#and it’s pretty obvious someone was hurt bad

[theartofwoompwoomp]

Scary dog privileges headcanons

Various tranformers x reader

Surprised i haven’t seen this done yet also some are very small

———————————————————————

What are scary dog privileges, you say? Why my friend, this is an included trait with your giant guardian. 

You are aware of some, others not so much.

Optimus tends to also not be aware the effect he has. Heck you might think some decepticons would seem tempted to use you as a weak link. 

But in reality, the fact that you’re Optimus’s makes many of them back out. 

Honestly they know optimus would definitely end them if any harm were to come to you. That is why, if you’re ever taken, Megatron ain’t nice to you, but he also isn’t treating you bad either. Mainly since he doesn’t want to awaken some hidden strength the prime might have.

Also walks at night is so much calmer. You’re not sure why :D

Maybe it’s the fact big blue is not in his aft mode and right next to you, cause screw the rules! He’s having quality time one way or another and besides braking the rules once can’t hurt.

Ratchet’s scary dog privileges is the fact no one knows you’re his conjunx endura. We know others are afraid of the mech, so if any, either autobot or decepticon, is messing with you, you better start praying for them cause your bot is ruthless. And he knows this too.

Not until they see how the bot treats you do they truly know they messed up.

Megatron’s is pretty obvious. Like it’s Megatron, everyone is afraid of him. And if they’re not afraid they’re cautious around them. Even more so with you. You could command the whole decepticons to do your will (aka get you stuff) and no one would object.

If anything you’d also be his scary dog. Like someone is not listening… alright he’s grabbing you as if you were a rabid chihuahua. And you go along with it because why not lol.

Soundwave’s would be the fact you got dirt on everyone, both cybertronian and human. With all the blackmail you get from him you could be the most powerful human fleshy.

Another thing is that he knows when someone has upset you or has messed with you. He will definitely do something about it. Again blackmail is the biggest pro.

——————————————————————

Masterlist 

[satoruxx]

my campus literally went through a crisis and they won’t update us about anything and now all of us are scared to be here what on earth is wrong w this place

[moeblob]

Deacon loves two things: Ymber and digging himself a grave.

Fulj hates one thing: Deacon.

[worstloki]

not a fan of people saying Odin and Loki are similar in a moral or decisive sense, particularly when it comes to Thor. that makes it sound like Loki doesn't know Thor or care about him beyond what he symbolises (regarding Asgard/the throne/family/worthiness), when that's a defining part of their relationship

[zhongrin]

if serval and geppie can use their instruments/instrument cases as weapons, surely i can make my s/i carry around a guzheng hard case (or the guzheng stands) and use them as a weapon 👍🏻

[primrosebitch]

I am a very open person, like there is no part of me that i'm not willing to share, so much so that the only times i won't share certain things are 1) the thing is not appropriate for the setting i'm in (ex. nsfw stuff in a professional setting), 2) if i think this thing would make the person i'm talking to uncomfortable, 3) there are children and this thing is not child friendly, 4) it's something sexual and the person i'm talking to is family because ew, and 5) i don't remember it.

I honestly think that there's something wrong with my brain because of how much of an oversharer i am, like not only would i tell basically anyone anything about me but i also just like need to share stuff with people, like whenever something happens in my life i have this intense urge to share it with someone that won't go away until i've told someone, I have no secrets, the only reason my friends don't know every single detail of my life is because i have a shit memory.

[chososlilprincess]

Virgin Choso who doesnt know why he feels hot one day when he looks at you, something twitching in his pants and his face turns pink from…embarrassment? He doesnt understand these new feelings that come with having a human body, and he doesn’t know why he’s reluctant to ask someone about it. Not you atleast, he couldn’t ask you. What if you thought he was weird? or creepy? why does he even care? he’s never cared about silly things like what others think of him.

When he eventually confides in his younger brother Yuji, he tells him something he can’t pick whether is terrifying or exciting. “its normal bro, you just like her,” he tells him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “and when you like somebody they often make you feel uh…horny,” Yuji said grinning. Choso gets more and more embarrassed as Yuji tells him the basics of the birds and the bees.

Now Choso was in his bed, rock hard in his underwear after thinking about you for a little too long. He thought of what Yuji told him to do when his cock starts feeling weird, he had to ‘jerk off’ which his brother had told him would ’help the ache in his dick but make his feelings for you worse’

Choso sighed and reached a hand down to touch his cock, not yet reaching into his underwear. He sucked in a breath, it was terribly sensitive. pathetic.

He thought about you as he rubbed himself with his hand, thought about how you look when you laugh, about your pretty fucking eyes. The prettiest ones he’d ever seen in his almost 200 years of living. He shudders, and when he looks down again there’s a wet spot forming in his underwear, right where his tip was placed.

He feels dirty, he feels like a pervert. Thinking about his pretty friend while doing something so nasty. It feels wrong. But he needs it, he craves it.

He reluctantly pulls down his boxers, watching as his cock springs up, and it hurts. He thinks of you again, about that one time you stumbled over your own feet, and put your pretty little hand on his chest so you wouldn’t fall.

He touches his tip and he whines. fuck. it’s red and sensitive and little beads of what he assumes is pre cum, leaks out.

He starts playing with himself, grasping his length softly and stroking it once. He lifts up his tshirt and puts it in his mouth, to not make too much noice. it feels so fucking good already.

He begins stroking it slowly. up and down, just doing what feels good. He spits in his hand and brings it back to his cock to continue jerking off. He whimpers.

He’s so desperate for you to like him, for you to touch him, for him to be yours. And for you to be his. He closes his eyes, and he pictures you next to him, your smaller hand replacing his own, stroking him, telling him you love him. He thinks about kissing your pretty lips, holding your cute face in his hands. He thinks about being inside you,

his dick twitches as he groans, spilling his sticky load on his stomach while his whole body shakes. He stares at his mess, breathing heavily while he comes down from his high.

fuck. He wants you so bad, he needs you.

and Yuji was right, the ache in his now softening dick is gone, but the ache in his heart only got worse.

part two here

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Request idea:

Your darling, adoring, wonderful boyfriend Jason sits you down And solemnly confesses that he is red hood. He’s been dreading this day for months. If you want to leave, he’ll understand and wait—-

WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU KNEW THE WHOLE TIME?

Jason thinks he’s in an angst fic. The reader is in a rom com where her boyfriend has been a ridiculously obvious superhero, but she’ll let him tell her when he’s ready.

Maybe some shaningany flashbacks where you’ve helped to keep his identity secret (stalling so he can change, giving alibis) while he was oblivious.

- Batchilla

To Wait and To Love

Hi Batchilla! Hope you enjoy! ♡ ~1.5k words

Your boyfriend is a vigilante, Red Hood, to be exact. You know this. He's just not aware you know this.

It's obvious, really, and kind of cute the way he makes excuses to leave. Sure, before you put two and two together, it was starting to seem like he was just dragging you along. But it all made sense when you caught sight of the helmet poorly concealed under his bed.

It makes you wonder if he wants to get caught. Especially when he brings you flowers from the shop you just saw him save from Poison Ivy on TV. Or freezer-burnt cartons of ice cream from your favorite ice cream shop, which was buried under piles of snow courtesy of one Mr. Freeze only twenty minutes ago.

You offer him big smiles and kisses of thanks, and your heart melts a little at how relieved he looks, how baffled he is by your understanding. And you do understand. To tell someone you run around in spandex and leather every night is a big risk, especially for someone who used to run crime in Gotham.

You're no angel yourself, even if he does call you one, and it's endearing to watch him scramble for excuses. It's even more endearing that he tries so hard to make it up to you when he's late, when he has to leave early, when he comes back battered and bruised with flimsy half-thought out explanations.

You'll let him take all the time he needs to tell you, and it's almost funny how easily you've come to cover for him.

"Jason? Oh, he's changing his suit. Someone knocked into me and I spilled my drink all over his jacket. How embarrassing," You laugh out, answering the reporter's question over Jason's absence from the latest Wayne Gala. It's only half a lie, you might not have spilled your drink but he's definitely changing his suit. It's just not the suit anyone would expect.

Once whispers of a break-in at Gotham National Bank started circulating the Gala, it wasn't hard to miss the meaningful glances between your boyfriend and his family. Sometimes you wonder how no one's noticed it before.

