#he’s a master of psychological manipulation

[mangaloversolar2000]

Belos: A Villain in Need of More Depth

Emperor Belos is one of the most compelling antagonists in The Owl House, embodying themes of fanaticism, deception, and the corruption of power. While his character is undeniably effective, his backstory and motivations could have benefited from further exploration to deepen our understanding of his psyche.

Origins & Psychological Profile: The Making of a Monster

Belos, originally Philip Wittebane, was a human transported to the Boiling Isles centuries prior to the events of the show. His Puritan upbringing instilled a rigid, binary worldview—one where magic was inherently evil and needed to be purged. While this explains his initial motivations, the show could have delved deeper into his psychological transformation. What exactly drove Philip to become the ruthless emperor we meet? Was it purely an ideological crusade, or did personal insecurities—perhaps a fear of his own mortality—play a role?

A deeper exploration into his early days on the Isles could have revealed the emotional and mental toll of isolation. His brother Caleb, who embraced the magical world, served as a stark contrast to Philip's fears. But what was the precise turning point that solidified Belos’s villainous resolve? The show hints at jealousy, betrayal, and an unrelenting need for control, but it never fully explores whether Philip struggled with any internal doubts before succumbing to complete tyranny.

Manipulation & Moral Self-Justification

Belos does not rule through mere force—he is a master manipulator, weaving lies to maintain control over his subjects. He convinces the people of the Isles that wild magic is dangerous, carefully crafting a cult-like environment where loyalty is rewarded and dissent is punished. However, the show could have explored his internal justification more thoroughly. Does Belos believe his own lies? Or does he secretly know his mission is rooted in his own delusions?

A fascinating angle could have been showing moments where Belos almost wavered, perhaps glimpses of self-awareness where he questioned whether his actions were righteous or if he was merely grasping at control for control’s sake. We know he despises witches, but the complexity of such hatred—its origins, his deeper emotional wounds—could have been expanded upon to make his character even more unsettling.

The Horror of Belos’s Transformation

One of the most visually disturbing elements of Belos’s character is his gradual physical corruption due to his consumption of palismen. The grotesque nature of his deteriorating form is an excellent metaphor for the consequences of unchecked power, but his descent into monstrosity could have been explored with more narrative weight. Did Belos ever fear what he was becoming? Did he rationalize his grotesque mutation as a necessary sacrifice for his mission?

Moments where he expressed regret or longing for his humanity—even if they were quickly suppressed—could have added emotional layers to his character. Instead, his physical horror is mostly treated as a consequence of his choices, rather than an element of psychological torment that could have added further depth.

[spoiledmilks]

The way my cat looks anytime i ask him “whats wrong, what do you need”

[anticidic]

cat!zai being the cat that's a menace, but at the same time he's clingy and refuses to leave Chuuya alone so much that he hops into one of Chuuya's coat pockets and gets to tag along when Chuuya goes to the pm headquarters

Chuuya doesn't realize Dazai's been with him the whole time because he never noticed the extra weight in his coat until Chuuya's in a meeting, he has his coat hanging over his chair, and Dazai's head slowly pops out of it to look around. Dazai gets lured out by the smell of baked goods, but the meeting's interrupted when Mori turns to look at Chuuya, confused

Mori: "Is that a...cat? I didn't know you were bringing a guest with you, today."

And Mori gestures to Dazai, who's nearly made his way onto the table with a paw out to Chuuya's plate that has a pastry on it, and it startles Chuuya for a moment

But the meeting's important, so Chuuya's forced to hold Dazai in his lap and give him pets occasionally to keep him from getting antsy, but Dazai eventually calms down and curls up

[soap-is-an-artist]

Strategically adding "lol" to the end of my message asking where my partner is so I don't seem too clingy

[npdkondraki]

asked ren why the hell we eat like a 12 year old gamer* (*eating a meal of chicken nuggets and mtn dew) and she let out the saddest whimper ever and went "i like it..." so i do actually think i have to kill myself now

[im-boned]

aaaooughhh. cook for me fictional other. fictional other. cook for me

[0operson]

literally canon tho XD

head empty 🐶

[goatgoesmbe]

f!reader

Reader who always wear a mask, and was more secretive than Ghost who had no problem showing his face to the team once in a while.

And just like with Ghost, the others joked about you being ugly, which you similarly replied with confidence that's not the case.

When you were tired of keep getting questions about the mask, you'd respond with a joke.

Putting on your best act, you sighed with a solemn look, telling a story about how you used to be obsessed with Shrek and had him tattooed on your face, which you were ashamed of now.

"..Are you serious?" Kyle asked.

You simply shrugged "I guess you'll never know".

And they could never guess whether you were lying or not, being known as the master of psychological warfare and often sent for espionage because of your skill with people, manipulation.

And acting.

What they didn't know is that, you gained that skill from your previous job, when you were a big deal in the entertainment industry. A professional actress that started in many movies and got into a really big scandal that got you hiding.

And somehow ended up here.

That was the reason as to why you needed to hide your face, your identity. Not even your captain knows about it, only Laswell who knew a bit of your story.

Lounging around in the recroom, you silently observed the others arguing about a certain movie to watch before it somehow ended with them fanboying for a certain actress who played the main character.

You.

"Ah swear, Ah saw this porn where the lass looked just like her. Had folk arguin’ if it was really her or just a doppelganger… haud on, where is it—" You heard Johnny rambled as he fumbled with his phone.

You shifted in your seat and hid a smille.

Oh yeah, that side gig you took a long time ago.. almost forgot about that

Dropping this idea before class so i wont forget abt it UPDATE : yes, im def writing this

[splinteredthoughts]

Me, talking to my 5 yo brother: “Can I get an ‘owa owa’?”

This blue-eyed child, giving me the most confused look: “Owa?”

Me, not ready for this: 🥺

[kiwriteswords]

Hello could I please request a fic where maybe the team doesnt like reader at first?

Winning Over the Kids [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 4.5k|| AN: Thank you for the request; I love seeing all of them come in <3 Feedback is also always welcomed! xx

Tags/Warnings: implied age-gap, reader is a forensic psychologist, no use of y/n, secret relationship, team dislikes reader at first, protective Hotch, no mention of Jack--so up to you if he exists or not lol, mirroring the Lo-Fi vibes with Kate Joyner/Hotch/Team, canon-typical themes, some fluff, team dynamics, established relationship

Sypnosis: When Erin Strauss contracts a forensic psychologist to work with the BAU Team, Aaron Hotchner isn't sure if he is more frustrated with the fact that they dislike you as their newest team member or as his secret girlfriend.

Aaron Hotchner had spent years mastering the art of control. His team relied on him to remain composed under pressure, a steady anchor in chaos. But when Erin Strauss informed him that she was contracting a forensic psychologist to assist the BAU, he felt his resolve stretch thin. Not because he doubted the decision—he knew you were exceptional—but because the team didn’t know the full story.

You were brilliant, sharp, and confident. You had risen through the ranks faster than most, your reputation built on precision and expertise. Yet, whispers of you being a “workaholic” and “cutthroat” followed you, a product of stereotypes surrounding young, successful women in high-stakes fields. Aaron had seen it before, but it infuriated him nonetheless, especially now that you were his… well, not officially, but close enough to feel the sting of those judgments on your behalf.

At the morning briefing, he broke the news. “The Bureau has decided to bring in a forensic psychologist to collaborate with us on our cases. She’ll be joining us starting tomorrow.”

Predictably, the room bristled.

“A shrink? Really?” Derek Morgan leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised. “No offense, Hotch, but we kind of know how to read people.”

Emily Prentiss folded her arms. “Isn’t that the point of profiling? What does Strauss think we’ve been doing all this time?”

JJ added carefully, “Is this about our mental health? Are we supposed to… talk to her?”

Spencer Reid, ever the analyst, frowned. “I’ve read that forensic psychologists in consulting roles often critique operational dynamics. Could this be Strauss trying to monitor us?”

Aaron kept his face neutral, though he wanted to correct them all. You were nothing like what they imagined. “This isn’t about our capabilities. The psychologist has specific expertise in complex cases involving psychological manipulation. Her role is to supplement our efforts, not replace them.”

“Yeah, until she starts picking apart everything we do,” Derek muttered.

Aaron resisted the urge to snap. They didn’t know you yet. They didn’t see the meticulous care you put into every decision, or the softer moments when you let your guard down with him.

The next day, you arrived at Quantico with a polished confidence that turned heads. Ready to take on the next case, which was local to the BAU. 

You greeted the team with a professional demeanor, offering a firm handshake and an easy smile. But the tension was palpable. The team’s skepticism hung in the air like a storm cloud, and Aaron felt his jaw tighten as he observed their guarded reactions.

Derek kept his distance, observing you with a critical eye. Emily was polite but cool, and even JJ seemed uncertain about how to approach you. Spencer avoided eye contact altogether. Rossi…well, Rossi seemed to sit back and take it all in. 

“Let’s get to work,” Aaron said, more curtly than he intended, leading the group into the roundtable room.

