#gender neutral listeners

[deunmiu-dessie-sideblog]

why 's simon so big? i mean, he's all height, muscles, and sassy, dark attitude. but he's also ur sweet, thoughtful, and silent boyfriend. and it makes me feral, cause he literally towers over u, wrapping u in thick arms and breathing u in. cause let's be honest, the smell of ur perfume/cologne makes him dizzy and warm :( and havin' u buried within his arms, while u whisper sweet nothings and talk about ur day literally soothes every ache 'n his body. i promise u he misses ur scent when he isnt home and sprays somethin' of his with ur perfume/cologne to take with him, just so he can have a small piece of u. anyways my love for this gruff, blunt man runs deep. ˙◠˙

[dervampireprince]

ASMR | Elden Ring - Messmer x Listener SFW Giving Comfort And Care To Touch-Starved Messmer

[M4A] [Reverse comfort] [Touch-starved Messmer] [Feelings confession] [First kiss] [Mentions of Messmer's abandonment by his mother] [Potential DLC spoilers] [Listener left ambiguous so can be non-tarnished, or tarnished who's made peace with Messmer]

So remeber how the first Astarion audio I made was done 3 hours after I found out he had sad lore in him and consumed every cutscene and read up on his lore and recorded an audio that night? Well... the same might have happened again. An artist I follow on Twitter (thank you ProxysArt) has been drawing and retweeting other drawings of him and I thought he was pretty and all but then I saw that his lore was sad and well... I went and did it again, watched every video I could find, read all the lore I could find on fanwikis, and recorded this a couple hours later. While I'm familiar with Elden Ring, I've never played it, only fell down some lore rabbit holes a couple years ago, but didn't remember much so apologies if I got any lore wrong. I've tried to also make this understandable without you needing to know anything about Elden Ring.

Because I recorded this yesterday and it wasn't planned in advance, I didn't have enough time to draw a thumbnail image. The image is a screenshot from Elden Ring: Shadow of the Erdtree. Though honestly I have noticed that videos with photos or official images instead of my artwork seem to do better? I don't know if that's the algorithm pushes them more or non-subscribers are more enticed by photos instead of drawings?

.

Old public spicy audios on sound gasm (link in pinned post). 2 Exclusive spicy audios on Patreon every month. I also stream on Twitch every week @ dervampireprince . [minors + ageless blogs dni. this blog is for 18+ only.] [do not repost/reupload/edit any of my content]

[andr0nap]

cowboy au but i commit to the lack of horses on no mans land

[ferritins]

THIS TORNADO LOVES YOU | S. RILEY

SUMMARY: Simon takes a step you never thought he would, in a way you’d never imagine.

NOTES: the endearment ‘pet’ is used once, in an “author grew up in The Midlands City God Forgot AKA Leicester” way, not the kink way. credit for the idea for this piece goes to @bleuu-moon, who’s post about Simon letting you take off the mask has been living in my head rent free bills and utilities included for ages.

disclaimer; whilst I’m down bad for fictional men who are taller than me, I also an anti-militarism pro disarmament pacifist. COD and other military games a recruitment tool for the armed forces, and PMCs are just a way for governments to outsource war crimes to avoid The Hague. do not enlist; big oil and genocidaires are not worth dying for and armed service will chew you up and shit you out to die as soon as you are physically or psychologically incapable of dying for the sake of capital.

You come home to Simon illuminated by your television, scant blood splotches blackish on his fatigue sleeves.

“Um. Is any of that yours?” You venture, dropping your keys in their designated dish, casting a careful eye over your lover. “I thought we had come to an agreement about you actively bleeding all over my sofa cushions after last time.”

Simon grunts.

You roll your eyes.

“Words, love.”

“Just got back from Santo Domingo.” You hiss a quiet breath through your teeth, wincing as you turn to hang your coat; the boys had been following an organisation of information brokers trading in NATO military intelligence, the kind of people with whom contact was both rare and in its eventuality, incredibly bloody.

Nevertheless, Simon has never been someone who is particularly receptive to sympathy; by the time you turn back around to face him, your face is carefully neutral.

“Did you achieve your mission objective? Wait, more importantly, you didn’t answer my question; are you bleeding?”

There’s a bitter little chuckle. “Affirmative to the first, negative to the second.”

The air sits heavy as you and Simon watch one another, flashes of colour and light bouncing off the skull of his mask like a nightmare in Technicolor.

Just when the tension reaches the point of being unbearable, Simon speaks.

“They knew your name.” He says, voice basso profundo with his gathering fury.

A frisson of fear runs down your spine — not at Simon, not after all this time, but at the information — before dissipating like cigarette smoke in a hurricane.

It’s a target on your back, sure, but it is one of dozens. Your career has made you many enemies.

“They trade in military intelligence, Simon, which is pretty much my entire area of specialty.”

“Do you think this is a joke?”

“Do you think I’m a shrinking violet? What, should I give up my Lance Corporal’s stripe and my job? You met me when I was working signal intercept radio intelligence on RAF Ascension Island, for God’s sake.”

“You’d be safer.” Simon’s voice has taken on as much of a pleading tone as he’s capable of.

“I’d be miserable.” You retort.

“Fuck.” Simon snarls, a savage sigh of breath leaving him. “You know I’m not gonna leave your side after today, pet? Gonna get sick of my face.”

“If this is supposed to irritate me into obscurity, it’s not going to work. I like the mask, and having six foot eight of perfectly built spec ops soldier at my back isn’t exactly a hardship.” You snarl.

“Simon’s head tilts, predatory.

I”I said my face, lovie.”

Your heart starts hammering.

“”Simon, you’ve not been barefaced in front of someone in nigh on a decade. Your personnel file doesn’t have a photograph of you, and the only one that exists of you is redacted so far only His Maj can see it. For fuck’s sake, you’ve torn men’s throats out for so much as touching your mask.”

“Simon hums an affirmative, a mocking note under the tone of it.

“So now you’re scared of what intelligence gathering can lead to? Scared I’ll tear your throat out, hm?”

“Fuck you.” You snarl. “I’m not scared of you. I’m not going to let you violate your own autonomy and boundaries to prove a point, you supercilious son of a—“

“You’re the one taking it off.” Simon interrupts.

“You’re insane.”

“If you’re not going underground to wait this out, I’m gonna be living in your fucking shadow, sweetheart, breathing in your every exhale, and I can’t do that when all they know me for is the mask. The next person to so much as look at you sideways is going to die, slow and bloody, and my face is going to be the last thing they see.”

Your next inhale is shaky. Simon, sensing blood in the water, goes for the kill.

“Either you can look me in the face, acknowledge what you’re dooming anyone who hurts you to, or you back down.”

Even as you’re swinging a leg over both of Simon’s to situate yourself in his lap, you’re aware of how hideously stupid what you’re doing is.

Bolstered my nothing but bravado and an inkling of curiosity, and with your pulse rabbiting, you slowly pull up his balaclava, revealing his face to you piecemeal; a strong jaw, a bottom-heavy mouth, a patrician nose broken thrice and healed right only twice, whispers of long blonde eyelashes, and brown eyes, dark as bitumen.

On anybody else, the features would be discordant, too much dissonance to be cohesive; on Simon, they work.

His face is arresting, more than handsome; you can’t help but look at him.

His top lip is pulled up into a perpetual snarl on the left by a long deep furrow of scar tissue that starts just under his eye.

There’s a silvery scar about a half-inch long from his hair line, and his cheeks are dotted with faint demarcations; nicks from shrapnel and knifepoint, you assume.

All flat eyes and scarring, this is perhaps this most dangerous Simon has looked to you in a while.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You say, referring to both your job and Simon’s unmasking. “I’m not backing down.”

Simon is a big man, and has a surprising amount of heft to him, even when he's not trying.

His hands are large enough that even the love tap to your rump has you tipping into him. Your front is pressed to his, and you're looking up, up, up into his eyes, bearing witness to the way hunger floods them, a hungry kind of dark pouring into his gaze like an oil slick in the Mediterranean Sea.

