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inkoutsidethelines · 1 day ago

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Hoo boy. Okay. This reply got my attention, and I'm going to do my best to answer each point you raise. Because I think this is an incredibly bad faith reading of the Jedi and the Star Wars movies in general.

The Jedi are Detached from reality as it is perceived by humans.

There is absolutely nothing in the movies that supports this claim. Nor is there anything in the movies that support your claim that the Jedi don't perceive time in a linear fashion. Yes, some Jedi get glimpses of the future, or the past, but that is in no way the same thing as fully experiencing time in a non linear fashion.

Genuinely, I don't know where you got this idea from. I can't think of a single moment from any of the movies that supports it. You have simply made up a headcanon about the Jedi and decided that it was true.

Anakin, a person who clearly suffers from borderline personality disorder which comes with symptoms such as fear of abandonment, an unstable view of the self, devaluing or overvaluing relationships to the point placing of one’s self-worth entirely in another person’s hands, and more, literally needs unconditional love and support.

Anakin does not clearly suffer from borderline personality disorder. The movies don't support that, and no interview I've ever seen from George Lucas supports that. This is, again, a headcanon that you made up and have decided it's true.

He was simultaneously considered the “chosen one” and considered a burden or a problem.

Exactly one Jedi made a big deal about Anakin being the Chosen One: Qui-Gon. That's it. The Jedi don't treat Anakin any different than any other member of their order. Heck, potentially being the Chosen One wasn't even enough to convince the Council to let him join the Order in the first place!

As for treating him like a problem/burden...well, no, not really. Not in the movies. They get frustrated when he disobeys orders, but that's a fair reaction. Obi-Wan corrects him when he's getting too emotional, but that's literally Obi-Wan's job as Anakin's Master. They're upset when Palpatine forces them to give Anakin a seat on the Council, but that has less to do with Anakin and more to do with not appreciating Palpatine trying to manage Jedi business.

And that’s not even touching on how in Phantom Menace he created strong bonds with both Qui-Gon and Padmé only to have both of the ripped away right after he’d left behind everything he knew and loved.

...I'm not sure what you expect the Jedi to do about that? Qui-Gon died, and Padme was a Queen who had to go back to her own planet.

And Anakin choose to leave Tatooine and his mother behind to try and become a Jedi. Shmi encouraged him to go! And certainly an argument can be made that a nine year old can't fully understand that decision, but Qui-Gon did his best to explain what that choice meant, and that a Jedi's way of life is hard.

Anakin made choices. So did Qui-Gon, and so did Padme. The Jedi can't help any of that.

He was NINE and being told that everything he ever learned was wrong and backwards and leads to being evil and that he needs to be perfect for anyone else to think he belonged because even the smallest mistake would just confirm their preconceived beliefs about him.

I'm going to need some references for this claim, because I don't remember ever being shown this in any of the movies.

The Jedi are shown to respect other cultures, but Jedi have their own culture and standards that one must live up to in order to be a Jedi. There's nothing wrong with that! The Jedi are allowed to have their own culture, and they're allowed to have standards about who can join them.

Anakin never would have become anything like Vader without Sidious leading him.

It's quite possible that this is true. Though he did murder a whole tribe of Tusken Raiders, women and children included, years before he became Vadar. That being said, no amount of lies and manipulation from Sidious excuses the choice Anakin made to betray the Jedi and murder younglings.

That was a choice that Anakin made. Sidious didn't force his hand. Anakin made the decision that the chance of saving Padme - from a fate he didn't know for sure she'd experience! - was worth betraying the Jedi, worth murdering younglings, worth overthrowing the Republic and turning it into an Empire.

Anakin doesn’t view Padmé as a possession, I don’t know why anyone would think that.

Well - to stick to a movie example, since you indicated you don't consider the Clone Wars show to be canon - it could be because he never bothered to consult her in his "I will murder a bunch of younglings and help Sidious start an Empire to save Padme's life" plan, to see if she was actually okay with it. And once she finds out after the fact, and she IS NOT okay with it, Anakin responds by Force choking her.

That's why I call Anakin selfish and possessive. Because ultimately, he didn't care about Padme's feelings or opinions. Even if Anakin had been right that she was definitely going to die and Sidious would save her, Padme still would not have agreed to wiping out the Jedi and destroying the Republic to save her own life. Anakin doesn't just betray the Jedi and the Republic. He betrays Padme, her beliefs and values, because he can't stand the thought of being without her.

As for the unconditional love you say he needed? Padme did love him unconditionally. She loved him after he murdered a whole tribe of Tuskan Raiders. She loved him when she knew he was lying and keeping secrets from the Jedi Order that trusted him. She loved him after he betrayed the Jedi Order and the Republic, offering to run away with him and live hiding out from the Empire with their baby. Padme loved Anakin unconditionally and it wasn't enough for him.

Because Anakin was selfish. And he wanted everything. And he couldn't have it.

"no attachments" in SW literally just means "don't be selfish and possessive". that's it. that's all there is. doesn't mean jedi can't have friends and loved ones. they can. just. don't be possessive and selfish about it. don't murder thousands of people in an effort to save one.

#return of the op #star wars #anakin skywalker #and look i'm saying all this as someone who very much enjoys anankin as a character #but he decided to do the things that he did and that's not the jedi order's fault #and also i don't care if someone wants to come up with a bunch of headcanons about the jedi or anakin or whoever #but you can't just claim a headcanon is canon because you like it #that's not how this works

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rosieofcorona · 2 days ago

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Mythal, Solas, and Lavellan (An Analysis)

Please be aware that this post contains spoilers for Dragon Age: The Veilguard, so now is the time to click away until you have finished the game. All opinions shared here are just opinions, and are not intended to be presented as fact. 💕

So, this is sort of an abridged version of what could be (and may someday be) a more in-depth analysis, but I just want to offer a different perspective on the Mythal vs. Lavellan discourse when it comes to Solas’ love and loyalty. I've included a lot of supporting evidence from the game, and wanted to share some of it for your consideration: I want to start in the Lighthouse, for the folks who are upset that we didn't see Lavellan amongst Solas' memories. I think this is for the best, all things considered. The regrets we see in the Lighthouse are all of Mythal– taking a form for her, letting her mold him, doing things he thought were “monstrous” at her request, however well (or ill) intentioned. To me, Solas regrets Mythal nearly as a whole. He loved her, certainly, but I think it’s very apparent that he wants more than anything to close that chapter of his life and move on, which he cannot do without confronting the mistakes of his past. From my view, it’s an excellent sign, actually, that Lavellan is not among the great regrets of his life. He says to Rook that he regrets being selfish with her– but he “cherishes” his closeness with, and his love for Lavellan “more than [his] victories.” The same cannot be said of anything on those walls in the Lighthouse.

That same closeness with Mythal– regardless of whether it was romantic, platonic, familial– hurt him, over and over. Everything he did in service of that love, he regrets. He does not cherish it, at least not in the same way. I think I would’ve been offended, frankly, if Lavellan had been on those walls beside her.

Moreover, he acknowledges Lavellan’s goodness, and doesn’t really do that for Mythal, at least not here. Yes, in Trespasser, he said that Mythal was the best of the Evanuris, but we know it’s a low bar to clear. Does that mean she was evil? Not necessarily. But he also says to Rook that all the Evanuris “were monsters, in their own ways,” and moments later tells them, by contrast, that Lavellan “is a good woman.”

I don’t think it’s his love for Mythal (or even his loyalty to her) that keeps him away from Lavellan, either. He cannot in good conscience give himself what he wants most without first fixing what he broke. He doesn’t want to bring down the Veil anymore, not really. He even acknowledges the Dalish as "our people," to an elven Rook (Lavellan's influence?), and says it was a "privilege" to help them again. He says in the final confrontation that he is compelled to bring down the Veil at this point because otherwise, he has failed and wronged and harmed people for nothing– Lavellan among them. He says, more or less, that he has to see it through, has to bring back “the world [Mythal] wanted,” or else all the suffering he’s imposed has been in vain. That reads to me as a sunk cost fallacy more than an act of great loyalty.

If we’re talking about what Solas wanted, by comparison, we see it in his codex letter to Lavellan– he says, outright, “I could have…even put my plans aside, and simply stayed with you as Solas…which is what I wanted.” His desires do not match Mythal’s, and in fact are the opposite. But again, how can he allow himself to have his own way when he does not yet feel he has righted his wrongs?

Here we wade into murkier waters (as this could be a more personal interpretation than what was actually intended), but I think it’s fascinating that in Solas’ memory of manifestation, he tells Mythal, “I will always follow where you go.” I think this may be his original regret. I think he wishes he would’ve followed his heart (both in the moral sense, and later, the vhenan sense), rather than pledging himself to another being that “broke him,” as Mythal herself admits to doing.

And speaking of vhenan, my final note: Mythal is never anything but Mythal, to Solas. Even when she calls him “love" in his memories, he does not reciprocate. He refers to her as nothing besides her name. Lavellan is always given the title of Vhenan. He has not called her Inquisitor since before Trespasser, and even then it was because he was trying to create distance, to avoid hurting her further. But ultimately she is his heart, and he wants to follow her, and Mythal is the only thing stopping him– not because he is holding onto her, but because she is in his way.

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tune-on-in-folks · 1 day ago

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Day 19! I think this one is a little sweet. A bit short and fast, but sweet. Human Alastor for the win!

Tags/Warnings: Phone sex, masturbation, mutual masturbation, discussion of murder, murderous intent, murderous ideation, fem!reader, abuse mention, reader's husband is abusive. Word Count: 1,735

When Alastor first met you it wasn't by accident, nor coincidence. Instead it was due to his meticulous planning. You were married to a very affluent man. A man who used his wealth for anything but good. His reputation had preceded him, and Alastor was certain that anything and anyone that man associated himself with, was also tainted. Which is what he had thought of you and was precisely the reason he had orchestrated your ‘fateful’ meeting at Mimzy's establishment.

Initially he had approached you in an attempt to get closer to your husband, and if he had to kill you too, what was the harm? But one conversation with you had turned into several, and months later he found himself no closer to killing your husband.

Alastor had been correct in his assumption that by association, you were tainted by your husband. But for all the reasons he hadn't expected. The first time he noticed the bruises he nearly flew into a blind rage. And you had the audacity to laugh it off, as though the abuse you were enduring at his hands, was not worth any fuss. As though your well-being was nothing more than an afterthought, something to be swept aside for everyone else's. It was on that day Alastor became increasingly impatient to kill your husband. He had it all planned out; from the time, to what he would do to make your husband suffer a fate worse than death for hours on end, before extinguishing his pathetic existence.

But you were a distraction.

That's what Alastor ultimately decided you were. A beautiful, wonderful, annoying distraction. You with your beautiful smile, your captivating laugh. Your wondrous eyes, your…he could go on. Get lost in everything that was intrinsically you. And for the past several months he had. He had allowed himself to grow fond of you. He held a deep seated affection for you. He craved you in ways he had never craved another soul before. What he felt for you was raw and vast. It left him feeling split open, as though your very presence had taken an axe to his chest, carving a home there. A place for you alone. It was only natural that the budding relationship between you both blossomed into something more, something deeper. Something sinful.

It had started with a stolen kiss one night outside of Mimzy's establishment. Upon seeing the time you had pulled him down, pressed a kiss against his lips, and called out a goodbye as you rushed away. He had been left stunned, his fingers brushing against his lips as he watched you run. How he wished he could have given chase. That kiss had spawned the first instances of longing for you. He wanted more, craved it. From that night it spiralled. Soft smiles and lingering touches, small kisses. You were driving him insane, he was certain of it. Until one night he cornered you and took you right up against the wall in an alley. He had been consumed by lust and desire, wanting nothing more than to have you. All of you. You were a thrill unlike any other. Being intimate with you gave him a high better than he had ever known. Not even watching the life drain from someone's eyes compared to how it felt to be with you. To kiss you, to hold you, to fuck you. You were intoxicating.

You were a damned distraction.

Distracting him from what he truly wanted. And that was for your husband to be dead, killed by his hand.

The ringing of his phone snaps Alastor out of his thoughts, his hands tighten around the book he's holding. With a sigh he picks the phone up from the receiver, setting his book aside.

“Hartfelt residence.” He answers smoothly, smiling with false brightness.

“Hello, my love.” You greet him softly, “are you alone?”

His smile softens and he leans back in his chair. “Hello, my dear… What are you doing calling me at this hour? I thought you and your…darling husband had a party.”

You chuckle at the contempt in his voice. “Yeah, well my ‘darling husband' as you put it, is currently fucking his mistress.”

Alastor's hand tightens around the phone in anger, but you continue on, not letting him get a word in.

“So while he's off having fun, I thought I might as well have some too.”

He can hear the amusement in your voice. As though your husband actively cheating on you wasn't such an insult. How you remained so bright despite that man, he'd never know.

“Some fun?” He asks, wanting nothing more than to snuff out the life of your blasted husband.

“With you, Alastor. Over the phone.”

He laughs softly, “my dear, what fun could we possibly get up to over the phone?”

Your sigh filters over the phone, and he can hear the pout in your voice. “Well I can’t have you in person right now, so can’t I just pleasure myself while listening to your voice?”

He laughs again, caught off guard by your candidness. “And are you, my dear? Pleasuring yourself, that is.”

You flush, “Well I haven’t started! I was…asking. I wanted to make sure it was okay with you, if we did that, if we do that.”

He leans further back in his chair, his voice tinged with amusement. “It’s perfectly fine, my dear... Do you often sneak away to finger yourself?”

You snort, smiling, “Only when I know I can moan your name.”

He can feel his cock twitch in his pants, a sensation that he had slowly grown accustomed to when it came to you. You made his body respond in ways he once found a nuisance, now he welcomed it.

“I think it’s only fair, little doe, if I get to touch myself too.” He decides, hearing your breath hitch.

He can imagine you in a room someplace, your skirts bunched around your hips as your hand creeps towards your centre. He hears a small whimper from you and he wonders how exactly you’re touching yourself.

“Please.” You breathe out, your voice shaky. “I want to hear you too, Al. I want to know that you’re getting as much pleasure out of this as I am.”

He reaches for the clasp of his pants, working it undone. In a moment he’s freed his rapidly hardening cock. He closes his hand around it, pulling a groan from the back of his throat.

“Oh..” He moans, letting his head fall back as he slowly pumps his length. “The sinful things you make me do, my dear.”

You giggle, working your fingers faster, “Ah, but you do them for me.”

He chuckles, the sound deep within his chest, sending shivers down your spine. Your walls clench at the sound. You adored his laugh and the things it made you feel.

“Hah, I do them because I adore you.” He breathes out, his hand moving faster.

He can hear the muffled sounds of you pleasuring yourself, your whimpers and moans growing louder. His own breathing is laboured, the sound of him fisting his cock carrying back over the phone to you.

“I wish..” You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to keep quiet, “that I was married to you, Alastor. I hate him.”

His hand tightens around the phone again at your words, an ache settling in his chest. You occasionally said things like that. Things that made it feel as though you’d taken one of his knives and stabbed him right in the heart.

“Sweetheart…” He murmurs, clenching his jaw in anger at the thought of your husband. “Think of me, not him.”

You whimper, so close to your edge already. “I always think of you..oh fuck, I’m so close. Fuck, Alastor!”

He tightens his hand around his cock, his pace quickening as you moan his name. He hates how low and quiet your moans are. He knows that you’re attempting to stay quiet, keeping your voice down to stop your husband from finding out. It angers him. He wishes he was there, fucking you into your martial bed, drawing out all the sounds he loved to hear from you. He wishes he was there, forcing you to be louder and louder, as he took you hard and fast.

“Keep going,” He urges over the phone, “I want to hear you cum for me.”

“Fuck..” You breathe out, focusing on your pleasure, focusing on Alastor’s soft grunts over the phone.

He wished he could kill your husband tonight. Lure him out with a false sense of trust only to shatter it. Oh, he’d take great pleasure in drawing out the man’s death. Of ensuring that he felt all the pain he had caused you and more. Alastor’s breath hitches as he imagines how your husband would scream, how he’d try to get away, only to find that he couldn’t escape. Alastor imagined that fear in your husband’s eyes, imagined watching the life dim from them. He groans, his release growing nearer

“Ah, fffuck, Al-lastor!” You cry out, a bit too loudly for your own liking, as you cum around your fingers, your body shaking with the effort of your release.

