm?” he'd act innocent as if he didn't have his hardened crotch pressed up against your ass

“I'm on my period”

“So?” he grins into your skin before biting down

“Soshiro, no” you smack him

buuuutt if you were also in the mood

imagination 🌈✨

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taglist: @justwinginglife , @lumiambrose , @minasfwoopyponytail , @ryescapades, @iamjellyfish , @17020 , @floweringdaisie

[amora1tarada]

Notes: This is the first fanfiction that I had the courage to post! I’m super excited but also a little nervous. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it. English isn’t my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes, and I’d be grateful for any tips you have! I’m considering a part two with some smut, but I’m still building up my confidence in English to try it. Have a nice reading, and please don’t forget to repost, leave kudos and comments—your thoughts mean the world to me!

World count: 2k

nightwing/dick grayson

The sound of footsteps dragging across the hardwood floor was what broke the silence of your apartment, jarring you awake from a fitful sleep. The clock on your nightstand blinked red: 2:47 a.m. You didn’t have to look to know who it was. You’d recognize his tread anywhere, the slightly uneven steps that meant he’d probably taken another beating tonight. A familiar knot of fear tightened in your chest, but a wave of relief washed over you as well. He was here. He was alive, at least for now.

With a sigh, you threw on the robe hanging by the bed, clutching it tightly around your body as you moved through the darkened hallway. You were so tired—exhausted in a way that no amount of sleep could ever fix. It was a weariness that lived in your bones, a heaviness that came from watching someone you loved throw themselves into the jaws of danger night after night. You tried, every time, to tell yourself it wouldn’t happen again, that you’d close the window and let him figure it out on his own. But the truth was, you could never turn him away. Every time he stumbled through that window, beaten, bruised, and bleeding, you were there to catch him.

When you reached the kitchen, he was standing by the sink, his back to you, gulping down water like he’d been running for miles. His shoulders slumped in fatigue, his usually immaculate hair disheveled, and from the faint reflection in the window above the sink, you could see a small cut on his lip, a bruise darkening along his jaw. He looked… worn. He always looked a little worn, but tonight there was something different. The way he leaned against the counter, his hand gripping the edge so hard his knuckles had gone white, it was like he was trying to keep himself anchored to the ground.

“Hey, sweets,” he said, not even turning around. His voice was rough, more from exhaustion than pain, but you could hear the tension in it. “Sorry for waking you.”

You took a shaky breath, closing the distance between you and him. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.” You tried to sound lighthearted, but the words felt hollow. How many times had you said this? How many nights had he apologized, and how many times had you brushed it off like it didn’t matter?

In truth, it did matter. Every time he came to you like this, a little more of your heart chipped away. Every bruise, every scar—it was like you were carrying them too, bearing his pain in silence. There were so many times you wanted to scream at him to stop, to beg him to leave this life behind. But you knew he never would.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and loaded. He finished his water, setting the glass down on the counter with a dull thud. You could feel the question hanging in the air, the one you always asked even though you knew the answer would be the same.

“What happened?” you asked softly, stepping closer, your hand brushing lightly against his back. His muscles tensed under your touch, but he didn’t pull away.

“It’s nothing. Just… a long night,” he replied, his voice barely a whisper. But you knew him well enough to know it wasn’t just that. He leaned into your touch for a moment, letting out a long, shuddering breath, and then you felt his body sag, as if all the weight he’d been carrying suddenly became too much.

He turned to face you, and that’s when you saw the rawness in his eyes. There was guilt there, a deep, gnawing pain that he was trying so hard to hide, but it was spilling over, cracking the mask he always wore. He reached up, his hand trembling slightly as he touched your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. “A woman got shot tonight,” he said finally, the words falling heavily into the quiet. “She… she was just an innocent bystander. If I had been faster, more careful… maybe…”

“Dick,” you murmured, placing your hand over his, trying to still his shaking fingers. “It’s not your fault.” You spoke the words gently, firmly, hoping he would believe you, though you knew he wouldn’t.

But he just shook his head, a haunted look in his eyes. “It feels like it is. Every time someone gets hurt, I… I can’t shake the feeling that I should have been better. Done more.”