“And I’m not backing off. Hell or high water, death or desertion; we’re in this together for good now, you and I.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this has been in the development hell folder of my Google docs for like two months so if it’s shite that’s no longer my problem I’m afraid 😭🙏🏽 thank you for reading! please do not recommend/repost on TikTok.

[tamrielic]

feeling super duper soft and clingy today so i’m just imagining the various ways JING YUAN kisses.

he’s absolutely devoted; think gomez and mortician addams. and while those two usually are, uh, very enthusiastic, jing yuan would take a more... relaxed approach. he’d gently take you by the hands and pull you closer before lifting one of your hands up to his lips and while maintaining eye contact, his golden eyes adoring and sparkling with amusement, he’d press a kiss to each finger before trailing soft kisses down your arm and up to your shoulder, finishing by nuzzling his head against the crook of your neck with a contended hum.

but also... kisses that are in the heat of the moment, when he’s got you pinned on his bed, his frame over yours, your hands pinned to the bed on either side of your head. he’s peppering your face with kisses, murmuring soft praises against your skin as he moves down to your jawline, his kisses getting hungrier. he’ll press slow kisses along the column of your throat, perhaps leaving a few faint love bites in the process, his tongue soothing over the marks.

speaking of; he absolutely worships you. he will gladly take his time, making sure to kiss every single inch of skin on your body, lingering to pay special attention to whichever parts you’re most insecure about. it isn’t even sexual sometimes, sometimes he just desperately want to worship his one and only, and all it will lead to is cuddling and falling asleep in each other’s arms.

he absolutely never leaves your presence without stepping close and gently tilting your chin up to brush his lips against yours softly, smiling into the kiss and lingering for a moment before pulling away and going about his business after murmuring a quiet “i love you”.

i could go on and on and on but, ugh, this man is one thousand percent his significant other’s biggest simp and he certainly isn’t ashamed to show it. thanks for coming to my tedtalk; i hope my silly little words made you smile!!! ‹𝟹

[nyctophicbtch]

The Songcord - Neteyam

[ Neteyam x Omatikaya!reader ]

Request: Can I request a Neteyam x Omaticaya!reader

Author’s note: I recommend listening to From Darkness to Light, The Spirit Tree, and The Songcord if you have tissues prepared

Warnings: angst, mentions of blood, death

Word Count: 3,101

“Feels like I haven’t been here in ages,” you muttered, hands brushing the glowing strands of the tree of voices. Kiri and Tuk were already immersed in their own worlds, not hearing a thing you were saying. Spider was out exploring on his own, eyeing the sky, the flowers, the tree, and basically everything else.

“Better make the most of it then,” Lo’ak replied, attaching his queue to a strand.

Neteyam was standing near the bark, and it looked like he wasn’t going to join them any time soon, so you followed Lo’ak and did the same.

It had been a while since you’d done this, or had been anywhere near the tree at all. Although there were plenty of excuses to use, you knew you were just scared of what you’d see.

It was moments like these, where you’d hear and see your actual parents, that made you afraid. You had been fighting so long to earn your place here with the Sully’s.

Even though you started off wanting to befriend the family of the person who insisted on becoming your friend, it’d grown into something deeper over time. And every time you looked back to your parents whenever you visited the tree made you realize that you could never have what you actually wanted.

The feeling overwhelmed you, screamed at you until the bond was forcefully broken and you were thrown back off your balance. You didn’t know what was happening, but you could somehow make out Lo’ak’s muffled yelling over your blurry vision and ringing ears.

“Neteyam!”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know!”

“Move!” You felt hands grasping your shoulders, but you were too caught up on trying to breathe to see who it was. It felt like the air was sucked out of you and none of your senses were working properly. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re here.”

There was no coherent thought on what was going on, but you could feel the thumb gently rubbing small circles on your shoulder.

“Shh. You’re okay,” Neteyam whispered, leaning his forehead to yours.

Your shallow breaths slowly returned to normal, and you started to make sense of what was happening. You could start to feel the numbing of your legs from the uncomfortable position, and you could see Lo’ak’s worried gaze on you. You started to hear Neteyam’s comforting words clearer and feel the way he was holding you.

You heard the sigh of relief Lo’ak released when you felt yourself calming down and Spider running towards you, closing your eyes to let yourself succumb to Neteyam’s comforting hold.

He kept his eyes closed and forehead pressed against yours for as long as you’d like to assure you that he wasn’t going anywhere. It was only when you felt the numbing of your legs begin to worsen when you pulled away, finally looking at your surroundings.

Kiri and Tuk were still engrossed in their memories and it looked like they did not witness the scene that had just unfold beside them, much to your relief. You didn’t know how you’d explain this to the cheery child.

“Hey, you okay? What was that?” Spider questioned.

“I don’t know.”

They all decided to leave you to yourself and give you time to think, well except Lo’ak who wasn’t going to let it slide that easily.

“What did you see?” he asked as he sat down beside you, leaning his head against a tree.

“The usual.”

“Then why did-“ Lo’ak stopped himself with a sigh before he could interrogate you any further. “Don’t leave me hanging for too long. Talk when you’re ready.”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Guys, it’s dark out we need to get back.” You heard Kiri call out from a distance.

“You were the one that took so long,” Lo’ak replied as he stood up, offering a hand to you for support.

“Let’s go, children.” Neteyam rallied everyone, placing a hand on Tuk’s back when she almost lost her balance.

You all ran back from the way you came, anxiousness gripping at each one of you when you saw the sky completely dark, the only thing lighting it up were the stars and moons.

But there was no room to worry about curfew when all you could think about was what had happened back there. Everything happened so fast you could barely process it.

“You coming?” Neteyam’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

You looked up to the boy waiting for you, his head turned back to face you expectantly. In a matter of seconds, you regained your senses and jumped up to the branch near him.

Maybe you didn’t really regain all of your senses after all, considering how you slipped on the moss and fell backwards. Lucky for you, Neteyam had incredible reflexes, grabbing your hand before you managed to fall. Being the Olo’eyktan in training had its perks.

“Careful.”

“Thanks,” you muttered half-heartedly.

Neteyam decided he wasn’t going to press you further on it, giving you some space for whatever is going on in your head.

The branches suddenly felt further apart than they were, and your legs felt heavy as you leaped from branch to branch, following the Sully kids.

“Mom’s going to be so mad,” said Kiri as she ran past Lo’ak to catch up with Spider. Poor Tuk was left behind, so you grabbed her hand and matched your pace with the youngest Sully.

“Come on, Tuk,” you encouraged her when you saw the big jump she had to make. She pursed her lips and made a running start before leaping, Neteyam steadying her balance on the other side.

“Go ahead, I’ll be right behind you,” he whispered as you passed him.

You could see the circled-outlines of the moons in the sky, their glow being the only thing that allowed you to see your path, apart from the glow behind the opening in a tree bark that indicated you were finally there.

“And where-“ Neytiri started as Neteyam joined your circle. “Have you all been?”

Technically you weren’t actually family, you thought as you slowly backed away from them. With it being so dark and you standing on the edge of the group made your escape seem pretty easy. Neteyam noticed your movements but didn’t comment on it.

“You too.” You froze in your spot, Neytiri’s eyes trained on you like a spotlight.

You doubted that they saw you as family, but Jake and Neytiri had an odd way of making you feel like it. You had been a little younger than Tuk when Lo’ak had found you, and from there, each day you spent with the Sullys brought you closer to the family. But in times like this, you wished you didn’t feel like part of the family enough to escape Neytiri’s scolding.

-

“Why do they get to do the fun stuff while we sit here? I’d rather join them.”

“Suit yourself. I like it here,” replied Kiri.

Just on time, you stopped your pacing and ran out to the sound of the people shouting for the war party. The scene that greeted you wasn’t what you had initially expected, but it was no surprise either.

You kept your distance as you watched the two boys look down guiltily when Kiri approached, trying to drag the older brother out of the situation.

However, the huge gash on Neteyam’s chest worried you more than anything. His tail was swishing gently, showing the unease he felt.