You smile brightly at him once he comes back, smelling like gunpowder and leather, and you let him kiss your knuckles while he mumbles apologies over getting caught up with an old friend. You don't imagine Riddler is exactly an old friend, but you teasingly tell him how he owes you a dance for making you wait. He smiles back, his own grin even brighter than yours, as he leads you to the dance floor.

You're opening the door to your apartment, chatting lazily with your friend after a night out.

"Is your boyfriend here? I remember you saying you two were practically living together," they ask, eyes trailing around your living space.

You hum thoughtfully, "We pretty much are. I think he might be sleeping or out looking for the stray cat we saw the other day. It had a bad limp." It's not a hundred percent a lie either, there was a hurt stray. You just know that Catwomen already picked it up, after a text Jason sent to Bruce Wayne's current girlfriend, Miss. Selena Kyle. Which would have been more of a surprise if you didn't already know who Batman was.

But it definitely isn't the truth, because you did catch sight of a red helmet following you and your friend back from the club. (Gotham never felt safer, than when he was watching over you.)

Your friend coos and starts to respond, when a thump sounds from the fire escape. They jolt, "What was that?"

"The cat, probably," You say quickly, letting out a laugh, "it's, uh, pretty big. Has a limp. Hey, did I show you the flowers Jason got me?" You gesture towards the bouquet behind them, and you both focus on the pretty blossoms.

Within minutes, you hear your bedroom door open and close. "Hi, baby," Jason drawls, looping an arm around your waist to pull you to his side, "Sorry, I fell asleep, how was your night?"

You pretend not to notice the limp he's nursing, one you're certain he should be resting, and tilt your head up to kiss his jaw, "It was fun. Missed you."

"I missed you too," he echoes fondly, and the three of you fall into an easy conversation. You distract your friend when you all go to sit on the couch, and if you choose to avoid sitting on his left side, it's certainly not because Red Hood hurt his leg fighting Killer Croc earlier this week.

Jason has never said your name like that before. His eyebrows are knitted together. He's kneeling in front of you, his hands clasped over yours as you sit on the bed.

"I love you and I– I have something to tell you," he chokes out, strained, "please, just– just, hear me out."

It clicks. This is it. He's going to tell you.

You smile and nod, it'll be nice to finally air out this secret. And maybe he could help you work on your excuses? It'll be easier if you're working as a team. You reach out and brush his hair back, unfazed and delighted he's trusting you enough with this, "Of course, Jason. Anything you need to tell me."

Jason is going to throw up. He's finally gotten his act together enough that he's going to tell his partner he's Red Hood. His stomach is churning, it's agony, knowing he could lose them over this.

They're so good to him. So understanding and patient and kind. He has no idea how he got so lucky. And he loves them. It's scary sometimes, how much he loves them. He wants this to last so badly. So, he has to be honest. Has to tell them he isn't what the world says he is.

He's a vigilante. Was a crime lord. He hurts people to save people. He terrifies the trash that calls themselves human. He's not good for you, but he tries. He wants you to still love him.

He wants you to stay so much. Even if he's not good. He wants you. You deserve so much more than the excuses and lies he gives. Jason's wanted to tell you for weeks, but he chokes on his words every time. He's never been so afraid of doing something. Not when he was a kid on the streets. Not when he was Robin. Not as Red Hood.

You look so perfect, sitting at the edge of your bed and smiling at him. He almost flinches when he thinks this could be the last time you smile at him.

He's on his knees. He's prepared to beg. He would beg to keep you.

He says your name, he tells you he loves you. It might be the last time he gets to say that to you. The thought makes him even more nauseous. He tells you he has something to say.

You brush his hair back and keep smiling. He wants to sob. You don't know. You don't know what he is, what he's done.

"I'm Red Hood," he gasps out, voice ragged.

A beat. You're still smiling, you still look happy, and you're nodding at him.

He blinks at you, "I'm Red Hood," he repeats, "I know that- I know it's a lot. I understand if you never want to see me again, but, baby–"

You lean forward and kiss him. He's more than just a little dumbfounded. "Jason, I love you too. I'm not leaving you. I, um, kind of already knew you were Red Hood?" You say, a sheepish smile coming over your face.

"You– what?" Jason stumbles out. You're still here. Still touching him. You kissed him. You look relaxed. Happy.

"I saw your helmet under the bed. Everything clicked after that," You tell him gently.

"And you're okay with that? You're okay with me?" He asks, tone betraying his desperation.

Concern flashes in your eyes, "Of course I'm okay– I'm more than okay with that, Jason. I love you, tights or not."

He lets out a laugh, and his stomach swoops, the tension dissipating throughout his body, "Yeah?"

You grin at him, cupping his face, "Yeah, but you're going to have to show me how you swing around rooftops."

He gets off his knees to kiss you again, he doesn't think this moment could get any better, "Is that all?"

You giggle, at the pure elation in his eyes, and he grins widely at your joy. Then, the moment does get better, "Well, I'm kinda interested in the car Batman drives around you."

"I could make that happen," he murmurs, and seals the promise with another kiss, "You wanna see the batplane too?"

Your eyes light up, and Jason thinks he might be addicted to the mischievous glint that flickers in your gaze.

[etfrin]

⤷❝Jealous, jealous girl | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | Snow is his own warning, toxic relationship, jealousy, possessiveness, fucked up thoughts, toxic! jealous! possessive reader, bondage (eyes and hands), dom sub undertones, face riding, cunnilingus, thigh riding, riding, pinv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), mentions of killing | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young! president Snow x fem! reader

⇢☾Summary: being jelly leads to sexy times!

⇢☾A/N: hope y'all enjoy this!

previous installments of AM au: the study, mine to love, the quiet gift

< masterlist > < bc: @cafekitsune > < tag list >

He didn't take account of your possessiveness when he decided to charm some of the elitists of the Capitol. It was his duty to keep them under his pocket whether it be with empty smiles or deadly threats. Though the latter might have been easier with how you were glaring at everyone who made a passing or suggestive comment towards Coriolanus.

Even with his arm around your waist, you pressed against him wasn't enough to satiate you. His presence wasn't enough to calm you down, not when you wanted to burn down everyone in the gala who looked at Snow with lustful eyes. He was taken. He was your husband. Yours.

Coryo didn't realize what was wrong, surely it was obvious that you were in a bad mood but that was no way to behave. He had to talk with his pet.

And he was planning on that when he entered the room, to see you on the phone, a call that you immediately cut and look at him with a smile that cut through his bones because he knew it was fake. It was a smile he had to wear a thousand times and now you were looking at him the same way.

“What was that call?” He asked roughly, his eyebrows furrowing, his fingers twitching, his mind already thinking of locking you up and wondering if you had found a lover. He- he-

“It was just-” You tilt your head, your mind already figuring out his thoughts, your first instinct was to lie. However, you knew better than that.

“I want to fuck someone over,” you said instead, blunt and straight to the point without any riddles so that your husband doesn't overthink it. He.. he felt himself calm down a bit. “Who?” He asked his mind at ease. Has someone hurt you? Insulted you? It was rare for you to take such actions, especially when Coriolanus made sure no one could mistreat you.

You bite your lower lip, wondering if you should lie. Snow hadn't seen your ugly side as much as you have seen him. But… perhaps it's about time he should and you were angry. At him and everyone who dared their lustful eyes and filthy hands on your man (You wanted to claw their eyes out, you wanted to cut their hand off for such a sin). Corio called you his dove, his pet, his property. But he seems to forget that he is also yours, your husband, your lover, your man. It was time to remind him of that.

You walked towards him until he backed up to the door, it was a position that you both knew except he was the one pinned for a change. “A bitch,” you ended up saying, your fingertips grazing his sharp jawline. His eyes widened, a familiar heaviness to his breathing and his pupils began to dilate. “Which bitch?” He said, turning his face away to focus and not kiss your pretty lips. “The one who couldn't take her hands off what's mine,” you whispered, your hands on his customized suit, pushing the fabric away from his shoulder and letting it fall. Then your fingers were busy twisting the buttons so you could see this man's golden skin, but the action was stopped when Corio softly asked, “Yours?”

Even if his tone was soft, you knew better than to believe it. Coriolanus Snow belonging to someone? He couldn't think of a worse joke, that just made you even more frustrated, so frustrated that you don't bother unbuttoning his buttons. You begin to rip them one by one. Coryo allows you to act in this manner, knowing that you need to deal with this in your own way.

“I am not yours,” he said, “I don't belong to you.” You wanted to slap the man. You never had a greater urge too before. You clenched your jaw, “You are.” Your hand goes to the pendant you always wore after your first anniversary. A necklace with his initials.