He’s drawn out of his fantasy by your voice, a shiver running through his body as you moan his name.

“There we go.” He praises. “So good for me, sweetheart… Fuck-”

His cock twitches as his orgasm washes over him with surprising force. Hot ropes of cum splatter his hand and slacks, but he can’t find himself to care about the mess at the moment.

He takes a moment to catch his breath, wiping his hand with a handkerchief. “Are you still there, my doe?”

“Still here.” You say softly, having let your skirts fall back into place. “Still missing you.”

He smiles, glad you hadn’t disappeared on him just yet. “What would you say, if I told you I could get your husband to leave? Permanently.”

He can hear the smile in your voice as you reply without missing a beat. “I’d say I’d marry you.”

He chuckles softly, his smile widening. That was all the permission he needed. He was going to kill your husband, make sure he never touched you ever again. No more waiting. No more rushed calls, or stolen kisses, no more longing. It would just be you and him.

He couldn’t wait.

@pumppkinlynn I promised to tag you in this one! So here it is.

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thewitchblue · 1 day ago

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You were a ray of sunshine in the Batfamily's life. You loved the children and Bruce with your entire heart, and everyone took notice. You loved each of the family members differently but equally intensely. No kid ever felt unloved by you.

You softly hum as you trace Damian's face. He always struggled to sleep. He struggled to relax enough even with sleep medication aiding him most nights. Until you start humming softly and draw patterns on his face lightly. His entire body physically relaxes as his eyes flutter shut, his breathing evening out after a minute. His face subconsciously leans into your soothing touch.

With a tender smile on your face and a gentle forehead kiss, you moved onto the next Batboy who struggles with sleep: Dick. You knock your secret knock with a smile on your face. You had a soft spot for Dick the second the kid lost his parents. How could you possibly not when his small body shook so badly in your arms? He had the same tormented look Bruce used to have before your loving family formed.

You hear a soft but excited "come in" from Dick, who seemed to have still been getting ready for bed. He loved it when you told him stories above all else. You told him thousands of your stories, but he was always excited to listen to you talk about the moment you adopted him. You'd tell him about how much you loved him as you reminisced on the first time he called you mom. How your heart had never been so full of love and adoration for your kid. He wasn't an easy kid, but you loved him deeply, and you reminded him constantly.

Dick gives you a warm smile as you set down his nighttime tea: always chamomile with lemon and sugar cubes on the side. It had to be sugar cubes, as the packets tasted weird to him.

"What story do you want tonight, sweetheart?"

He surprised you, honestly, when he asked to hear about how you met Bruce. You chuckle softly.

"It was a rainy Thursday night. We both became vigilantes the same day and met during our nightly adventures. We looked at each other for a long time before we heard police sirens and ran towards it. I must have saved his life hundreds of times that night. We have been close together ever since."

Dick cuddles into his bed and looks at you with wide eyes. He was always excited to hear this story. With a look of adoration, he murmurs,

"And you give us a hard time about our recklessness."

You roll your eyes but can't fight the fond smile off your face. You gently play with Dick's hair, continuing your tale,

"I'm not the one charging into burning buildings nightly without superpowers, darling.

Dick and Bruce adored your moral compass more than anything. You always did what was right no matter how hard it was to do. You saved thousands of lives throughout the time you were a vigilante with Bruce. He called you rash every night because of the way you handled being a superhero, but you see the endangered people and never hesitate. You are immune to damage of all types, so it was easy to run into the thick of danger to save everybody from a burning building or from the Joker's psychopathic game. Joker was angry when he found out you couldn't get hurt. You don't even feel pain because of your powers. You weren't a fun target to him, so he gave up.

"I wish I could've met younger you. I love seeing my mom being a casual badass."

You laugh softly, giving him a cheek kiss as a goodnight. Batboy number 3 was Jason. Jason took after your personality more than the rest and defends you even when it's just reporters talking bad about you. You taught him how to love and accept being loved, despite everything. You taught him to look for the best in everyone because their stories often run deeper than the surface.

You can hear his excited steps as he lets you in. He held up the newest book he wanted to share with you. You read to him every night, as he finds your voice soothes him.

He drags you to his bedside and climbs into his bed. You kissed his forehead before starting to read the book. He knows he could listen to Audiobooks, but he found it was you that soothed him. He found the narrators of Audiobooks often annoying or dramatic, but you read the exact way he wants you to and at the perfect speed.

He was soon drifting off as well, your hand holding his and squeezing morse code messages into his hand. You kissed the tip of his nose gently before moving on.

By the time you were done with all the children, Bruce was back. You grabbed the first aid kid you keep in your shared room. Bruce must've had an easier night because his injuries weren't nearly as life-threatening as usual.

He hissed through his teeth as you cleaned his wounds, but you murmured reassuring words and held his hand with your free hand.

"Just a few more, baby. You're doing so good, my hero."

He squeezed your hand when you were done. His exhausted smile was still so full of love for you.

"We're so lucky to have you in our lives."

He kissed your cheek gently. He loved you deeply, even when it was hard for him to express it. Love truthfully scared him ever since his parents' deaths, but you were the ray of sunshine in his darkest of nights.

"I'm lucky to have my little army of heroes. I love you and the kids."

He gave a tired hum of acknowledgement.

"We all love you too."

Alfred, appearing as silently as ever at the doorway of the bedroom, said,

"Master Wayne, if you don't marry her, I will."

You laugh at Bruce's shocked expression. He whipped around to face Alfred, who was staring at him with a look that was so serious you couldn't help but smirk at. While you'd love to marry Bruce, you knew it wasn't that simple for him. He struggles with the idea of having a loving wife waiting for him. He doesn't feel like he deserves it at the moment, and you respect that. You will continue to be the mother of his children and the warm presence in his life. You voice your thoughts,

"Alfred, I don't need to marry Bruce to be part of the family."

Alfred raised an eyebrow at Bruce, but Bruce was in another place.

"That much is clear, but I still want you officially part of the family. You're the glue holding everyone together."

You smile at the duo. Family is so much deeper than blood, and you continue to prove it to the Bat family every day. You ruffle Bruce's hair gently.

"I'd never say no to my boys."

Bruce took Alfred's advice on your anniversary. He proposed in front of the entire family, which inevitably ended in a dog pile of hugs from all your boys and a sweet kiss from Bruce.

Bruce, your private and loving fiancée, confirmed the engagement to the world the next day, holding up your hand and giving it a gentle kiss. He held your engagement hand everywhere he went, the rest of the Bat family fighting to hold your other hand, eventually scheduling who holds your other hand in an endless cycle.

#batmom #x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batfam x reader #ex vigilante reader

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endearng · 1 day ago

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Doomed

Pairing: Spencer Reid x single mom!reader Summary: If you and Spencer had a nickel every time someone teased you after witnessing your interactions, you'd have two nickels, which isn't much — but it's weird that it happened twice. WC: 4.4k Warnings: Mentions of abandonment and I think that's it. Let me know if I missed anything. A/N: HI!!! I'm so obsessed with them... in a normal amount of course. I'm thinking about writing casually for them, who knows... Also,,,, who am I if not a morcia truther….. I hope you enjoy it! Feedbacks are always appreciated <3 neighbor!au masterlist | main masterlist

You were doomed from the moment he bid you goodbye.

"So, who's he?" Victoria inquired, a sly smirk on her face and a bashful expression on yours.

"Who's who?" You asked, trying to feign nonchalance.

She groaned playfully, "You know what I mean."

"I'm afraid I don't." You winked, sitting on your couch again, between the two women. Sex and the City was playing on the TV across from the three of you.

"You're acting like us as freshmen when the seniors looked at us—" she retorted.

"I thought we didn't talk about that," Jude deadpanned.

"You're 'I don't know what you're talking about' me? I thought we were friends!" Victoria poked you in the rib.

"Ouch! He's just a friendly neighbor, that's it." You said, trying to cut the subject. Jude looked at you suspiciously. "White wine time."

From Spencer's apartment, he could hear the sound of chatter, joyful laughter and opening bottles for the rest of the night. He didn't know how to feel by your invitation, now that he had calmed down after looking you in the eye for a moment, technically, all by yourselves. He would definitely feel inappropriate at a kid's birthday where he barely knew the people who invited him, but he thought that Olivia's gesture was amazingly endearing. What could possibly be more childishly adorable than an infant trying to help and making a 'mistake'? And what could possibly be more devastatingly endearing than a mother taking advantage of said mistake to make it right?

Spencer studied the card for a moment. It fit the palm of his hand, tiny and delicate. It had a different address from yours and the time of the party, all of it lovely handwritten, just like the letters from calligraphy practice notebooks. It seemed like Olivia put a lot of effort in trying to perfect her handiwork. It read:

Hey, it's Oli!

I'm turning six and I want to celebrate it with you!

The contents of the slip of paper were adorned by dainty drawings related to birthdays: party hats, cake, gifts, some decoration and so on. It suddenly dawned on him that he was actually becoming closer to the people he always thought lived a perfect life. His mind had a tendency to wander and, for a fleeting moment, he thought about what it would be like to be part of that perfect life.

Olivia was a perfectionist child. He saw the expected behavior of the age in her manners, but the care with her work almost made him think someone else had done it for her. Something told him it wasn't the case, though.

Secured by two magnets, he placed Olivia's birthday party invitation on his fridge. You know, just so he wouldn't forget it — he tried to convince himself.

Everybody knew about his otherworldly memory, but he decided to forget it purposefully.

"Good morning, good ghost. I didn't see you anymore." Olivia greeted as she saw Spencer in front of the elevator. You were just locking your door closed, hyping yourself up for the week ahead of you when you heard it and a shiver ran down your spine. This, whatever it was, was getting out of hand.

"Good morning, Miss Olivia!" He said, a sweet tone of voice. You melted. "It's true. It's been a while. I was here on the weekend, but it seemed like you had other plans." He stuck his hand out for her to shake. She did it in a heartbeat.

"I was with my grandma and grandpa. They took me to the movies and grandpa made me lasagna." She explained as you approached them, adjusting your bag and Olivia's backpack in each of your arms. "Did'ya get my birthday party invitation?"

"Yes, I did! Thank you for inviting me. But, you know, your mother probably needed the rest of them for the other guests." He said as the elevator opened. He gestured for you to enter it first, so you did it with a grateful nod.

"Sorry, mommy. I didn't mean it." Olivia looked at you briefly, ashamed that you would call her out.

"I know, baby, 's okay. Everyone has one now." You assured her with a light tone. Breathe. "Hi, Spencer. Good morning." You said as he joined you in the elevator.

He breathed out, "Good morning. Hi." He had a big smile on his face, standing right next to you, you both facing the door and Olivia in front of you. Internally, he felt like a puppy who had his owners’ undivided attention.

Olivia pressed the button to the lobby. You noticed a book in his hands. Courage. "So, what are you reading, Spencer?"

He gulped. Were you talking to him? It took him a moment to get a grip and realize that he hadn't answered you. Struggling to find the words and suddenly unable to remember what he was actually reading. "Me? I'm just re-reading one of Dostoievski's books. Notes from Underground."

"Dosto-what?" Olivia chipped in.

You looked at her, ready to tell her to not interrupt someone, but couldn't stop yourself from giggling. Spencer watched it fondly. "It's Dostoievski, baby. D'you remember that one book with the 'ugly' cover that mommy was reading the other day?" You asked her, air quoting the word 'ugly'. “It wasn’t ugly. It just wasn’t pink.” You explained it, looking at Spencer. He grinned.

"Yeah. You didn't read to me because it was work." She said, getting distracted with one of her braids.

"Are you a teacher?" He asked, intrigued.

"No. I actually work for a publishing company. Sometimes I have interesting content to revise." You said, a tinge of irony in your voice. He smiled at you, feeling comfortable enough to joke around him without the awkwardness of that first encounter.

The elevator door opened. Olivia jumped out. "I bet it's interesting," was the best he could come up with. Tongue tied.

“Yeah. It’s a good book.”

Like a fucking teenager, he watched as you left with your daughter. Your mixed laughter echoing in the lobby as Olivia spinned around while you carried the weight all by yourself.

He scolded himself for not remembering to offer you help.

Two days later, a few states over, Spencer sat on a chair at the conference room of the precinct they were working with. The case was exhausting and he just wanted it to be over, but it wasn't that simple. He waited for Derek Morgan — he was his ride that night back to the hotel they were crashing on. He was in front of Derek as he and Penelope talked, her image on the computer screen. The man's nonchalant tone was a riddle for her to unsolve — everyone else was aware that there was definitely something between them (an unspoken dictionary worth of words), even if their interactions were deemed as jokes. Penelope, feeling very shy, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked at her lap after a particular comment about her smile. As she did so, her eyes caught a glance of her watch. "Oh, shoot. I have to go," she murmured, relieved to have a way out of the exchange that had high chances of turning her into a nervous wreck. "I'm so sorry, handsome! Tomorrow is one of my friend's daughter's birthday."

A flash of disappointment crossed Derek's features. Not that she'd noticed. Instead of pressing her, he chose to say, "Need extra energy to keep up with the kids, babygirl?" Ah, there was it. The teasing tone. She was definitely imagining things.

"Not as much as I need to keep up with you, tiger," she replied with a wink, the dynamic between them quickly shifting back to the usual playful banter. Both of them wanted more than playful and far more than banter, but none of them had the courage to admit it, to be straightforward about it. Spencer understood it, really. Speaking made things too real. "But, seriously. I totally forgot to pick up her gift. Olivia loves reading, so I'll go to the mall. I'm glad I already bought it, so I won't get home late."

If he was a dog, Spencer's ears would have definitely perked up from how quickly he associated one thing to another. Could it be the same Olivia? Your Olivia? "Okay, mama. Be safe." Derek said.

"I will," she smiled as she hung up.

Idiots.

Maybe Derek was too serious about the "no profiling each other" rule they set.

"Let’s go, pretty boy," The dark-skinned agent stated. Spencer got up, grabbed his bag and made his way to the elevator with her.

As they chatted about nothing in particular, walking out of the precinct, he desperately wanted to ask him if she truly didn't see past Penelope's sudden shyness. It wasn't in his nature to do that, of course, but as Derek and Penelope were two of the most important people in his life, he wondered why wouldn't they be a thing by now, since they enjoyed themselves so much and were so open about their affections towards one another.

He was quickly ripped away from his thoughts when the man suddenly spoke up, “So, what's your deal lately, Reid? What's she like?"

The doctor choked on his own saliva, which made him cough like crazy. Derek laughed, but tried to help his panicked friend. "What was that, man?" he asked worriedly, once he saw Spencer had finally inhaled a gulp of air.

Face as red as a tomato, cough dying in his throat, "what was what?" Derek returned to his normal self once he noticed his friend was able to finally form a coherent sentence.

"You're gonna act dumb now that you almost died when I talked about her?" Derek questioned, teasing tone, "it was just a lucky guess, but I see you, Reid. You're daydreaming far too often for what's acceptable for the boy genius who's as focused as a laser beam."

Spencer looked straight ahead as they got to the exit. He should have cornered Derek first. "Why would you think it has anything to do with a 'her'?" He chuckled, nervous to be caught red-handed — even if he wasn't doing anything wrong.

Was it wrong to want? He felt like it was. All his life, really. Had no chance to want anything because either was a far too distant reality, person, happiness for him to grasp it or it was ripped away from him too soon, before he could even acknowledge what was happening inside him. That's why want was almost a foreign sensation for Spencer. He had been deprived of it for as long as he could remember.

"Because people get a little dumb when they're in love. At least, ordinary people do. Apparently, so do geniuses," he snickered, his mind also set on teasing Spencer.

Maybe it was dumb to reveal his secret, jaw dropping crush on his cute neighbor, but he wanted some sort of relief to that mess of tangled thoughts inside his head and the strange, to say the least, feelings brewing on his chest whenever he saw you. You barely knew each other. But he supposed it was yet another part of the want he wasn’t familiar with: it didn't need much and it took all consciousness out the door. It wasn't uncommon for him to feel like his heart was being ripped out of his chest whenever he was on the field, especially since he was often facing danger. The way the events were unfolding were scarily similar to his cases: he noticed you, made up theories based on your behavior and routine, and slowly, oh, so slowly, started to approach you. Not to put you away, but for more personal reasons.