Eventually, Jake let them both go and you followed them into the tent, and when the boys saw you, their faces lit up.

“Hey,” you approached Neteyam who was sitting on top of a wooden table with Kiri tending to his wounds.

“I’m offended you didn’t come to me first,” grumbled Lo’ak from the corner of the room. He had his arms crossed over his chest stubbornly, and the bright look turned into a sour one.

Although you knew he was messing around, you heard some truth in his words. Besides, it was Lo’ak that had befriended you first, and it was him that had spent his nights up to no good with you when his brother was busy being a good child.

“Missed you too, Lo’ak.”

“Ouch. Can you not?” Neteyam flinched as Kiri pressed into the cut a little too forcefully.

“Do you want me to help?”

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

“No I’m not,” she scoffed before pressing his wound even harsher, making him slap her hand away. “Now that was on purpose. You do it, I’m gonna find Tuk.”

Kiri gave you the bowl before exiting the tent. You were never one for healing, but you saw her plenty of times and she knew that. It was usually Kiri that did all the work when her brothers came back all bruised and bleeding.

“It’s fine. I don’t need it anyways,” Neteyam argued and started to get up when you smeared the sap on his cut.

“It’s deep. You’ll get an infection.”

“No it’s-“

“Sit down.” You gently pushed the hand that wasn’t holding the bowl to his chest and Neteyam sat down. He kept his eyes on you as you continued working on him, making sure to be extra gentle.

“I’m still here,” Lo’ak called out, unamused. “This is getting sappy. I’m leaving.”

“How come you’re younger than me and you get to boss me around all the time?” Neteyam started once his brother was out of earshot.

“I’m Lo’ak’s age.”

“And I see him as a baby.”

You sighed, feeling around his head to find any injuries. Neteyam could tell you were distracted and that your thoughts were everywhere but here with him just from the look in your eyes. You’ve been welled up in your thoughts ever since your last visit to the tree of voices, and the change of mood that came with it was evident.

“You okay?” Neteyam finally decided to speak up, wincing when you pressed on a sore spot in his scalp.

“Hmm?”

“You’ve been like this for the past week,” he explained. “Distant.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on. I know you better than that. Lo’ak thinks it has something to do with me and he won’t shut up about it.”

“I’m fine.” You applied the sap with just a bit too much pressure on his head and he grasped your hand in his, bringing it away from his head.

“I won’t tell him,” he started when you finally looked at him for the first time ever since Kiri left. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Neteyam saw your hesitance and reached for the bowl in your other hand to set it down next to him. He lowered his voice, speaking gently as if he was afraid of hurting you. “What happened when we were in the tree of voices?”

“I don’t know. I saw my parents and when it stopped I just panicked and I don’t know why. This never happens. Then I started thinking about your family and how they don’t really consider me a part of their family made me wish I had something like that.” You didn’t even realize the tears were falling until you felt Neteyam wipe the ones that fell to your cheeks. He stood and put an arm around you to bring you into an embrace, allowing you to bury your face in his shoulder.

Every welled up thought and feeling from the past week you’ve tried to shove as deep in the back of your head as possible suddenly resurfaced all over again. Maybe you were too scared to admit it, but Neteyam’s comfort was what you’ve been needing.

“You’re as much of the family as I am,” he softly assured whilst pulling away, tilting your chin upwards with a finger to look at him. “It might not look like it, but we all care. Even mom and dad.”

And then Neteyam did something stupid.

He leaned in to press his lips against yours, his grip around you tightening to pull you closer. You could taste the salt from your own tears as you responded with the same amount of intensity, all the built-up emotions finally pouring out into the kiss.

Your hands reached out to wrap around his neck when you felt his tail brush against your leg, the slow loving movements indicating how blissed out he was.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed in that tent, but when you pulled away breathlessly, Neteyam did the same with visible effort.

“How am I going to tell Lo’ak?”

Neteyam breathed out a small laugh and closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I’m more worried about dad.” At his words, you parted from him anxiously. “Relax. You’re family. If anything, they’ll be more worried about you than me.”

He wasn’t wrong. Jake looked like he was having a panic attack when the two of you told him and Neytiri.

“You want to tell me how this happened?” He pointed between the two of you who looked like guilty kids that had gotten caught stealing. You both glanced at each other hesitantly as Jake grew impatient waiting for an explanation from either of you.

“Neteyam kissed me.” Your voice came out so quiet you weren’t sure whether you’d said it out loud or if you’d only said it in your head.

Jake and Neytiri looked purely out of it. They cast their son a look while he looked anywhere but at his parents.

“Neteyam,” Neytiri warned.

The Olo���eyktan made sure to make the list of rules clear for the both of you. No wandering off too far alone together and definitely no sleeping together, even just next to each other separately. Jake mentioned how he knew it wasn’t uncommon considering how you’ve been doing that since you were children, but now it was off limits. He also mentioned a whole set of other rules and how he would kill Neteyam if the boy laid a hand on you or hurt you in any way.

In a way, the protectiveness they held towards you made you feel welcomed and accepted. It made you feel as if you were actually part of the family. And even more so when they offered you to join them to pursue lands beyond the Omatikaya clan.

Since the only people you’ve stuck to since you were young were their kids, Jake and Neytiri knew you’d be devastated if you had to part with them, especially when you were now attached with their eldest son.

There was no dismissing their offer from your side either. You weren’t going to leave the only people who truly knew you, and you weren’t going to leave Neteyam. Though you had to admit, you missed the forest just as much as everybody else.

“What’s that?” asked the youngest Sully as she peeked over your shoulder to get a closer look at what you were holding.

“A bracelet I’m making for you.” Her face brightened even more.

“It’s pretty!”

“It needs more shells. I’ll fetch some more outside and woah-“ your eyes widened when Neteyam and Lo’ak entered, all bruised and bloody. “What now?”

“Got into a fight with Tsireya’s brothers. They were picking on Kiri. Hey Tuk,” Lo’ak said, ruffling his sister’s hair.

“You too?” You looked at the older brother.

“What? Was I supposed to stand there and watch him get beaten up?”

“I could’ve handled them on my own.”

Neteyam snorted. “No, you’d be with Eywa if it wasn’t for me.”

Lo’ak grumbled his way to Tuk, who looked like she had so many questions for him. He picked up the bracelet you made and twirled it in his hands, earning an angry protest from his sister who snatched it away from his hands.

You were about to leave to go shell-hunting when a thought passed through your head after seeing blood on Neteyam’s lips.

It looked like it hadn't dried up, so you acted on impulse when you approached him and brought your hand to his jaw to pull him into a gentle kiss, making sure to lick his bottom lip where the blood was.

The kiss took Neteyam by surprise, and once he was about to respond, you pulled away, leaving him puzzled.

“You got blood on your lips,” you whispered, tracing your fingers along his jaw before reluctantly letting go.

“Gross, you two. Poor Tuk’tirey’s tainted.” You barely heard Lo’ak’s words as you walked away from them.

The rest of your days were filled with the same routine. You’d learn a thing or two from the Tsireya and then Lo’ak would stir up trouble with her brother and his friends. How they had managed to get along after some time was a miracle.

Everyday was filled with new discoveries of their waters. Tuk would ask to see something new almost every hour, and being the favorite, you’d accompany her almost every time. If you weren’t with Tuk, you’d be sitting somewhere with Kiri. If you weren’t with Kiri, you’d be exploring the waters with Lo’ak, and if you weren’t with Lo’ak, you’d be discovering new places on land with Neteyam.

Today, you were with Lo’ak, and you hadn’t expected that warning his Tulkun friend would turn into something much much worse. You weren’t even sure how it came to this point.

You were escaping the sky people when Kiri, Lo’ak and Tuk were taken. It was one thing after the other and the next thing you know, you were trying to keep your composure as you watched Neteyam writhe in pain from a bullet wound in his chest, your palm caressing his jaw to let him know you were here.

It’s okay. He’s going to be okay.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jake voiced your thoughts.

“I want to go home.”