You took a deep breath, fighting the tears that threatened to spill over. You wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to be perfect, that he didn’t have to carry the world on his shoulders. But you knew he wouldn’t listen. His mission, his need to protect Gotham, was woven so deeply into his soul that nothing you said would change it.

Instead, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He stiffened at first, but then he melted against you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You could feel his breath, warm and uneven against your skin, and his grip tightened, like he was afraid that if he let go, he would fall apart.

“I’m so tired,” he whispered, the words barely audible. You could feel the exhaustion in him, the weight of every battle he’d fought, every person he hadn’t been able to save. And for a moment, you wondered if he would finally break, if he would finally let you in, let you carry some of that burden with him.

But then he pulled back, his expression shuttered once again, and you knew that he wouldn’t. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.

Still, you took his hand, leading him toward the bathroom. He followed silently, and you could feel the tension radiating off him, the heaviness of everything he couldn’t say. You wanted to tell him how much it hurt you to see him like this, how every bruise and scar he bore felt like one etched into your own skin. But instead, you just filled the bathtub with warm water, your fingers brushing against his as you gently helped him undress.

As he sank into the tub, you knelt beside him, reaching for the shampoo. Your hands moved carefully, massaging the lather into his hair, washing away the dirt and blood from his night. His eyes drifted shut, his body slowly relaxing under your touch, and you could see some of the tension melting away. Here, in this quiet, dimly lit bathroom, it was almost like everything was normal. Like he was just a man, and you were just the woman who loved him.

You could feel your own tears slipping down your cheeks, though you tried to hold them back. Watching him like this, so vulnerable, broke something in you. You wanted so desperately for him to stop, to give up this life and just… live. With you. But that was a dream, one that would never come true.

When you were done, you helped him out of the tub, drying him off with slow, careful strokes, your hands lingering just a moment longer than necessary. You dressed him in fresh clothes, guiding him to the bed, and he didn’t resist as you brushed through his hair, letting your fingers trail gently against his scalp.

“It’s enough, sweets,” he murmured, his voice soft and thick with sleep. “Can we just… go to bed now?"

You hesitated, looking down at him. You wanted to tell him everything you felt, all the fear and pain that you kept bottled up inside. But he looked so tired, so worn down, and you couldn’t bring yourself to add to his burden. So you just nodded, slipping under the covers beside him.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, his face buried in your hair. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “For everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you pressed your face against his chest, hiding it from him. “It’s fine, Dick,” you whispered. “I’d do it all again.”

The silence filled the room and it was almost sacred, a rare moment of peace in a life filled with chaos. He was holding you close, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as if he was afraid you’d slip away, vanish into the dark. You could feel his heartbeat, steady and grounding beneath your hand on his chest, and for a moment, you let yourself pretend that this was your life—that he wasn’t Nightwing, that he was just Dick, and that he was yours.

A sliver of moonlight streamed through the curtains, casting a pale glow across his face. His eyes were closed, his lashes casting faint shadows over his cheeks, and you let yourself study him, unguarded and still. Every line of his face was familiar to you, etched into your memory from a thousand stolen glances. But there was something fragile about him tonight, something that made you want to reach out, to hold him a little tighter, as if you could shield him from the life he’d chosen.

He must have sensed your gaze, because his eyes fluttered open, soft and filled with an exhaustion that went beyond the physical. For a long moment, he just looked at you, as if he was searching for something, some answer hidden in your face. And you held his gaze, your own heart pounding as the weight of all your unsaid words settled between you, heavy and unbreakable.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he raised a hand to your cheek, his fingers brushing against your skin with a tenderness that stole the breath from your lungs. “I don’t… deserve this,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “I don’t deserve you.”

You shook your head, covering his hand with yours, feeling the roughness of his calloused fingers beneath your touch. “Don’t say that,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “It’s not you who decides.”

For a moment, he looked like he was going to argue, to turn away from you ignoring your feelings. But you saw the vulnerability so clearly in his eyes in a way you’d only seen glimpses of before. His hand moved from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and your breath caught as his forehead rested against yours, the warmth of his skin grounding you.

“Why?” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Why do you keep doing this, night after night? Why do you keep letting me in?”

You swallowed hard, should you tell him you love him? That you had always loved him and always will? That you just couldn’t leave? No matter how hard you tried? The words were almost spilling from your lips, But you couldn’t bring yourself to say them out loud. “I don’t know, I just care so much about you, that it hurts. I can't seem to let you go.”