What was different was the feeling in his heart, instead of the sensation of being squeezed painfully inside his ribcage, often leading to ragged breathing, now felt like it was being held delicately by a pair of caring, dainty hands. Either way, his heart was fighting in the frontline and relied on the other part to be calmed and saved. The least he could do was try to be careful, finally opting not saying anything to Derek.

"Just a lot on my mind lately," he chose to say, instead. Derek dropped the subject, too tired to press it further.

Olivia's party had come to an end an hour ago. You got to see old friends and talked until they got every single ounce of information about your life lately and so did you about theirs. Your daughter had enjoyed her party greatly, and hugged every. single. person. who came to wish her happy birthday and thanked them for being there. She paid little attention to the gifts, too focused on spending time with her friends, playing with them until the sugar rush wore off — all of them had a massive candy intake that day. You didn't spend much time with her, but she promised you that she would unwrap her gifts the next morning with you, the most adorable toothless grin on her face.

Despite everything flowing accordingly, all day long, your stomach churned with anticipation. You wondered if Olivia's dad would show up, since the day she was born was, quote, the happiest of his life. His parents did, and when you looked at them anxiously, his mother shot you a neutral glance. Not a word from his end was its meaning. Your daughter never asked anything about him during the day, which made you even more jittery. You feared she would have a breakdown at any time, so you paid extra attention to her.

It never came.

You had missed the deadline of a book chapter that you had to revise, too caught up on trying to balance everything in your life, so your parents told you they'd stay with her so you could go home to work and take her in the morning. Normally, you wouldn't accept it, but your father had decided you were too tired to wake her to go home, so you complied. Right after the guests left, you did all the steps of her night routine, except for the bedtime story — she was that tired of all the running around in the backyard. You were sure she would sleep all night long.

Once she dozed off, you stood for a moment in her grand-bedroom (she had come up with that and it kind of stuck with you). Your parents had decorated it while you were still pregnant. She needs to feel at home, was what your mother said when you walked in on them assembling her crib. You almost cried, overwhelmed with joy. Your fiancé, then, had rolled up his sleeves to help out. Oh, the irony.

Her room was full of photographs that held many memories of her six years of life. You could never imagine that you could love this much, let alone dedicate yourself so entirely to someone like you did for her. Even though it was hard and you often didn't feel like you were enough to raise her on your own, Olivia was a wonderful child and her gestures and overall behavior assured you you were doing a good job. The reflection brought tears to your eyes. You drove home by yourself.

Currently, in your apartment, it felt a little too big without Olivia in there — too many books, too many chairs, too much space on your sofa, too many toys scattered around with nobody to play with them. You sighed, deciding on going to the kitchen to make you a cup of tea — you felt like your brain was hammering inside your skull and you still needed to spend time in front of a computer screen. Going back to your small office to wallow in self pity and second guess yourself even as you read whatever material it was, you heard a knock on the door.

You checked your watch. 9p.m. On a Saturday.

Weird.

Through the peephole, you saw someone you truly weren't expecting. "Spencer?" You asked as you opened the door, surprise filling your being. "I didn't think you'd come, I supposed you were at work. I mean, sometimes it feels like you barely have a routine, heh. But, um, thanks for dropping by." You said, a little unfiltered. Not even five seconds in his presence and you were already making a fool of yourself in front of him.

He held a small bouquet of flowers in one of his hands and a gift in the other. To a stranger's eye, it seemed like he had missed your birthday and was trying to apologize for it. You blushed at the thought. He shut his eyes, sorry crossing his features. "I know. I'm sorry I missed it, even though I really didn't want to. You were right, I was away on a case." You smiled, dismissing his apologies and soothing his worries once you did so.

"It's alright with me. She was totally expecting you, though. Kept asking where you were for the first hour. Then she got distracted with candy," you told him, "so she's the one you're gonna need to apologize to." You joked.

"T—that's why I'm here."

"I'm just not sure if Olivia is old enough to get flowers," you said, face serious. His eyes went wide and it took him a moment to understand, but once he looked at your serious expression cracking, his shoulders shook with laughter, with you. If you had more attention, you'd seen the moment his ears turned red.

Your laughter died down. A beat of silence. "These are actually for you." He revealed.

You were stunned. "Oh," you said, suddenly at a loss of words. "Thank you so much."

He gave you the flowers and you gracefully accepted. You were mesmerized by them; colors swimming in harmony before your eyes and the scent making you feel dizzy. Maybe not the scent, but the emotions you were feeling with the surprise. He went out of his way to get you those flowers — it's safe to say that it had been a while since you felt that way. "I—I have no words, Spencer. Really. Thank you so much," your voice choked.

You looked at each other for a brief moment. You tried to show how much you appreciated his gesture. You grinned, trying to get out of that haze, "Do you want to come in? Oli's with my parents, so you won't be able to apologize today," you quipped, making room for him to enter.

"Yeah, I'd love to."

"You can place the giftbox on the coffee table." He went inside, toeing off his shoes in the small space you had before the living room. Once he was there, he saw you enter the kitchen to find a vase. He could see you from where he stood. "Make yourself at home. Do you want some tea? I have Earl Gray."

Your voice was distant as he took in his surroundings. "Yeah, I'd like it." He murmured as he looked around. Your walls were a light gray, adorned with pictures of you and Olivia, some people he assumed were some of your friends. The wall behind the sofa was entirely covered by a big bookshelf that went from one end to the other, filled with books and souvenirs from basically everywhere. The dark wood of the furniture complemented the light walls in a cozy way, some toys and kids books scattered around the floor. The apartment smelled like fresh printed sheets of paper and earl gray tea. You had a few indoor plants that looked well taken care of. Spencer was admiring your degree from Stanford, which hung on the wall beside the TV, almost close to the door.

"One of my biggest achievements. Besides Olivia, of course," you approached him with his mug of tea. Turning to you, he noticed through his peripheral vision that you had placed the flowers inside a vase and in your coffee table.

"Thanks," he said.

"So... are you okay?"

The question caught him off guard. What?

You smiled a little. "You always look kinda tired when I see you," you said, not thinking about how your words might be interpreted. Your eyes widened, realizing it. "I mean, no! Sorry! You're still pretty, don't worry. It's just— I asked because you might be going through something. Forget I said anything about your looks."

He would definitely never forget.

Spencer laughed, flustered, eyes softly gazing at you while you rambled like a madman. "I'm fine, thanks for asking. Sometimes my job is a little demanding and I'm forced to see some things that usually people don't even think exist," he confessed.

You bit your lip. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be," he retorted, "I have a great team to work with."

"I'm glad to hear that. Sorry I brought it up, you probably don't want to talk about work right now." You said, sipping on your tea.

"Yeah, you're right, again," he chuckled. "How was Olivia's birthday?" He tried a change of subject.

"That was actually the reason I was moping when you got here," you said, trying to force a chuckle. "It was nice, I guess. I was just on edge all day trying to anticipate her emotions regarding her dad, but I guess they never came. At least, not today." You beckoned him to sit with you on the couch, now facing each other directly.

"May I ask why?" He asked, tentatively.

"Why what?"

More hesitance. "Why wasn't he there?"

"From what I know, he moved away." You said, tone unreadable.

He worried that he was overstepping and wasn't sure that he would like to hear more about it. He was scared to find out unpleasant news, such as you still had feelings for him. "I'm sorry." Was all he could muster.

"Don't be. I have a great team," you repeated his words from earlier and he smiled at you.

His brain and tongue didn't seem to be working together that night, he was so avid to know more. "Did you always have support?"

"My parents didn't like the idea of having a single mother when they first heard it. It hit me hard back then, but then I realized it was better to be alone than to stay in an unhappy relationship, especially since Olivia was already in the picture." You said, setting your own mug on the coffee table.

"What happened?" Stop it.

He couldn't help it, he was too curious. It was his first opportunity to truly know the novel sort of family that you had. Apparently, not so much.

"He was distant before leaving. Someone else, maybe?" You asked, rhetorically, a crease between your eyebrows. "I never found out, but I don't want or need to, either. His parents absolutely love Olivia and they were there today, 's all that matters."

"You’re a very strong person."

"I have to be," you said, softly. "You’re a very good listener."

A rush of courage running through his veins. Deciding on not taking the road of unsaid things, like his friends were earlier. Don’t dance around the subject, take the opportunity. Dare. "And you're just as pretty."

The world stopped. You looked at him in disbelief. It didn't last much. A knock on your door. Scratch that: someone banging on your door.

You pinched your eyebrows together. Spencer stood up, almost as if he was doing something wrong. You looked at him, apologizing, "I'm not expecting anyone."

You walked to the door and he stood behind you, telling you he was going to let you be. You didn't want to and you were already chastising yourself from not trying to talk to him and focusing on your problems instead. You opened the door and in the threshold stood Penelope Garcia, gift basket in hands. Before you could speak, both of your guests spoke at the same time.

A mortified "Garcia?" from Spencer.

A surprised "Spencer?" from Penelope.

Finally, a confused "Do you know each other?" from you.

"Yeah. We work together." Spencer replied. "What are you doing here, Penelope?"

"What are you doing here, boygenius?" Her tone now was teasing, a cheshire grin on her face. You were acting confused, but you were loving to see Spencer so out of place.

"I... I was..." He trailed off.

Poor thing. "He came to drop Olivia's gift. We're neighbors." You explained, trying to save him from further embarrassment.

She glanced between you two, eyes full of mirth behind her glasses. "I'm here to do the same." She said, smiling as she handed you the basket, which you took carefully and thanked her with a side hug. "There's her present, sweetcheeks. I'm so sorry I couldn't be there, you know how much I miss you and Olivia. But I'm sure our genius told you all about it." Her sentimental words truly held emotion, but she turned her attention to Spencer once again. The opportunity was too good to let go.

Spencer looked like a fish out of water. You opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it. "Garcia, can we talk?" He asked abruptly. "I'm sorry, I have to go." He murmured in a much more soft tone to you.

He could never resume whatever was going on in there because he felt like he had been caught with his pants down.

You were so surprised you didn't even process what was your answer, forgetting to ask if Penelope wanted to come in or anything. "I—Okay. I'll see you, then." With a small smile and slight disappointment in your voice. He all but dashed out of your apartment and took Garcia, who had a mischievous expression on her face, with him. You closed your door and looked at the mix of flowers. A sigh escaped you. Damn, Garcia.

Spencer was escorting Penelope back to her car, ready to bury himself alive because he knew she would run her mouth and knew precisely to whom she would tell about it. And, of course, the endless jokes he would hear during the next few days. "Sooooo..." She trailed off, suggestively.

"I—don't want to talk." She opened her mouth, but had no success in talking. "Not. A. Word."

She entered her car and started the engine as he waited for her to go. But before she started driving, she yelled, "I knew you had it in you, Reid."

From your balcony, work long forgotten, you watched Spencer hide his face in his hands in utter embarrassment.

You were doomed.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x singlemom!reader #spencer reid neighbors au

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theonlyhonoredone · 2 days ago

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Sukuna BF Headcanons

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

Warnings: none

Summary: my ideas about how Sukuna would be as a partner

Masterlist

bf!Sukuna does not realize he’s falling for you until he is already in love with you. It’s not entirely a falls second and harder situation, but he certainly realizes it later than you. Something would trigger it for him, either you going on vacation or a date or something that forced him to face the idea of his life without you. Once he realized how much he hated that idea he realized that he was absolutely in love with you.

bf!Sukuna who would do anything to get with you. He’ll make it know to you the second he realizes his feelings that he wants you to be his and no one else's ever. He’s an intense guy and he’s overwhelming with his confession. It sounds more like a proposal but he’s only asking you to be his girlfriend. Luckily your used to his intensity at that point and you agree, but tell him he has to take you on an actual date before you become official.

bf!Sukuna is going to panic at first but once you’re together it all just clicks. You’re a natural fit and he quickly becomes more affectionate and soft with you. He has no shame about acting this way in public too, he wants everyone on earth to you know that you belong to each other and they should all just leave you alone.

bf!Sukuna loves when other people see you holding hands or kissing or anything else, he thinks everyone is jealous of his perfect girlfriend and finds joy in thinking about them crying to themselves over the fact that they can’t have you. If he tells you this you just tell him he’s ridiculous and that no one is thinking of stealing his girlfriend because everyone is terrified of him. He’ll laugh in response and tell you that’s for good reason.

bf!Sukuna is a scary man, and you know that he's quick to anger and has no qualms about turning things physical. You’ve seen him get into numerous fights, but still, you just can’t imagine finding him scary. He can be snarky and mean sure, but he’s always so soft with you that you’d sooner compare him to a kitten than a monster. He’s careful to never raise his voice with you, even in the most heated arguments. He knows that he’s a scary man, it’s something he takes pride in, but he doesn’t want you to see him that way. You’re the only person he views as his equal, so he makes sure that he treats you as such.

bf!Sukuna doesn’t get to the point of explosive anger with you, but he’s certainly still dramatic. He’s not the best at regulating his emotions so sometimes he simply storms out of the room. It scared you the first time but he called you an hour later from the gym and apologized. He’d been getting worked up and he needed some alone time. It was one of the first times he’d really gotten vulnerable with you, confessing that he was worried about saying something nasty to you or scaring you with his anger. After a long talk you asked him to just tell you when he needed a break or time alone and you’d happily give it to him. He does his best but sometimes he still storms out and part of you thinks he just likes making a dramatic exit.

bf!Sukuna can be overbearing at times, and controlling. It comes more so from a selfish desire to have everything his way than an actual desire to control you. Once you told him you felt like he was trying to control you he was quick to back off because he really does want to be the best partner possible. He feels that’s what you deserve and he wants to be the one to give you everything you deserve.

bf!Sukuna is willing to work on his issues in context of you and your relationship, so you can both be happy together. However, if anyone else were to complain about his behavior he’d likely respond with a few cutting words and possibly a slap.

bf!Sukuna looks up to you in a lot of ways. You’re much calmer than him and kind to everyone you meet. He thinks you bring a good balance to each other because you can be overly kind to the point of being a pushover and he can be, well, just an asshole.

bf!Sukuna is very protective of you, because he thinks you're too kind and too good for the world and anyone who hurts you should pay ten fold. Surprisingly though, you're just as protective over him. He’s a perfectionist to a fault and you often have to drag him away from a task and force him to relax. You’re the only one who knows about his secretive soft side so you protect that part of him with your life, making sure he always knows he’s loved and appreciated and that he doesn’t have to be perfect at everything.

bf!Sukuna who expects perfection from himself but is the biggest hype man in the world when it comes to you. Anything you want to try he’ll encourage and tell you you’re great at it no matter what. He adores watching you try new things too, he thinks you look cute when you concentrate and the joy on your face once you finally accomplish whatever task you’re working at is the most heartwarming sight he can imagine.

bf!Sukuna thinks you and everything you do are perfect. If you decide to paint something he’s declaring it greater than the Mona Lisa and hanging it on his wall immediately. You bake cookies and he’s telling you you should open a bakery because they’re so good people will pay millions for them. When he taught you how to drive stick shift and you kept failing to change gears he insisted there must be something wrong with his car and that he’d have to fix it so you could try again. You lost a game of pool? Doesn’t matter, you’re a beginner and he swears he’s never seen anyone do as good as you when they’re starting off. He’ll swear on his life he was way worse than you when he started and that you'll be better than him in no time.

bf!Sukuna who's always encouraging, even when you're facing an abject failure. You’ve learned that’s just one of the ways he shows his love. He’s not the type of man to sit down and pour his heart out to you, but he makes sure you know he’ll always be there to support you, no matter what. He sometimes tries to express himself more verbally, and though it often comes out sounding more like a command, you appreciate it nevertheless.

bf!Sukuna is very physical, almost always having his arm around your shoulders or his hand on your back. He is always the driver and keeps his hand planted firmly on your thigh wherever you go. At night he’s cradling you against his large body, wrapping you up tight in his arms, and burying his face in your hair. He’s pulling you into his lap at parties, always trying to sneak into the shower with you, hugging you from behind anytime he can. The man can’t keep his hands to himself. One of his favorite things to do is wait until you’re all cozied up watching a movie and then start to tickle you. He likes the way you whine and tell him to stop because you’re trying to watch the movie. You try to push him off which always leads to the two of you getting into a wrestling match which he sometimes lets you win.