No. It’ll take more than a bullet to kill you.

“I know, I know. We’re going home.”

No. No.

You felt your heart breaking followed by a tear with every sob and pained sound that came out of his mouth.

“It’s okay,” you quietly assured him as your thumb gently stroked his cheek, the first word you’ve spoken coming off as a whisper.

Neteyam glanced your way one last time at your voice before the pain in his eyes turned lifeless and his convulsing body went still.

“No. No, no-“ Neytiri begged and it felt like the air was sucked out of you. “Neteyam!”

You couldn’t even hear your own scream over the ringing of your ears. Everything happened all too fast.

“Neteyam,” you sobbed, cradling his head close.

You can’t leave me. Come back.

:)

[klanced]

when adam met 11yo keith he immediately knew that keith was gay and was like i have GOT to support this kid!! (runs into traffic) meanwhile shiro spent years operating under the assumption that keith had like a gender thing going on

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Imagine…

Starting to make dinner in Aaron’s apartment on a Thursday night. He’s just gone for a shower, washing away his last case and the worst parts of the world that he falls privy to day in and day out as Unit Chief of the BAU.

You’re humming along to your oldies but goodies playlist while sipping a glass of white wine that’s too sweet for Aaron’s liking. As the current song fades out and the familiar notes of a Bee Gees tune start, you realize with a smile just how many of these songs you've compiled make you think of your love.

And, speak of the furthest thing from the devil, suddenly he’s there, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind as his body perfectly molds to the dips and curves of your own. He guides you back and forth in a gentle sway, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder as he releases a deep sigh.

You allow your eyes to drift shut and your head to fall back against Aaron so you can bury your nose in the crook of his neck. "Sauce'll burn," you mumble, letting his familiar smell wash over you and sending warm tingles throughout your body.

"Let it," he responds just as softly. "We'll order something. Need to hold you."

You release a sound of contentment that's half-sigh, half-hum, nuzzling even deeper into him as if you can become one person if you try hard enough. In this moment, there's no yesterday or tomorrow. There's no anticipation of the next phone call that will take your love across the country again. There's no darkness, no fear, no evil lurking around the corner. There's just you and the man you love more than anything else in the world.

You dot gentle kisses along the expanse of his skin that you can reach without moving, and he squeezes you tighter in response. "Marry me," Aaron breathes out on a sigh. "I'll make it more romantic later, I promise. Just tell me you'll be mine forever."

"Oh, my baby," you murmur. "I already am."

—————

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner @iyv-ray24 @mrs-ssa-hotch @criminalskies @callm3c0nfus3d

[inkpot909]

First Love Headcanons: Bruno Bucciarati x Reader

↳ Gender neutral Reader with they/them pronouns. Implied the reader is shorter than Bucciarati? Canon-divergent. The reader is not made out to be very morally upright and is hinted at having a rough past.

A/n: Doing another one of these has been on my mind for a while now. Thank you to the lovely person below for the request! I hope y’all enjoy. <3

Warning(s): None.

There’s no time in Bruno Bucciarati’s schedule for a relationship.

Growing up in the mob kept him focused on the ‘family’ that took him in. It was his purpose, and the only reason he was able to support his father as well as himself. Before he learned the truth of the organization’s operations, he felt a pride in even the… messier aspects of his work.

Eventually finding a disconnect between it and his own morals leaves an empty spot in his heart. A shame so deeply buried within him that even the members slowly joining his team know little of it how deeply it affects him.

He now goes on with his work as normal, all while feeling like a bit of a hypocrite. His heart feeling so betrayed it needs little to push him towards full betrayal on his part.

Surely, a relationship would only muddy the waters.

All the cute girls that wave to him as he passes by on the street… who of them would be able to take such baggage? How could he expect anyone to? He wouldn’t have it in him to willingly bring anyone into this lifestyle, if his reluctance to let Narancia join is anything to go by.

Barely an adult and already he’s responsible for a small handful of people. Though, that thought never crosses his mind, as he’s unfortunately felt like an adult for an unfair amount of time.

And despite his own inner turmoil over his position in Passione, he’s formed meaningful relationships through the members of his team.

He’s the connection that binds them together, the head of their group, and by proxy the head of their little family. The purpose that the organization originally gave him now lands on the shoulders of his motley crew.

It’s them that keeps him going in spite of it all.

He finds his heart still beating, still moved each time he brings someone underneath his wing. That alone is good enough for a man like him.

No… there’s no time in Bruno Bucciarati’s schedule for a relationship.

And so, with that thought constantly repeated in his mind, he didn’t at all bat an eye when your own need eventually brought you to Passione’s metaphorical doorstep.

In your mind, it must’ve felt like fate.

Reaching for assistance at lowest point, you were subtly pointed toward one Bruno Bucciarati.

You don’t know what you expecting from the mafioso. A degree of harshness or coldness, perhaps. Only to be greeted with a hearty meal and an understanding personality so moving you fell into the trap of the mob right then and there.

How could you hope not to? When all you saw in that moment was a pair of gentle blue eyes looking at you with unspoken empathy, allowing you to speak freely despite his status as a gang leader.

So when he gave you an offer, you could only accept with newfound vigor.

The next couple of days felt like a blur, a change to your very view of your own psyche is made when it is suddenly able to manifest something you soon knew to call a stand. It is life altering to you, yet mundane to Bucciarati.

That kept you grounded.

Exiting a prison, golden broach in your hand, there’s no pit in your stomach that usually occurs when you lie straight to someone’s face. You had looked up at Polpo- an impossibly intimidating capo -and told him a lie. Said you’d kept the lighter on for 24 hours, and he… took your word for it, creepily enough.

You’re observant, able to discern that you were never meant to actually keep the lighter on the whole time, that the goal all along was to acquire a stand.

Distantly, you remember telling yourself as you left the prison that you ought to grow accustomed to lying anyways.

You didn't chose the mafia to be a player in your future, but life hardly goes the way people want.

And lying to a man like Polpo really didn’t feel like it counted anyways.

Still, Bruno’s reaction to your own twisted priorities was a darkly comforting one. It made you feel better about the coming days ahead:

Bruno Bucciarati finds himself checking his watch a third time, standing just a few yards away from a prison’s main entrance. Not many people like to pass by the looming building, leaving him alone and not likely to be recognized by anyone- Passione member or not.

He sighs, This should not be taking this long.

There’s only so much he can check the area around him before he starts looking suspect. Not that there’s much hustle and bustle in the surrounding area to distract himself with. A familiar impatience bubbles within his stomach, one that only occurs when he’s about to introduce his team to a new member.

Well… hopefully.

Before he starts growing gray hairs, he hears the prison gate creak open. Turning his head, he finally notices your figure exiting the large entrance with prison guards escorting you.

A smile finds its way onto his face, a gesture you return as you approach him. Once the gate is closed, and the two of you are left without any watchful eyes, you subtly gesture with your arm. The action causes his attention to move towards your hand that shows off a little golden broach in your hand.

He gives a nod, and you don’t waste time before shoving the little piece of gold into your pocket. Just as you do, you halt your footsteps- now standing close enough to hold a casually quiet conversation.

Every one of your movements are noticed and dissected within his mind, something you clearly understand just by looking at your poised body language. That, or you’re still on alert from talking to Polpo.

“I was beginning to think I’d have to go in there myself,” he jests lightly, though there’s not much actual humor in his voice. “Afraid I’d find you there attempting to choke the capo out.”

“The thought didn’t cross my mind,” you reply, a trying smile playing on your lips. You appear much more collected than the day you first met him, a detail he’s glad to see. “That would be an awful first impression of my own loyalty, wouldn’t it?”

Ah, so either Y/n is simply that nervous, or Polpo’s words actually got to them. Bruno shakes the thought off, as the distinction is not worth dwelling over right at this moment.

“One of your new teammates was damn near close to trying to pull a stunt like that in the past-“ he doesn’t miss how your eyes brighten up at his roundabout way of welcoming you to his team. You joining it went without saying, but the subtle omission being enough to make you look so inspired is something he can already tell he’ll find endearing about your personality. “-But no matter… walk with me, please.”