A shuddering breath escaped him, and he closed his eyes, his face a mix of pain and guilt. “I’m just so sorry for everything I put you through. I…I thought you hated me at this point.” he murmured, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles at the base of your neck. “For dragging you into this shit. I’m sorry, I really am.”

You shook your head, your fingers reaching up to tangle in his hair, holding him close. “I could never hate you. I just… I wish you didn’t have to carry this alone. I wish… you could let me in.”

His eyes opened, locking onto yours, and in the soft glow of the moonlight, you could see everything he’d kept hidden—the fear, the longing, and now there was a new feeling that you couldn’t quite decypher what it was.

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he leaned forward, his lips brushing against yours in the lightest, most delicate kiss, as if he was afraid that if he pressed too hard, you’d disappear. It was a kiss filled with hesitation, with years of longing and fear, with all the words he’d never found the courage to say. And as his lips moved against yours, slow and tender, you felt your heart shatter and mend all at once, as if this was the moment you’d been waiting for, the moment you’d always known would come but never truly believed.

You kissed him back, your hand moving to cup his face, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the faint scrape of stubble against your palm. It was soft, unhurried, a gentle exploration that spoke of all the times you’d imagined this, the way his lips would feel against yours, the way his breath would mingle with yours. And in that kiss, you poured everything—all the nights you’d spent worrying, the tears you’d shed for him, the love that had grown quietly in the depths of your heart, waiting for this very moment.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, a faint, almost disbelieving smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His thumb traced slow, lazy circles on your back, grounding you, and for the first time, you saw a glimmer of peace in his expression.

“Stay with me,” he murmured, his voice so soft you almost didn’t hear it. “Just… stay with me, like this. Please.”

You nodded, your hand moving to brush a stray lock of hair from his face. “Always,” you whispered, and you knew, deep down, that it was a promise you would keep, no matter how many nights he stumbled through your door, broken and battered. Because this was where you belonged—right here, by his side, in the quiet hours of the night, holding him together even as he held you.

As he pulled you back into his arms, his lips found yours again, a little more certain this time, a little less hesitant. And under the soft glow of the moonlight, in the silence of your shared space, you kissed him like you’d always dreamed, like he was the air you needed to breathe, like he was the very heartbeat of your soul. Because, in a way, he was. He always had been.

The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, a gentle exploration of everything you’d both kept hidden. His hands moved up to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing along your cheekbones as if he was committing every detail to memory. And in that kiss, you felt years of pain and fear melting away, replaced by something softer, something that felt like hope.

When you finally broke apart, he held you close, his head resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet. Neither of you spoke, because words felt unnecessary. Everything you needed to say had been shared in that kiss, in the way his hands held you, in the way his eyes met yours with a vulnerability he’d never let anyone else see.

And as you lay together in the quiet, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten, you knew that this was what you’d been waiting for, what you’d been fighting for. In that moment, you knew that you would always stay with him, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much you wished he would stop, you knew you would always be there for him. Because even though he was breaking you, piece by piece, you loved him. You loved him more than you loved your own heart, and you knew you would stay by his side, no matter how many nights he stumbled through your door, broken and bleeding.

Because that was what love was, wasn’t it? Holding on, even when everything in you wanted to let go.

[gliphyartfan]

I've been thinking about this a bit and wanted to know your opinion, but every time they involve Reader and The Chain in an isekai, Reader knows the Links from video games.

But what if she/he/they knew about The Chain through The videogames, the comic and the writings it reads on Tumblr, just like we do? A Yandere content writer or consumer of said content, Reader will know how to read the signs and avoid becoming obsessed with she/he/they

Or no

Or you can choose to make them obsess over You, why go back to the stress of modern life where everyone is doing everything they can to survive? Why not just stay and pretend ignorance? Why not be pampered to the extreme and never lift a finger again? Sorry for the people who got hurt in your name, but you didn't know any of them deeply and you didn't witness the scene either, so why bother with something that doesn't affect your new life? Of course You would have to pretend to be stubborn so they don't suspect And being very good to them, but that is already returning the affection they give you, a reward for what they do for you...,all that sounds much better than worrying about working, saving, paying bills...

this is such a juicy premise, won’t lie. A self-aware Reader who knows everything about the Chain.