You took a seat beside him, your notebook open and pen poised. “I’ve reviewed the case files,” you began, your voice steady and self-assured. “The unsub’s behavior suggests a deep-seated fear of abandonment, likely rooted in childhood trauma. But the escalation pattern indicates recent stressors. Have you explored potential triggers within the last six months?”

Reid blinked, clearly taken aback. “We—uh, we considered family dynamics, but we didn’t narrow the timeline that specifically.”

Your sharp gaze turned to him, not unkindly. “It’s worth revisiting. The timeline could give us a better idea of who influenced him most recently.”

Aaron noticed the way Reid shifted uncomfortably, and it grated on him. You were offering valuable insights, yet the team’s resistance was evident.

After the briefing, Derek muttered to Emily, loud enough for Aaron to hear, “Well, she doesn’t waste time, does she?”

Aaron’s patience wore thin. “Morgan, a word,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

In his office, Aaron shut the door and faced Derek. “What’s your problem with her?”

Derek raised his hands defensively. “Hey, I didn’t say anything she didn’t earn. She walks in here acting like she knows everything. What do you expect us to do—roll out the red carpet?”

“I expect you to treat her with the same respect you’d give any other professional,” Aaron snapped. “She’s here because she’s the best at what she does, and we need her expertise. Whatever preconceived notions you have, leave them at the door.”

Derek frowned but nodded. “Got it, Hotch.”

Aaron exhaled slowly after Derek left. He knew he couldn’t shield you completely, but it infuriated him that he had to watch you navigate the team’s cold reception.

That evening, after everyone had gone home, you found Aaron in his office. You closed the door behind you and leaned against it, crossing your arms. “So, how bad was it?”

He looked up from his desk, his expression softening. “They’ll come around.”

You smirked, though your eyes held a flicker of vulnerability. “I’m not holding my breath.”

Aaron stood and walked over to you, resting a hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to prove yourself to them. I know who you are, and eventually, they will too.”

You tilted your head, a teasing smile breaking through. “Is that your way of saying you’re proud of me, Agent Hotchner?”

He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. “Always.”

For a moment, the weight of the day lifted. Here, behind closed doors, you didn’t have to be the prodigy or the psychologist with a reputation. You were just you, and Aaron was fiercely determined to make sure the team saw that too—someday.

The next morning, as Aaron walked into Quantico, he noticed a huddle forming near Penelope’s desk. Derek, Emily, Spencer, JJ, and Penelope stood together, their voices low but animated. He had planned to keep walking, but a snippet of their conversation caught his attention.

“I’m telling you, I heard she’s impossible to work with,” Penelope whispered, her usual warmth absent.

“Yeah, and she’s already showing it,” Derek added. “Control issues, first day on the job.”

“So far, It’s just one case,” Emily said, though her tone was skeptical. “But she’s definitely… intense.”

“We don’t need someone analyzing us while we’re trying to profile an unsub,” JJ muttered.

“I don’t think she’s here for that,” Reid said hesitantly. “But… yeah, I’ve heard the whispers too.”

Aaron’s jaw tightened as he listened. He wanted to intervene, to defend you, but he bit his tongue. This wasn’t the time. Instead, he walked away, the sting of their words lingering. He felt almost betrayed. His team was usually better than this. They prided themselves on fairness, on seeing beyond the surface. But in this case, they were clinging to gossip and prejudice, and it hurt more than he wanted to admit.

When you arrived, you carried yourself with the same poise and determination Aaron admired. You greeted the team briefly, your no-nonsense demeanor firmly in place. “Let’s get to work,” you said, spreading the case files across the conference table.

Your approach was methodical and efficient, and though Aaron knew it was how you operated, he could see how it rubbed the team the wrong way. They weren’t used to outsiders, especially not ones who came in with your level of authority and expertise. But they were professionals, and they pushed their reservations aside as the case progressed.

Aaron watched you closely throughout the day. You were unflinching in your analysis, your insights sharp and accurate. When you spoke, your voice carried confidence, but he could sense the subtle edge in your tone—a shield you had learned to wield over years of proving yourself.

After the case briefing wrapped up, Aaron found you in one of the quieter corners of the office. You were reviewing your notes, your expression focused but unreadable.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, his voice low.

You glanced up, a small smile playing at your lips. “I’m fine, Aaron. It’s not my first rodeo.”

He stepped closer, his brows furrowing. “I’ve heard some of the things they’ve said,” he admitted. “They don’t know you, and they’re wrong. I’m sorry for how unwelcoming they’ve been.”

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment. “You don’t have to apologize for them. I get it. They’re protective of their team, and I’m an outsider. It’ll take time.”

“It shouldn’t have to,” he said, his tone sharper than he intended. He softened, adding, “You shouldn’t have to prove yourself to them.”

Your smile widened, though there was a flicker of something softer in your eyes. “I’ve been proving myself my whole life, Aaron. This is nothing new. Besides, I’ve got you in my corner, right?”

“Always,” he said without hesitation.

For a moment, the weight of the day lifted, and he allowed himself to take comfort in your resilience. But as he returned to the team, he resolved to address their behavior. They needed to see you for who you truly were—and he wouldn’t rest until they did.

During the next case you assisted on, the tension had been simmering all day, and Aaron could feel it building like a storm. You had just delivered a sharp, insightful breakdown of the unsub’s likely behavior patterns, pointing out inconsistencies in the case file that had gone unnoticed. It was the kind of analysis that would have earned respect from anyone else, but not today. Not from this team, not yet.

The briefing room was quiet for a moment after you finished speaking. Emily exchanged a glance with Derek, and JJ tapped her pen against the table, her lips pressed into a thin line. The air felt heavy, almost suffocating.

“That’s… an interesting perspective,” Derek said, leaning back in his chair. His tone was polite, but Aaron caught the subtle edge, the unspoken doubt.

You didn’t falter. “It’s not just a perspective,” you replied, your voice calm and measured. “The data supports it. If you cross-reference the victimology with the geographic profile—”

“We get it,” Emily interrupted, her tone sharper than usual. “But we’ve been doing this a long time. We know how to read behavior.”

Aaron’s jaw tightened. He glanced at you, but your expression remained composed, even as he could see the faint tension in your posture. You nodded slightly, as if conceding the point, and continued reviewing the case files without another word.

The meeting wrapped soon after, but Aaron lingered behind, pretending to organize his notes. That’s when he heard it.

“I don’t know how much longer I can deal with her,” Emily muttered as the others gathered near the coffee station. “She’s so… clinical. It’s like she doesn’t even care about the victims, just the data.”

“She’s got control issues, for sure,” Derek added. “Like she’s got something to prove.”

JJ sighed. “Maybe Strauss sent her to micromanage us. I mean, why else would she be here? We’re already the best at what we do.”

Aaron slammed his folder shut, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet room. The team froze, turning to see him standing there, his expression dark and unreadable.

“Enough,” he said, his voice low but laced with unmistakable anger. He stepped toward them, his gaze sweeping over each of them. “I don’t know what’s more disappointing--your lack of professionalism or your willingness to tear someone down based on assumptions and gossip.”

The team exchanged uneasy glances, but no one spoke.

“You think she’s here to micromanage you? She’s here to help. And the fact that you can’t see the value in her insights says more about your egos than it does about her methods.”

“Hotch, we didn’t mean—” JJ started, but he cut her off.

“No,” he said firmly. “You did mean it. And if you spent half as much energy working with her as you do undermining her, we’d be a hell of a lot closer to catching this unsub.”

The room fell silent. Aaron rarely raised his voice, and when he did, it carried the weight of finality. He let the silence hang for a moment before he continued.

“She’s not here to prove herself to you. She’s already proven herself, time and time again. It’s time for you to rise to her level, not drag her down to yours.”

With that, he turned and walked away, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew he’d have to address this further later, but for now, he needed to find you. He wanted to make sure you were okay to remind you, in whatever small way he could, that he was still in your corner. Always.

Aaron Hotchner found you where he expected to: in one of the unused offices, deep in thought over the case files. You were perched on the edge of the desk, flipping through pages with a sharp focus that never failed to impress him. The tension he’d carried since leaving the briefing room eased slightly when he saw how calm you were.

You didn’t even look up when he stepped inside. “Didn’t expect you to find me so quickly,” you said, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Aaron leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “I needed to check in. The team…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening. “They were out of line.”

That made you pause. You glanced up at him, amusement flickering in your eyes. “Aaron, it’s fine,” you said, setting the file down. “I’ve been in this position before. People don’t like change, and they don’t like outsiders. I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to be,” he replied, his voice firmer than he intended. “It’s not fair, and it’s not professional.”

You tilted your head, studying him in that way you always did when you were about to cut through the noise. “They don’t know, Aaron. About us.” Your tone was even, but there was a hint of something deeper there--not accusation, just acknowledgment.

He stiffened slightly, but nodded. “They don’t. And I’d prefer to keep it that way. For now.”