You do as you’re asked, something Bruno does not care take note of.

It's the one part of your behavior he doesn't quietly run through his brain. It’s your first day after all, he’ll see in a weak how well you actually listen to him. His experience with the others has taught him as much.

“I do have to admit…” you speak up when he doesn’t, “Lying to him didn’t make me feel bad at all.”

He turns to you, something flickering in his gaze before he lets out a soft chuckle. His smile now seems a little less formal, and the amusement on his face looks more natural. “If that’s an omission of guilt, then you’ll be an interesting change of pace.”

“It is,” you admit, figuring there’s no need to put up a front for a man this observant, “Lying to someone is almost worse than killing them.”

“How do you figure?” Bruno raises an eyebrow, not batting an eyelid at your statement. Honestly, the first time the two of you met, your words were much more morbid.

“Well… lying leaves room for feelings to stir within me or the person of interest. It lets emotions fester inside of people. Killing stops all regrets or feelings of betrayal- stopping everything, you understand? That, I can live with. A bad mark on my heart I find more difficult to walk away from."

It’s no surprise he’s silent after that, but his hesitation does take you off guard.

Oh, god, was that too loose-lipped? It’s easy to feel comfortable around Bucciarati. Far too easy. He’s the type of man that makes people inclined to open up. You always talked casually before about macabre things. Isn’t that normal for a mafioso? What if-

“No need to be nervous, L/n; I’m already impressed by you. You’ll do well with us.”

Oh.

Something about his words, spoken so calmly without even looking over at you, have a calming effect to them. Just a week into knowing him, and already you’re slowly growing accustomed to his genuine yet subdued warmth.

As Bruno drones on about Passione and its systems- more specifically his duties that directly trickle down into being your duties -you can’t help but let your mind wander a little to a distinction you made when you first met him.

Bruno Bucciarati’s fundamentally different.

There’s a kindness to him you never would’ve expected from someone in a gang. It kept you nodding along as you spoke, and distantly you felt as though your entire future is in the palm of his hand.

And scarily enough, you were fine with that.

Him being a sort of exception was a thought you assumed yourself to be mad for making, at least, until you found out the others on the team noticed the exact same thing.

All while Bruno himself only looks at you and sees your potential to grow.

A place in his team… something that he’s always well-spotted. An intuition he’s not once been wrong with before, so there’s a degree of confidence there as well that rubs off on you.

You got his attention in a familiar way, and after you join the team, you’re his responsibility and his purpose- just as the others are.

He’s just your leader. Nothing more, nothing less.

That said, he grows to appreciate the genuine gratefulness you offer him in a… special way.

The others are thankful for him too, and he knows that fact, but it’s nice to here the sentiment so openly and often in nature. And in the tones of your voice, it’s especially calming.

He’s really just making excuses for himself, but it was early on enough where it was okay.

That’s what’ll first make Bruno truly see you as not only a member of his team, but a member of his little found-family. The not-so-subtle ways you show that you want to be with them and a part of what they do… how could he hope to not find that charming?

Your softer side, however you chose to express it, is never missed by a man like Bruno. He easily recognizes it, and almost immediately respects you for it.

Hell, after a while, he relies on you for it.

There’s little in his life that’s more grounding than a gentle expression, thick with anticipation, displayed on your face after each mission you’re not a part of.

You always check up on the returning members as soon as possible, making sure everyone is up and moving. “I won’t be able to relax unless I see for myself that you’re all okay,” he recalls you saying on the matter. The fact that it’s how you treat everyone on the team only makes the relaxing feeling sink in deeper.

It’s not long before he sees you as a genuine soul, and he’d consider himself to be a fool if he didn’t recognize that.

Since the very beginning, Bruno’s personality has touched you emotionally. And although he always saw a sort of spark in you, getting to really know you- becoming your friend in tantum with acting as your superior -allows him to see that little spark for what it actually is.

Genuine care for the people you’re close to. An eye for good natured people, and a responding gentleness. Couple that with a darker, more proactive role during missions or anything work-related, and Bruno finds himself falling back on you more than he’d care to admit.

The others, though? They have no hang-ups over mentioning it. It gets to a point where- specifically Fugo, Mista, and Narancia -start to complain about Bruno showing you a degree of ‘special treatment.’

Mista and Narancia’s complaining jabs are easily shot down with only a look, but Fugo proved to be a lot more serious about it.

To the extent to where an argument or two emerges between them. Fugo insistant in his observations, trying to get Bruno to at least admit he treats you differently than the rest. But Bruno remained headstrong, stubborn in his belief that he would always treat his subordinates equally.

He’s just your boss. Nothing more, nothing less.

In the months that pass, when you’ve since naturally found your place on the team, at what point did that start to be the common refrain playing in his mind?

At what point does he go from insisting he has no time for a relationship at all, to continuously having to remind himself he’s your boss?

And that question alone tugs at his heartstrings in a manner he’s not quite used to. It’s a delightful feeling, but it is foreign.

For a man like Bruno Bucciarati, it’s not so much a refusal to believe he could be developing feelings, but a worry if he should even do anything about the attraction.

That said, it does take him some time to realize his own feelings due to his position as a boss to you and out of sheer unfamiliarity with the subject.

He’s not too obvious as to receive knowing looks from the others whenever he’s around you (Which is often). Hell, Mista even admitted to him much later that Narancia didn’t even notice until Fugo told him to start paying attention.

And after a certain point, Bruno has to admit it to himself and does so with surprising ease. It may have taken some time, he may have been stubborn speaking with Fugo, but he won’t continue to lie to himself. He’s old enough to know when he needs to swallow his pride and admit Fugo was onto something, if only a little.

And after that point of realization, his own love language starts to naturally shine through a bit more.

Bruno generally prefers acts of service and quality time when showing his affection. Cheeky and openly flirtatious, you may have assumed he’s been in relationships before given his confidence.

He’s always had a special care for you when it comes to missions... but now he finds himself offering to help you with grocery shopping. Or paying for a maid to clean up your home when you’ve had a particularly busy week, and offhandedly mentioned needing to clean once.

What? You thought he would forget? That only makes him chuckle smugly, prompting him to lean to eye-level and ask you, “What kind of man do you think I am?”

It seems like he remembers everything that pours from your lips. Always listening to you intently, and never brushing you off.

And during down time, Bruno naturally finds himself preferring to spending it in your company. A lot. Preferably alone, thank you very much.

The two of you even began to start watching TV shows with one another. And neither of you would dare to watch ahead without the other. It’s usually true crime shows, comedies, or shitty soap operas.

All this time with you after realizing his feelings... and they only grow- to his personal panic. The more he stays at your side the more he would hate to ever leave it.

So this is what it's like... he remembers thinking while lounging around, and watching a movie with you one evening. This is.... what I’ve been missing my whole life.

As beautiful as the feeling you bring him is, should he... really do anything about it?

He can see that look in your eyes when it’s just the two of you, a gleam that speaks of an internal joy you’re not sharing with him just as he refuses to share with you.

He gets a sneaking suspicion that you like him the exact same way he’s grown to adore you. And Christ almighty- what’s he supposed to do with that?

Yet, even though you’re a part of Passione, meaning he needs not to stress over bringing you into something so dangerous unwillingly... he is still hesitant.

His care for you so often is expressed through worry, something he usually handles with authority and maybe even harsh words if he deems it necessary.

But this is far more personal, and he can only mull it over by himself. He’s not the type to bring it up to others, not even Abbacchio.

If he reached for you... and the two of you began something real; something official... it would be a no-brainer for enemies to target either of you in order to send some sort of message.

He can’t stand the thought of your broken heart, and absolutely refuses to think of something like that happening to you.

Then again, if a bit morbid, he eventually realizes the result would still be the same with the way things are now. Only, it’d be coupled with Bruno's deep regret over not having said anything to you.

He can only wonder if you’d feel the same, and at the end of the day, he really does think that would be the case.