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witchofhimring · 2 days ago

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Being the daughter of Daemon Targaryen

Daemon x reader (platonic)

I will split this into four different parts depending on who the mother is (Laena, Rhae, Mysaria, Rhaenyra)

Your relationship with Daemon really depends on who your mother is. Although I think he would love his daughter regardless of who the mother is, your relationship will still differ depending on who she is.

Mysaria:

- As his first born you hold a special place in his heart. Daemon keeps you in a mansion with your mother. Despite your bastardy he still has you educated. And anyway, he planned to have you legitimated in time. Unlike with his other wives (except Rhea) there will be a battle between your parents on who has the most influence. Daemon will bring you up to be a true Valyrian. But Mysaria does not agree with everything he does and do the two will argue.

- ‘I will not have my daughter riding those beasts.’ Mysaria stood over Daemon. Although she was not ignorant as to the threat he could pose, Mysaria felt very strongly about her daughter riding a dragon. She had always been a careful woman. Ever since she was a little girl who endured her father’s abuse Mysaria had known how to survive. And when her daughter was born she swore you too would be safe. That meant, for Mysaria; No. Fucking. Dragon. Daemon sat hunched in his chair. He was tired but equally determined. ‘She is a Valyrian. Whatever the circumstances of her birth are.’ Standing in the doorway you watched nervously. You hated listening to your parents fight. Quietly, you slunk into the darkness.

- Unfortunately this will result in Daemon taking you from Mysaria once their relationship is over. This causes a lot of tension and your relationship with him will change. It is hard being away from your mother for so long. Daemon takes you with him wherever he goes. He will try to be more stationary for your benefit. And the word is "try". Life is both tough and fun. Constantly moving around made it hard to make long lasting friends. But Daemon will do fun things such as going to the market, dragon riding and buying items for any hobby you are into. Mysaria finds secret ways to contact you without Daemon's knowledge. You sort of lead a double life with both parents.

-Your mother's most recent letter was quickly slid under the pillow as your bedroom door opened. Your father stepped in holding a wooden box. Curiously you asked what was in the box. Daemon opened it and inside you found cloth and sewing needles. With a smile you took it and went through the materials. Daemon had a small smile on his face as his daughter rummaged through everything. He did not really understand your love of sewing but he was happy to provide the materials.

-You do get a dragon. Daemon lobbies hard for you to have a dragon and for a while Viserys says no. Not because he doesn't think you deserve one but because of your status (this is before you are legitimated). This changes when Rhaenyra had her first born and Daemon will snidely make remarks when Viserys brings up your bastardy. Eventually Viserys relents. Your dragon is called Saephrin, a thin green scaled creature who is called the Sky Snake. He is very fast an nimble. You spent a lot of time in the cave and riding Saephrin. Daemon likes to ride beside you on nice day. The dragons do keep some distance between each other since Caraxes can get a bit snappy around the younger dragon. These outings usually end in picnics and going to far off places.

-Higher and into the sky you climbed. Wind whistled past your ears, wind whipping hair around. Just behind you was Daemon on Caraxes. Above the clouds you flew looking at the ground bellow. The house you lived in had become a simple blip on the ground. The ache in your thighs felt good. Riding on dragon back brought you more satisfaction than anything else. Showing off you father burst up from a sea of clouds, sending white mist everywhere. Despite your vision being temporarily obscured you were not scared. Daemon was an expert dragon rider, you were in no danger. Your dragon let out a wiry cry and you dove. Leaning back you could see the ground bellow you coming nearer. You looked up to find Daemon still circling above. Saephrin then extended his wings and you were shot back into the air. With a whoop of laughter you went to meet him in the sky.

Rhea:

-Daemon would not allow Rhea to raise you. Despite him belief in Valyrian supremacy you are still a Targaryen. He will use his position as a prince to limit contact between Rhea and yourself. This leads to some tension between Daemon and Viserys, who feels your place is in Runestone. In this scenario Daemon is in Runestone more often. There is a back and forth between who has more influence. Daemon will try to distance you from Andal influences and Rhea vise vera. This leaves you feeling constantly torn.

-Their voices echoed down the hall to where you sat alone. By all rights you should be in bed already. If anyone were to find you out there would be trouble. One would think that years of this would harden you to your parents constant fights. 'My daughter will not be taking part in your filthy Valyrian traditions! I am only glad that she has no brother for you to force her to fuck.' You could almost see your fathers reaction in your mind. There was the sound of a physical altercation and you buried yourself deeper into the shadows. You were not sure when the fight ended. Only that your father slunk through the hall and you hardly dared to breath as he walked past. Once you were sure both parents were gone you wandered the halls.

-A dragon egg is given to you by Daemon upon birth. The pearl coloured egg hatches and a light pink dragon is born, named Willow. You grew close to the dragon and liked to bring her into your playroom. Whenever she was separated from you a tantrum resumed on both ends. You could not live without Willow. Your father would becomes a less present figure om your life. For a while life grew slightly easier. At least no parents were fighting. And so a quiet existence descended. Your mother taught you to hunt and command a falcon. By her hand you sat at council meetings. One day you would become Lady of Runestone and command these people. Unlike many other women, even high born ones, you would be permitted to wield power without the say so of a man. When your mother died Daemon came back for you. He tried to take you from Runestone but the lords protested. Swallowing his rage, Daemon would fly between his residences and Runestone. He was more involved now. because of your position Daemon would teach you battle strategy and swordplay. Daemon was determined to make you a proper ruling lady.

-'Block!' Daemon's sword came down from ahead and you only just blocked it. He did not relent with each blow, causing witnesses to shoot mistrusting looks. While Daemon was not being gentle there was a method to this. The world was not kind to women especially women who took the places men more often occupied. You must become strong enough to defend your own. And Daemon had a feeling war was not too far off. Daemon felt Rhea had been a poor teacher. He would not have some docile Andal lily for a daughter. Gods damn it you were a Targaryen. Each strike was used to test your ability. Eventually the sword was knocked aside. 'Dead.' Daemon pointed the sword to your chest. The he heaved you to your feet. 'Good.' Daemon was not one to hand out compliments. But you had done very well and made much progress. You gave him a small smile.

-Once you are older Daemon will have you visit him on Dragonstone. You never knew your first step mother Laena as you were too young to fly to Pentos on dragon back. But by the time he married Rhaenyra you were older and Dragonstone was closer. You would fly in on Willow and spend time with your father and the new editions. Your relationship with Rhaenyra is alright. She had always wanted a daughter but she remembers you are the daughter of Rhea and that always unsettles Rhaenyra. You like Baela and Rhaena well enough. Daemon is happy when you arrive. Even if he has a hard time showing it. As the eldest you are given the most responsibility. He has you informed of the comings and goings of political situation, and you help the Blacks keep ties with house Arryn. He places a lot of trust in you.

-You had come in late that night on Willow. Inwardly groaning with exhaustion you climbed off the dragon and staggered towards the castle. Your father was there to greet you. Nodding in acknowledgment Daemon turned and beckoned you inside. This might have been considered cold for a father, but from Daemon this was "warm", in his way. You followed him inside and he allowed you to quickly wipe down, change and eat. By the fire both of you sat till Daemon deemed you settled in enough. 'How are you unruly men?' He had never taken to the people of Runestone. 'They are just fine father.' You did not like your father talking like this. It made you feel unfaithful to those you lead. 'Good, and the Arryns?' He said this with less skepticism. 'I think if it comes to war they will side with us. Lady Jeyne Arryn was no love for Otto Hightower or his ilk.' 'Good.' He grunted. For a while the pair of you talked of these things until Daemon sent you to bed. As you got up he patted you on you shoulder. 'You've done well.'

Laena:

-You are born a year after Baela and Rhaena in Pentos. At the time Laena and Daemon were traveling Essos so you did not have a permeant home. Despite not living in Westeros at the time you were still a Targaryen, one of only a few. There were already discussions about your future. Daemon preferred for his family to remain in Westeros, perhaps you could marry a Pentoshi prince. Laena on the other hand would rather you marry into Westerosi aristocracy. You, along with your two sisters are brought up to be noblewomen like your mother. On the other hand Daemon is interested in teaching Valyrian ancestry and swordplay. His interest will hinge on how much you are like him. This does not mean Daemon does not love his children. But he does show more interest in his children who are dragon riders. Daemon is largely unaware of the effect it had on his children (i.e. Rhaena). Like your sisters you will get a dragon egg. It eventually hatches, but it takes a while.

-Daemon did not normally feel uncomfortable, especially around his own children. Last week his youngest daughter's dragon had hatched, a small grey think with spikey scales running up its neck. He had been undeniably proud of his daughter. Three years had passed since his now ten year old daughter had received her egg as name-day present from Viserys. Daemon had lost hope that her dragon would hatch. he would check if the two dragon eggs resting in the fireplace had hatched. Now only Rhaena's egg rested there. Y/n was sitting alone by the see with Kaeros on her lap. One day that dragon not be small like a kitten, but larger than any one of them. Daemon took a seat beside her. 'Your dragon hatched.' He felt foolish for posing such a silly question. Y/n would be a dragon rider and carry out the Targaryen traditions. Y/n shrugged her shoulders but said nothing. For a while they awkwardly sat beside one another till Y/n headed in.

-After Laena's death the family headed back to Westeros. Daemon married Rhaenyra and Dragonstone became home. It was very different from the warmth and vibrancy of Pentos. During this time Daemon and you became closer, although some distance remained. Because you were a little older the subject of marriage became prevalent. Daemon is very picky about who your future husband will be, only a Valyrian will be accepted. When your half brothers are born you become closer to Daemon. Sometimes the two of you will play with the children in their nursery.

-Baby Aegon totted on his legs towards you .A few spaces away at your father, newborn Viserys on his lap. 'The babies are staying with us, right?' Daemon looked up from his youngest. 'Of course.' 'Oh. I just thought that you might send them to be fostered with their future betrotheds family.' Daemon looked at you confused. 'What gave you that impression?' Shrugging, you replied; 'Just what your doing with me.' Daemon only looked more bewildered. 'I...we have no intentions sending you away.' Daemon had no idea why you had this idea. What he did not understand was the empty pit widening in your soul. This feeling of loneliness that threatened to devour you. All your life you had felt like an extension of the Targaryen name. You did not realize how deeply your father loved you. While the gap had somewhat lessened over time there were still things left unsaid. Then Daemon, for reasons you did not know, he set Viserys in his crib and got up. In a moment he was by your side. In an unexpected motion Daemon brought you into a hug. Not merely one in greeting or goodbye, but along, warm one. Gently you rested your head on his shoulder.

-As war broke over Westeros the dynamic between Daemon and yourself changed. You were his youngest daughter, too young to fight. He may have pride but even Daemon balked at the idea of sending his youngest, untested daughter into war. In the past few years your relationship improved greatly. The two of you had grown closer. But was would rip the two of you apart, forever.

-It was already unsettling enough to send Baela out to war, and have Rhaena so far away. You were to remain at Dragonstone. Not completely out of loop but not at the front like Baela. It made you taste bitterness. Why could he not see you were ready! Now was the time you should be tested. Your father had gone on and on about Targaryen pride. But here you were as cupbearer. Of course he preferred Baela to you, to Rhaena. As your father got ready to take Harrenhal you were hiding by a window, too angry to speak. At these moments you felt no more than a sulky child. 'Y/n.' Startled, you got up to see your father, fully plated in armor, coming forward. 'I'm heading out.' 'I know.' You replied. Standing there you did not know whether to say goodbye. Silently you feared for him. War was an ugly thing. 'I will send for you when the time comes.' This surprised you. 'Really?' Daemon let the ghost of a smile come across his lips. 'You are my daughter. A Targaryen. You belong with us.' Tears welled up in your eyes. Deep down you think; 'One day I will tell father I love him.' This was the last time you would see your father.

Rhaenyra: (au where Rhaenyra wins the war, Visenya survives and is your older sister)

-Daemon felt rather old when you came into the world. You had been born well after they thought Rhaenyra past childbirth. He was not sure how he felt about this newest edition. Having another child was no bad thing, but he just felt too hold. Although Daemon was still in good health he was no longer a young man. His joints had started to ache from long years of battle. This did mean he spent lots of time with you. He watched his youngest roll around in her cradle. There was some joy to be found in reading to you. This continued as you grew, learning stories of your family and Old Valyria. Soehow this gave Daemon some peace, and the pair of you grew close.

-Daemon was no stranger to fatherhood. As a father of three girls and two boys (not including Rhaenyra's children) this new baby was no surprise. What had struck Daemon was how very old he was. Now in his fifties Daemon found it a bit astounding to be this old and a father. If fact Daemon never though he would reach such an age. Men as reckless as the King Consort rarely lived to see such an age. Yet here we was, older and with knees that already started to ache. In the cradle was his youngest and likely last child. Y/n was fast asleep, wrapped up in a blanket. Daemon was not a sort man, and perhaps not the warmest father. But he did love his children. One finger reached in and the baby's hand shot out. With all her little might Y/n grasped him. her wide eyes met his and she gave him a toothless grin. Something warm stirred in daemon's head. "I'm becoming a sort old fool.' Daemon thought.

-Daemon read by the fire as you dozed off in bed. This was your favourite part of the day. When night had fallen and you listened to his soft voice lull you to sleep. Tonight he read of Queen Rhaenys, second wife to King Aegon. Even though your mother and sister preferred Queen Visenya you always admired Rhaenys's love for the arts. Out of all her siblings Rhaenys loved her dragon Meraxes best. You had named your own dragon after hers. Mother has tried to talk you out of it but to no avail. Your father continued to read stories of Targaryens long gone.

-'This one." You demanded. It was the end of the day and Daemon had come up to read. Already you were in bed with a book one your lap. Daemon was pleased to see it was about House Targaryens, the best house in all the realm (totally not a biased opinion). Sitting down Daemon picked up the book and flipped to chapter one. 'Not there.' You passed several chapters until landing on the one titled "Queen Rhaenys". Aegon the Conqueror's second wife had never truly captured his attention, not that he had anything against her. But you were his little girl and Daemon was more willing to capitulate in his older ager.

-Despite his advanced age Daemon will expect you to be well educated. The best teachers will be found. You will learn history, Valyrian, astronomy, philosophy, writing and much more. He sees no reason for you being female as a reason a child of his should not be well read. You share classes with Visenya and sometimes Viserys and Aegon. Sometimes Daemon will ask you to show him what you have learned. His interests mainly lye in Valyrian history so he will ask you to show him what it is you have learned. When all his daily duties are finished Daemon will sometimes listen to you talk about everything you have read that day. Even if it is not things he is particularly interested in. As he gets older Daemon becomes more sentimental and focuses more on his family.

-A quiet afternoon was upon Kings Landing. Daemon had just gotten out of a long meeting and was glad for it. he was sore all over from sitting so long and walked, alone, to take the edge off. His walking did have an aim. Y/n, his youngest, would be out of the schoolroom by now. Loneliness was not a feeling Daemon was well acquainted with. But with Rhaenyra gone to the North and Visenya being a ward of House Baratheon, Daemon found himself lacking family members. Jacaerys and Baela had gone on tour in the West, Rhaena gone to see her Arryn friends. The other children were being wards elsewhere. daemon finally arrived outside the schoolroom. he remembered days when he and Viserys were sometimes tutored here. Just as he arrived Y/n burst out. 'Daddy!' Y/n gave her father a great hug. Daemon ruffled her messy hair before inquiring what she had learned today. As she chattered away they found themselves in the courtyard. Under the Weirwood they sat together. Sunlight beat down upon them, Daemon finally relaxed.

#daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daughter reader #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x reader #hotd x reader imagine #hotd imagine #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon

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natequarter · 2 days ago

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🎉 yourbutchboyfriend Follow

considering changing my url but like what even to. yourbutchboyfriend?