“It’s a two-way street, Coriolanus Snow. You're my husband, my man, and my lover. I am yours as much as you are mine,” your fingers grip the chain, “Or I can tear this from my neck and walk away.” Coryo was going to punish you for those words, there was no doubt about it. His eyes, those blue ocean eyes had anger in them now. How dare you threaten, Snow?

You waited for an answer, both of your chests heaving with passion waiting to explode. “Threaten to leave again, I'll break those legs of yours and chain you to the bed.” Your breath hitches from his words, the truth ringing in his voice. This insane man… you had no words to say so you didn't. You pressed him to the door, your lips clashing with his. For the first time, you didn't give in to the fight for dominance. Both of your teeth clashing, the tongues fighting in war and neither side winning but becoming a greater mess.

“You're a coward, Coryo,” you whispered as you were pushed back to the bed, neither of you giving up the fight to control the kiss. You refused to be underneath him for him tonight. Coriolanus Snow owned you and you wanted the taste of owning him. You manage to straddle him, saliva covering both of your chins from the messy kiss neither refusing to break.

“You- how dare you let her touch you like this,” you whispered, a hint of insecurity creeping into your sound. “They can look at you all they want, envy all they want but touch is reserved for me only. For me, Coryo. Next time it's brought to my attention that you let yourself be groped like that whether it be for your interests or Panem. Rest assured they won't be seeing the sun again and every inch of your skin that was touched…” You couldn't complete the threat, not when his eyes widened. Coriolanus felt like he was looking in a mirror.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you hissed, “There is a reason why we work out, sweetheart. It's not because of whatever formulas you have in your mind to control me, to have me. It's because I am just as insane as you, if not more but I have an infinite amount of control over myself.”

He was thinking, thinking of what you didn't know. You didn't want to know what epiphany had crushed the man from your honest words filled with ugly deep jealousy. You didn't want to let yourself wonder either if he would have preferred someone sane, someone less jealous and possessive. Someone opposite of him in every regard.

But Snow leans forward to kiss you. It's… delicate the kiss. A brush of his soft lips against yours, a grin blessing his face. “What?” You whispered, hesitantly. “You’re perfect,” he said, and those words did things to you, nearly enough to melt away your anger. Nearly.

“And your perfection is aggravating,” you said, with each word a kiss was pressed to his lips. “I love you,” you whispered, a wet kiss pressed to his jaw that went down the path of his neck to his pulse. Your hands shamelessly undress him. “But you truly vex me, Coryo.” you let out as you bite the spot of his pulse, sucking his life from his skin, formatting a bruise, marking him as yours.

“Calm down,” he grunts as he also undresses you, his touch on your heated skin damning you to hell. “I am here, pet.” Finally, both of you were unrestricted by clothes, lips clashing with each other as the hands roamed the body in a hurry. Neither of you was going to disappear, but the desperation as if one of you would slip away like sand clawed at both of your minds.

You didn't reply to his reassurance, you pushed him till his back was pinned on the mattress and he let you. For once you were in control and you had no idea what to do with it. You bite your lip, pondering what should be the next course. You wanted to ride him, you wanted to kiss him. You wanted him to regret it. But most importantly you wanted him to realize he is addicted to you too, as you are with him.

So you pulled back, ignoring the flash of confusion on his face, and went to the closet to pick out two ties. One red, another black, both gifts from you. Coryo raised his eyebrows but indulged you without saying a word, knowing that he would get you back for it. You let him sit up, as you tied his hands together behind his back and then tied the blindfold around his eyes.

“Let me play with you today, Coryo,” you said, “It will be fun.” Coryo replied with a warning, “Do not cross the line.”

You were never an obedient pet. You placed your cunt on his thigh, your folds soaking with arousal, your walls needing his cock but you ignored the want as you began to grind yourself slowly against the tense muscles of his leg. “Coriolanus Snow, the perfect man, the perfect student, the perfect president. Tell me Coryo, would you consider yourself a perfect husband?” “Sweetheart,” he warns you, not ready to hear whatever criticism you want to spew. He could never be a perfect man, perfect in the sense of good and bad. He couldn't but that doesn't mean he has to face it.

“I think you are,” you whispered to his ear, causing him to relax visibly, it was rather pathetic how quickly your admission of yours made his cock fucking hard, harder than before. Your pussy continues to grind against his thigh, your hips rolling at a relaxed pace as you coat his skin in your juices. “You’re perfect in every sense of the word,” you praised him, your lips set on creating multiple shades of mark on his shoulder and collarbone.

He didn't need your words, he didn't know your praises yet a groan escaped his lips. His breath is heavier than before as your grinding gets faster. “Let me see you,” he whispered, and you wanted to deny him. You did but you knew he wanted to know if you were lying, manipulating him in any manner and you weren't cruel enough to play that game with him. You took off the blindfold from his eyes and the vulnerability that showed in his blue eyes made you so wet, your pussy clenching around nothing and he could feel the spasm on his thigh.

His eyes search yours for a hint of a lie, he doesn't find any. Both of your lips met for a kiss, knocking us breathless as you wrapped your arms around his neck and began to roll your hips faster on his thigh, getting close to a high. Meanwhile, his cock was leaking onto his abs, thick goops of pre-cum that you swipe on your fingertips and lick as you don't give any attention to his length. A sound you couldn't classify leaves Coriolanus's lips as he watches you taste himself.

It felt perfect, you teasing him like this. You are in control, despite Coriolanus' not-so-subtle attempts to get rid of the knot that tied his hands together. ‘I am in control, love,’ you wanted to say but you bite your tongue instead and sucked on the sweet spot of his jaw. “Wanna sit on your face,” you whispered to him.

“Fuck, fuck, dove” he cursed before he nods. You maneuver him into the position, your cunt mere inches from his greedy mouth that had already started teasing your folds with kitten licks that you mewling with need. “Coryo,” you whispered, pleading to be completely honest as you lowered yourself down onto his face. His tied arms above his head, your fingers laced with his (the safe word being three squeezes if you end up suffocating him). Your pussy finally reached its destination, finding his lips and his tongue. The slaughter of your sanity had begun.

He was so messy with this, it surprised your soul. His licks weren't long and calculated per usual but short, teasing like that had you bucking your hips onto his face. You try to be careful, you swear you do but all was lost in your hazy pleasure. You moan his name, again and again, and Coriolanus gets high off it. The power you hand him without realizing, the control you give him of your pleasure.

“Coryo!” you cry out, your movements getting fervent. You were close to snapping from riding his thigh, from the high and adrenaline of the situation. It wasn't hard to shatter, your cunt gushing out juices as your walls began to spasm. The orgasm turns your bones into jelly but you have work to do. You have shattered but you yet hadn't broken Snow.

Coryo hums against your folds, licking all the juices up, nipping and kissing your clit with such attention, it sends shivers down your spine. You pulled yourself off of his face, and your pussy begins to ache again because of how debauched he looks. His mouth gasping, his face shining with your arousal all over his chin, beads of your juices dripping down his skin. You closed your eyes, getting your senses back to you.

You let out a shaky breath yourself and you bring him back to a sitting position, one of your hands on his nape and another finding his cock. He lets out a groan of relief and pleasure as you squeeze his girth with your fist. You stroke his cock several times and coat his length with his pre-cum. “Gonna ride you, baby,” you whispered to him, your lips meeting his, and you moaned into his mouth as you tasted yourself.

You placed yourself on his lap, one of your hands going to his tied wrists, playing with the knots unaware that a lot of it has come loose. You don't even realize it as you were too busy sinking on his cock, your other hand in his hair, gripping the blonde curls rather roughly.

Coryo leans forward, pushing his face between your breasts, his tongue licking stripes of your salty skin and his teeth digging into the sides of your supple flesh making you let out a sharp moan. Your hold on his hair gets tighter, as you adjust to his twitching length inside of your sensitive walls. His lips catch the pendant, the only thing you are still wearing. You look down to watch him suck the ‘S’ in his mouth and you whimper from the sight, your pussy clenching around his cock.

By now your fiddling with his tied wrists had completely untied the knots, something you didn't realize as you became drunk on him. You place your head on his shoulder as you begin to roll your hips. Snow lets you control the pace, not letting you know he is free of his bounds. He takes and takes whatever you give him even as his balls tighten with the urge to come. He bites his lower lip to stave off the urge. Second by second, minute by minute passes as your bodies get hotter and hotter, waiting to burn the brightest.