And it’s around the time he’s fully digesting this, that you end up genuinely taking him aback. Acting before he can begin convincing himself to make the first move:

Giorno, Fugo, and Mista walk behind Bucciarati, looking up at him in silent awe.

If you were to look into each of their eyes, you could likely peace together what they’re thinking while looking upon the freshly appointed capo. Opportunity twinkles within their gazes, all coming from a sincere place of respect for their leader.

You, however, are not looking at them.

As Bruno approaches the rest of his team, anticipation turns into cheers and hollers of excitement from the others standing next to you. Abbacchio has the widest smile on his face you’ve seen since Giorno entered the picture, yet your gaze stays glued onto Bruno throughout the nearly youthful display of glee.

He’s noticeably silent and calm. It’s like there’s no off switch to him- likely already going through the duties now landing on his lap due to his promotion within his mind. He’s not going to want to take the night off, no doubt wanting to get down to business.

Your heart swells despite the slight strain on it. It’s so like him to be that way in a time like this, but… I can’t help but wish he’d celebrate… if only a little, you find yourself thinking.

“Mista… guys, please,” Bruno tries to calm the two (In all honesty, Giorno’s ‘celebrating’ amounted to simply smiling) excited boys walking beside him, waving his hand.

Mista goes on about how everyone must celebrate somehow, still lecturing as they finally approach and reunite with the rest of the group. His words go over Bruno’s head, however, a fond smile making its way onto his face when he turns to meet your gaze.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline from him finally achieving the well-deserved position. Feeling so proud of him that your body jerks forward without thinking. Maybe it’s the excitement of everyone else rubbing off on you, and simply causes you to act without thinking.

All you do care to think as your feet move you right up to Bruno is, To hell with it. If he won’t start celebrating on his own; I’m making him celebrate.

Bruno opens his mouth to speak as you move well within his personal space, but is cut off by the swift movement of your hand tightly grabbing the collar of his jacket. One good tug of your arm and your pulling him toward you, lips meeting with his eyes widely open in surprise.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!”

Fugo’s exclamation, along with startled gasps from everyone else melt away the moment you feel Bruno melt into the kiss and reciprocate.

He follows your lead, gently sighing against your lips when you neglect to take your hand off his collar. His arms, which you’ve always found to be so comforting, snake around your waist. He keeps you securely in his hold, and your other hand flies to cup his jaw.

After a moment or two, the kiss breaks. Bruno looks at you as you pull away, eyes still wide and mouth gently agape. It’s enough to make you chuckle, seeing him so cutely taken aback by both your and his own spontaneous actions.

“Congratulations, capo,” you smoothly whisper, finally removing yourself from his hold. “You earned it.”

“I-… thank you, Y/n,” he responds softly, a smile growing on his face.

As much as you’d like to hold onto the gentle intimacy of the moment you just shared with him, movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention. Shifting your gaze, you catch a glimpse of Fugo silently sliding some cash over to a smug-looking Abbacchio.

No… they didn’t…

“Did you-“ you breath, embarrassment beginning to boil inside your stomach and fuel the rising volume of your voice, “-Did you assholes bet on us!?”

“It’s Fugo’s fault for assuming Bucciarati would make the first move,” Abbacchio replies dryly, scoffing as if it’s beneath him.

“Excuse me!?” you and Fugo shout in tandem.

The team erupts in accusations and yelling, the celebration over nearly three minutes after it began. Bruno can only smile at his team, not expecting anything less.

And just like you moments ago, he cannot take his eyes off you.

It’s moments like those that serve as a reminder as to why it’s Bucciarati that leads the team.

Still… the smile playing on his lips that day did not falter once after your sudden display of affection. It was a beautiful, unexpected thing… much akin to how you entered his life.

The two of you were much closer after that event. Other members of Passione outside the team noticing another that’s always at the young capo’s side. Whispers and rumors flood Naples of your relationship… but he never pays them any attention.

He knows what the two of have, and he’s confident in saying that it’s love.

After all, all that matters to him is you staying at his side… even behind closed doors. He’s never experienced something like this before in his life, but now that he has you held in his arms, he never wishes to let you go.

[izel-scribbles]

raise your hand if you're enjoying the constant jarthur art (i raise my hand, completely alone) ((closeups under the cut))

[uc1wa]

college!jason and dry humping.........

oh i have so many versions of this in my head

18+ minors dni

tags: gn reader, dry humping, kissing, slight choking

it’s not jason’s fault that he asked you to study in his bedroom. i mean, you did study for what… an hour?

if it was his fault, you wouldn’t be on top of him right now, your clothed legs on either side of his grey joggers. one of your hands in his hair and the other on his defined arm, rubbing yourself against your study partner to get the tiniest taste of him.

"fuck, yeah keep doing that," he mumbles against your lips that are glossed in a mixture of yours and his saliva. one of his hands are on your hips—ironic that he’s telling you what to do when he’s guiding your movements entirely. "already hard?" you tease, feeling the obvious boner that your clothed entrance is trying to ride against.

the hand that’s cupping your cheek slithers down to your throat, tightening in what feels like a teasingly threatening way. "shut up," he kisses, biting your lip.

jason wasn’t exactly a gentlemen, but he didn’t wanna fuck you yet. he liked you, and this was his version of first base, moaning and dry humping in his room with his other roommates in their rooms, respectively. technically, he was only kissing you and rubbing against you—no harm, no foul.

you wouldn’t know with the way his lips are kissing at you hungrily, like somebody in a rush. the way he’s bucking his hips in a quick rhythm against yours to fulfill the aching between his legs. but, it’s jason todd and he’s under you and there’s not another man you’d want to be sucking your tongue.

his hand stays at your throat for another beat, pulling you closer and kissing you harder. your body adjusts, your knee hitting a journal and you have to push it away. the closeness making him feel that much better against you, and you’re beginning to wonder when he’s going to take your pants off.

but suddenly jason pulls your face back, grinning, both of your lips swollen and glossy. "think you’re gonna remember that data sequence for tomorrow?" he asks, the whole reason you’re here was to study for the quiz you both had the following day.

your head tilts while wiping your mouth with your hand, and one end of your lip pulls. "oh, all of this was some tactic to get each other to pass tomorrow, huh?" and the man whose hands are still on your hips, playing with the band of your sweatpants laughs.

"well we’ll see tomorrow, and plan our next study session based on it." the following day you both passed, looking at each other knowingly after your score popped up on your computer screen.

"same time tomorrow?" because it couldn’t hurt to get a head start on studying.

[dervampireprince]

ASMR | COD - Ghost x Listener SFW Ghost's Angry You Disobeyed An Order

[M4A] [Established relationship] [Injured listener] [TW: it's a soft spoken audio but Ghost is angry, mentions of you almost dying] [Kissing]

Based on a Patreon request. Olivia Ozmun asked "In light of finding out that Ghost audio hasn't been requested, I would love an audio where listener has a close call out on the field and subsequent Ghost freakout."

.

Old public spicy audios on sound gasm (link in pinned post). 2 Exclusive spicy audios on Patreon every month. I also stream on Twitch every week @ dervampireprince . [minors + ageless blogs dni. this blog is for 18+ only.] [do not repost/reupload/edit any of my content]

[littleoddwriter]

Trapped | Cooper Abbott x GenderNeutral!Reader | Dark Fic

Hi there! I'm incredibly down bad for him, to nobody's surprise, so here's the first fic I wrote for him. More to come! This fic isn't exactly romantic or even really sexual, albeit with some hints to it; but I used it to get a feel for writing him, first and foremost. And also because I saw somebody wanting a fic where Reader is in Lady Raven's position at the end of the movie, and I wanted that as well, so, here. It's not exactly what was imagined when demanding that, I know, but it's something! (also, excuse the uninspired title, please, it's very tongue-in-cheek, I know, dshjkfgsdkjs) summary; You're captured by the Butcher as his last chance of entertainment - and revenge - before his inevitable arrest or death. There, you learn a lot about him, and also yourself. notes/warnings; GenderNeutral!Reader; Reader is in Lady Raven's position (Reader is a pop star, etc.); slight spoilers for the movie (but I expect you to have seen that if you're reading this anyway); Character Study; Implied/Referenced (Attempted) Murders; Kidnapping; Angst; Implied/Referenced Sexual Attraction; Implied/Referenced Past Child Abuse; Mostly Open End; Dark Fic. (once again, this is not a full on romantic or sexual fic about Cooper and Reader, but more of an exploration of the character, his dynamic with Reader, and Reader's own conflicting thoughts and feelings about the situation and Cooper. there are hints of romance and sexual attraction, though. this is a dark fic and it has a mostly open ending; but it does imply a bad ending if we're realistic. if you're like me, you could also find a way to imagine a better ending to it. that's why I left it somewhat ambiguous.)