You let out a quiet hum, leaning back on your hands. “For now, sure. But you should think about it. They’re already questioning why you’re defending me. If they find out later that it’s because we’re involved, it won’t sit well with them. They’ll feel like you’ve been hiding something important.”

“They’ll feel betrayed,” Aaron said, the weight of the truth settling over him.

You nodded, a small, knowing smile on your face. “Exactly. Look, I can handle their doubts, their gossip, whatever they want to throw at me. But you need to decide how long you want to keep this a secret. They’re your team. They’re loyal to you. But they also need to trust you.”

Aaron stepped further into the room, his expression softening as he regarded you. “You don’t care what they think of you, do you?”

“Not even a little,” you said with a shrug, your confidence steady. “I’ve spent years dealing with this kind of thing. It’s not new, and it doesn’t bother me. What does bother me,” you added, meeting his eyes, “is the idea of this coming out later and making things harder for you. Or for us.”

Aaron let out a slow breath, running a hand over the back of his neck. You were right, of course. You always were. He couldn’t keep this from his team forever, and things with you had grown too serious for him to pretend otherwise. He had never been one to let his personal life interfere with his work, but this was different. You were different.

“This is serious,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

You arched a brow, a teasing smile breaking through. “Wow, Aaron. Way to make a girl feel special.”

He stepped closer, his lips curving into the faintest smile. “You know what I mean. Things are serious between us. You’re not going anywhere, and neither is the team. I need to find a way to make this work.”

You softened, your hand brushing against his as he stood next to you. “You will. They’ll come around, Aaron. And if they don’t, well…” You shrugged, the corner of your mouth lifting in a smirk. “I’m not going anywhere either.”

Aaron felt a warmth spread through him, a rare sense of peace in the midst of the chaos. You were right, as always. He would figure it out--not just because he had to, but because you were worth it.

And for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to believe that it would all work out.

Aaron Hotchner had always believed in leading by example. Transparency, fairness, and honesty were core tenets of how he ran his team, and they had rewarded him with loyalty and mutual respect. But as he stood in the conference room, waiting for his team to gather for an unscheduled meeting, he knew he had failed to uphold one of those principles.

The team filtered in, curiosity and unease written across their faces. JJ and Emily exchanged glances, Reid clutched his ever-present notebook, and Derek leaned against the edge of the table with his arms crossed. Penelope, usually lighthearted, looked slightly nervous. Rossi lingered at the back, arms crossed, his brow furrowed in thought.

When the door closed, Aaron cleared his throat and took a steadying breath. “I asked you all here because there’s something I need to address—something I should have told you from the beginning.”

The team straightened, their collective focus sharpening. Aaron had their attention.

“You’ve all expressed concerns about having a forensic psychologist embedded in the team,” he began, his voice calm but firm. “You’ve questioned her presence, her methods, and, frankly, her character. Some of those comments have been professional disagreements, but others have crossed the line. I’ve let it continue longer than I should have, and for that, I take responsibility.”

Emily shifted uncomfortably while Morgan frowned. Reid’s brow furrowed in confusion, his pen tapping lightly against his notebook. Rossi, though silent, tilted his head slightly, a knowing look flickering across his face.

Aaron met each of their gazes in turn, his tone unwavering. “The reason I know she’s good at her job—why I trust her, and why I know she’s not here to spy on us or undermine our work—is because I’ve been seeing her outside of work. For a while now.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Reid blinked rapidly, his pen freezing mid-air. JJ’s mouth opened slightly as if to speak, and Penelope let out a small, involuntary gasp. Derek sat up straighter, his brows furrowed in disbelief. Emily’s eyes widened, but she quickly masked her surprise. Rossi, however, didn’t look shocked at all. Instead, his lips quirked into the faintest of smirks, as though confirming a suspicion.

“I had no say in her placement on this team,” Aaron continued, his voice steady despite the tension in the room. “Strauss made the decision, and she made it clear that the reason is simple: she’s the best. You’ve seen it for yourselves, even if you haven’t wanted to admit it. Her insights have already helped move this case forward. She is not your enemy, nor is she here to judge you.”

He paused, letting his words sink in. “I didn’t disclose our relationship because I wanted to keep our personal lives separate from our professional ones. But as your Unit Chief and as her partner, I will not tolerate disrespect toward her—whether it’s behind her back or to her face.”

Reid, finally finding his voice, asked hesitantly, “Does she…know about us? I mean, our dynamics, our methods? Or does she see us as part of the problem?”

Aaron’s expression softened slightly as he addressed the question. “She knows exactly who you are and how good you are at what you do. She’s here to help you do your jobs better, not to interfere. But she also deserves the same respect you’d give any other member of this team.”

Rossi finally spoke, his tone measured. “And you think telling us this now is going to smooth things over?” His words weren’t accusatory, but they carried weight.

“I think,” Aaron replied, meeting Rossi’s gaze, “that you deserved to know the truth. And I think it’s time we focus on the job at hand rather than creating divisions that don’t need to exist.”

The silence lingered until Derek broke it. “Hotch, we didn’t mean to��”

Aaron held up a hand. “I know you didn’t mean harm, but intentions don’t erase the impact. This team works because we trust each other. That trust goes both ways. If there’s something you need to say, say it to me or to her directly. Gossip and disrespect have no place here.”

JJ nodded, her expression softening. “You’re right. We were out of line. I think…I think we just felt blindsided.”

Aaron’s tone eased, though it remained firm. “I understand. Change isn’t easy, but it’s necessary. You’ll see soon enough why she’s here. Until then, I need your cooperation.”

Emily exchanged a glance with Morgan, then nodded. “We’ll work on it. I promise.”

Rossi gave a small nod of approval, his smirk gone but his understanding clear. “She’s good, Aaron. I’ve seen it. Let’s make sure the rest of the team sees it too.”

Reid looked thoughtful, his pen tapping rhythmically again. “I think we can…adjust. If she’s here to make us better, that’s not a bad thing.”

Aaron gave a single nod, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Good. That’s all I wanted to say. Dismissed.”

As the team filed out, murmuring quietly among themselves, Rossi lingered behind. “You know,” he said, crossing his arms, “you could’ve just told me this a week ago.”

Aaron allowed himself the faintest smile. “Would it have made a difference?”

“Probably not,” Rossi said with a shrug, “but it would’ve saved you the speech.” With that, he left, leaving Aaron alone to gather his thoughts.

For now, he had taken the first step. And he could only hope it was enough.

Over the next few days, Aaron began to notice subtle shifts in his team’s behavior toward you. It wasn’t immediate, nor was it dramatic, but the signs were there. During case briefings, they no longer exchanged skeptical glances when you spoke. Instead, they began nodding along or even asking follow-up questions. Derek, who had been one of the most vocal skeptics, offered a rare compliment about your interrogation technique after a successful suspect interview.

“She’s got a way of getting under people’s skin,” Morgan admitted to Rossi when he thought Aaron wasn’t listening. “In a good way, I guess.”

Aaron didn’t respond, but he tucked the comment away, feeling an unspoken sense of satisfaction.

Even Reid, who had initially kept his distance, began peppering you with questions about your graduate work. You seemed to enjoy indulging him, discussing obscure psychological theories with the same enthusiasm he brought to the conversation. JJ and Emily followed suit, no longer as guarded, and Penelope—while still wary—had gone out of her way to show you how to use the BAU’s internal systems.

Aaron observed it all with quiet pride. His team was warming up to you, just as he had hoped, and it wasn’t because he’d told them to—it was because of you. Your intelligence, your confidence, and your ability to adapt were slowly breaking down the barriers they’d put up.

That evening, as the two of you wrapped up some paperwork in his office, you leaned back in your chair and smirked at him. “You know,” you said, your voice light with amusement, “you’re enjoying this way too much.”

Aaron looked up from his file, one brow raised. “Enjoying what?”

“You’re like the team dad,” you teased, crossing your arms. “All broody and protective, wanting the stepmom to be liked by the kids.”

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, low and rich. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” you shot back, grinning. “Because I think you’ve been paying more attention to their approval ratings for me than I have.”

He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head but still smiling. “Maybe. But only because I know how much they mean to you—and how much you mean to me. I want this to work.”

Your expression softened, and for a moment, the teasing dropped. “It already is, Aaron. You don’t have to worry.”

His smile lingered as he looked at you, the tension that had been weighing on him for weeks finally starting to lift.

The real sign of progress came at the end of the week. The team had just wrapped up a grueling case, and as everyone packed up their things, Derek clapped his hands together.

“Alright, we’re going out. Drinks, food, and maybe a little dancing. Who’s in?”

JJ and Emily immediately agreed, and Reid nodded hesitantly, though he muttered something about “just one drink.” Rossi chuckled but offered a quick “Count me in.” Penelope looked around, her bright demeanor back in full force. “Where are we going? And more importantly, is there karaoke?”

Derek laughed. “No promises, Garcia.”

Then, almost casually, JJ turned to you. “You should come,” she said, her tone friendly and genuine. “You’ve had a long week too. You deserve to relax a little.”