“Coryo,” you begin to whisper, “You're mine, right?” This time the insecurity in your voice was clear, something that would make you cringe later. This time Coriolanus takes control.

His hands find themselves kneading the flesh of your hips, stopping you from fucking yourself on his cock. You freeze in surprise, your eyes widening. “It’s our wedding ring I wear every day. If that doesn't hold any value to you. Don't you dare ask me that question again?”

“Now fucking cum on my cock, pet,” he said, his eyes turning into snake-like slits, “Don't think I'll forget of your behavior tonight, baby.” You swallow nervously, but Coryo says he is yours, not in those exact words but it was Coryo, he was never known for straight words anyway.

You begin to ride him again, picking up pace as you keep slamming down on his cock, his cockhead kissing your cervix from this position. Your hands go to his shoulder to use as leverage as you continue to fuck yourself on him. “My love,” you moan as you felt yourself getting close over the edge, from how his dick was throbbing inside your cunt, you could tell he was close too. He wedges a hand between the both of your connecting bodies and his fingers find your puffy oversensitive clit and he begins to play with the bud making you cry out.

“That's it, dove,” he whispered, smirking, “Cum on my cock, you're the only one in this entire universe with that privilege.” You whimper, feeling your pussy spasm on his cock repeatedly as all the tension leaves your body. He shallowly thrusts into you, fucking you through your orgasm.

You turn into jelly on his lap, your cunt twitching occasionally from oversensitivity. He turns you over so you are laid down on the bed, and he hooks up your legs on his shoulders.

He leans down, his hand gripping your jaw as his lips brush against yours and he says, “Time for your punishment, doll. You had your chance to indulge, my pet. It's my turn now.”

Current tag list: @stelleduarte @nowitsmissing @lifeonawhim @le-lena @dollfacedalls @motley-baby @champomiel @slytherinholland @randomstuff2040 @justacaliforniandreamer @emmalinemalfoy @hyuk4s @theamuz @watercolorskyy @littlebiwitchsworld @eir964 @skywalker1dream @darkangelkathiecookiesmith @ben-has-arrived

[twi-liight]

Petty Jealousy ❣

Tav's companions cannot fathom them potentially having other friends. ❥ Astarion/reader, Astarion/Tav, but also Companions/reader. I'm a Tavrem supremacist. ❥ Contains my own personal headcanon for why the companions call them "Tav" instead of their first name, which is justification for me loopholing the eternal problem of xreader writers having to wince when they use "F/N" or "Y/N". ❥ They/them pronouns for Tav/reader!

“Look,” Astarion hisses, “look at that!” 

5 pairs of eyes land on the offender of the night (which, to their surprise, isn’t Astarion) who conversed pleasantly with the leader of their party. A half-elf with a sharp jaw, proud brow, and mirthful eyes looks extraordinarily ordinary compared to their merry band of freaks. 

“Who is that, again?” Shadowheart asks absently. “Tav suggested I rest for today instead of mapping out the Underdark with the party, and the next thing I know, they’ve brought back another little companion.” 

Astarion’s jaw twitches. He snaps out, “Companion or complication?”

Gale crosses his arms, shrugging, used to Astarion’s temper running hot then cold. “His name is Nilmorn - a luthier. Tav took an interest in his wares. He makes a living selling stringed instruments in the Underdark. Strange place to sell such things.” 

Ugh. Astarion sighs, shaking his head. Leave it to Gale to traipse over the obvious. A sharpened mind like his would surely know that this Nilmorn has no place here, if not to be a bloodbag for him to slurp on. Beyond that, what use does this pretty boy have? Nilmorn sells wares that are utterly useless to them. He’s quite boring and one-dimensional, too, a character that strays too much into the side of “moral good” for Astarion to tolerate. 

 “Yes, yes, Gale, but have you considered how strange it is that he has invited himself to our camp?” Astarion flares out his hand towards the wizard, as if handing him common sense on his palm. 

“I,” Gale begins, blinking his wet, beautiful brown eyes at Astarion, “invited myself to this journey, Astarion. I am quite hurt you forgot. I thought what we had was special!” 

“Yes, but you’re weird!” Astarion exclaims. “You’re a freak with a bomb in your body because of your situationship with Mystra! That,” Astarion points an accusatory finger in the direction of Nilmorn, in which 5 pairs of eyes look at him again, “is someone so unbelievably normal he doesn’t even have any, any…” He gestures, articulates with his hands to placate his words. 

“No dubious motives?” Shadowheart offers, a smirk coyly playing on her lips. 

“No complicated backstory?” Wyll pipes in. Astarion’s eyes flicker to him, and irritation seeps into his skin when he finds Wyll smiling wryly, as if the warlock is in on some joke he is not picking up on. “No, I don’t know, god that has let him down in some way, shape, or form?” 

“Certainly no skills for fighting.” Lae’zel, thank the gods for Lae’zel. Her smooth voice hides none of her displeasure, and those sharp, slitted eyes stare across the fire to dig daggers into Nilmorn’s back. “Useless. We have no need for string-ed instruments. Let Tav pick one, and send this half-elf on his way.” 

Yes. Yes. Astarion nods eagerly.

“Hmmm. I almost envy his mundaneity,” Karlach adds,  “but I mean, he’s not that bad, Astari. Man’s just trying to make the world a better place, one string at a time.” 

Astarion almost throws up. He looks to the other companions helplessly. “Darlings. Please tell me you are not going to let Karlach get away with saying something so putridly motivational.” 

Karlach tosses her head back and cackles, much to Astarion's chagrin.

“Something is obviously bothering you,” Shadowheart states bluntly. Her green eyes watch his expression carefully in the firelight; she finds something there, but does not say it outright. With an exhale through her nose, as if it is painful for her to attempt a conversation with him, Shadowheart decides to throw him a bone: “Are you jealous?” 

He does not catch the bone. The bone slams right into his head as he stares at Shadowheart, slack-jawed and scandalized. Him? Jealous? “You must be joking.”

“Aw,” Shadowheart croons, another one of her insufferable smirks toying on her lips, “you are.” 

If he had mindflayer powers beyond reading her reprehensible surface-level thoughts, he would make Shadowheart’s head explode. Or something. 

He must establish his dignity in the group once more. He cannot handle more of this, especially not with Wyll grinning so wide, not self-aware enough that if he did not have a sexy demon controlling his life because he didn’t read the terms of conditions of a motherfucking contract, Astarion would bully him more.

“That is not the point here. Look,” he says. “I am just saying that our Tav is desirable in every way. Physically, we can all agree that Tav is attractive. Yes?” 

Yes. They all nod their heads. 

“Tav is a little strange, but they are our leader, and they got us this far somehow. Who knew caring about other people could go a long way.” 

Yes. They all nod their heads, except Wyll and Karlach, who look amongst the group with sheer disappointment on their faces. “Gods,” Karlach groans into her hand, “we– we need to unpack that later, gang. That’s just really sad.” 

“Lastly, Tav is strong. Strong enough to split apart the mountains and the sky, I imagine.” Strong enough to bury Cazador into the ground, hopefully. “Strong enough to face a god unwaveringly. Strong enough to persevere. Strong enough to be kind, despite everything. Despite what they think, they are charismatic, and they are the entire package. The only person who does not know of their value is Tav themselves.” 

They watch Tav’s lips quirk into a smile as Nilmorn holds a lyre out for them upon his smooth hands. Smooth, no sign of scars, no sign of complications. Just so unbearably mundane. Unbearably good. Unbearably kind. 

Unbearably unaware of their true nature.

Nilmorn does not know why they nicknamed them Tav, despite their name being [F/N]. Their unstoppable quench to loot everything and anything set back their timeline by weeks, no doubt. Reaching into barrels, reaching into the pockets of bandits, reaching into damn silk cocoons, reaching into whatever their curious little hands can salvage. It annoyed Astarion at first, but then Tav would find all of these weapons and armors and foods and coins and books. Normalcies and luxuries that made camp life feel less of a drab and more exciting. 

The gleaming, golden dagger at his side? They found it. The boots, the armor, the enchanted rings and necklaces they either found, bartered, or killed for their companions. Thus - Tav, short for tavara, the word meaning wares and merchandise; a clever little nickname Gale came up for their leader who is too good for all of them combined. 

“Any other party could whisk them away, you know,” Astarion says. “Tav could find a party of good, decent people, unlike any of us, without the mess and complication and hurt we cause them, and leave. Remember, my dears. It is not us who is irreplaceable. It is Tav.” 