💣 commiedyke Follow

DO ITTT

🎉 yourbutchboyfriend Follow

alright :3 here goes nothing

#anything for you

3 notes

🎉 yourbutchboyfriend Follow

man why does the doctor always act like i don't know what sex is? i'm 17 not 7 lol

🖋️ edwardianadvcnturess Follow

He does the same with me! It's so utterly infuriating, why does he think just because I'm young I don't know what an orgy is?

🔫 thebrigadier Follow

I do believe he views all humans as deeply immature. I am nearing fifty now and he still patronises me whenever we meet.

❄️ icemaiden Follow

You're FIFTY??? No wonder the Doctor refuses to talk to you about such matters, that's practically cradle snatching. Or grooming.

⚰️ themaster Follow

hey didn't you lie about your age the first time you met the doctor? also you are literally 120. TIME TOT ☝️

❄️ icemaiden Follow

And you are literally a mass murderer. Go away.

⚰️ themaster Follow

you are like a little baby. watch this

*dies in his arms and he cries because he loves me unlike you who he could never love*

🎉 yourbutchboyfriend Follow

are you guys done yet or

#man what the fuck #is this like. time lord flirting

617 notes

🐧 coordinatorsupreme Follow

Tell me why the Rassilon character study I was just reading has an author's note that says "Sorry I haven't updated in decades, I got kidnapped and tortured by Daleks for twenty years!" Are all Mo3 users like this or is it just r*negades

🧶 elizabethtudor-blog Follow

Isn't this what happened to the president of Gallifrey?

🐧 coordinatorsupreme Follow

First of all, get off my post, I specifically have it in my DNI that humans are blocked on sight. Second of all,

WHAT?

👑 fred Follow

well what were YOU doing at the devils sacrament dare i ask

🐧 coordinatorsupreme Follow

None of those words are in the Matrix.

#What in Rassilon's name is a sacrament

132 notes

🗡️ worsthumanongallifrey Follow

it's always the little things in life. for example today i discovered that the writer behind all those doctor/romana fics on mo3 is none other than romana herself

#but does she write anything about me #nooo #no she does not

550 notes

📑 anordinaryjournalist Follow

Having a lovely coffee date with Harry to celebrate twenty years of the Doctor abandoning me! For some reason Harry hates it when I phrase things this way

📑 anordinaryjournalist Follow

Only 3 people died this time, it sounds terrible but I was hoping for something more interesting in all honesty

#the cafe didn't even explode or anything this time round #last time we had to pick up the dismembered bits of several corpses. much more fun #on the other hand Harry had to take his shirt off today (long story) #so that was fun #I mean it wasn't even really necessary but shhh he doesn't need to know that #eternally glad someone else is willing to put up with my nonsense (exploding fish-puma alien hybrids)

12 notes

🚬 fitz-crier Follow

nneed himmto fied merinto a pjper shrrder thrgn eastthe paper until wahts ke and whsts him is indenifinsble

📺 compassion Follow

I think he should not do that. Get help.

1 note

🏏 the--adventurer5 Follow

Repeat after me: your psychosexual obsession with an alien threat that wants to kill you is valid. Cosplaying as intergalactic mass murderers does not make you a bad person.

👑 fred Follow

if you make ONE MORE post glorifying cricket like this i may actually have to report you to the high council

🏏 the--adventurer5 Follow

Wait Romana I didn't mean it I'm sorry. I'll do anything. I'll unexplode Adric please don't report me to the High Council

👑 fred Follow

i'm not angry, i'm just disappointed.

✈️ donewiththisshit573 Follow

I'm angry! Stop fucking bringing up Adric when clearly none of you care about him!

⚰️ themaster Follow

what she said. be psychosexually obsessed with ME please please pretty please. i'll treat you right i won't report you to the high council i won't even kill you a little bit this time

🏏 the--adventurer5 Follow

You are pathetic.

#if you died right now I wouldn't even be sad I would be overjoyed

467,343 notes

#doctor who #timeblr

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mbruben-stein · 2 days ago

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MHA boys reaction to finding out after the final war that their s/o became wheelchair bound and became a teacher after the war ended.

~Izuku Midoriya~

When Izuku first learns that his s/o was badly injured in the war and can no longer walk, he would be absolutely devastated. Seeing the person he loves in so much pain, and knowing they sacrificed their mobility fighting alongside him, would tear him apart with grief and guilt. He'd likely break down crying and apologizing profusely for not protecting them.

But once the initial shock passes, Izuku's compassionate and supportive nature would quickly take over. He would do everything in his power to be there for his s/o during their recovery and adaptation to life in a wheelchair. Izuku would constantly encourage them, telling them how incredible and heroic they are for all they've done. He'd be endlessly patient, helping them with daily tasks and pushing their wheelchair without complaint.

At the same time, Izuku would make sure not to coddle or pity his s/o. He knows how strong and capable they are. So while he offers help, he'd also give them space to figure things out and maintain their independence as much as possible. Izuku would cheer on every milestone as they learn to navigate the world in new ways.

I imagine Izuku being so proud when his s/o takes a job teaching at UA. Using their skills and experience to help train the next generation of heroes is an amazing way for them to continue making a difference, wheelchair or no wheelchair. Izuku would brag about them to everyone. On tough days, he'd remind them what an inspiration they are to their students.

Overall, this tragedy would only make Izuku love and admire his s/o more. He'd stand by their side unconditionally, being the steadfast pillar of support they can always count on. They would grow even closer through this challenge. To Izuku, his s/o will always be his hero, no matter what.

~Katsuki Bakugo~

Initially, Bakugo is filled with rage and guilt. He's furious at the villains who hurt his s/o so badly, and furious at himself for not being able to protect them. He may lash out or seem angry at first, but it's masking his devastation and self-blame.

Once the initial shock and anger fades, Bakugo becomes fiercely protective and supportive of his s/o. He's determined to be there for them no matter what as they adjust to their new circumstances. He helps them with physical therapy, getting their home accessibility upgraded, and anything else they need without complaint.

Bakugo is secretly very proud that his s/o has taken on a teaching role at UA to help train the next generation of heroes. He knows they have a wealth of experience and wisdom to share. But he grumbles that the "damn kids better not give you any trouble or they'll have to answer to me."

When his s/o has hard days and gets frustrated with their physical limitations, Bakugo is quick to remind them that they're still every bit the incredible hero and person they've always been. "You think a little thing like a wheelchair makes you any less amazing? Don't be a damn idiot."

Bakugo makes it clear to everyone that NOTHING about his love and respect for his partner has changed. He shuts down any pitying looks or comments immediately. His s/o is still the badass he fell in love with and he won't let anyone imply otherwise.

On the anniversary of the day his s/o was injured, Bakugo is always extra attentive, planning special things to show how glad he is to still have them by his side. He knows things could have turned out much worse and he'll never take their presence for granted.

Overall, in the end, he loves them for who they are no matter what.

~Shoto Todoroki~

When Shoto first learns what happened to his partner, he feels a mix of deep concern, sadness, and anger that they were so badly injured. Even years later, remembering the moment he found out still brings back those painful emotions. He wishes more than anything he could have protected them.

At the same time, Shoto is incredibly proud of his S/O's bravery, sacrifice and strength. They put their life on the line as a hero, just like he did. And now they are channeling that same heroic spirit into inspiring and guiding the next generation at UA. Shoto has endless respect and admiration for them.

Shoto makes sure to be there to physically and emotionally support his partner as much as possible, especially early on as they adjust to using a wheelchair. He helps make their home fully accessible. If his S/O is self-conscious about the wheelchair, Shoto reassures them that it doesn't change how he feels at all - he loves them unconditionally and their chair is a symbol of their courage.

When he visits them at work, Shoto loves seeing his S/O in their element - skillfully navigating the school grounds and classrooms, captivating the students with their hard-earned wisdom and experience. The students look up to them immensely. Shoto teases that they're everyone's favorite teacher.

In private moments, Shoto makes sure his partner knows how much he cherishes them. The war took a heavy toll on them both physically and mentally. But supporting each other and building a life together has brought hope and light back after so much darkness.

Overall, his S/O inspires Shoto to be a better hero and person every day.

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sinnaminsuga · 20 hours ago

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𝖆 𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊 - mob boss!chan x reader

wc: 3,519

cw: some threats of violence, a little angsty but happy ending, SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: you loved him, more than anything. but being a secret was never what you wanted. the gilded cage you seemed to exist exclusively in was suffocating you, so you decided it was time to get out. but chan wont let you go that easily.

a/n: i was driving and clearly i was not paying attention because thats when this idea was born. as usual this was beta'd by bestie @httpdwaekki and she sourced the pretty pictures for me too. enjoy!

sw: dirty talk, daddy kink, unprotected sex (pls be smarter than that), breeding kink if you squint, general roughness, threats of violence (not toward the reader), chan has a gun. idk probably more but im bad at this shit.

the creak of the church doors flying open should have startled you like it did everyone else, but you knew better. it was only a matter of time before he came for you. he didn't like his things to go missing. truthfully, you were shocked it even took this long.

the click of his (no doubt expensive) shoes on the shiny wooden floor of the church hung in the air like the ticking of a clock, counting down to either your demise or your bliss you weren't sure which one. after a long pause you turned your head just enough to face him.

“can we help you?” you asked, more nonchalant than anyone else would have been in a situation like this. the muffled gasps and muttering from the crowd in front of you almost made you laugh but you held it in.

the charged energy in the room was due to the fact that the man interrupting your wedding was none other than the most fearsome businessman and gangster this city had ever seen. but to you? he was your asshole ex boyfriend.

“oh can you help me? that's what you're going to say? isn't this a little much, yeobo?” he replied, voice dripping with condescension and his hand over his heart in mock surprise.

“a little much? god you're so out of touch it's actually insane christopher. news flash, you're not the groom, you're not even supposed to be here!” you seethed, fully turning to face him. your groom (hand selected by your parents) stood next to you shaking like a leaf. you could feel the nervous sweat from his hand slicking the surface of your palm and it made your skin crawl so you dropped his hold as you stared fiercely down the aisle.

chan's face split into the wide grin you’d once been accustomed to seeing. “are you done now? you've gotten your attention and you've pissed me off, the job is done. let's go.” he said, walking further down the aisle toward you.

“jesus christ, you really are insane! i should have listened when people told me you were a full on fucking basket case but no. i was stupid enough to fall in love with you. fat lot of good that did for me!” you shouted at his approaching form.

you could feel your skin heating up and you could hear the blood rushing in your ears you were so mad. who the hell did he think he was, intruding on your life like this?! it's his fault you were in this situation anyway!

***

you had been with chan for 3 years, and in that time he made it a point to keep your relationship a secret. it hurt seeing his face splashed on newspapers and tabloids all over the city speculating on who he might be dating or who he’d been seen with recently. it hurt even more when he recapped nights where he was out to dinner with his men or allies and their wives. you couldn't help but feel like it was because you weren't enough. you felt like you weren't pretty enough, weren't tough enough, weren't worthy to be seen outside his penthouse apartment. and a girl can only take so much of that for so long.

so a few months ago on a particularly lonely night of chan being out doing god knows what with lord knows who, you packed only your sentimental personal belongings (nothing he purchased for you, which was a hell of a lot of your things), wrote a note saying nothing more than “no one took me, not that you'd care even if they did. i’ll be a bird in a gilded cage no longer. goodbye.” and walked out his door for the last time.

the fancy things he could provide for you behind closed doors weren't enough to soothe the searing pain in your soul of feeling like the man you loved was ashamed of you. three years together and not even a hint at things changing any time soon was enough to make you return home to your parents and agree to the arranged marriage they had been working on as they had no knowledge of the relationship you were already in. and who knows, maybe you could learn to love your soon-to-be husband Seo-jun.

***

you grabbed the skirt of your simple wedding dress and stomped down the few stairs of the platform, heading toward chan. when you finally stood in front of him you could see the darkness under his eyes like he hadn't been sleeping. his hair was gorgeous as usual but a little longer than he was used to wearing it. and his knuckles were raw and bruised. you almost felt bad for him but then, you remembered he made the bed he was lying in so why should you care about how uncomfortable it might be?

“why are you so upset with me yeobo? hmm? what did i do that was so bad you had to leave me in the middle of the night? i took care of you didn't i? anything you asked for, i gave it to you.” chan asked, grabbing your hand. something dark flashed in his eyes and his upper lip curled when his fingers felt Seo-jun's ring on your finger. “what made you hate me so much that you ran off to be with this fucking nobody?”

“you just don't get it. and you never did. that's part of the problem chris. you don't see me. you don't know me. no one did.” you murmured, taking your hand back and smoothing the fabric of your dress, eyes cast down. “with Seo-jun we can walk down the street holding hands and he doesn't think twice about it. we can have dinner in a restaurant, one that has other people in it. not one that's been emptied out and all the blinds closed and the staff paid to keep their mouths shut.” you inhaled a shaky breath before continuing. “i couldn't do that with you. and the worst part is, i don't think you even wanted to. you were happy to exclude me from things. happy to hide me. but i don't want that. i never did. and if you had no intentions of marrying me, it was my responsibility to myself to find someone who would.” you dabbed your fingers under your eyes and sniffled before straightening your back and meeting his eyes. you weren't prepared to see the agony in his face.

“i- i don't...i didn't know...i didn't know that is how you saw it all, how you saw me. i'm so sorry sweetheart. i wish you had talked to me.” chan breathed. he reached out his right hand and set it on your shoulder, rubbing soothing little circles with his thumb. after a moment he slid it up to cradle the back of your neck and tug you closer to him.

“i should have explained. i should have been more perceptive. i never wanted you to feel this way, i swear i didnt.” chan’s voice shook as he spoke to you.

“well it's too late now. please just go. please.” you whispered, trying to back away from him. you couldn't talk about this anymore. but in your attempt to move away from him, his grip on you tightened. he pulled you toward him forcefully enough that you were now chest to chest.

“you think that i will ever let you go again? i stayed away when you left, i thought maybe you needed time to be angry at me for whatever it was and then you'd come back when you were ready. but then i saw your face in the newspaper, the wedding announcement section no less. and i laughed. i laughed because surely that couldn't be true.” a bitter laugh rattled out of chan's mouth, flames of wild jealousy flickering in his eyes.

“as long as there is air in my lungs and my heart is beating in my chest, you will never belong to another man. ever. do you understand me?” he growled.

“i told you in my note and i'll tell you again now to your face, i wont be in a cage anymore. i cant do that to myself chris. i won’t. besides, you never would have married me. you just want to possess me, but you don't want anyone to know that you do.” you said softly, tears finally slipping down your cheeks unrestrained.

“why do you keep saying that? why do you think i'm ashamed of you?” he pleaded, his brows drawing together in confusion.

“what else am i left to think when you keep me hidden away in your penthouse? i'm not invited to dinners. i'm not invited to parties. no one you know, knows i exist! that's why every person in this room is so shocked to see you here! no one had any idea we were together, because that's what you wanted. i was a toy for you and now that someone else has me you're upset. don't you understand how painful that is for me?!” you wailed, not wanting to keep talking about it. you pleaded with your eyes for him to stop this torture but he was having none of it.

“are you insane? you think i wanted to keep us a secret? i wanted to tip toe around with you? no! but i had to! i know you think you know what i do but you have no idea the dangers that come with it. you are my most prized possession and the very knowledge of that is ammunition for some people in my world.” chan cried. “i would have loved nothing more than to scream it from the rooftops how much i fucking love you but i knew that would put you in danger and if anything ever happened to you i would have burned the world to ash. but the idea of your safety is out the window now, you forced my hand with this wedding bullshit and now it's all out in the open. everybody fucking knows now!” he bellowed.

realization washed over you like a bucket of ice water. he was right. you never considered that you might be in harms way if his enemies knew of your existence.

“i couldn't fucking marry you because then our marriage would be public record. anyone digging into me would find you that way. i wasn't willing to lay your life on the fucking line like that. is a wedding what you want? you wanna marry me?” chan asked, a mischievous air suddenly surrounding him. your subconscious overrode any sort of common sense and forced you to nod yes like some kind of sick twisted muscle memory.

the next thing you knew he was pulling you back down the aisle toward the small raised platform, the audience whispering behind you. as he approached your groom you held your breath, worried about what he would say.