Like…Wild would blush furiously if they casually mentioned cooking all the stat-boosting meals he used to make.

Or Legend would probably be smug if they quoted his exploits from the games or stories or how people talk about his adventure decades after they were told.

Hyrule might be freaked out at first (like, people know of his journey??? People know about HIM???) but would eventually see it as proof Reader was meant to know them on a deeper level.

and all of them would take it as a personal challenge to live up to every expectation Reader’s have of them.

Now…let’s think about it a bit

Reader would know exactly what’s happening when they catch the boys watching them too closely, when their protective behavior ramps up, or when they subtly isolate Reader from others. They’ve read this all before, heck, Reader might’ve even written about it.

They’d immediately try to keep a safe distance, avoiding favoritism or letting them get too close. But let’s face it, The Chain isn’t going to let that happen. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

They’d be hyper away if Reader’s behavior. The second they start acting evasive, they’ll probably see it as a sign that they’re scared of something and need even more of their ‘protection.’

They might ‘accidentally’ stumble upon Reader’s escape attempts, but make it look natural enough that Reader can’t tell if they are actually aware of their attempt or if they actually stumbled upon them.

Now~ if Reader either consumed or written yandere content, then they are painfully aware of how the chain react to resistance. Every attempt to push them away just makes them cling tighter. Reader is caught in the trap of knowing too much, and that knowledge doesn’t make it any easier to escape.

In fact, Reader would probably overthink the chain’s habits and words and stuff like that (if they are an overthinker.)

Hyrule’s innocent smile, Legend’s sharp tongue, Warriors’ charming words. They ARE genuine.

But they’re also all masks, and Reader would know it. But they also know that the chain will use every trick in the book to keep them if they get a hint that Reader wants to leave.

If they ever find out Reader knew about them from games, comics, and fanfiction? Oh, it’s over. They’ll think it’s destiny, that Reader was meant to be theirs.

Like, I can genuinely see Sky say something like ‘You’ve always known us,” and he’s say it with a gentle, almost eerie smile. “You were always meant to be here.”

And everyone KNOWS if Sky makes such a decision, then they are ALL gonna be stubborn too.

And…

if Reader DECIDES to play along, well can anyone blame them?

Modern life is stressful. Bills, jobs, societal expectations, don’t even get them started on the chaos around the world.

it’s all exhausting. Reader would realize they could have a life of comfort and adoration if they just… stop fighting it.

Sure, they might have some murderous tendencies, but Reader’s read enough fanfiction to know how to keep them happy. Play along, stay on their good side, and reap the benefits of being their one and only obsession.

And if Reader is an introverted who doesn’t like being near too many people and prefers to stay home. Then even better for them! (Both Reader and the Chain)

Reader would make a conscious effort to pretend ignorance. When Wild smiles just a little too widely or Twilight’s growls seem directed at someone standing too close to them, They even feign obliviousness when they see a bit TOO much red on their clothes. (Though Reader would probably find a way for them to NOT kill anyone. Beat the hell out of? Sure no problem. Kill? eeeeh…not so much.)

Reader would reward their affection with kindness. compliments, gratitude, maybe even initiating a hug now and then. It keeps them sated, like giving treats to a pack of overprotective wolves. (Twilight is definitely doing the growly growls of happiness when Reader runs their fingers through his hair.)

Like…Reader knows they’ve probably already done a lot of terrible things in their name, but… well…Reader didn’t witness it, and it doesn’t affect their day-to-day life. It’s easy to compartmentalize when they treat them like royalty, their sole focus on keeping Reader happy.

Time would bring them tea, Warriors would ensure they’d never uncomfortable, and Sky offers you soft, soothing music. Wild hums and cooks. Why go back to stressing about rent when Reader can have this?

I mean…they’d have to pretend to be stubborn at times, just enough to keep the chain from getting suspicious. Let’s face it, if Reader is too accommodating, they might worry they’re hiding something or question why they aren’t more wary.

The trick is to keep them believing Reader is slowly being won over. Let them think their affection is working, and they’ll continue pouring their energy into doting on them rather than spiraling into paranoia.