How long would Tav tolerate him? Not long, he thinks. Long enough until he has expended his use for them, surely, but not forever. That's why anyone who wants Tav beyond sex or strength is a threat. If he hadn’t seduced his way into their heart, he wouldn’t be here where he stands, with a group of people who make him feel a little less alone. 

No doubt he would be in a cage on the back of a covered wagon that belongs to that disgusting gyr, Gandrel, his chain to Cazador growing shorter and shorter.

Silence. Tense and still. They watch as Tav laughs lightly, eyes alighting with amusement as Nilmorn cracks another joke. 

"You should meet my other companions," they hear Nilmorn offer, "I just know they would love to have you."

Revelation slams into each and every one of them like a magic missile.

“He’s not that funny,” Shadowheart mutters. She bends down, hands gripping tightly around the handle of her mace. “I don’t know why they are laughing that hard.”

“He can try to leave with his head on his shoulders,” snarls Lae’zel, “just say the word, Astarion.” 

Excellent. 

“What-” Wyll turns to Gale and Karlach. “We should stop them, shouldn’t we? There are no implications of this man trying to steal Tav away, he's just being nice, you worthless cunts! This is not fair to him!” 

“We’re in the Underdark, aren’t we? Super deep. Doubt anyone who cares for him will come looking for him.” 

“Karlach!” 

“Astute observation! To make this all a little easier on us, I can most certainly put this man to sleep.” 

“Gale?!” 

“Go on, Lae’zel,” Astarion grins wickedly, “attack!”

“Oh, hells,” Wyll stumbles back, then turns quickly to the other direction towards Halsin. “Halsin! Halsin - they’re trying to murder someone again!” 

❥ Additional links: kofi | ao3

[whokilledsamara]

I love your Homicipher hc, they are so good! Would you be willing to do some N/ SFW for Mr. Chopped too? Like you did for some of the others? I understand if you don't want to or if it makes you uncomfortable, thank you anyway!

MR. CHOPPED N/SFW HCS

a hc list of Mr. Chopped x reader {an: SORRY GUYS IM POSTING MAINLY HCS RN,,, fics for me take a lot longer than usual so im just posting hcs to atleast get some reach.}

warnings! : smut, cunnilingus/blowjob, idk,,, cuckhold

{an: freaky shit,,,, like hes just a head so its kinda hard to fuck. did give him a section for IF he had a body.. MAINLY HIM GIVING HEAD,, i didnt rly know how to write this im sorry!! def will write more tho,,, im into him ngl}

SFW

what it would be like to be in a relationship with Mr. Chopped.

it would be relatively hard to be in a relationship with him for obvious reasons, though not impossible!

the thought of you makes him happy, and especially when you hold him.

he would have Mr. Silvair help most of the time. usually for the romantic aspects of things though.

while Mr. Silvair doesnt quite understand the relationship, he is glad to help.

being a talking head will obviously raise a few insecurities, so just reassure him that you indeed do love him! he gets his feelings hurt easily.

he absolutely loves when you play with his hair. if you put bows in it or decorate it, that will make it all the more special for him.

the first time he bit you when he was sleeping, had him crying for hours. he felt so bad that he harmed you in any way, and it took a while for him to "recover"

he loves kisses! he always shouts things like "Up, Up" or "Desire, Carry!" just so he can kiss you.

if you manage to get a hold of make up or something, he would absolutely love for you to do his makeup. {he likes to feel pretty}

he is a very sensitive boy, also a crybaby. how cuuuttteee...

if Mr. Silvair gives him a body, {ignore that one ending... we dont talk about it} then he wpuld be even more excited to see you.

the moment he gets a body would mean so many hugs and affection as a thank you for saving him.

he gets picked on a lot by the others so he usually tries his best to come to you.

NSFW

sex...?

sex is definitely a hard concept with him.

while yes, it is possible, just not in the way intended.

you could see him more as a pure object for your pleasure honestly, and he wants that.

whether you are amab or afab, he is perfect for the situation.

ive seen this referenced by another writer, but he would be like a "rose toy" or a "fleshlight" as people call it.

its a secret pleasure to watch you go at it with someone else. {ex: Mr. Silvair or someone.}

if he is gifted a body though, he definitely will pay you back for saving him in the first place.

personally he would be a soft and sensual lover with his new body, rarely going rough unless specifically asked to.

he is more of a giving top. definitely not dominant but is a top. he cares more about your pleasure than his. though, he does get all giddy when you wish to go down on his or something.

he is open to literally anything you want, he would have very few limitations on what he would do, but everything is open for discussion.

again, definitely either wants to watch you have sex with someone else, OR wants someone else to watch you and him go at it. {he would prefer Silvair.}

he definitely likes when you pull his hair or use him. will be submissive sometimes.

he is the type to cry during sex...

omfmg i love him sm

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

[reocidal]

untitled — k. tsukishima

tsukishima has always cared for you, but will he ever be brave enough to show it?

cws; angst, fluff, happy ending, kissing, fem!reader, petnames, arranged marriage to lovers, mentions of infidelity, swearing, not proofread i think thats all

wc; 2055

you're eighteen, freshly graduated when your parents tell you about their plans; nineteen when you meet tsukishima kei. he is calm, confident, and self-assured, a complete opposite of you — you're wondering whether it's possible to survive a fall from a skyscraper. not that you'd ever actually do it, of course.

the wedding happens a week before you turn twenty, and that night, tsukishima has the grace to at least pretend to not notice as you cry yourself to sleep. when you've almost dozed off, you hear him stumble out of bed and walk away. you wonder if he has a girlfriend, another partner, someone he truly loves, someone you're keep him away from. the freezer opens and closes. the prospect of you coming between two people too jarring to think about, so you try not to, and you are asleep when he gets back to bed.

the next morning, you're mortified at your appearance in the mirror, eyes red and puffy — much worse than expected, too. no wonder tsukishima had looked at you like that. oh, shit. you're a tsukishima too, now. you turn around, preparing to go to the kitchen to look for an ice pack — you don't remember seeing one, but it still gives you something to do instead of hating yourself and him and your entire life. when you're maybe halfway there, you bump into your new husband. he hasn't been expecting to see you here either, freezing in place with a couple of spoons in one hand. wait, spoons?

he holds them out to you awkwardly, brows furrowing as you stare at him. "what? take them, my fingers are getting cold."

you finally find your voice. "what for?"

"your eyes?" he says it like it's obvious. "i put them in the freezer last night."

oh. oh.

"t-thank you," you stammer, snatching them out of his hands, rushing back to the bathroom. maybe things aren't that bad after all.

living with tsukishima means you have to learn quickly that words are not enough — words are never enough. the first few days, it's difficult for you. when you cook something hoping he'll like it, and all you get is a cursory good, a distracted not bad.

it hurts, really hurts at first. you don't even want to be here, and the lack of appreciation makes it so much worse. that is, until, he invites his best friend, tadashi yamaguchi, over for dinner.

the two of you get along much easier than you expect — he's a complete opposite of your husband. when tsukishima is away from the table, he asks about the recipes. he's heard great things about your cooking, he says. tsukki will not shut up.

"i thought he didn't like it," you say. yamaguchi laughs at that, and that day you find out that with tsukishima, you have to look deeper than just words. you have to notice the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and his appreciative hums, and the way he takes second helping and sometimes even thirds.

and then one day he approaches you, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. he clears his throat, runs one hand through his already messy blonde hair, clears his throat again. he fixes his glasses as you stare up at him expectantly. "yes?"

"canyoumakesomemorestrawberryshortcake."

"what?"

"strawberry shortcake," he gets out through gritted teeth. oh, you realise. he's embarrassed. "can you make some mo—"

"of course!" you reply before he can finish, trying to spare him the humiliation. on second though, this does mean he likes what you make. life is suddenly a little bit nicer.

tsukishima (willingly) holds your hand for the first time on your first anniversary. you refer to him as kei, now, and he doesn't really mind either. he thinks it's pretty, the way you say it. but he'll never tell you that, of course. he buys you your favourite flowers, even though it's not supposed to be a special date, because you're only married because your parents made you.

you hold the bouquet with one hand. "kei, you didn't have to!"

"i wanted to," he shrugs. "you're not the worst person to do this with."