“seo-jun is it?” he asked and seo-jun nodded. the fear was coming off of him in waves, why your parents paired you with this man you would never understand. you were far too argumentative to be with a weak man. “okay, so seo-jun what's going to happen now is i'm going to marry your fiance okay? get out of my way please, i'll only ask the one time so remember that.” chan said, his voice sickly sweet with a hint of ominous threat. seo-jun just nodded and ran off to cower behind his parents in the first row of seats. chan turned to face the officiant before speaking again. “alright let's start.”

the officiant gulped before he spoke with a shaky voice, “sir i can't marry you two. you don't even have a marriage license with the correct names on it.” this was obviously the incorrect response because chan reached into his coat and pulled out his gun, pressing it to the underside of the officiant's jaw. the rabid look in his eyes was one you were familiar with, he was incredibly worked up now.

“i don't recall asking for your sage advice, did anyone hear me ask for his advice?” he addressed the audience with his question. the crowd murmured a chorus of no’s and chan turned back to the man at gunpoint. “open your stupid fucking book and marry us or i'll blow your fucking brains out, got it? okay, good.” the officiant nodded frantically as chan pulled the gun away, tucking it back into the holster you knew he wore on his side.

you were very much in shock, and oddly enough very much turned on by his public display of aggression. you were finally getting what you always dreamed of with chan but you weren't totally happy. you didn't get to plan the wedding of your dreams with him, and this small event just didnt feel right.

“chris we can't do this. not like this. i want to plan something real, something with you. can we do that? please?” you asked, tugging on his hands.

“oh. of course we can do that sweetheart. but can we do this too? just like a practice? we’re already here and you look so pretty.” he said with his lopsided grin you could never say no to. so you giggled and nodded, and proceeded with the ceremony.

after the exchanging of vows, a cutting look at seo-jun from chan about the wedding band he’d chosen for you, and some muttering from chan about ‘none of this is good enough' the officiant pronounced you man and wife. the crowd reaction was mild as they were all still so confused and terrified, but you didn't care. you were floating. and soon as he heard the words “you may now kiss your bride” chan tugged you to him and planted his lips on yours. he swept his tongue into your mouth and you whined into the kiss. god you'd missed this, no one kissed you like chan did. he broke away for a moment just to stare at you.

“everybody get the fuck out.” every person in the church fled at chan's command, some squealing as they left. the two men he arrived with left as well, closing the doors behind them. you looked around confused, not sure why he would do that as you hadn't gotten your chance to walk down the aisle hand in hand. “channie what are you doing?” you asked.

a wicked smile appeared on his face as he replied “my wife and i need to consummate this marriage, i didn't want them here for that.” heat settled low in your belly at his words and you felt your face flush. surely he couldn't be serious! but evidently he was as he pulled you further across the platform to the altar.

he lifted you and set you down on top of the altar and pushed your legs apart to slot himself in between, yanking your dress up your legs to pool around your hips. chan planted open mouthed kisses across your exposed collarbone, one hand kneading your breast, the other reaching between you to grind against your clit. you threw your head back at the sudden pleasure.

“you let him in here? you let seo-jun touch you like i do?” he grunted against your mouth.

“nuh-uh. told him i wanted to wait. wasn't ready to give myself to another man.” you said, choking down a moan.

“good. he seems nice, i really didn't want to have to kill him.” chan laughed out into your neck. you pawed at his chest in an attempt to open his shirt but the buttons proved to be too difficult for your lust addled brain so you tore it open instead. and what you saw made you stop short.

right over his heart swooped dark black strokes of ink in your handwriting, the tattoo reading “i’ll be a bird in a gilded cage no longer.” it took your breath away and tears welled in your eyes. the weight of everything that had transpired hung heavy in the air between you and chan knew that so instead of speaking right away he leaned in, cupped your face in both hands, and kissed you with the most passion he could. so many words unspoken poured out of your mouths and into that kiss.

“here's what's going to happen now sweetheart. i'm gonna flip you around, bend you over, and fuck you until you see stars okay? it's been too long.” he explained as he maneuvered your body to the position he was describing. his big hand pressed between your shoulder blades and you submitted to him like you always did, leaning forward until your cheek was pressed to the marble of the altar.

the jingling of his belt behind you made you clench around nothing, the ache of being empty taking over. chan bunched your skirt up once again before savagely tearing your panties from your body. two of his big fingers slid through your wetness before sinking into you, punching a moan from your chest.

“gonna make it hurt baby, stretch you out jus’ the way you like okay? daddy’s gonna take such good care of you. always remember i love you okay sweetheart? because im going to fuck you like i really really don't.” he whispered into your ear, planting a kiss on the side of your head. then he was lining up with your entrance and sliding all the way in without stopping.

and he was right, the stretch hurt but really it always did. he was just so big, but you liked the burn. you liked still feeling him the next day. you could feel your eyelids drooping and your body relaxing as he started to move.

“fucking hell sweetheart. a few months away from me and i have to retrain this pussy to take me. so fucking tight.” chan ground out as his powerful hips slammed him in and out of you over and over again. your cunt was drooling all over his cock, almost as much as your mouth was all over the altar.

“still can't believe you ran from me. how about i put a baby in you, then you can't go anywhere. there's not a single place on this earth where i won't fucking find you, you got that?” he spat, lacing his hand into your hair and yanking your head up. all you could get out was a measly “uh-huh” but it seemed to be enough because he growled and started pistoning his thick length into you at a new angle, slamming the head into your g-spot.

chan reached down and wrapped a big hand around the back of your left thigh, lifting your leg and laying it flat on the altar, opening you up more for him. he slid his fingertips down between your legs and rubbed at your clit. if you weren't already sweating and drooling, surely that would have been the thing to do it.

“slutty little pussy missed me huh? she was all lonely and empty without daddy to take care of her. c’mon baby, keep squeezing me, yeah just like that pretty girl. so perfect.” he groaned as he did his best to bruise you from the inside.

at this point you were as boneless as you'd ever been, you truly did miss getting dicked down like this. chan had always been the best fuck of your life and you hadn't realized how much you missed it until now. “please make me cum daddy. need it so bad.” you mumbled incoherently, eyes glazed over.

chan laughed, a bitter sound tumbling from his lips. “those little fingers of yours couldn't even come close to treating you like my dick huh? bet you were riding that dildo i got you, wishing it was me.” he hissed out between his clenched teeth. all you could do was moan and nod because he was right.

“go on then. cum for me pretty baby. do it for me, need to feel it. then i'll fill you up just like you like.” he said, throwing his head back as he thrust into you with the harshest force you'd ever experienced. a few more direct hits to your g-spot and it was over, you were screaming and spasming around him, trapping him inside you for a moment.

“jesus fucking christ- oh god fuck that feels so good. keep squeezing me, yessss just like that baby yeah. fuck you're so beautiful like this. ah- ah- fuck fuck fuck 'm gonna cum. gonna cum in this perfect little cunt baby. FUCK!” chan gasped out, hips stilling as he spilled inside of you, warming you from the inside out. he collapsed over your back and breathed hard against your spine.

after gathering his breath and his thoughts he leaned forward, licking up a rivulet of sweat rolling down the side of your neck before whispering into your ear “cmon mama, lets get you home. i have a lot of apologizing to do.”

THE END

#jd's archive #bang chan #bang chan smut #bang chan fanfic #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #chan fanfic #chan smut #stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshot #stray kids scenarios #skz smut #stray kids fanfiction #skx x reader #skz imagins #skz fic

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vivalafxxku · 2 days ago

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Operation Blabbermouth AKA Tell it to a Speedster (it backfires)

Inspired by this video on TikTok because it fits so well

The Flashes despite maintaining a secret identity of terrible liars. Sometimes their mouths just work faster than their brains and they just accidentally blurt out secrets. Nothing identity compromising or life threatening, they make sure to keep a lid on it then. But anything else? It's free game.

Examples include:

Bart accidentally blurting that Grandma Iris is pregnant with his dad and Aunt Dawn

Barry changing the past and creating a diverging timelines by saying something he shouldn't have when accidentally time travelling

Wally confessing his feelings for Dick in the middle of a nervous ramble

Point is, if you want information spread (to get the rumour mill running hah or otherwise), you tell it to a Speedster.

Which is exactly why Tim told Bart about his not-so platonic feelings for Kon.

Bart: Dude, that's so crash. How are you gonna tell him?

Tim: Well Bart, I just did.

Bart:

Bart: What?

Tim: I told you. And no way you're going to be able to keep it a secret so...

Bart: Did... Did you tell me about your feelings for Kon so that you didn't have to tell him yourself?

Tim: Yes. That's exactly what I did.

And look, Bart loves his leader. Tim has always been there for Bart, so it's only fair he does the same. But he was expecting more of an "I'll save you from the brink of death" or an "it's you and me against the world" type deal, not an "I'm using your blabbermouth to confess my feelings because communication is hard when you're a Bat" situation.

You can't blame him for being a little miffed.

And really, Tim should've thought this through. (Surprising, is Tim losing his edge?) He essentially gave Bart permission to tell anyone about his little crush.

So that's exactly what he's going to do.

Everyone but Kon.

After all, it's a lot easier to keep a secret if everyone but one already knows.

#yj98 #timkon #bart allen #young just us #young justice #young justice 98 #tim drake #kon el #kon el kent #conner kent #superboy #impulse #robin #red robin

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purple-plum-petals · 3 days ago

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Hi!! I saw you have requests open for Homicipher! Could I ask for a drabble with Mr. Gap? I feel like he's underrated but he's my favorite. Maybe a first kiss with him?

⊱ Connection ⊰ || Mr. Gap X Reader

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Character(s): Mr. Gap (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Spoilers for Homicipher (specifically Return End), Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and horror-elements), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms (Reader briefly uses physical pain to distract themselves from their emotional discomfort; they also sleep to avoid their emotions), Creature/Monster X Human Relationship (Mr. Gap doesn’t fully comprehend or understand the concept of love the way that humans do, but that’s a barrier for, like… the majority of the cast haha). Anything spoken in the other world’s language will be bolded. Genre: Drabble, Fluff (Hurt/Comfort), Slight Angst, Romantic or Platonic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~2,685 Request: “Hi!! I saw you have requests open for Homicipher! Could I ask for a drabble with Mr. Gap? I feel like he's underrated but he's my favorite. Maybe a first kiss with him?” Author’s Note: Yipee, my first Homicipher request! Thank you for sending one in! I find Mr. Gap’s character quite entertaining – I loved the running gag of him asking the MC for different parts of their body and being like “for real?” whenever you said no. I found his desire to brag to be quite endearing, too, strangely enough. A lot of the moments that had me chuckling involved Mr. Gap, so I’m somewhat fond of his character as a result. I haven’t written any horror-meets-romance stories since my Creepypasta days, so I apologize if this is a little rough or OOC. I’m still trying to finish the game and digest all the lore haha.

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated! ♡

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Living within the other world had become your new normal at this point, even if you spent most of your days curled under the covers of whatever bed you could find. You slept whenever you had the chance. It wasn’t necessarily because you were tired, but rather a desire to keep your mind from wandering too much. You still found the occasional earthquakes and frequently shifting dimly-lit hallways confusing to traverse at best or frustrating to deal with at worst, but you hoped you would slowly grow to get used to them with more time.

You run your hands down your face as you lay on the strangely pristine white bed, staring down at the blue bag that rested by your feet on the floor. For whatever reason, there was a strange feeling of loneliness that was deep-seated in your chest. It was a weight pulling you down, and it was one that had lingered for quite some time now.

When you returned to the other world, you realized that you would most likely never be able to see Mr. Silvair or Mr. Crawling again. Despite telling yourself it was fine, that life was all about encounters and departures, that horrendous emptiness in your heart hadn’t diminished yet.

You remember when Mr. Gap brought you back to the other world in exchange for a heart – your mind is conflicted when you think about the organ you had given him, a heart that wasn’t yours. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to think about it for longer than you need to.

You try to remember his hand reaching out from the dark void of the bag after arriving in the strange world once more. You remember the way his cold palm felt against your scalp, lightly patting your hair in a way you thought was meant to be comforting… only for him to state he wanted your head with that jokester-esque grin of his.

You chuckle quietly to yourself at the memory of the expression that crossed his face whenever you told him that, no, he’s not allowed to take your fingers or whatever else seems to pique his interest at the moment. Then, your mind remembers the look on his face when you asked if he was worried about you. Mr. Gap didn’t seem as though he was capable of experiencing emotions the way that most humans were, but, well… it was someone to talk to, at least, even if you run the risk of him asking for an organ or body part or hair. What did he even do with that stuff, anyway?

Letting out a deep sigh, your eyes fall to the bag on the floor. He really only appeared whenever he wanted, but maybe you could see if he was in the mood to at least startle you as he so often enjoyed doing. With a deep breath, you reach down and grab the bag by its black straps, feeling the somewhat rough fabric against your palms. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, per se, but it was a reminder that at least you could still feel.

You open the carrier, and the only thing that greets you is that inky blackness. You briefly wonder if it was an infinite darkness held within the unassuming gym bag, and what would happen if you just threw random things inside for the fun of it. However, as you stare into the void, a familiar face pops into view, effectively startling you out of your trance.

Mr. Gap smiles even wider at your reaction, seemingly proud of himself for still managing to startle you. You’d think that you would be more immune to jumpscares after spending so much time in the other world, but apparently not.

“Scared you.” Mr. Gap speaks proudly, the language you had slowly been absorbing over your journey becoming easier and easier to decipher and remember. That was good at least, you thought. It would be far too difficult to live in a place where you couldn’t even understand what everyone was saying.

You roll your eyes at him, speaking under your breath but loud enough so he could hear your muttering, “You’re rude, you know that?”

He stares up at you with an unimpressed expression, waiting for you to speak again. Eventually, you tell him with a frown, speaking to him in a language he understood, “You mean.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes at you, yet he seemingly did not take any offense to your comment. Then, his gaze returns to your face, and you two simply stare at each other in a prolonged silence. Well, now what? How exactly do you explain to a creature that you were lonely when they probably couldn’t even empathize with what you were experiencing? Did you even know the word for lonely in their language, if there was one?

“I, umm…” You pause, taking a moment to try and figure out the words to say, averting your gaze to a crack in the concrete flooring of the room you had made into your makeshift home. Mr. Gap is surprisingly patient, staring up at you while your hands begin to fidget with the textured straps of the bag. You look back down at him and say, your voice is surprisingly soft, “I upset. Want talk.”

Then, almost as if on cue, he smiles and reaches a hand out of the bag, making a grabbing motion as he asks, “Give heart?”

Honestly, you weren’t sure what else you were expecting, and now you felt like an idiot for expecting literally anything else to come out of his mouth. You frown deeply and quickly zip up the bag, disregarding the shocked expression on his face at the action, before tossing it on the floor without a second thought. You let out a groan, clawing your hands down your face while trying to ignore the stinging sensation your nails left in their wake across your skin.

At least the pain raking across your flesh was a distraction from the ache in your chest.

You decide, once more, to take a nap. Whenever your mind was racing or the thoughts became too much to bear, you slept. Honestly, there wasn’t much else you could do here. After all, you weren’t in the mood to go around swinging at anything and everything with your crowbar, especially since you had vowed to only use it in self-defense. This world was your home now, and you didn’t want to make enemies who would, in return, only make your existence more miserable.

You close your eyes and attempt to drift off into the world of dreams, a place that wasn’t this world nor the one you came from, yet your attention is grabbed by the feeling of something shifting under the covers. Your eyes fly open faster than light as your fist grabs the thick comforter, lifting it quickly while your other hand went to grab the crowbar you kept by your bedside.

However, Mr. Gap’s face comes into view, and your hand pauses as soon as your fingers graze across the rusted metal of your weapon. You frown deeply and tell him with a sternness in your tone, “I told you to stop doing that – I’m going to accidentally kill you one of these days.”

“Why upset?” He asks you suddenly, and it’s a question that has your mind stopped in its tracks. You hadn’t been expecting him to come back so soon, let alone ask you a question like that. For a moment, you wonder if he was worried about you, only for the memory of the last time you asked him that question to pop into your head.