The car’s passenger door was slammed shut on you, making you jump with the force behind it. A shaky breath left your trembling lips as you waited for Cooper to settle in the driver’s seat of his wife’s car. Soon to be ex-wife, you figured. If not a widow. 

Your mind was still reeling with the night’s events. One moment, you’d been giving your best for the concert, like you always did, and the next moment, you were stuck with a wanted serial killer because you decided to play hero. Desperately, you hoped it would all be worth it, in the end. Or else this might have been the stupidest decision you’ve ever made. You should have just alerted the FBI when you got the hunch that something was up with the man, you berated yourself internally. 

“Put these around your wrists,” the Butcher told you gruffly, holding up a pair of zip ties to you. 

Stunned, you just looked at him for a long moment, your mind trying to catch up with what he was asking of you. Everything has been happening too fast. Too much, all at once. And worst of all, you were terrified. Yet at the same time, you felt for him. He was a desperate man. Trapped. Cornered. In a way, you were his last resort now. How ironic.

Cooper gave you a stern look, his dishevelled hair covering parts of the upper half of his face, but the fierce glint of desperation and murder in his eyes shone through the brunette strands. 

“Put. These. Around. Your. Wrists,” he commanded again through clenched teeth, shoving the zip ties into your chest, as your hands automatically flew up to catch them.

Shakily, you nodded and put your hands through the loop. Once the zip ties were around your wrists, the Butcher pulled them tight, the thin hard plastic cutting into your skin, rubbing it raw with every small movement. 

As soon as he was certain that your hands were tied, Cooper started the car’s engine and quickly exited the garage and driveway. In the distance, you could hear police sirens on their way to the house you had just left behind. Too late. 

“If only you hadn’t decided to play hero,” Cooper mused with a strained, almost manic, smile on his lips, “None of this had to have happened, you know? I would have let you go.”

“And let you kill more innocent people? I couldn’t bear the guilt, knowing I could have prevented it,” you responded quietly.

“As if you actually care about random people’s lives more than your own. You’re just as fake as they all are. Pretending that you’ve got it all figured out, that you’re fulfilled.” He sounded bitter, angry, spitting those last words in your direction, like your existence has personally offended him. His grip around the steering wheel tightened, turning his knuckles white. 

Not wanting to anger him any further, you decided to stay quiet; even though you had a million things on your mind that you would have liked to retort. 

The FBI had briefed you on what kind of man they figured him to be. A psychological profile, they called it. You had heard about those on TV before, but it always seemed silly to you. How could they possibly know what was going on inside a person’s mind without having ever met them before? With all conclusions based on evidence from crime scenes instead? It didn’t make sense to you.

Until now, that was. Cooper seemed like the exact man the FBI had described to you. Perfect on the outside, an overachieving family man, unassuming, kind, always happy and ready to lend a hand. And beneath all of that, on the inside, there was a hurt child, craving their parents’ love and approval, but never getting it. Now, he let that anger that had manifested out on people he deemed to have had it all, to have what he was missing all his life. 

Deep down, you felt bad for him. If his parents had been different, perhaps there would be one less killer on the loose. Or perhaps, he would have ended up this way, no matter the circumstances of his upbringing. Who was to say that killers like him were only a product of abuse? 

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled into another driveway, getting out of the car. His footsteps were quick and heavy, and your heart was sinking in response to those sounds. 

Ripping the passenger door open, he leaned down to look at you, grabbed your bound wrists and jerked your body in his direction, forcing you out of your seat. Stumbling out of the car, you almost bumped into him, your head barely reaching his shoulder. He really was massive. You stood no chance against him, you thought, feeling defeated. This was it, then. 

Cooper bent over and quickly picked up the bag he had taken with him from the garage, before slamming the door shut once more. And just like he had done before, the Butcher put his fingers on your shoulder, verbally giving you directions for where he wanted you to go, while keeping a dominating presence behind you, not allowing you a real chance to escape.

Eventually, you found yourself in a basement, not unlike the one Spencer, who was hopefully safe now, had been stuck in before. 

The Butcher pushed you down to sit on the cold hard chair in the middle of the room, a support beam right behind it. He made quick work of putting the ice-cold steel chains and cuffs around your wrists and ankles, snapping off the zip ties at last. 

Looking up at him from where you were seated, the sinking feeling of hopelessness creeped in. There was no way you were getting out of this alive. 

Cooper retrieved a cleaver from his bag and pulled out another chair, placing it across from you and sitting down on it, playing with the knife in his hands. He looked at you for a long moment, not saying anything, just breathing calmly, idly stroking the knife’s handle with his thumb of the hand that was holding it. With his other hand, he brushed the loose strands of hair away from his face.

Once again, he was smiling at you. A smile that never reached his eyes, which glinted with murderous intent and something else that you couldn’t quite place. His smile was too big, too sharp, to be genuine. It seemed manic and desperate. Strained. And at the same time, he looked to be in complete control over the situation. 

Cooper Abbott was a man of many facades, you came to realise. 

“I was gonna stop, you know?” he finally spoke up, the tense silence broken by his voice that was laced with too many emotions at once, giving away that he didn’t feel as in control as he seemed to be. 

You waited for him to continue, not daring to ask questions.

“It’s been a while since I last felt the urge. Until you, tonight. I don’t know if it was because of everything that happened, or because I could see right through you… but it was an almost pleasant surprise to feel the urge again.

“Spencer was gonna be my last. That was the plan. Go to the concert with Riley, kill Spencer from the comfort of my home, sneak out hours later, making up some kind of lie of having to work an extra shift because of an emergency, chop him up, dispose of his body and any evidence, return home, and pretend like nothing had happened,” Cooper explained his initial plan for tonight like he was talking about something completely normal, like a family vacation he was planning instead. It was eerie, but somewhat intriguing to you. 

“And then, with time, I would have cleaned out all the houses I had bought to keep my two lives safely apart. I could have been a regular husband, father, and firefighter in just a couple of weeks, maybe months. And no one would have been any wiser on what I had done for all those years that the Butcher was active. It was the perfect plan,” he finished with a frustrated sigh, brushing his hair away from his face again with more force than was necessary. You could hear the steady, but sharp, tapping of his fingers against the cleaver’s wooden handle.

There was a long, tense moment of silence.

You almost felt the urge to apologise for ruining his plans.

“Why did you decide to stop?” you asked, unable to contain your genuine curiosity any longer.

Strangely enough, Cooper’s smile softened, his face relaxed and his eyes lost some of the fierceness in them. “Because I thought that I had finally done enough. The urge had lessened over the years, like I said, I didn’t feel it for a while until tonight. I was just doing it out of routine at this point, I think. Believe it or not, it was fun. And I wasn’t ready to give that up for a while.”

“What changed?” 

“I did… My children changed me. Riley and Logan are everything to me. And I was trying my hardest to be the dad they deserved to have. The one that they needed. A loving, fun, and especially involved, dad. I didn’t want them to feel like I did growing up,” Cooper explained in a wistful tone, “It all started out as just another way to keep suspicions away from me. Starting a family with Rachel seemed like the perfect cover. Nobody would ever suspect that a true family man could be a messed up serial killer, right?”

Despite your current situation, you felt your heart flutter. You understood where he was coming from, and you wished things had gone differently for him. But most of all, you wished that he wasn’t what he was.