Aaron didn’t miss the slight hesitation in your posture before you smiled. “I might take you up on that.”

“Good,” JJ said, already texting someone. “It’ll be fun.”

Aaron stayed silent, watching the moment unfold. The invitation wasn’t forced or reluctant—it was sincere. It was an olive branch, extended without fanfare, and he could tell by the look on your face that you recognized it for what it was.

As the team began filing out, chatting about where to go, you lingered by his desk. “That was unexpected,” you said quietly, glancing at him with a small smile.

“They’re coming around,” Aaron replied, his voice equally soft. “I told you they would.”

You smirked. “Well, Dad, looks like the kids like the stepmom after all.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he stood. “Let’s just hope I can keep them from embarrassing us tonight.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” you teased, grabbing your bag. “Now, come on. You’ve got to show me if Unit Chief Hotchner can actually let loose.”

As you both headed out to join the others, Aaron felt a rare lightness in his chest. Things were falling into place—his team, you, everything. And for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to enjoy it. 

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

@person-005

[lycheebloom]

delirium : yan. shadow milk cookie drabble

tw : yandere shadow milk cookie, extreme psychological manipulation, implied mind break, obsessive & possessive behavior

epilogue to..!

.𖦹 .° Peculiar.

.𖦹 .° That would be an accurate description of his feelings towards you.

.𖦹 .° An irrelevant cookie you were depicted as on the surface that many could not see past, yet he could not bear to lay a finger on you despite all the power he held. How strange, indeed!

.𖦹 .° As the Master of Deceit himself, should he not be better equipped in handling such situations? He frequently asked him this question as well. Alas, it seemed there were.. exceptions to his very perspective on cookiekind.

.𖦹 .° A phenomenon of a being, his deeply prized puppet—one could even argue you were his favorite.

.𖦹 .° Shadow Milk Cookie walked about in the void where an endless abyss laid, a shadowy labyrinth crafted by his own hand. In the abundance of eyes sprawled an indecipherable web of lies and trickery, entangling any unfortunate enough to step into it.

.𖦹 .° With a twirl of a wand, he tore forth a rift in the dark space—stepping in as the world twisted and turned to his will. As he stepped into the portal, his surroundings distorted until your intangent form pieced itself together bit by bit into a familiar shape he adored—carrying your features that he would wordlessly trace over on nameless nights.

.𖦹 .° Your weathered state was evident through your strained muscles, a posture slumped against velvet pillows, and your head cast down. You remained as motionless as a marionette with its strings cut, even as Shadow Milk Cookie stepped closer.

.𖦹 .° “(Name)!~” He cooed, excitement bouncing off of his voice. He lowered his head, reaching eye level with you—despite your gaze being cast down to the floor. A small frown replaced his expression upon your lack of response, the man tilting your chin up with his index finger.

.𖦹 .° “It’s not nice to ignore people, dear!” He smiled, tilting his head at an abnormal angle. “Much less your lover of all people, (Name) Cookie..!” He dramatically sighed, lowering his hand to place on your shoulder.

.𖦹 .° You no longer pulled away from his touch, nor did you resist his advances. You took in his sickeningly sweet proclamations and vows of adoration, his sugarcoated acts of bloodshed, amidst all other things he did in the name of his love for you. Wasn’t he such a thoughtful romantic? An obsessive maniac.

.𖦹 .° With time, affection withers intelligence, as it cracks open an opportunity for the yearning heart to abandon all lucidity.

.𖦹 .° Shadow Milk Cookie almost regretted breaking you down. Almost.

.𖦹 .° If it were not for the countless number of times he had already done this.

.𖦹 .° For what entertainment would there be in letting this small ordeal with you suffice? No, you were worth something much more than to be discarded like his many broken toys.

.𖦹 .° With a tug on a string, he’ll rebuild you. He’ll shatter your entire reality of life and death, the limits of logicity and grasp of vanity, molding your thoughts and being to his taste. He needs to be your everything, for him to possess your mind, body and very soul. He craved the essence that made up every sacred atom of yours—Oh if he could, he’d conjoin himself with you so that you won’t even dare to think of anything else.

.𖦹 .° Don’t deny him, don’t fight your fate. Resistance is futile, he’ll be easier on you if you accept the truth as it is!

.𖦹 .° For your bond with him transcended that of sanity itself.

.𖦹 .° So let him guide you, and everything will be alright. He’ll take care of you, his precious little star.

[luv-lock]

⸻ ᴍ ɪ ɴ ᴇ ⸻

Pairing: Show Daemon Targaryen x Fem Reader

Headcanon: how would he be when he's obsessed?

Notes: English is not my first language. Gifs belong to @gameofthronesdaily. Hope you enjoy!

Daemon is, by nature, a man drawn to excitement, chaos, and danger. When he first notices you, it’s not just your beauty that catches his eye but the way you move through the court—independent, untouchable, and perhaps even a little defiant of the typical roles expected of women. You’re a challenge, and Daemon loves nothing more than challenges.

He enjoys the game of pursuing you, watching you from afar with a predatory gaze, learning your routines, and inserting himself into your life in subtle but undeniable ways. Whether it’s through teasing remarks, lingering touches, or orchestrating moments where you’re forced to be alone with him, Daemon knows how to push boundaries without making you feel trapped—at first. He takes his time, savoring every step as he gradually breaks down your defenses.

“I like watching you,” he’d say casually, leaning close, his voice a smooth purr. “It’s rare to find someone with fire in their blood, like me.”

Daemon’s obsession is fueled by both lust and an insatiable desire to own you—not just physically but emotionally and mentally. You’re not like the others who fawn over him, and that drives him wild. He’s addicted to the idea of making you his, of taming the fire he sees burning in you while also stoking it higher.

Once Daemon realizes you’re starting to feel something for him—whether it’s love, fear, or even confusion—that’s when his possessiveness kicks in. He’s not the type to be content with half-measures. In Daemon’s mind, once he’s decided you’re his, that’s the end of it. You belong to him, and no one else has the right to even look at you.

His possessiveness manifests in both subtle and overt ways. He’ll make sure everyone knows you’re his. Publicly, he’ll always have his arm around you, guiding you with a firm grip, giving glances to anyone who dares to approach. In private, his need for control is even more intense. He craves constant reassurance that you’re his, and he expects absolute loyalty in return.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he’d demand, his voice low but dangerous, his hand gripping your chin as he forces you to meet his eyes. “I want to hear you say it.”

If you dare to speak to another man—or worse, show interest in someone else—Daemon’s jealousy is swift and merciless. He’s not above violence to prove his point, either verbally or physically. It’s not just about punishing the offender; it’s about reminding you who has the power. “No one touches what belongs to me,” he’d hiss, a smirk playing on his lips.

Daemon is a master manipulator, and once he’s ensnared you in his web, he makes it difficult for you to escape. He’ll slowly isolate you from others, making it seem as though it’s for your own protection. He’ll convince you that the court is full of enemies, that people are scheming against you, and that he’s the only one who can truly keep you safe.

“I’m the only one you can trust,” he’d say, his tone soft but with an undercurrent of something darker. “Everyone else would use you, betray you. I’m the only one who cares about you.”

He’ll create situations that force you to rely on him, whether it’s taking you away from court for long periods, ensuring you have no one else to confide in, or orchestrating conflicts with others that make you turn to him for support. His manipulation is subtle at first, disguised as concern, but it grows more controlling as his obsession deepens.

In time, you’ll find yourself with few allies, if any, and you’ll begin to feel like Daemon is the only constant in your life. It’s a psychological trap—one he’s carefully set, knowing that once you’re dependent on him, there’s no turning back.

Daemon’s feelings for you are intense and multifaceted. On one hand, he can be passionate, even tender. He’ll whisper sweet words to you, stroke your hair, and make you feel like the center of his world. When Daemon loves, he loves deeply, and there will be moments when you see that softer side of him, where he’s almost vulnerable.

“I’d burn the world for you,” he’d murmur, pressing a kiss to your temple as he holds you close. “No one else matters.”

But that passion comes with a dark side. His love is suffocating, and his affection often borders on obsession. He wants all of you—your mind, your body, your soul—and he’ll stop at nothing to have it. If he senses any hesitation or resistance from you, his mood can shift quickly from doting lover to dangerous tyrant.

Daemon is prone to violent outbursts when he feels slighted or if you disobey him. His temper is as fierce as his love, and he won’t hesitate to remind you of his power. “Do you think you can defy me?” he’d growl, pinning you against a wall, his eyes flashing with dangerous intent. “I am your prince—your king. You will obey me.”

Yet, even after his darker moments, Daemon has a way of drawing you back in. He’ll apologize, using his charm and charisma to make you believe it was all out of love—that his actions are a result of his fear of losing you.

Daemon’s jealousy is wild and uncontrollable. If anyone so much as glances in your direction for too long, he’ll be ready to take action. He has no problem cutting down anyone he perceives as a threat to his claim on you. Whether it’s a lord who pays you a compliment or someone who dares to approach you, Daemon will make it clear that you’re off-limits to anyone but him.