You lay there, staring at the darkness under the covers, debating on whether or not you should tell him your true feelings. After some moment of contemplation, you decide to try and speak with him about what you have been experiencing. After all, the worst thing that would probably happen is him asking for your heart again or something.

“I…” You start, pausing for a moment to swallow, your tongue strangely heavy in your mouth, “No home. I lonely.”

Mr. Gap’s brows furrow and he states plainly, “This home.”

Just as you thought, he didn’t understand. If anything, your statement only seemed to confuse him further. His expression was also different, one you hadn’t quite seen on him before. You had seen him shocked, smug, and displeased, but the look on his face appeared almost… frustrated?

You begin to try and snake your way out from under the covers, feeling like going on a walk now instead of trying to take a nap. However, the room suddenly goes dark as Mr. Gap pulls you back under the sheets, covering your entire body in the surprisingly soft duvet. For a moment, you feel panic swell in your veins and you wonder if something you had said upset him to the point of wanting to kill you. However, no pain ever came. You just heard his voice state once more, “This home.”

“No, I know it’s my home now, I just…” You speak, your mind going through word after word, attempting to translate what you want to tell him in his language. It was a little unnerving, being unable to see anything in the darkness that now enveloped your body. You pushed that anxiety aside, though, telling Mr. Gap, “I… miss touch. Miss connection. This world different – lonely.”

There’s once again no reply, and soon the feeling of another under the sheets disappears. You let out a long sigh as you remove yourself from under the covers, Mr. Gap no longer under the blanket with you. You take a moment to compose yourself before standing up from the bed and grabbing your reliable crowbar – it was walking time.

You walked and walked in circles until your legs felt ready to collapse, returning to your makeshift base after what seemed like hours. You fell face-first onto the bed, your crowbar slipping from your hand to the concrete floor with a loud clatter; you probably would have cringed at the noise if not for the exhaustion in your bones. There’s a long stretch of silence, and you feel sleep start to creep into your mind, when a simple “Hello” snaps you out of your stupor.

You turn your head from where it was nuzzled into a pillow to look down at the bag you had tossed to the floor earlier, seeing Mr. Gap peeking up at you from inside. You wonder if you should say anything back before eventually relenting, echoing to him the same greeting.

There’s a shuffling noise, the sound of paper being crinkled before you watch as he pulls out what appears to be a magazine, holding it out for you to take. You sit up in the bed and look down at him with a blank expression, saying with your lips pulled into a flat line, “No head. No finger. No heart–”

“Not want anything.” He replies, effectively cutting you off as he holds out the magazine closer to you. It seems as though he can read the expression of pure disbelief on your face before he clarifies, “Take paper. You have.”

Despite some reservations, you eventually do reach out and take the small book from his grasp, whispering your thanks. It’s a relatively new magazine, surprisingly, and only the edges of the glossy paper seemed crinkled. You flip through the pages, wondering what information you were supposed to be deriving from the book. After all, it didn’t seem like anything special–...

Then, a picture of two people hugging appeared. Two humans, holding each other in a tight embrace with bright and happy smiles on their faces. One was kissing the other’s cheek, and the mere sight alone caused your breath to hitch. Oh, it seemed like ages since the last time you felt the level of comfort with another like the people in the picture, and there was a part of yourself that regretted coming back. It wasn’t like you belonged in your world anymore, either… you really were a monster with nowhere to call home, weren’t you?

“Why upset?” Mr. Gap asks, his voice surprisingly gentle. You look down at him and wonder how he knew you were hurting. Then, you heard the sound of something hitting the pages of the magazine in your hand. Your gaze returns to the book below you, noticing the water droplets that had fallen down your cheeks and onto the magazine, causing the ink on the paper to bleed slightly. You quickly wipe your face yet, before you can do anything else, two arms wrap around your waist and your body is once again shrouded in the darkness under the covers as Mr. Gap pulls you under.

His body is cold to the touch, you note, yet it’s not an unpleasant sensation. Before you have the chance to speak, you hear Mr. Gap tapping the page of the magazine in your hand, asking you quietly, “You want that? Touch?”

“Do I… want a hug?” You ask him, wishing you had the ability to see in the dark. You hum and lay your head back, enjoying the softness of the pillow underneath your skull, “I want good touch.”

You close your eyes and wait, expecting Mr. Gap to ask for something in return or simply disappear… but he doesn’t, and you find your eyes flying open when you feel his arms wrap around your torso. His touch was experimental, uncertain as his palms rested against your lower back. His head is resting on your stomach and although you cannot see him, you know he is staring at your face through the darkness.

You suddenly find yourself becoming choked up, the tears forming in your eyes as your arms instinctively wrap around him as well, holding him close to your body like one would hold a stuffed toy. Mr. Gap makes a strangled noise, yet you don’t let up on your hold. You sit up on the bed, dragging him along with you, before nuzzling your face into what you assumed was his neck.

He’s completely frozen, his hold on you never once faltering yet never once tightening, either. A part of you wonders if you broke him or something, especially considering he had never really been the physically affectionate type. You both sit like this under the covers for a long time, and you eventually feel his body and muscles relax under your touch.

While the ache in your chest wasn’t gone, it had definitely diminished as you both held onto each other with a tinge of desperation in both of your actions. You let out a sigh, and you feel Mr. Gap shiver as your warm breath fans against his cold skin. The dried tear stains on your cheeks made your skin feel tight, but you smiled nevertheless as you whispered to him, “Thank you. I grateful – happy.”

Your hand reaches up, cupping his cheek in your palm as you slowly guide his face to yours. Oh, how you wish you could have seen his expression as you placed a kiss on his cheek, your slightly chapped lips pressing against his marred flesh. You feel him jolt, and you wonder if he’ll disappear right then and there. He doesn’t though, and instead, you feel his hands remove themselves from your hips to hold your face in his grasp.

Instinctively, you close your eyes, and you feel the slight tremble in his fingers as he leans closer. You smile softly, finding his nervous demeanor to be quite cute considering how smug he tended to be. Then, you felt it, his lips against your cheek.

Mr. Gap’s lips were in even worse shape than yours, but you found yourself not caring in the slightest as he placed shockingly gentle kisses against the apple of your cheek. You giggle at the sweet action, the noise of your laughter egging him on as his kisses become more confident and more frequent. You do the same, placing feather-light kisses against his skin, whispering to him as you pepper his face in smooches, “Happy, happy, happy...”

#🌸 . plum writes #💌 . anon #homicipher #文字化化 #homicipher x reader #mr gap #mr gap x reader #homicipher x you #mr gap x you #homicipher imagines #homicipher drabbles #imagines #drabble #one shot #angst #fluff #x reader #reader insert

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diamonddaze01 · 2 days ago

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Lilac Wine

pairing: ljh x afab!reader genre: angst, smut (MINORS DNI!!!!!) | wc: 2.7k warnings: infidelity, unprotective sex (wrap it before u tap it kids), crying a/n: loosely based on melt by josef salvat // i’m dedicating this to link @choism (who also made the banner, love u) // huge thanks to maren @wooahaeproductions for beta-ing (your comments always give me life)!

In the dark, Jihoon learns how to break you apart and build you back together, piece by piece.

It begins slowly; a movie night where you drift off to sleep on his shoulder, after having cried yourself hoarse. Jihoon learns that night that he absolutely hates your boyfriend. He also learns that he could love you so much better, if you'd only give him the chance.

Jihoon sits frozen in the dimly lit room, his eyes locked on your sleeping form. He takes in the small details, the curve of your lips and the flutter of your eyelashes as you breathe. He can see the rise and fall of your chest with each breath, the way your hair falls delicately over your face, and the scattered constellations of moles that decorate your skin. He takes in every detail, committing it to memory with an unwavering gaze.

And then, like you can feel his gaze on you, you startle awake. And you don't push him away. No, you lay your head on his shoulder, and it takes every working nerve in Jihoon's sleep-addled mind not to kiss you right there. But you look so pretty like this, staring up at him from under your eyelashes, and he thinks he might die. But he'll be damned if he dies here without having kissed you, without having showed you how much better it could be - so he does. And you absolutely melt into him with a soft sigh, like you've been waiting for this too.

And so, late at night, Jihoon learns exactly where to put his lips so you make the prettiest noises. When his lips finds the junction where your neck meets your shoulder, you gasp, arching into him, and it makes him almost combust on the spot. And the he remembers.

The boyfriend, the traitorous voice in his mind reminds him, and he breaks apart from you with a startled gasp. Your chest is heaving, your lips are kiss-bitten and plump, and Jihoon has never felt this guilty in his entire life.

“We can’t,” he breathes, and it breaks his heart. In his heart, he knows, more deeply and more powerfully than anything he’s ever known before, how much better he would be for you. But he can’t, not right now, and the thought cleaves his chest in two.

“I know,” you whisper back, as if you’re afraid to break this very fragile bubble that exists around just the two of you. Your eyes fill with tears, and Jihoon yearns. It’s like second nature, the way his hand cups your jaw, the way his thumb brushes a stray tear off your cheek. Before he can stop himself, before that traitorous voice can say anything else, he leans in again. His lips find yours, and he can taste the salt of your tears, the bitter taste of your guilt.

He should stop. He should. But then you kiss him back, again, and every rational thought flies out the window. His hands find the hem of your shirt, and you shiver so delightfully against him when his cold fingers find your warm skin.

“Jihoon-”

Jihoon's breath is hot against the nape of your neck, his words a desperate plea mixed with intense desire. "Tell me to stop," he whispers, his voice reverberating with urgency. "I'll do anything you say."

But you don't. Instead, your fingers thread through his hair, pulling him closer. Your body arches into his touch, craving more, and he groans, kissing down your neck with a fervor that makes his head spin. Your skin feels like fire, but he’s so willing to let himself burn, even if it’s only for tonight.

"We shouldn't," you whisper, even as your hands roam beneath his shirt, tracing the contours of his back.

Jihoon pulls back slightly, his dark eyes searching yours. "Do you want me to stop?" he asks again, his voice husky and strained.

You shake your head, unable to form the words. He sees the hesitance dancing in your eyes. It's wrong, you know it's wrong, but it feels so right. Your fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt, trembling with a mix of anticipation and guilt. Jihoon's breath catches in his throat as your hands slide across his bare chest. He pulls back slightly, searching your eyes for any sign of hesitation or regret. But all he finds is a reflection of his own desire, burning just as brightly.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” you breathe, and Jihoon knows that he’ll worship you for as long as he can have you. He’ll lose himself in you, over and over.

And so, in the dark, as the movie credits play, Jihoon learns the curve of your neck, the softness of your skin. He memorizes the cadence of your voice, the rhythm of your heartbeat, the taste of your lips. You are his religion, and he worships at your altar with reverent hands and whispered prayers.

With each touch, each kiss, Jihoon feels himself falling deeper. He knows this moment is fleeting, stolen in the shadows of night, but he can't bring himself to stop. His fingers trace patterns on your skin, mapping out constellations he'll never forget. Every sigh, every shiver, every soft moan is etched into his memory. They linger in the deepest corners of his mind, like delicate brushstrokes on a canvas, a masterpiece of sensation that he will never tire of admiring.

As clothes fall away, discarded on the floor, Jihoon takes his time. He wants to savor every second, every sensation. His lips ghost over your collarbone, down your chest, across your stomach. He feels your fingers tighten in his hair, hears your breath hitch. His hands find the elastic of your panties, and suddenly, it’s like he can’t breathe.

"Jihoon," you whisper, his name a prayer on your lips.

He looks up at you, drinking in the sight. Your hair is mussed, cheeks flushed, eyes dark with desire. You've never looked more beautiful. He finds your clit, and the sound you make sounds better than anything he could create in his studio. It’s heaven and hell, all at once, the way your hips grind against his palm, the scent of your arousal permeating his senses.

“Fuck,” he hisses, sliding your soaked panties down your thighs, “you’re so fucking wet.”

Your breath catches at his words, a shiver running through your body. Jihoon's fingers move with deliberate slowness, teasing and exploring. He watches your face intently, memorizing every flutter of your eyelashes, every parting of your lips. If this is the only time he’ll ever have this, then by God, he wants to remember everything, so he can play it back, night after night.

"Please," you whimper, your hips bucking against his hand.

Jihoon's breath catches in his throat. He's dreamed of this moment for so long, imagined the sound of your voice begging for him. But reality is so much sweeter, so much more intoxicating. Jihoon feels drunk on the power of your pleasure, on the way you respond to his every caress. He slides one finger inside you, then another, marveling at the tight, wet heat. Your walls clench around him, and he has to bite back a groan.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh. "So perfect."

His thumb circles your clit as his fingers curl inside you, searching for that spot that makes you see stars. When he finds it, you cry out, your back arching off the couch.

“More,” you plead, your voice a husky whisper that cuts straight through him, igniting every nerve ending. The need in your voice is intoxicating, and he obeys without a second thought. Your fingers tangle in his hair, urging him on as if you can’t get close enough, can’t pull him into you fast enough. “God, you’re exquisite,” he breathes, the words escaping him as he drinks in the sight of you. And then he’s there, his mouth on you, and it’s as if his world has exploded into color. You taste like a sinner’s salvation, sweet and salty and like guilt. Like lilac wine—bittersweet and intoxicating—you linger on his tongue, the taste of something forbidden yet holy, and he drinks you in, helplessly devout.

Jihoon’s tongue works in tandem with his fingers—each movement deliberate as he relishes the way your body writhes above him, how you tug at his hair as if you can't stand to have him any closer. Your thighs tremble around his head, and he can’t help but revel in the way your body responds to him. Your breath comes in short, desperate gasps, and he knows you’re getting close with each flick and curl of his fingers.

He feels your walls fluttering around him, tightening in a way that makes his heart race. It’s a thrilling sensation, knowing he’s bringing you to the edge. With every gentle press of his fingers, he can see the pleasure building inside you, your body arching in anticipation.

“Please, Jihoon,” you whimper, and that plea ignites something deep within him. He’s captivated by how beautifully you’re coming apart in his hands, and it drives him mad.

“Let go for me,” he murmurs against you, adding a little more pressure with his thumb as his fingers pick up the pace. The room is filled with the sound of your soft moans, and he watches your expressions shift with every movement, completely entranced.

Just when he thinks he can’t take it anymore, he feels you tighten around him, trembling as your body responds to the building waves of pleasure. For a second, Jihoon swears he reaches nirvana; the sounds you make race through him like lightning bolts.

“Let go,” he urges softly, and in that moment, your body shudders, and a cry of bliss escapes your lips. Jihoon feels a rush of satisfaction wash over him as you come undone beneath him, skin glowing with exertion. Jihoon works you through it, gentling his movements as you come down from your high. He presses soft kisses to your inner thighs, your stomach, slowly making his way back up your body.

He looks up at you, eyes glinting with desire, feeling an overwhelming urge to mark this moment forever—the way you look, the way you sound. He nods, as if promising to deliver everything you crave, and rises to lean over you again, capturing your lips with his. The kiss is searing, a desperate scramble of breaths and desires as your tongues entwine. You taste like the rapture, but the taste of your tears sends shockwaves of terror through him. Jihoon knows he is a sinner – but if the road to hell tastes as sweet as you, he’ll make the journey a thousand times over.

Breaking the kiss, Jihoon reaches for his jeans, hastily shedding that last barrier between you. His heart races as he positions himself at your entrance, locking eyes with you in a moment that feels monumental. “Are you sure?” he asks again, the weight of the question lingering between you like a promise, an invitation.

There are tears in your eyes when you take one of his hands in yours, guiding it to rest against your cheek. “Yes,” you whisper, your heart racing in tandem with his. The certainty in your voice ignites a fire within him, erasing every doubt that dared to linger. “I want this. I want you.”

With those words, Jihoon feels something inside him break and reform. He enters you slowly, savoring every inch, every sensation. The feeling is overwhelming, almost spiritual in its intensity. Your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, meant to be joined. He stills for a moment, forehead pressed against yours, breathing heavily.

"You feel incredible," he breathes, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. The moan that escapes your lips is the sweetest sound Jihoon has ever heard. He begins to move, setting a slow, deep rhythm. Each thrust feels like coming home, like finding a piece of himself he never knew was missing.

Your hands roam his back, nails digging in slightly as the pleasure builds. Jihoon kisses you deeply, swallowing your moans. He wants to memorize every sound, every expression, every sensation.