"oh," you sigh, and the smile on your face is real, so real, and so is the way his lips quirk up — a small movement, but it's there nonetheless. "you too, kei."

you turn to go put the flowers in a vase when he grabs your wrist, pulling you back gently. his hand slots perfectly into yours, and he gives it an experimental squeeze. you squeeze back, and his thumb brushes over the back of your hand. "i mean it, y/n."

"i know." it's hard to suppress the grin that's trying to take over your face as you say it. "me too."

handholding becomes normal after that, whether he's holding onto you in the midst of a crowd, or the two of you are at home and he's playing with your fingers lazily. sometimes kei's doing something on his phone — he uses it one-handed, even if it makes things more difficult or slows down his typing — and your hand is in his other one. your hands might lie in the space between the two of you, fingers tangled together, or maybe he's tracing shapes, letters, words onto your palm — whatever comes to mind. either way, you like it. you like him.

nowadays, he even kisses you(r cheek) goodbye before work, and if he's extra tired after, he finds himself melting into you. your presence itself comforts him, your existence a soothing hand over his brow. he hopes you don't mind where this is going.

spoiler alert: you don't.

you've just poured yourself a cup of coffee when your husband walks into the kitchen, rubbing at his bleary eyes. he looks like he's just gotten out of bed and come here. there's something different about him that you cannot quite place, so you ignore it, half-turning to face him. "morning."

"g'morning," kei responds. his morning voice is low, rough as he walks up to where you're situated between the counter and the kitchen island. his hand falls to your waist easily as he moves you out of his way to stand behind you. his chin rests on your shoulder as he stifles a yawn. "i want some too."

you hand him your cup and he hums gratefully after taking a sip. putting it back on the counter, he wraps his arms around your waist. his body curves over yours as he lets go of himself. the weight is comforting as it blankets you — maybe the two of you can stay like this forever. you relax into the back hug; he nudges your head with his. "can't find m'glasses."

oh. so that's what's missing.

"i'll help you find them," you suggest, not questioning his rather... clingy attitude today. it's been well over two years since the two of you got married, and while he has told you on multiple occasions that you can see whoever you want, your moral code is still not low enough to partake in what can basically be termed as infidelity. even if the marriage is arranged, and there are no feelings involved — that's a lie, you know by now that you've definitely fallen for your husband, and hard — you still don't want to do anything of that sort, which has lead to you becoming quite touch-starved over time. so when tsukishima started becoming more and more physically affectionate as of late, you didn't dare question it, savouring every moment instead. over time, it's gone from fleeting touches and hooking his pinkie around yours while he tries to look unbothered, to much more confident hugs and handholding. essentially, everything a couple can do together — except kissing.

that's not to say you don't want to kiss him; you really do. when you see him chewing on his bottom lip, lost in thought, you want to kiss him. when you see him lick his lips while playing volleyball at all the games that he's started inviting you to now, even from afar you want to kiss him. and when one of his old friends from high school texts him about something stupid and his lips turn up into a pout without him noticing, you definitely want to kiss him.

but you digress.

it takes a two-minute search to find them on the floor by the bed; the floor by your side of the bed no less. the covers are more messy than you remember, even though you're sure you fixed up your part of the bed. the blankets are messy, pillows squished. the only way it could possibly be this way is if someone had been rolling around and also hugging your pillows.

you and tsukki live alone. you don't have any pets. you didn't do anything, and tsukki definitely would not — would he?

"why're you even out of bed so early?" you ask him as he falls back onto the covers. "you don't have work today."

kei flushes — actually flushes, a pretty red hue spreading across his face as he thinks of an answer. "you... weren't there," he says carefully.

"i see." your reply is just as cautious as you test the waters; after all, this is the first time whatever the two of you have going on between you has emerged from where it was comfortingly held captive in words left unspoken. "well, i'm here now."

"good," he says, and there's the slightest hint of a smile playing about his lips as he pats the space beside him. "c'mere."

oh dear. you really are sleepy, aren't you? maybe you shouldn't have gotten up this early either.

this time, you're the one waking up alone in bed — fortunately, too, because extricating yourself from the ridiculous pile of limbs that the two of you become every night is one of the least favourite parts of your day.

you find him pacing around the living room, phone held up to his ear. "that's not fucking working, tadashi! she's my wife, i can't just tell her that!"

his eyes meet yours; you raise a brow. tsukishima looks like a deer caught in headlights, before he cuts the call and puts his phone down. "hi."

"hi," you respond. anxiety twists in your stomach, a dark creature from an inky pool that crawls out and takes all of you. "what can't you just tell me?"

"nothing." it comes out too fast, and he knows he's fucked up by saying it.

"o-oh." you take it brilliantly, in stride. "well, are you having an affair, or something?"

you try to play it off as a joke, but the fear and insecurity is pathetically apparent in your voice. "i don't mind if you are—"

"i'm not!"

"it's totally okay if you are! that was part of our agreement, right?"

kei groans. he's not sure whether he should be put off or attracted by the way you're hell-bent on lying your way through this. "i swear i'm not, y/n."

"then?"

he swallows harshly. oh well, now it never. "come sit?"

you comply quietly. if not an affair, then what? technically, it doesn't count as one, you have to admit. but still, what was all of that affection for, then? to soften the blow?

"i like you," he whispers. his hands twist around each other nervously, knuckles white. "i know this is weird because we're fucking married, but i do—"

"okay," you breathe. "okay, me too."

you've thought about kissing kei tsukishima way more than you should. and when his tongue slips out to wet his grinning lips and his hand brushes your hair away and splays out to hold your face in one fluid motion, you especially want to do that. so you do.

you like being in love with him. when the two of you are glued together, when he absentmindedly traces iloveyous onto your palm, when he draws hearts on your shoulders with his thumbs. when he becomes much more vocal about how much he loves you, exactly. now, you even get to hear him say it out loud.

"i love you," he says, kissing your pajama-clad shoulder. "my sunshine princess."

"fuck's that?" you ask him, laughing, but you like it all the same.

"you're that," he replies, and refuses to elaborate.

as it turns out, you like him being in love with you too.

been on that married couple shit lately thanks mom ig. my parents also used to call me somethinf along the lines of sunshine/little miss sunshine when i was a kid bc i was so happy. not so me now but ill take it:)

chest hurts when i inhale like stopppp.

anyways 2:30am so i'll sleep now. lot of care, take love.

also ive been stuck at 499 for hours now so what should i do for 500

tags !! @akaakeis + @smiithys (gen taglist open!!)

[frownyalfred]

Wait cuz I love a good hurt bruce story and the emotional turmoil the bats naturally have with one another

Like Bruce gets hurt and it’s pretty bad and Nightwing comes running demanding why no one told him

the confused JL member at the medbay doors: "...why didn't we contact you about...Batman? you're not his emergency contact."

Dick: "right, but--"

JL member: "so I was supposed to know to call you -- someone who is not Batman's emergency contact -- whenever he's injured?"

Dick, hands flying into the air: "yes."

JL member, scowling: "no yeah, that was totally obvious."

[novamariestark]

I Can See You [Spencer Reid]

Summary: You've been dating Spencer for almost a year and you are yet to tell your big brother, Aaron

Warnings: bad writing 🤣. fluff, some angst

Word count: 1764

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Hotchner!Reader

You hadn’t meant to keep it a secret this long. You didn’t want to. But when it came to you dating, your brother was way too overprotective. You loved him to death for it but it also pissed you off to no end.

Spencer freaked when he found out that you were Hotch’s baby sister and even broke it off for a while because he felt as though he was betraying him. But you had crept into his heart and you weren’t planning on vacating any time soon.

Even when you weren’t together, you were the only thing on his mind. You’d be there constantly whilst he was on a case. He couldn’t concentrate and it was painfully obvious to everyone. Even Hotch. The latter pulled him aside and told him to fix what was going on before he got someone or himself killed.

That counts as his blessing, right?

As soon as they touched down in Washington he rushed over to your apartment to see you. Throwing quick goodbyes to everyone and not looking back.

“Pretty boy has a girl. I’m calling it,” Morgan called out, pointing at the quickly retreating Spencer.

That was almost 11 months ago. 11 months of sneaking around behind your brother’s back. Which wasn’t too much of an issue when you first started dating but now you were an agent in the Criminal Investigative Division of the FBI. That meant both you and Spencer had longer work hours and often different schedules. So sometimes you two decide to see each other at the office. You knew it was risky and quickies in the car doesn’t compare to the bedroom but you both took what you could get.