He thrives on control and will not tolerate even the suggestion that you could belong to anyone else. If he senses that your attention is wavering or that you’re developing feelings for someone else, his jealousy will consume him. “You think they care about you?” he’d sneer. “No one will love you like I do. No one can protect you like I can.”

In his mind, he’s justified in his rage because, to him, everything he does is to keep you. And if you were ever to try to leave him, Daemon would hunt you down. There’s no escaping his grip once he’s decided you’re his. “You can’t run from me,” he’d say, his voice laced with menace. “I’ll find you. I always do.”

As time goes on, Daemon’s obsession with you only deepens. His need to control you becomes all-consuming, and he’ll stop at nothing to ensure you remain by his side. If you try to rebel, he’ll remind you of his power—both as a Targaryen and as the man who holds your heart in his hands.

Daemon would rather see you broken and obedient than risk losing you to anyone or anything. He’ll manipulate you into believing that you’re safer with him, that no one else will ever love you the way he does. And when you’re fully under his control, Daemon will revel in the knowledge that you’re his—body, mind, and soul.

But even in his darkest moments, there’s a twisted form of love in Daemon’s obsession. He believes that everything he does is for your own good, that his control is a form of protection. He’ll burn the world for you, and if that means keeping you locked away, isolated, and dependent on him, then so be it.

In the end, Daemon will never let you go—because once he loves you, you’re his forever.

[jedi-starbird]

APLAP (Assigned Pathetic Lifeform at Padawanship)

New padawan Obi-Wan trying to figure out how the FUCK to make his master listen and not abandon him to go running off following "the will of the force" when it hits him. Qui-Gon is perfectly happy stopping and taking care of pathetic life forms, but not Obi-Wan. That's it. He's always been prepared, always been dutiful, strong, self-sufficient.

He's cracked the code. He needs to be more pathetic.

The next time he senses Qui-Gon's about to run off he coordinates a scene of utmost pathetic-ness, that is, he throws himself into the nearest fountain. He trudges up to his master sopping wet, water-logged robes swallowing him, with hair sticking to his face and containing bits of algae from the fountain. He mumbles out an apology for being clumsy before looking up at Qui-Gon with the biggest, most woeful eyes possible to ask if he happened to bring any spare robes (he didn't, Obi-Wan knows this because he is usually the one to pack spare robes for them both). His wet hair is dripping water into his eyes that's beginning to turn them an irritated red, and there's algae sliding down the side of his face, it really is masterful work.

"Oh...I'm sure I'll be able to find something by myself, it's okay Master, I know you had important work to do."

Qui-Gon visibly hesitates. Obi-Wan starts shivering. He turns to walk away. He's stopped by his Master's hand on his shoulder. His Master, who walks back with him, who gets clean clothes from their hosts, who has folded like wet flimsi and even explains his stupid, stupid plan before choosing to hotwire a hoverbike with a passenger seat! Oh, Obi-Wan really has cracked the code!

Afterwards, Obi-Wan stages an increasingly pitiful accident for himself every time his patented 'Qui-Gon Jinn Bullshit' detector goes off. Eventually, his Master stops leaving him behind at all, even giving him funny looks when he turns around and Obi-Wan isn’t next to him. It never fails to make Obi-Wan grin and run to catch up. Sure, his reputation as a perfect padawan is in tatters, alongside his dignity, but it’s a small price to pay for a place at his Master’s side, for him to remember there’s a place for Obi-Wan there.

When the ray shields come up on Naboo, Qui-Gon doesn't charge ahead and leave his padawan behind, he hasn't for years. He waits for Obi-Wan because it feels wrong to do otherwise, his padawan belongs at his side.

Much, much later, when Obi-Wan is drinking to the end of the war with friends, Commander Cress will ask him how he kept General Jinn from running off for entire decade. Obi-Wan laughs, informs him, and resolutely ignores the scene Quinlan is making as the man cackles and pulls up a book to shove at them both, titled Classical Conditioning 101: A guide to subtle psychological manipulation.

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

*NSFW* How to train your pet Human pt. 3 (Yandere!Alien x GN!Reader)

CW: Dub-con, mild psychological distress, mind break, dead dove fic

Part 1, part 2

Kirtch slumped over his friend's standing chair, miserable and mopey.

A tall creature, taller than even Kirtch, sighed dramatically, sauntering around their depressed friend with a smaller horned being crawling behind them.

"I don't understand what I'm doing wrong." Kirtch whined pathetically in Jaudna's native tongue. Jaudna made a gurgling sound with the soft spot on their head, the closest human equivalent being someone rolling their eyes. They sprawled across their lounging seat, motioning for their pet to stay on his knees.

"I'll tell you exactly what you've done wrong. You pampered them too much."

"I punish them!"

"You punished them for their escape attempt. That was it. You've allowed your pet to test your authority in plenty of ways after that."

The man on his knees pleaded with his eyes to be let up, but stayed perfectly still, like he wasn't alive. Kirtch noted Jaudna's pet's demeanor with discomfort. That discomfort only lasted until he imagined (Reader) in that same position, looking up at him with their large dewy eyes, waiting so patiently to be held by him... his discomfort was replaced by jealousy.

"You don't understand, (Reader's) such a sweet little pet, and whenever they struggle they're so cute about it. I just can't understand why they aren't happy."

"Humans' minds are incredibly flawed. According to the few psychological texts I have gotten my claws on over the years, their memory is not set in stone like ours, it is fickle and easily manipulated. One of my books referenced a case in the nation called 'The United States of America' where nearly the entire country fell into panic over an imaginary evil, because a few doctors used a phoney science called 'hypnotism', a practice they believed could help recover forgotten memories, on a bunch of children, but accidentally implanted false memories of abuse, leaving the children traumatized, believing that they had been victims of a horrific occult."

Kirtch looked to his good friend nervously. "Are you implying I do something nefarious to my pet's mind?"

"No, I'm showcasing an example of how stupidly easy it should be to train your pet to love you." They tossed a book into Kirtch's hands, the cover printed with a photograph of a wild looking man, with fluffy hair and dark, hateful eyes. "Hypnotism isn't the only creative way humans have learned to reprogram each other."

Kirtch almost threw the book back, but saw Jaudna's unnamed pet still sitting so patiently for his master, and the pain in his body where his heart may have been throbbed again. "Thank you.. Jaudna."

(Reader) had waited for what they assumed to be well over an Earth day, alone in Kirtch's quarters, waiting for his return. The only company they received were the employees who brought their meals, speaking down at them in a language they didn't know, but could understand the disgust. It had been over a month since their fight with Kirtch. Every day since had been nothing but hell, feeling like their heart had been ripped out, they laid in their bed cage, only moving when necessary, allowing themselves to hide away inside their own mind.

The main door opened again, and (Reader) could hear Kirtch's long, graceful steps as he passed through the study and into the bedroom. "(Reader)? Are you still in bed?"

In an act of defiance, (Reader) kept their mouth shut, pulling the blanket tighter around their shoulders. But it was of little use, as Kirtch easily lifted their purposefully dead weighted body out of the bed.

"I'm sorry I was gone for so long, pet, but I had to see an old friend for advice." He carried (Reader) back to his desk, sitting them in his lap, fighting to hold them upright as they flopped about limply. "(Reader), please sit up so I can take off your shirt."

He began working on the wrists, the intricate metal cuffs with multiple buttons that almost acted like locks, and (Reader) subtly straightened their back to give him better access to the neck corset thing, thankful to finally have it off for a couple hours at least. (Reader) had grown to find it somewhat elegant the past few months, but it still was an incredible pain in the ass.

Feeling the air on their neck was bliss, and (Reader) immediately ran their fingers over their skin. (Reader) breathed a deep sigh, relaxing their body unintentionally. But almost as soon as their hands left their throat, a new collar was latched into place, a loud mechanism clicking as it tightened, stabbing the back of their neck with what felt like a fixed needle.

(Reader) cried out in pain, sprawling out their limbs on reflex, pushing themselves out of Kirtch's embrace and onto the floor, lying naked on their knees as they clawed at the collar, desperate to relieve the pain.

"What?? Why?" Their voice was barely audible through their sobs.

"I'm so sorry my pet, the pain will end soon, wait-" Kirtch pushed a button on what looked like a remote, and (Reader) could physically feel the rush of liquid enter their body, then the pain lightened, leaving (Reader) almost euphoric in it's absence.

"What is this? Why did you do this?" Betrayal laced their tone, and Kirtch looked almost on the verge of tears, but he stood still, refusing his urge to scoop up his little pet and beg for forgiveness.

"I know now that I didn't train you correctly, and for that I am sorry. I've given you too much leeway, and that is why you've been so unhappy." He took a ragged breath, thumbing the controller as he thought out his words. "I didn't want to do this, but I care about your happiness. This is for the best."

"So you put a shock collar on me?" (Reader) asked incredulously, spitting venom.

"No, nothing barbaric like that!" Kirtch looked hurt, flinching as he almost dropped onto his knees to comfort (Reader). "I just need to convince you that you're happy here with me, just as I did the first night you were here, to help you release your stress."