Jihoon's hips snap forward, and you cry out, arching beneath him. He feels drunk on the sounds you make, on the way your body responds to his. The room is filled with the sound of skin against skin, of ragged breaths and soft moans. Jihoon can't tear his eyes away from your face, watching as pleasure washes over you in waves. Your skin is flushed, a light sheen of sweat making you glow in the dim light. He can't take his eyes off you, mesmerized by the way your lips part with each thrust, the way your eyes flutter closed in ecstasy.

"Look at me," he whispers, his voice rough with desire. "I want to see you."

Your eyes open, meeting his gaze. The intensity of the moment is almost too much to bear. Jihoon feels exposed, vulnerable, but he can't look away. He sees everything in your eyes - the pleasure, the guilt, the overwhelming desire. It's a mirror of his own emotions, and it threatens to consume him. Your hands cup his face, pulling him down for a kiss that's both tender and desperate. Jihoon's hips stutter, his rhythm faltering as he loses himself in the taste of your lips. He feels your walls tightening around him, knows you're close.

"Jihoon," you gasp, breaking the kiss. "I'm close..."

He nods, understanding. His hand snakes between your bodies, finding your clit. He circles it with his thumb, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Come for me," he urges, his voice low and husky. "Let me see you fall apart."

Your body responds to his words, to his touch. You're trembling beneath him, teetering on the edge of bliss. Jihoon watches in awe as pleasure washes over you. Your back arches, pressing your chest against his. Your walls clench around him, pulsing with your release. The sight of you coming undone, combined with the feeling of you tightening around him, pushes Jihoon over the edge.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his groan as his hips stutter, driving deep as he spills inside you. For a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you, bodies intertwined, breaths mingling.

As the waves of pleasure subside, reality begins to creep back in. Jihoon lifts his head, meeting your gaze. There's a mix of emotions in your eyes - satisfaction, affection, and a hint of guilt. He knows his own expression must mirror yours.

Slowly, carefully, he pulls out and lies beside you on the narrow couch. You turn to face him, and he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face. The gesture is tender, intimate in a way that makes his heart ache. Just tonight, he reminds himself. Only for tonight.

"Are you okay?" he asks softly, searching your face for any sign of regret.

Your tears start anew, and Jihoon swears he can hear his own heart crumbling. “Fuck,” you whimper, pulling at the ends of your hair. “Fuck! Jihoon, what did we just do?”

His body aches for you, his soul hungers for yours, but all he can offer is his embrace as he held you close against his chest. He can feel your tears, hot and guilt-ridden, and he feels like he’s just made the biggest mistake in the world.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his own tears falling onto your hair.

Sleep comes slowly, hours later, as the night ends and the next morning begins. It takes him hours to calm your breathing, to soothe your tears, to coax you into a fitful sleep.

He’s sure he’ll never sleep again.

But when he wakes, you’re gone - every trace of you that he had tried so desperately to memorize has been wiped clean from his apartment. It was as if you had never been there at all.

This is what hell feels like, Jihoon thinks to himself.

In the dark, Jihoon learned how to break you apart and build you back together — but in the harsh light of day, it’s him that’s left broken.

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rainrot4me · 5 hours ago

Text

Jeff the Killer General Headcannons

Summary: Basic, SFW, and NSFW head-cannons. My personal thoughts, feelings, and opinions about Jeff as a character.

TW: NSFW below the cut, minors dni! Above the cut is sfw!

Words: 2.6k

Basic:

- Big isolation guy. He enjoys pestering people or hanging out, but when it comes to personal things like missions or killing sprees, he prefers to be alone. His head’s already loud enough that he doesn’t need to add to it when he’s trying to focus.

- Blunt. Like to the point it’s a drag to even talk to him sometimes. He doesn’t really give a shit about anyone or anything besides himself, so why would he need to hide what he actually wants to say?

- Dangerously short temper. It barely takes one nasty remark or even a hint that you have ill intent towards him before the killer is on your ass. Would rather beat the shit out of you than take the time to reconcile.

- A STARER. Has absolutely no remorse when just boring his eyes into someone, eyes wide and horrifying. He loves to watch every expression as he’s ending someone’s life, every bit of anger or fear, but especially the blank stare in their eyes afterward. You catch his glance all the time, and instead of looking away politely like a normal person would, he just smiles as he glares even harder.

- Loves story based video games that Ben shows him. Life is Strange, Night in the Woods, and What Remains of Edith Finch. Has to play them all in their entirety before he can do anything else, so he’ll be glued to the couch for days.

- Has a difficult time with names, so he comes up with nicknames or terms to make it easier. “Twitch” - Toby, “Sockets” - Jack, or “Glitch” - Ben. Don’t worry, he’ll give you one, too.

- A laugher. When he’s in pain, when he’s sad, when he’s happy, that man is laughing. Choked out dry heaving chuckles or tipsy short airheaded giggles, it doesn’t matter, he will be laughing.

- Terrible sleep paralysis and nightmares keep him up during the night, the most sleep this man will ever get is a little over 3 hours. It really doesn’t help his mood, either.

- The scars on his cheeks used to bleed and get infected so bad he could barely shut his mouth due to the swelling. He would numb it down with pain killers and anything he could find, but it wasn’t until Slender tried to make him into a proxy that they eventually sealed and scarred over, creating wide gashes (weird cryptid powers).

- Thinks about his brother every waking moment. He feels so much pent up regret and sadness concerning Liu, but refuses to search for him or even shed a tear. This sends him into mental breakdown episodes, and sadly, the only relief is just to create more carnage.

- Actually really hates violence unless he’s the one delivering it. Doesn’t like violent movies or music because they romanticize everything he hates about himself. Any media he enjoys is either really bland or really toned down, stuff that won’t trigger him.

- Cuts his own hair, and yes, he’s horrible at it.

- Messed up his appearance to make himself ‘beautiful’, but just ended up so disgusted and ashamed of himself in the long run. When his mental fog gets bad, he’ll just stand in front of the mirror and stare at himself, letting every negative thought wash over. Outside, he’ll brandish it like a weapon, something to get victims to submit. But on the inside, it’s just a nasty reminder.

- Showers only when it gets to the uncomfortable point. He doesn’t have the time or energy or wash himself every day, but when it gets to the point he feels the blood and grime subconsciously, he’ll get over it. Even if he does wash himself, half the time actually in the shower is just letting the water run over him and staring at the tile wall.

- Gets all of his money and random trinkets from victims. Proceeds to spend all that money almost immediately after on a pack of Blue Moons. No orange slice, either.

- Messy, disgusting room. Has no healthy habits of keeping him or his space tidy, so it’s always near disastrous.

- Even though the media and lots of outlets perceive him as this insane maniac killer, those were all big stories from his teenage years. Even though he doesn’t feel like he’s matured, he’s definitely found a happy medium away from spree after spree of slaughter. He still itches to take down a whole neighborhood, but he’s found his ways to cope.

- Very good at hand-to-hand combat. He wields a knife if things get a little rough, but prefers to use his hands to do the dirty work. Makes it feel more personal to him.

- Late-night kitchen demon. You’ll find him rummaging the fridge or making a bowl of cereal in the complete darkness, but he’ll swear up and down it wasn’t him.

- Annoying, painfully so. Hell wrack EJ’s ear off or pester Toby about little things, but he can’t help but get giddy when he sees he’s ticked them off just enough.

- Really agile. Had a thinner build, but muscle definition and tension really adds to the aesthetic. Really defined v-line and hips bones, as well as carved out shoulders and collarbones. Looks like a beefier skeleton, but hot.

- Lip piercings. Snake bites. They’re not healed and they’re not pretty, but he thinks they look badass.

- Scars and jagged pieces of flesh everywhere on his body. They’re either from mission aftermaths, rough targets, or his own doing, but they’re all gnarly and barely healed half of the time. They hurt terribly, but he’s constantly cracked out on painkillers that he doesn’t even care anymore.

- Enjoys the shoegaze music genre. Aldn, Wisp, Elita, Deftones, and surprisingly, The Cardigans and The Cranberries. They remind him of his childhood.

Dating Him/SFW:

- “Baby” “Babe” “Cunt”

- Big words of affirmation guy. He’ll act disgusted and shove you off, rolling his eyes about your sweet words- but in reality, he’s gushing so hard he can’t stand it. Reassurance makes him feel more loved than anything.

- The fastest ‘enemies or lovers’ troupe you’ll ever experience. It’ll only take one face-to-face argument before you both get too close and he’s pulling you in for a rough make out. He’s bad with emotions, what makes you think he wouldn't be bad at reading love/hate signals too.

- HATES to show any sign of weakness or adoration. If you’re laying with him or holding his hand, as soon as someone enters the room he’s shoving you off. It’s not that he doesn’t love you, it’s a deep-rooted fear that someone will use you against him.

- If he’s spent the night in your bed, he will always be gone by the time you’ve woken up. Out of fear of vulnerability, he will only fall asleep after you and wake up before you, otherwise he just won’t stay with you at all.

- He’s like dealing with a little kid. Yes, he’s been through heaps of mental anguish and trauma, but he’s gone through all of that without a hand to hold. In some sad way, he sees something motherly and comforting in you which drives him to latch on and become dependent. It's weird, but so is he.

- Jealousy problems. Big time.

- “He touched you. So I cut his arm off. What is so hard to understand here?”

- Needs to be bossed around. He can and will rot in his bed all day unless you tell him to get up and do something.

- Absolutely melts when you kiss him unprovoked. When he doesn’t force you or tease you into one, but when you decide to kiss his face or hands on your own terms. It’s his favorite thing.

- In his manic brain, he wants something calm, someone who can settle him out. You offer him stability and a chance to unwind and that’s really all he needs.

- As a nervous response, he’ll intentionally push you away if he knows you like him. He holds a lot of regret, so he doesn’t want to drag you along with the rest of his baggage. Will say and do things he knows will hurt your feelings so you leave on your own.

- “And what made you think I’d want you? Because we kissed? Hah! How cute.” Meanwhile, he’s in his room pining himself to shreds.

- Watches you sleep constantly. Doesn’t matter where you are or how far, he will trek through your window or into your bed to watch you snore quietly against your pillow. He likes the vulnerability of it and acting as your ‘protector’, like you have no choice but to rely on him in this state.

- You are the last person Jeff wants to break down in front of, but when it eventually happens, and you’re there with open arms- the killer can barely breathe from how full his heart feels. The feeling of just being able to sob and bury into your shoulder while you rub his back is incomparable.

- Possessive AND protective to a fault. Wants everyone to know you’re his, but at the same time, really enjoys when you flaunt yourself so he can stare down the wandering eyes and really show them who they’d be messing with. Either way, eats it up when you feel good about yourself and safe in him.

- Nasty, terribly toxic relationship. You both bounce off of each other and are constantly arguing, but you both get over it because you’ve grown codependent. There’s nothing ‘casual’ about the two of you, you’re either fuck buddies or desperately clawing at each other for survival. Jeff is an obsessive guy, he either wants everything to do with you or he’ll hide away and tear himself apart over you.

- Jewelry is such a yes for him. If you’re wearing thick earrings or chunky necklaces that brighten your face, he eats it up. He’s such a sucker for silver.

- Does not ask for kisses, he takes them.

- “C’mon baby, I can’t help it. You’re just so fun to mess with.”

- Since he doesn’t sleep much, likes to lay on his back while your head rests on his chest/shoulder. He’ll tangle his fingers through your hair or brush your cheek with his thumb while he stares at you or the ceiling. Even when he has doubts about you loving him, your body always subconsciously shifts towards him while you’re snoozing, and it makes him feel just a little better.

- Fake punches/hits you when he’s bored. Will hold his hands up and box at your face but never making contact, just enough to have you side-eye him. He thinks it’s funny.

- Shoulder kisses.

Dating Him/NSFW:

- Can and will touch you inappropriately no matter the circumstances. His rough hands groping your ass or shoving between your thighs to give flirty little touches in front of everyone, his shit-eating grin when you get embarrassed.

- “Stop glaring, sweet cheeks. I know you want me.”

- Will fight to his dying day that he’s a top, but as soon as you even give him a glint of dominance or snap at him, he’s folding so fast. Dominant person, submissive lover.

- Killing machine on the field, pathetic ass bottom in bed. It takes forever to get to that point, but once he’s mentally checked out and half-drooling on the mattress, he’s so pliable and lightheaded he’ll take it with ease. You have to really work for it, but Jeff trusts you/wants it bad enough subconsciously that he’ll force himself to go into a subspace.

- All-time favorite position is laying you out on your back, one leg up on his shoulder while the other is being held down at your side. It really opens you up and gives the nastiest, most lewd noises that have him pussydrunk. Bonus points for reaching a hand in to choke you.

- “And to think you were beggin’ me to stop while your pussy is soaked. I mean, look at you, babe. You’re suckin’ me in somethin’ awful.”

- CHOKING. Either you or him, he gets off on it so bad. Choking you is so satisfying, he loves the resistance and struggle as you gasp for air, face flushed and eyes rolling with his fist around your throat. Meanwhile, if you’re choking him, his body nearly convulses from the pleasure. He loves the lightheadedness and pressure of it, hoarse chuckles as both of your hands grip around his neck and just squeeze. He thinks he could cum just from being strangled.

- “What’s wrong, baby? Lil’ too much? Ah- You’ll get over it, just open up f’me.”

- Hair pulling, strangling, biting, smacking—really anything that’ll cause pain.

- Standing side-by-side in the mirror, his body is littered with nasty cuts and scars while yours is littered with pretty bite marks and hickeys. He loves it.

- Eating you out is so tiring, but it’s all worth it to look up and see your heavy, glassed-over eyes beaming down at him, lips parted as you’re gasping.

- Hard, quick thrusts that have you gasping and yelping. His hips snap against yours rhythmically until you throw your head back, then he leans in close and shifts his knees closer to really speed up. He never has a set pace, but prefers always adjusting to whatever has you making the most noise.

- “C’mon… Louder- Hah- I’m not stoppin’ till you’re cryin’ for it.”

- A bitch fight every time you two get together. Bickering with the other about ‘who can last longer’ or ‘going until you beg for it’ and it irritates the shit out of both of you. Gets you both riled up that you’re more fighting than fucking, but by the end, you’re both dead exhausted and reduced to panting messed laid out on top of each other.

- Refuses to pull out. He can’t get you pregnant, Slender made sure of that (God help if this heathen was allowed to procreate), so it’s either in your cunt, ass, or mouth, nowhere else. Even if he’s jerking himself off, he’ll wait to cum until he can get to you and finish himself out.

- Stands over you and stares hard enough until you’re reduced to your knees, words never even leaving his lips before you’re unbuckling his belt and shifting his jeans down. He’s fought you enough, sometimes you like to just be good for him.

- Pulling him in by his belt >>>>>>>>>

- Eating you out or sucking you off so much that drool leaks from his scars, eyes so hazed and soft as he hums and moans against you.

- “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

- Fucked you with the handle of his knife because you read something about it in a book and wanted to see if it actually felt good. He was weirded out at first, but when he watched you jerking your hips and mumbling for him to fuck you, he’s never fucked his cock in faster while rubbing the blunt of the handle against your drooling clit. Same thing with running the blade against your skin. It just elicits some reaction out of you that he can’t understand, but it turns him on terribly.

- Has a big thing for cop x prisoner roleplay actually.

- “What? Officer, how am I supposed to finger you with these handcuffs, hm? I guess you’ll just have to let me go, yeah? Or do you not want it as bad as your pussy leads me to believe?”

- Really loves fingering you while he’s buried in your ass. Curling his fingers up to make you arch your back just a little more, having your head spinning from the overstimulation… yeah.

- A 2-3 round champion. He’ll never be able to just cum once and be satisfied, regardless if you’re ready to stop or not, he’s forcing his cock back into wherever it was or in a completely different hole and riding himself out to his next orgasm. If he’s not shaking and on the verge of passing out after sex, it wasn’t good enough for him.

- “Jeff, stop! We could get caught!” “Or you could just shut up and take your panties off. You’re soaked, there’s no point in fighting me when I’m already this hard… C’mon, baby, give me your hand or something…”

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

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