“I didn’t expect to actually enjoy fatherhood, or to love my kids the way I do,” he continued after a short pause, still in that oddly wistful tone, a harsh contrast to the entire situation and his true being, “It’s so strange… With everything that happened tonight, I’m just enraged. But I’m less angry about having been found out at all. I’m mostly angry because I’m never going to see my children again.”

This time, you couldn’t resist the urge, and so you whispered, “I’m sorry,” like it was somehow your fault, when in reality, it was his decision to murder people in the first place.

Letting out a long sigh that ended in a small, insincere chuckle, Cooper got up from his chair, meat cleaver in his hand, towering over you like this inescapable force that he was to you. 

With practised ease, he took his shirt off and threw it over the chair behind himself. You had no idea why he would do that. Easier clean-up, maybe? With regret, you realised that you didn’t hate the sight. He was an attractive man, there was no question about that. But to feel such attraction, despite your current predicament, was nothing short of confusing and embarrassing to you. 

“You don’t have to do this, Cooper,” you whispered, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“I wish that was true, but… there’s no escape. Not anymore. I might as well have fun one last time,” he told you quietly with that eerie smile that did nothing to hide his intentions. It only emphasised them now. 

Feeling your heart rate accelerate, your stomach sank with the realisation that this would be it for you. 

It only took two steps for him to stand right in front of and above your seated, captured, cowering form. Before you could utter another plea, Cooper’s free hand wrapped around your throat, almost covering the entire thing with his large palm as his fingers gripped onto your jaw, moving your head further back as he bent down, leaning into you.

A small noise escaped your throat, sounding both distressed and almost aroused. You had no control over that, and it felt utterly humiliating to have made such a sound in response to his actions. 

The Butcher chuckled darkly, a sharp smile playing on his lips, and a glint of intrigue in his eyes. 

“I think I’m gonna enjoy this a lot more than expected…” he whispered into your ear, his hot breath tickling your sensitive skin. 

“Please don’t…” you tried again, weakly, your voice strained from the weight of his hand against your windpipe. 

As you struggled to breathe, and his hand only tightened around your neck, your vision started to blur both due to panic and the lack of oxygen. Darkly, in the back of your fuzzy mind, you thought that at least you’d go out with a handsome face as the last thing you'd see. 

Faintly, in the far distance, you heard police sirens. Or maybe your mind was playing tricks on you.

“If only you had saved yourself…” the Butcher whispered to you before he quickly, and with impressive force, snapped your head back against the support beam behind you, and your world went dark.

[valve3nthusiast]

Hmmm... I'm thinking a g1 cartoon-ish setting, Soundwave having a fun time sucking Megatron silly. Acts of service are both this love language and his kink

Soundwave just having a chill fun time, absentmindedly swallowing Megatron's spike while kneeling between Meg's legs as he sits on his throne, maybe working on something because it's not like deepthroating is an intellectually strenuous task.

Meanwhile, Megatron has a death grip on his armrest and his vocalizer deactivated as he desperately tries to preserve his dignity. Soundwave has apparently decided to try and suck his spark out through his spike, which is a more effective assassination attempt than anything Starscream has tried in the last millenia

He is NOT going to overload down Soundwave’s throat in less than five minutes like a virgin newbuild. Even if the sight of Soundwave’s beautiful lips wrapped around him, the all-encompassing sensation of his hot wet mouth, and the way his tongue is teasing and worrying the underside of his spike are all making that incredibly difficult for him

[oh-allie]

shakespeare and swooning

alhaitham x g/n reader

synopsis; you read one shakespeare play and now you want to impress your "buddy" alhaitham with your newfound knowledge !! what could go wrong?

fluff, g/n reader, TOTAL CRACKFIC, OOC alhaitham, SWEARING, kind of a modern au ???? i mention "ringing tighnari" but that could just be imagined as using the akasha terminal !!!! didnt write this with a modern au in mind

warning ‼️ PLEASE dont expect this to be accurate, if youre a big classic literature fan then dont attack me for not being a NERD ☹️ just imagine a poser using their fancy words (because they think its cool)

you know how libraries are supposed to be a place of study and tranquility? no the fuck you don't, or at least you don't care, because running through the house of daena with shakespeares, "romeo and juliet," in your hands is NOT very tranquil.

multiple poor akademiya students look at you, PISSED OFF because your shoes are going clu-clonk on the marble floors, which wouldn't be an issue if you weren't scurrying through the library.

is that kaveh ?? he's giving you the same look he gives alhaitham every day ..

... but this is IMPORTANT !! you're on a MISSION right now !! you just finished reading the first act of "romeo and juliet," and you're convinced your brain has expanded tenfold in size.

you're now rushing to your good pal haitham to share your knowledge! how kind and gracious!

you're stopped before his house, you've known him for long enough and gotten close enough for him to let you come in whenever. you know kaveh isn't home, and haitham would never purposefully work overtime, so you're certain you can get his attention and show off in peace.

why are you so adamant about showing off to alhaitham? is it REALLY showing off, or are you trying to, heehee, impress him?? its too late to be flustered at this thought because you already unlocked the door with the spare key kaveh leaves behind one of haithams ugly ass decorative plants and you've taken off your shoes and oh god hes right there and the sunlight from the door is lighting up his face in that way that only happens to him and hes looking at you with a suprised, slightly annoyed, but incredibly fond look and oh no what was your plan again?

"greetings, alhaitham! ☝️🤓" you say, finding a surge of confidence remembering the story you read.

"... hey. what are you doing here?" his response is quick but before you respond he continues, "did you just say greetings?"

"indubidibdibdly! hath you be surprised?" you pretentious hipster. you think youre SO cool, but unfortunately your little crush doesn't seem very impressed either.

"okay, what are you doing? you're being weird." he's not even looking at you, and he's back in his chair before you can rush over and sit on the couch. "is something wrong? should i get tighnari to give you a checkup?"

you'd be touched by the care of the suggestion if he wasn't so cheeky in his tone.

"wha, what, no?! no what the hell- stop ringing tighnari."

"are thou o'er wrought with admiration?" you grin, somehow still under the impression that you sound cool.

he gives an eyebrow raise to that. not bothering to mark his place in his book, he stands up.

"i lie testy in why you act so unpregnant, my dear."

"what"

HUH ? what did bro just say ? testy ???? unpregnant ?? MY DEAR ??? backtrack again, UN-WHAT ??

"be still my beating heart, thou hast taken mine with absolute cunning." is he making fun of you i genuinely can't tell ... its like hes speaking in moon runes right now.

"haitham, heheh, WHAT are you DOING ??" you can't help but laugh at his funny little words, magic man. even if you're clueless to what he just said to you.

"whatever doth thou mean?" he's totally making fun of you !! after ALL your effort to impress him too?

"well, usually i do all the ranting and you sit pretty and listen, so it's weird that you're talking so much, especially like THAT?" fym sit pretty ....

"when words are scarce they are seldom spent in vain." that sounds familiar, but you can't think about it longer before he continues, "shall i compare thee to a summers day?"

"ALRIGHT, i recognize that one, dummy." you laugh, "were you really not impressed by me?" you whisper, the rush of embarrassment you shouldve felt in that library is finally catching up with you.

he stares at you for a second. you just wish you could find out what hes thinking up there, if you could even understand it.

and then he lets you into his mind, with a simple "i love you." as if alhaitham, renowned scribe of the akademiya, top student, couldn't find the words to describe how he felt for you.

or maybe that was what he felt for you. he loved you.

"... you called me unpregnant."

a/n; i read romeo and juliet like... 3 years ago.... so.. uam... 😇😇 totally accurate! hope this crackfic style of writing isnt too niche so this doesnt flop because EMBARRASSING....... do people even like al haitham anymore like guys lets go back to the good old days before the FRENCH came in..... (this is just me projecting cause i havent played genshin in a while and i still lovelove sumeru)

[travellingtribble]

not a Destiel girlie not a Sabriel girlie but a secret third thing: a Midam girlie