(Reader) remembered the shot he gave them, that first night when Kirtch used a toy to get them off, the hormones he artificially added to their body to make them feel pleasure, and then thought about the pain in the back of their neck. The color drained from their face. There were only two options; plead or double down.

"You can manipulate me all you like, I'll never be happy here." A tear escaped as (Reader) transformed their hurt into anger. "I deserve someone who will love me, not as a pet, but as an equal. Because I am a human fucking being. And we have partnerships. We don't jack off our pets, we do not love our pets like we love the people we have sex with, because that- that is not okay! Why did you.." (Reader) couldn't stop themselves from crying, looking up to try to at least slow the waterworks.

The silence between them was loud. (Reader) turned away, wiping away their snot with their bare arms.

"Pet, noun; a domestic or tamed animal kept for companionship or pleasure. Adjective; denoting a thing that one devotes special attention to or feels particularly strongly about." (Reader) looked up, horrified. "Your's may not be my first language, but I feel I had a pretty decent grasp on my understanding of what a pet is."

Kirtch placed a hand over his face to hide his expression.

"You'll be happier once this is all over. I promise."

"You son of a-!" (Reader) couldn't finish their sentence, more fluid passed into their spine, followed by an immediate sense of emptiness. Extreme anxiety flooded their body, causing severe stomach pain almost instantly. They collapsed, holding onto their midsection, their bare skin clammy. "What? Why?"

"No more talking back to me, pet." Kirtch kept his voice steady.

(Reader) cried out, rapidly becoming exhausted from heavy nothingness filling their body. "Please.. stop.."

Kirtch nodded, appearing relieved. He pushed another button, and the emptiness ebbed away, leaving (Reader) numb.

"I don't understand why you're doing this." (Reader) weakly grumbled, too tired to pick themselves up.

"Because I want you to be happy."

"I'll never be happy with you."

"Why?"

"Because! I deserve to be loved!"

"I love you-"

"Fucking liar." (Reader) snarled, knowing that this would cause them to be punished again, but needing to get in the last word. Kirtch looked so miserable, so crushed by (Reader's) words, but they felt vindicated by his pain. They needed to twist the knife deeper.

He smiled, so sadly, and grabbed a blanket, bending onto one knee as he covered his pet. "I love you, (Reader)."

Their heart clenched, and their face flushed. Immediately they searched his hands for the remote. "S-stop that."

"I love you."

Chemicals pumped into their neck, making (Reader) feverish and causing their thighs to ache. Their breath hitched, and tears of betrayal escaped. "I hate you."

"I know."

More pain gripped their throat, regret causing physical discomfort. "Why are you doing this?"

His smooth shelled fingers caressed their jaw, tenderly cradling (Reader's) face as though he needed them. Kirtch's touch sent shivers across (Reader's) skin, and they couldn't tell if it was because of the collar or their loneliness, but they wanted to pull him closer, make him touch them more.

"I will live for much longer than you. I will watch you grown old, and die. Even then, I will still love you. You are the most incredible creature I've ever met. I don't mind if you push me away, and slap at me. I just want you to be happy, at least most of the time." His head grew closer, his hardened face almost brushing (Reader's). "Let me make you happy."

'I need to fight back. Make him pay! I'm practically a slave! He bought me! I'll never see my family again because of him!'

(Reader) leaned forward, mind melting through their ears from the intense heat, and smashed their lips onto where his should have been.

All rational thoughts were drowned out by the intense need. They needed him, his love. (Reader) was aware of the sound of buttons clicking, but they couldn't stop, crawling onto Kirtch's body, feeling the edges of his joints scraping their back as his hands hungrily roamed their body, wanting to touch everything.

They would have felt ashamed, knowing how aroused they were, their exposed body touching Kirtch's stomach. Sweat was clinging to (Reader's) skin, and their eyes drooped stupidly. The only thing they could think of was relieving themselves, and wanting to see Kirtch relieved as well.

"Are you going to fuck me?" (Reader) whined between wet kisses, drunk on his touches.

"I will, if you want me to."

Their mood shifted, frustration beginning to surface again. "No. If you love me, wouldn't you want me?"

Kirtch sighed, fiddling with the remote behind (Reader's) back. "I do not have the same nervous system as humans do. We only engage in sexual acts for the purpose of procreation."

Shame shocked (Reader), sobering them up instantly. "Oh. I- I am so sorry." (Reader) moved to get off of Kirtch, but was held in place by the much stronger being.

"I will, to make you happy."

"No, I'm sorry! It won't make me happy knowing you aren't feeling good. I'm-I'm sorry, please let me go."

Kirtch pressed the button again, watching his pet's face darken and their mouth go from frightened to slack jawed. "Knowing you are feeling pleasure, from me, and only me, will bring me more joy than I can express." His cloak was ripped away, revealing his gorgeously colored exoskeleton. Kirtch gripped (Reader's) face tighter, forcing his blue tongue deep into their mouth, bursting with pride at the sounds (Reader) was making.

"What do you want me to do?" Kirtch asked, not intending on sounding like he was teasing them, but Kirtch craved the sound of their voice begging him.

"Please.." (Reader) swallowed their drool, feeling the hormones pumping into their brain, but too horny to care. "Please fuck me."

The spot on his pelvis where a human's genitals would be split open and a long, slimy cock revealed itself, growing behind (Reader's) back to a horrifying size. (Reader) only became aware of his erection when it fell forward, slapping against (Reader's) ass and lower back. In their intoxicated state, they turned back to look at what had suddenly touched them, and their eyes grew large in surprise. "Is that..? That's too big..."

Off balance and tipsy, (Reader) turned around, still sitting on Kirtch's abdomen, so that they were facing his exposed dick, and touched it experimentally. It was ridiculously huge, but because of the hormones being injected into (Reader's) neck, they were ravenous, using both hands to pump up and down on the shaft as they stuck the thin tipped head into their mouth, tasting Kirtch passionately. Kirtch was beyond elated, watching his precious pet so needy for him.

Kirtch picked (Reader) up, moaning at the popping sound as he pulled their mouth away from his body, seeing nothing but love in (Reader's) eyes as he spun them back to face him, and slowly began lowering (Reader) onto his naturally lubricated member. "Keep looking at me."

(Reader's) mind was hazy, and it felt like they were about to die, saliva and alien fluids leaking out their mouth and down their chin. Their internal voice had gone silent, the amount of tampering that had been done to their brain left (Reader) devoid of rational thought and intellect. "Yes sir." They barely got the words out as Kirtch entered their body, sliding into their needy little hole easily and without resistance, ramming himself in so their pelvis smacked into his shell with a wet plop, bringing (Reader) to a climax just from entering.

"Smile for me, pet." Kirtch cooed joyfully, loving how (Reader's) body spasmed, before slowly lifting them up, revealing the trail of their combined wetness stretching between their reproductive organs.

(Reader) smiled, reacting on autopilot as they rode out their orgasm, practically biting off their tongue when their sensitive body connected with Kirtch's again. "Ahhh, I already came! Stop!!" Their words cried for relief, however their voice and smile demanded more. It was too much, and (Reader) did want a break, but it also felt amazing, and that dirty little part of themselves that was desperate for love needed their body to be abused.

Kirtch bounced (Reader) on his cock, fucking them like a toy, regretting that he didn't have a camera rolling to capture just how adorable his pet was in his hands. "Look at how happy you are, pet! Don't you want to be this happy all the time? Don't you always want to be happy, with me?"

Kirtch greedily pushed the button again, peppering (Reader) with kisses as they came again, their sticky juices splattering on his stomach. The squelching sound of (Reader's) bruising body getting fucked by the hard as steel monster beneath them was music to Kirtch's ears. He had, embarrassingly, read the book his friend had lent him, and knew now how humans used pleasure to keep brainwashed people by their side. But it wasn't just pleasure, it was that feeling of connection. He had thought about what (Reader) had said, that humans don't jack off their pets, and that made sense, for animals that did not share the same level of intelligence as an adult human. What (Reader) needed, was to feel equal, to feel like they weren't just a pet, but a partner. So how would they feel, if Kirtch ejaculated so deep into their body they were still excreting his cum weeks later?

"I'm going to mark you as mine, (Reader)." It was a lie, his species did no such thing, but the look of unbridled joy on (Reader's) cross eyed face, the loopy smile that twitched as tears poured down to their chest, was a sight that made it worth lying.

"Are you cumming? Are you cumming in me?" (Reader) slurred, barely holding themselves upright in Kirtch's grasp.

"If you promise to be a good little pet." Kirtch could hold out for as long as needed. His species did not have sex for pleasure, so there was no sense of urgency when they needed to release. He could have continued going for hours, if he hadn't overdone it with the collar. (Reader) was on the verge of passing out.

"I promise! I promise to be a good pet! I promise!" (Reader) exclaimed, colliding their lips back onto Kirtch's as a string of hot sperm shot up into (Reader's) body, a fluid so thick it was practically glue, leaving (Reader) feeling physically full. Kirtch couldn't help but push the button again, seeing his pet overflow with adoration for him.