However, recently, Spencer had been arguing that maybe it was time to tell your brother. You assumed he felt guilty. Not guilty enough to stop the sex in the FBI garage but guilty enough.

He did feel guilty but there was another reason he wanted to tell your brother.

You wanted to tell Aaron too. Really you did. But you’ve put it off so long that you know that he’s gonna be disappointed you didn’t tell him sooner. Anger you could take but the one thing you never wanted to do was disappoint him.

He was your idol. Your hero. The person you’ve always looked up to. The one you wanted to make proud. That’s why you joined the FBI. You wanted to make him proud. And he was, he just wished you’d picked a safer occupation.

He was concerned and worried every time you and your team left the office and was finally able to breathe when you arrived back. If he was away on a job when you came back you went to see Penelope or Peach as you called her. It was a deal you made with Aaron so he knew you were okay. Spencer didn’t oppose to this arrangement either because all he had to do was look at Hotch and he’d know that you were okay.

But one day, that call from Penelope was a little different. The team had come back... without you.

The simple arrest of Washington’s newest drug kingpin had turned into a kidnapping. Yours.

The BAU team couldn’t do anything but wait for the plane to land in Washington. In four hours time. Hotch hadn’t said a word. Neither had Spencer and the moment he didn’t make his move on the chess board, everyone took notice.

He just stared out the window and waited. Images of what you were going through at that very moment flashed though his mind. Were you hurt? Were you scared?

Were you alive?

Even your brother had snapped out of his thoughts and took notice of his lack of presence inside the jet. Sure he’d noticed your closeness but he didn’t think anything of it. You were close with Penelope and JJ too. But as he started to think back, he starts to see all the little signs. Small things.

But one thing in particular was how comfortable Spencer was with you. So easily comfortable. It all started to become clear. Aaron had figured you were seeing someone but you wouldn’t tell him who and as you’ve grown older you’ve become more adept at covering your tracks. Morgan also speculated on multiple occasions that Spencer was seeing someone.

What should he feel? Anger because you didn’t tell him or betrayal because you’re his sister and Spencer was one of his agents? His baby sister. And no matter how old you were, that’s what you were always going to be.

He would’ve been completely pissed. Shouting, demanding answers and an explanation if it wasn’t for what he was seeing in front of him.

Worry, fear, pain and helplessness. The same thing he’d see if he looked in the mirror right now. He didn’t have to ask. He knew.

When the plane finally landed, the team wasted no time in getting back to the office. Aaron inserts himself into the operation to get you back, not taking no for an answer and Spencer is right there with him.

Even when he was ordered not to interfere because he was too close, he did exactly that. You were in trouble, no way was he not going to tear up the entire state looking for you.

He told the team to stand down, not wanting them to get into trouble for defying a direct order but none of them budged. At this point, you were their family too.

The longer you’re missing the more it takes it’s toll on Spencer. So much so that he’s the first one to lash out at your boss when it’s found out that there has been a ransom made in exchange for your return to no action had been taken to do that.

“We’re not going to hand over all the evidence for his trial,“

”The hell we won’t,“

“We can’t—”

“—leave her there”

“Reid,” Aaron spoke, his voice loud to get his attention but no anger was in it. He reached a hand out and placed it on his shoulder, gently pulling him away from your boss “so,” he started, stepping forward to take his place, “What exactly are you doing to find my sister?”

“I don’t tell you how to run your team Hotchner, don’t tell me how to run mine,”

“Alright listen here,” Aaron stepped closer, right in his face, “if one hair on her head is out of place, I swear I’ll—”

“Hotch!”

“What?!”

“Maybe we should just give them some space to work and—”

”they’ve had five hours and they barely know where she was snatched from,“

Gideon gave him a look. One that told him to play along. He did and the team followed him to their usual conference room. Each of them branching off to do what they do best, working tirelessly to get you back.

And they did this for hours until Morgan got a text from Penelope, who conveniently was lounging at your desk.

They received a video

Aaron and Spencer rushed out of the office and down to yours. Your brother had tried to stop him from going, not wanting him to see you in a possibly horrific state but he couldn’t stop. He had to see you and he did.

He tried to ignore the blood, the wounds and focus on your hands, that to your captors, were wriggling due to the ache of them being tied up for hours but to Spencer and the others it was a message.

Trains... every 12 minutes... the only clue you knew about your whereabouts, and you knew that maybe it wouldn’t be enough so you added a little something to prepare for that.

I love you

With the reminder of their demands, the video fades to black, much like your vision.

Your eyes only opened again when you heard gunshots and shouting. The voices sounded familiar but muffled, far away. Perhaps you were imagining them and you were convinced you were until a door clanged open.

Someone called your name, followed by the sound of running footsteps, that got louder with each step. It wasn’t long until the footsteps stopped and a figure knelt down beside you.

”Angel?“ he spoke softly, his hands moving to cup your cheeks. His thumbs wiping the tearstains away.

”you found me“

”Yeah, Angel, we did,“ he replied, moving to untie your hands. As soon as you were free, you threw your arms around him, holding on so tight because you were afraid that he’d disappear. He moves his head slightly to the side to press a kiss to your temple, ”I love you too, Angel“

”I love you more,“

You smile, pulling away. He got your message. The smile faltered slightly when you looked up and your brother came into view.

Uh oh. Did he know?

You didn’t know what to expect. The thought of losing your brother was worse than the pain you had been through the past god knows how long.

You had thought about him finding out so often and he was angry, disappointed, betrayed. None of your playthroughs of this moment ever ended happily.

”I’m so glad you’re safe, (y/n),“ he smiled, leaning down to press a kiss on your head like he had always done.

”you’re not mad?“

Spencer looked up at him too, curious about the answer himself.

”of course not,“ he said, okay a little lie but you’d been through enough and he’d be stupid to ignore what was right in front of him.

Your eyebrows scrunched as you lift you head from Spencer’s chest, moving closer because you were sure you misheard him, ”you’re not,“

He sighed opening his arms for you to hug. You didn’t waste any time, tears falling as you sob into his shoulder, ”I thought you’d be mad, and I’d lose you,“

”I was mad at first,“ he admitted, one of his hands stroking your hair in a soothing rhythm, ”because you didn’t tell me,“ he added and you started apologising profusely but he stopped you, ”I’m not anymore because the truth is—“ He patted Spencer on his shoulder ”—you couldn’t have chosen a better man“

You smiled so much of the way home. So much so, you thought your cheeks were stuck like that.

You had asked Aaron if he wanted to join you two for dinner and after you giving him that look you always gave him to get whatever you want, your best puppy dog eyes, he said yes.

[popponn]

here and there, about him.

summary: is he perfect? no, just like anyone else. but there will always be something about him. (aka a snippets of one of many, many things he will do for you.)

notes: missing lovesick bllk boys trope for a hot minute while doing other stuffs. short and light stuffs to scratch the itch. was about to isagi and nagi, but turns out self control is still a thing for me. warning: none, just minor swearing + fluffs capital f of smitten boys, chigiri is ready to fight for you. reader's gender unspecified.

characters: rin, chigiri, kaiser.

itoshi rin is very, very much very obvious in his favoritism to you. so obvious that both his teammates and his brother told him to tone it down a little bit. of course, rin only scoffs and tells them to mind their own business (actually he said it more as ’fuck off, cretins’, but details). but, really, no one could exactly blame them. this guy could be in an ongoing tirade about how person a is an utterly pathetic soggy wet trash, then you greet him with a smile and he turns into a cold, suave, rich boyfriend on a snowy winter day. drape his jacket on you, hold your hand, and ’let you hug him from behind while discreetly intertwining your finger with his’ type of stuff. it’s a bit disgusting, honestly. and no one wants to start commenting on how he immediately looks in your direction after scoring a goal. also if he buys something, the only one who has the slightest bit of hope of ever receiving anything is his brother here—and that chance is very miniscule on its own since none of them are you. put simply, it’s a bit infuriating, yet undeniably infuriatingly cute in its own way to watch. especially when there is a very high chance you will be the one and only romance this anti-social guy will ever have. everyone in the team supports the two of you, but by gods maybe please do something about him a little bit?