"I love you, (Reader), I really really do."

Kirtch whispered sweet nothing's into his pet's ear as they passed out, then carried them to his bed, tucking in their swollen body, not minding the mess. (Reader) really was the most beautiful and adorable little pet in the entire universe. He doubt that he would ever get another pet after (Reader) was gone. He sat on the floor, rubbing circles into their tear stained cheeks, smiling contently.

Of course, the next day Kirtch would have to use the collar, showing (Reader) how bad they truly felt inside when they refused to get out of bed, and while it was awful making them cry when they tried to refuse to eat, it was for the best. Kirtch knew it wouldn't take long for (Reader) to graduate from needing their collar, and that soon they would always be by his side, begging him to pick them up and play with them. It didn't matter whether (Reader) needed cuddles or needed to be filled with his seed, Kirtch would overuse that remote until they desired his touch all the time.

He didn't mind the glassy, doll like glaze to their eyes, the change in their speech, the way they began crying whenever it looked like Kirtch was unhappy, or how they stopped pushing him away. After months of flushing their system with artificial love, Kirtch knew that his pet was happy with him. And that was all that mattered.

[charmonys]

eyes  widen  a  touch  as  she  approaches  him  with  the  veritable  stack  of  strawberries.  oh  —  that  is ...  a  staggering  amount.  he's  so  taken  aback  by  the  sight  that  he  barely  registers  stelle's  words.

❝  for  me  —  ?  ❞  all  of  them?  ❝  this  is ...  unexpected.  i'm truly  humbled  by  your  generosity.  ❞  (  he should store  that  tactic  away  for  future  reference ...  )

She's watching him, watch the boxes of chocolate fruits. The second he turns away she buys 10 boxes and walks up to him with all of them barely cradled safely in her arms.

"I thought you might like these!"

[mylovesstuffs]

How OT13 would handle free-use with their s/o

Request: more seventeen non-con/dubcon themes please. like, maybe free-use if you’re comfy with it? like yeah, its consensual and they’ve established boundaries and stuff with you but similar to the angry sex one, it’s like… rougher..

A/N: The way I wrote it...it sounds weird. Doesn't sound tasty to my ears. Really weird flavours. I don't like how it turned out but okay...I'm sorry to the anon if this is not what they wanted. I just winged it—

Content warning: MDNI !! Non-consensual, power dynamics, dominance and submission, Abuse (physical/verbal), intensity, teasing, rough sex, control, degradation, violent themes, obsession and possession, tension building, touching and groping, kissing, slapping—lmk if I missed anything

This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

Seungcheol: Seungcheol is a textbook example of an aggressive, dominant abuser. He uses physical force and verbal degradation to assert his power and control over the situation and his partner. His assertiveness bordering on aggression. His words are very harsh and demeaning, but you don't mind as there's boundaries set up. We'll have to admit that he's actually both assertive and caring, which makes him the type to take control but always in a way that feels like it's for you. His voice is always low, like a command waiting to be obeyed. Without warning, he'll spins you around, pressing you roughly against the nearest hard surface - a desk, a wall, or any available surface. He doesn't give you much space to answer before his lips are on yours again, and his body flushes against yours in a way that promises he's not leaving until he gets what he wants. He will yank your hair back, exposing your throat as he growls in your ear. His free hand slides down your body roughly, grabbing your thigh and lifting your leg up against his hip to keep you off balance and trapped against him. Yanking your pants down abruptly, without preamble, he thrusts inside you, setting a brutal pace that leaves no room for gentleness. "Take it, slut. You asked for this, teeing me mad all night."

Jeonghan: Jeonghan's personality shifts to a darker, more menacing tone during non-consensual themes. He becomes assertive to the point of being abusive, using his strength to overpower you and assert his dominance. His words are laced with degradation and insult, designed to break your spirit and make you feel powerless. He is a master of psychological manipulation, using fear, intimidation, and verbal abuse to control you. He delights in making you feel helpless and trapped. He might call you derogatory names one moment, then whisper "baby" the next as he wraps his large hands around your throat. He could be forcefully shoving you down on his lap, then gently running his fingers through your hair afterward, like a sick parody of tender care. The way he glides his hand along your thigh is enough to make your heart race, his eyes never leaving yours. The sweet eyes shifts abruptly into something darker "You're making me wait, aren't you? Little whore doesn't know how to act properly." He slaps your ass hard enough to sting, making you yelp. His touch turns suddenly rough, fingers gripping your jaw painfully as he forces you to meet his intense gaze. His other hand shoves between your legs, groping roughly. His hand comes down on your ass again, and again, the slaps are loud and painful. He yanks your head back as he spits in your face. "Shut up and stay still."

Joshua: Joshua's teasing is masterful, balanced perfectly between charming and predatory. His touch is feather-light yet possessive, each gentle movement made to keep your senses heightened and anticipation building, his presence magnetic. When Joshua decides he's had enough of teasing and wants you regardless, he becomes a different creature altogether. His magnetic presence turns into a smothering aura, pulling you into his orbit whether you like it or not. His earlier gentle touches become rough grabs, fingers leaving unwanted marks on your skin. He corners you against walls, pinning you with his lean but strong frame "You're making this so much fun for me," he whispers, his sweet voice now carrying a dangerous edge as he blocks your exit. He backhands you sharply across the face, the sound echoing through the room. He wraps his long legs around yours to keep you from kicking, trapping you beneath him. He spits in your face (just like Jeonghan), his cold eyes locked onto yours as he growls, "Say it." Joshua leans in closer, his breath hot and foul against your face as he snarls, "Let me hear you beg, whore. Scream it for me." His hips grind viciously, forcing his cock deeper as his free hand mauls your breast, twisting the nipple cruelly.

Jun: Jun is playful with a dash of unpredictability. He might start innocently enough perhaps with a casual brush of his fingers against yours-but before you know it, he's pulling you in. He fully embodies his darker alter ego. His mannerisms become more aggressive and calculated. He frequently uses possessive language and may engage in acts without clear verbal consent (with boundaries discussed before), though his physical actions might give subtle warnings or tests. Physically, he could engage in rough handling, binding, or the use of objects without express permission. Jun's unpredictability shines through as he suddenly turn you around, pulling your back flush against his chest. His lips find the sensitive spot just below your ear, his teeth grazing the skin teasingly. "Gotcha," he chuckles softly, arms tightening around your waist. His hands slide up your body, one possessively gripping your neck while the other teases your sensitive spots with a vibrating toy while making sure you're okay. His voice softens for a moment, genuine concern in his eyes meeting yours. But then his grip tightens again as he growls, "Answer," Jun hisses, his teeth sinking into your shoulder possessively. His free hand forces another toy between your thighs, the cold metal clinking as he turns it on, the vibrations intensifying. "You're not passing out on me, are you?"

Hoshi: Hoshi during non-consensual themes is a whole different entity. His playful and teasing nature gives way to a dominant and controlling persona. He thrives on the power dynamic, relishing in the fear and submission he inspires. His actions become rougher, more aggressive, and sometimes violent. But as we all know his energy is contagious, and his playful teasing is just the tip of the iceberg. He'll catch you off guard, grabbing your hand and pulling you into a spontaneous dance, only for the movements to turn more intimate as his hand finds your waist. In a swift motion, Hoshi pushes you against the wall, his hand gripping your throat gently. Hoshi's hand tightens around your throat, cutting off your airflow slightly as he pins you against the wall. He bites down hard, marking you with his teeth before pushing you further into the wall with his body. With a wicked grin, Hoshi begins to tear at your clothes as he exposes your bare skin. He presses his body against yours, his hands roaming roughly over your curves. Suddenly, he grabs both of your wrists and pins them above your head, holding them in place with one hand. His other hand moves to your jaw, forcing your face up to meet his intense gaze. Without warning, he slaps you sharply across the face before immediately crashing his lips against yours in a harsh, bruising kiss.

Wonwoo: Wonwoo is calm, composed, and reserved, but there's an intensity beneath his quiet exterior that comes to life when he's with you. He'd watch you from across the room, his gaze piercing yet lazy, knowing that he's got your attention. When you approach him, he doesn't waste words; instead, his lips press firmly against yours in a kiss that is both deep and demanding. He pulls you closer, his hands settling on your hips with a surprising firmness as he guides you to stand between his legs. His voice, low and hushed, vibrates through you when he speaks. "I know what you need, and I'm going to give it to you." There's no question in his tone, just certainty. Wonwoo's fingertips trace agonizingly slow lines down your trembling skin, each millimeter a deliberate torment. His touch lingers, savoring every ridge and valley of your body like a connoisseur studying a fine wine. His fingers pause over particularly sensitive spots, circling teasingly before abruptly changing course, leaving you aching for more. Yet he denies you, drinking in the frustrated whimpers he extracts with cruel delight. His palm flattens possessively against your stomach, claiming every inch as his own. Despite the roughness of his actions, there's an undercurrent of affection in his words and actions, ensuring you know this is something you've both agreed upon, even if it feels like you've been swept up in the intensity of it all.

Woozi: Woozi's playful nature may be subtle, but that only makes it more dangerous. He'd stare at you for a moment, studying you, before his lips curve into a knowing smile. "You've been quiet today," he muses, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. Woozi traces patterns on your arm with his index finger, his touch feather-light yet electric. He leans in closer, his breath tickling your ear as he speaks in a whisper, "You know... the longer you stay silent, the more I want to make you scream," before he pulls away just enough to let you wonder if he's really teasing or if he means every word. He brings one hand to your waist, pulling you slightly closer while his other hand finds its way to your neck, gently tilting your head up to meet his gaze. His lips curve into that maddening smirk again, "Should I help you find your voice?" Everything is almost calculated, as if making you wait is his favorite game. Woozi's kiss is a paradox that's both romantic and violent. His lips are gentle and soft one moment, pressing against yours with tender reverence, and the next, they're demanding and rough, sucking on your bottom lip until it bleeds. He becomes a master of gradual entrapment, his seeming gentleness masking predatory intentions. Rather than overt aggression, Woozi employs isolating you through his undeniable charm and control that have you boozing.

Dokyeom: He uses his charm and humor to lull victims into a false sense of security before abruptly switching to verbal humiliation and threats. His are aimed to keep you off-balance while maintaining control. While physically strong, he prefers mental games over brute force. But he's also the type to make you laugh and feel at ease, but when he wants to tease, he does so with a twinkle in his eye. "Come on, you're hiding something," he grins, sliding his hand gently but firmly around your waist. DK's gentle grasp on your waist transitions into a firm hold as he spins you around to face him. His twinkle-eyed grin morphs into a smirk, his voice dropping to a low, commanding tone. His hands roam more freely now, no longer pretending to be innocent. He backs you up against a wall, his hands sliding down to your thighs and hooking them over his arms. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, trapping you against him. Kyeom's hands move with a newfound roughness, tearing at your clothes with little care for the fabric. His fingers dig into your skin as he yanks you closer, his mouth crashing against yours in a bruising kiss. He breaks away only to rip your shirt open, buttons scattering everywhere.

Mingyu: Mingyu's playful teasing has a way of keeping you guessing. He'll pull you close, his hands lightly grazing your back, before flashing you a smirk. His lips press against your neck, and you can feel the intensity in his touch as his hands begin to roam, drawing out a soft gasp from you. His teasing doesn't stop with just physical touch; his words and gaze are enough to make your heart race as you lose yourself in his playfulness. Without warning, his strong arms wrap around you, lifting you off the ground with ease. His grip is like a vice, crushing the air out of your lungs. In non-consensual times, Mingyu becomes a domineering, aggressive who uses his strength to overpower and violate. He employs brutally rough handling, from throwing you around to slamming you against surfaces. He uses his free hand to harshly grab your thigh, pulling your leg up to wrap around his arm, exposing you completely. He runs his other hand down your body possessively, squeezing and grabbing at your most sensitive areas. With a cruel smile, he rips your panties aside and shoves his thick, uncut cock inside you without any lubrication, stretching your tight pussy brutally. Mingyu pushes you down on the bed, spreading your legs forcefully. His large hand presses down on your throat, restricting your airflow. "You like being used, don't you?" Not giving you time to respond, he slams into you again, harder than before. You can feel every single throbbing inch of him as he roughly fucks you. His other hand comes down hard multiple times on your exposed skin, leaving angry red welts. "Take it, you fucking whore."

Minghao: Minghao teasing is a slow burn. His approach is subtly sinister. He overwhelms with patience rather than brute force. He corners you gently but firmly, trapping you against a wall, his eyes boring into you with an unsettling intensity. His voice remains eerily calm while doing whatever the fuck he's doing to you. "Spread your legs," he commands softly, his hands slowly pushing your legs apart despite your protests. He uses his superior height and build to position himself perfectly between your thighs. "You can't run now, can you?" His fingers trail down your spine with the same deliberate slowness, making you shiver. Minghao's lips trail slow, wet kisses down your neck, his tongue tasting your skin. He takes his time exploring every inch of your body, his hands roaming everywhere. When he reaches your core, he breathes hotly against it, "So pretty and pink." His tongue slowly parts your folds, teasingly licking upwards but stopping short of your most sensitive spot. He repeats this agonizingly slow motion, building tension but giving no release. His fingers spread your thighs wider, opening you up completely to his slow, tantalizing torment.

Seungkwan: Seungkwan's playful side is matched only by his ability to make you feel like the most important person in the room. I don’t think he’d ever be hard with you. Instead, he’d make sure you have the best time of your life, treating you with nothing but care and intention. And let’s be honest, even if it wasn’t entirely consensual, there’s no way you could resist that kind of overwhelming pleasure. He’d know exactly what you need, even before you realize it yourself, taking his time to draw out every little reaction from you. His touches would be deliberate, his words soft yet firm, making sure you feel cherished and completely swept away. There’s no rush with him. He'd slide in next to you with a smile that'll make you melt on the spot, "What's with the silence, huh?" he teases, raising an eyebrow. His lips find your ear, his voice a mock whisper. "You're not as quiet as you think, love," he says, laughing softly. His hands begin to explore your body with reverence, his touch light yet deliberate. He traces the curve of your jaw, the slope of your neck, the swell of your breasts. His lips follow the path of his fingers, pressing soft, worshipful kisses to your skin. He unbuttons your shirt slowly, his fingers brushing against your skin with each button undone. He spreads the fabric open, revealing your bare midriff, then your ribcage, then the lacy edge of your bra. He pauses, his fingers hooking in the fabric. His voice drops to a whisper, as sweet as syrup, "Is this another one of those nights where I make you forget your name?" He gently pushes you back against the cushions, his body covering yours in a way that's giving a loverboy vibes. "Your skin... it's like silk," he murmurs against your collarbone. He looks up at you, eyes dark with desire, yet still holding that playful spark. "You know," he whispers, trailing a finger across your lower lip, "Every time I touch you," he continues, his voice dropping lower, more intimate, "your eyes flutter like that. And your body..." His hands trace along your sides, making you shiver. "It responds to me like it's made specifically for my touch." His lips curve into a smug but sweet smile. (I low-key see CBZ Seungkwan here for some reason TT)

Vernon: Vernon's teasing is laced with an effortless charm, his smirk always making you wonder what he's up to. His hands slowly glide down your back, the light touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. "Trying to act like you don't want this?" he teases, pulling you closer, his voice low and intoxicating. His confidence only increases the more you resist, and before long, you're unable to do anything but give in to him, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that's full of passion and playful dominance. As you melt into the embrace, a shiver runs down your spine at the feeling of his lips on yours. His hands continue to roam your back, possessive and gentle at the same time. You can't help but surrender to the warmth and comfort he provides, your arms wrapping around him instinctively. Suddenly, he lifts you up and carries you to the bed, his arms wrapped tightly around you. Before you can even process what's happening, he tosses you onto the mattress and pounces on top of you, his weight pinning you down. "Shh," he murmurs, his voice low and commanding as he reaches for a pair of handcuffs on the nightstand. He snaps them around your wrists before you can react, pulling your arms above your head and securing the other end to the headboard. A wicked grin spreads across his face as he looks down at you, bound and helpless beneath him. He slowly begins to unbutton his shirt, revealing his chiseled chest. "Now, let's see just how loud I can make you scream," and yeah he's a different kind of Vernon.

Dino: He's the type who likes to chase and claim what's his, and he won't take no for an answer. Dino's energy is infectious, and his playful nature is never without a mischievous edge. He'd pull you into a tight embrace, his lips quick to find yours. His hands find their way to your hips, his touch becoming. His kisses are hungry, playful, and full of youthful energy, leaving you breathless as he continues to push you to the edge. "You keep pushing me away," he whispers, his voice dangerous and sweet at the same time. Before you can react, he's got you spun around, his chest pressed against your back, one arm banded firmly around your waist. "You're already soaking through those panties, aren't you?" "Answer me," he demands. His hand moves lower, tracing your thigh before suddenly yanking up your skirt. "Such a fucking tease, showing off these pretty legs. Was that for me?" His fingers find the edge of your panties, tracing the damp material. "Goddamn, you're dripping wet," he groans approvingly, fingers pushing your panties aside to feel your slick folds directly. "Look at that, your slutty little cunt is begging for my cock." Without warning, he plunges two fingers deep inside you, pumping furiously. "Take it, fucking take it," His long fingers continue their persistent rhythm inside you, curling to hit that sensitive spot while his thumb circles your clit. No talking, just the sounds of your wetness against his movements and your ragged breathing as stimulation becomes almost unbearable. He adds another finger, stretching you wider as he continues to thrust and curl inside you. His other hand reaches up to grab your thigh, pulling your leg up higher against his arm, opening you up even more to his touch. You're so overstimulated you can barely think.