chigiri hyoma will never let anyone hurt you. it’s common knowledge already that he takes no shit from anyone and ever since he has seen you as ‘the one’, he pretty much already thinks of you as an inseparable part of his life already. so, in other words, that means you have gotten yourself a boyfriend who is ready to become a biting guard dog at a moment's notice. someone insults you? tries to physically harm you? oh, baby, hold your boyfriend back because he is also known to get angry real quick. save his reputation and hold himself back from spouting words that would make someone’s ancestors cry or, worse, from beating someone up. this is a speedster athlete trained by ego jinpachi himself—no one could escape unscathed from something like that. but hey, this is someone who naturally turns into a shoujo manga male lead with soft gazes and flowery smiles the moment you put a hand on his cheek. this is, in a way, just another way for him to protect and make sure of your comfort. also, he needs to have an outlet for the less soft part somewhere other than soccer.

michael kaiser is very reliable and observant, despite whatever persona or deflection he will give you even in the ‘official already’ part of your relationship. this guy has a high ego and puts on an air of someone high and mighty, beyond your league. but everyone all knows if you get to the part where he proudly lets you wear his clothes or makes sure you stay pressed to his side during walks, he is down bad. still, for his sake and maybe everyone else’s, let him take care of you and act casually about it. don’t point it out when he suddenly crouches down and ties your untied shoelaces, keep talking as if nothing happened when he puts a hand in the small of your back, and just act as if nothing happened when he gives someone a ferocious glare while making sure you cling unto his arm. don’t praise or, god forbid, swoon at those. it will only make him get flustered and lose his composure or, worse, get real annoying. he is indeed good at the whole act of service thing, surprisingly, but please do remember his attitude is indeed also in the ‘piece of shit’ category most of the time. just let the yellow and blue betta fish swim at his own pace and let what means to happen in the future, happen at its own time, including giving praises to him without him reacting like a lovesick brat.

[lovegalor333]

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

my bad (paige x reader)

summary: paige accidentally hits you with a basketball and she feels bad so tries to make it up to you.

content warnings: none!

requested by: anon 💗

It was a warm summers evening in Storrs and there was nothing you and your roommate enjoyed more than ending your day with frozen yogurt.

You had walked to the dessert shop on campus, excited for your sweet treats but there was an unusually long line for this time off the evening. There was a group of girls outside of the shop and as you got closer, you recognised them as the womens basketball team.

There was six of them and all of their faces were familiar. Paige Bueckers, Azzi Fudd, Ice Brady, KK Arnold and two freshmen that, admittedly you didn’t know the names of. They had a ball in tow that they were bouncing and throwing to one another and every now and then, the ball would be dropped and it would roll away and one of them would scramble after it. You giggle as you watch the scene unfold, KK shoving herself into Paige, playfully trying steal the ball from her.

The team was somewhat famous on and off campus. They were the most successful womens basketball program in the nation with the longest winning streaks in college basketball, period. And more recently, the current team had shot to fame on social media and you could see why. Tall, muscular, athletic. The appeal was obvious.

You had been to a few games over your years at UConn and often saw the girls around campus and they seemed nice enough so you had no problem with how boisterous they were being while you waited in line.

“Be honest. Smash or pass?” Your Khloe asks you, catching your gaze focused on the athletes.

“Which one?” You ask back.

“I don’t know, any…the blondie?” She says pointing to Paige and you slap her hand down not wanting them to see her point.

“I don’t know.” You say but you do know and your roommate does too.

“Yes you do. That’s your type all over.” She teases and she’s right. That was your type. Tall, blonde, light eyes, athletic, there was no denying Paige Bueckers was your type.

“Whatever.”

“So…smash or pass?”

“Smash.” You say and your roommate grins but before can even roll your eyes in response, you literally get smashed, right in the face.

You’re thrown off balance and stumble back at the impact before you steady yourself.

“Paige!”

Your eyes are screwed shut as a sharp, stinging sensation spreads over your left cheek, that hurt like a bitch.

“Oh my God! My bad ma, I’m so sorry.” You feel two hands land on your shoulders and when you open your eyes, it takes a second for your vision to clear. When it does, you’re met with Paige, inches away from you, hands on your shoulders, a sorry look on her face.

“Does it hurt?” She asks, bringing her hand up to your face to angle it so she can get a better look at her handy work. Your cheek felt like it was on fire, it was definitely red as hell right now.

Your head spun and you wasn’t sure whether it was because of the unexpected impact or because of the beautiful, blue eyed girl with her hand on your face.

“A little.” You squeak out.

“I am so sorry, I feel so bad. You should ice it. I should get you ice. Where can I get ice? Someone get some ice!” Paige rambles out and you laugh at her frenzied words.

“It’s OK. I’ll survive.” You reassure her and she seems to calm down.

“Your frozen yogurt is on me.” She tell you and you shake your head, “You don’t have to do that.”

“I do. I just threw a ball in your face.” She chuckles, finally dropping her hands from your face and shoulder.

“Well, when you put it like that...” You respond, rubbing your cheek in hopes to defuse the pain.

The line moved quick and soon, Paige and her friends were at the counter making their orders and you were up next. Paige insisted on standing beside you until you had ordered, even when her friends went to sit at a table, just so she could keep her promise and pay for you.

“Could we also get a bag of ice for the pretty lady?” Paige interjects after you give your order, “I accidentally smacked her face with my ball.” She over explains and once again brings her hands up to turn your face to the server so he can see the mark, “Look.” She says but the guy behind the counter looks like he couldn’t care less. “I don’t need ice, it’s fine.” You insist and he gets on, adding your chosen toppings to your frozen yogurt.

You’re thankful for your red cheek because the way Paiges slender, slightly calloused fingers held your face so gently and the use of the pet name pretty lady made you blush, hard. You had been single for longer than you’d like to admit so at this point you were touch starved and Paige was feeding you.

She had already started eating her frozen yogurt and as you glanced up at her to thank her for paying, you notice a blob of it on her cheek.

“Um-you- you kinda have…” You point at her face, “some yogurt right here.”

You hate to admit it but you’re mesmerised by the way she flicks out her tongue and wiggles it, trying to swipe the yogurt away.

“It’s still there.” You inform her and she dips her head down, more to your level, “Do you mind?”

Does this girl seriously want me to wipe her face? You thought to yourself.

“Come on, I don’t bite.” She chuckles so you take your finger and wipe the yogurt away, “There.” You say, her face now clean and her next movement makes you raise your brows, taken aback. Her mouth is open, tongue poking out ever so slightly, she wants to lick the yogurt off your finger.

“Seriously?” You ask shocked at her brazen attitude, “You don’t know where my fingers have been.”

“I can only dream.” She smirks and takes it upon herself to guide your finger to her mouth, licking it clean.

“You’re so nasty.” You playfully shove her shoulder.

“A nasty girl who pays for your yogurt.” She says taking your order from the server and handing it to you.

“For real, thank you.” You smile genuinely.

“For real, I’m sorry.” She replies and you tell her it’s fine before turning to leave the store, Khloe waiting for you by the door.

“You’re not sitting in?” Paige asks making you turn around to face her again.

“No, we have…a spot.” You say, referring to yours and Khloes favourite place to eat on campus.

“Ohh, a spot?”

“Mhm.” You nod, taking a spoon full of frozen yogurt into your mouth.

“Where is this spot?”

“I’m gatekeeping.” You tease and Paige pouts exaggeratedly, “Maybe I’ll show you one time.” You offer not actually knowing why you said that and you immediately cringe.

But Paige agrees, “Deal.” She says, holding out her hand for you shake and you do. For someone you only really met a few minutes ago, her hands have been on you quite a bit.

You begin walking to Khloe and by the grin on her face, you know what the topic of conversation will be this evening.

“Wait, how can I reach you?” Paige calls after you, “If it’s meant to be, it will be.” You call back, turning your head to look at the girl one last time.

“I don’t even know your name!”

You shout out your first and last name as you walk out of the shop.

“Did blondie just suck your finger?!” Khloe whisper screams once the door closes behind you.

You laugh, “It was more of a lick.” You say matter of factly.

“But her finger was in your mouth?”

“Yes.”

“Wow…slutting it up in the Fro-Yo shop. That’s the most action you’ve got all semester.” Khloe jokes.

“Alrighttt, not to much on me and my sex life. I’m going through a drought.” You defend yourself.

“Well, from where I was standing, it’s due to get pretty wet.”

“Shut up!”

You and Khloe head to your favourite spot and eat your frozen yogurt like you did most nights. Side by side on the grass, watching the sunset.

Your phone pings from in your pocket and you pull it out seeing a notification from Instagram.

paigebueckers started following you.

Another notification came through almost instantly.

paigebueckers: its meant to be

“Damn, she’s quick.”

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

a/n: please let me know if you have any requests, id be happy to do them! 💋