#i know how someone is supposed to act even though it’s not my instinct to act that way

[pissfizz]

I think probably the only thing I’m good at is pretending I’m a mentally sane and neurotypical person

[hotchfiles]

— help me hold onto you • aaron hotchner

fem!reader, unprotected vaginal sex, a bit of angst.

      He knew he would be in trouble whenever he turned those keys. What he wasn’t expecting was how big the trouble would be. He had no idea he would open the door to three bags full of clothes and other things he left at your place as the months passed, waiting for him.

      “Darling? What–What are these?” He asks even though he knows the answer, hoping you want to at least talk about it before making any harsh decisions. You’ve been in a relationship for almost a year now and it works. It always worked.

      Normally you wouldn’t drink before an argument, still when he gets to the kitchen he sees you calmly sipping on a tall glass of wine, fingers tapping on the table, hair up, face clean but red, you were in your pajamas already, nothing like you probably looked hours before.

      “What’s the only thing I asked of you, Aaron?” You don’t move, don’t glance up at him, eyes focused solely on how the purplish red liquid moved in your glass, taking a big sip right after.

      Aaron sighs in frustration, he didn’t want this to become a fight. He was so tired. “I know, I’m sorry–”

      “Answer the question, please.”

      “Don’t make promises I can’t keep.” He takes his tie off quickly, suddenly feeling suffocated by the fabric surrounding his neck. That’s why your relationship worked, you knew he was busy and his schedule was unpredictable, so very early on you accepted it as it was, saying you wouldn’t be mad at him as long as he didn’t break any promises. If you’re not sure, don’t promise me you will be able to make it.

      First months he wouldn’t promise you anything, too afraid to break it, to disappoint you.

      He watches as you take the wine in a mouthful and refills the glass, the bottle now empty and starts getting frustrated, you’re a loud drunk and you’re surely already getting tipsy.

      This was the first time he slipped up, it didn’t need to be such a big deal, it didn’t avail to having his things right at the door as if he was getting kicked out. All the other times he promised he could take time off, he did it. Just–Teens were getting kidnapped, the team needed him.

      “We saved two girls today.” Low blow. But it was true, he wasn’t back in time because of that, he got on the jet instead of staying back to do that. To save two thirteen year old girls. Not some futile reason. It had to count for something.

      “I’m proud of you for that, Aaron. Are you proud of me? For the promotion we were supposed to celebrate with my boss? Or are our accomplishments only worth it when it’s about saving someone?” You raise your voice only slightly, the alcohol from the sweet wine getting to you slowly and then all at once.

      You always tried your best to keep your voice down when arguing with him, simply because he never raised his, and it could be an endearing feature if it didn’t look like he did it to look like the rational one, the right one.

      “That’s not what i said–”

      “I know what you said. You want to make the fact you let me down okay because you did a wonderful thing someplace else. That’s not how it works.” You open the second bottle of wine of the night, feeling his eyes on your back. “I want you to leave.”

      “You know this is ridiculous, you’re acting like a child.” Sore spot. You were a few years younger and that had never been a problem. But he couldn’t go back now, he could see the anger darkening your eyes, your knuckles turning white by the strength you’re using to grip on the edge of the table.

      “How am I a child?” You begin slowly and keeping your voice down, you get up finally from the chair you had been sitting, facing him directly, his instincts make him try to touch your arms, but you dodge it quickly. “We had an agreement. You broke it. Am I a child for not giving you permission to hurt me again?”

      He knows you’re about to snap, your chest coming up and down in rapid breaths, and he doesn’t feel particularly in the right, he knows he screwed up and he’s sorry, but your reaction is out of proportion to him, an exaggeration made to make him feel more guilty than he already does. “I said you’re acting like a child. The one time things don’t go your way and you’re packing me out?” Aaron almost feels the sharpness of a slap but he’s quick enough to grab your wrist. “See? proving my point.”

      “How many times do I have to accept you screwing up so I can be seen as mature?” You yank your arm out of his grip and go back to your drink, “Same times as Haley? How many times did she forgive you so you could go around and do it all again?”

      Lower blow.

      Hotch feels it right in his core and he’s angry at you for bringing up but more so angry at himself because you were right. Still, it is anger nonetheless that guides his next actions, quickly and firmly walking up to you, caging you against the table in sudden movements.

      Your breath hitches from the surprise, and your attempt to move is stopped by his roughed hands on your chin, firm but never close to hurting. “I’m not leaving.” You wince, not in fear of him, but of how easy he can make your mind go blank when he’s that close.

      His eyes go from your eyes to your lips, he notices your failed attempt to conceal the way you licked your lips, he glances at your chest, heavy breathing under your thin pajama shirt, nipples hardening against the fabric.

      Damn you for choosing wine.

      Hotch reads your mind almost, but his smirk doesn’t last too long displayed on his lips, your hands pulling him by the neck, a low groan followed by a “Fuck this” leaving your wine tasting lips just mere seconds before gluing to his.

      Eager to get your forgiveness, he is quick to follow your lead, both hands sneaking under your clothes, one down the waistband of your shorts, grabbing hard on the flesh of your ass, the other drawing soft circles on your nipple.

      You melt into the kiss, his lips, his hands, his scent, him. And you have no time to feel bad about it, pulled up to sit on the table, legs around his waist, you can feel how hard he is against your wetness.

      A pained whimper leaves his lips when you use the new position to grind onto him, needing something, anything against your clit at this point.

      Aaron sinks his teeth into your bottom lip to get your full attention, earning a loud moan in response, his hands travel your thighs and you pull his shirt out his pants so you can feel his skin under your fingertips, not bothering to unbutton them and working with what you got under it.

      His lips travel your neck and your collarbone, “I love you, so, so much”. His declaration comes in between kisses and the sucking of your skin, “Please don’t make me leave after this.” It comes in a whisper now, but he doesn’t stop, pushing your shorts down and sliding it down till it drops to the floor with your help.

      “Just shut up and take your pants off.”

      “You know I can only do one of those.” It makes you laugh and you sink your nails to the bit of fat on his side, the tiniest bit of annoyance at how easy he had you in the palm of his hand and how he didn’t even seem to know it truly.

      On the edge of the table sliding his hard cock into your folds was an easy feat, pants, shoes and his boxers long gone, his socks stayed on almost making him lose balance as he feels just how wet you are. He drops his head, forehead on your shoulder

      “Fuck—Oh my god, you are so wet, you’re always so wet for me.” It isn’t arrogant, it’s appreciative almost, you move his head so you can look at him, hot, sweaty already, cheeks so red as his eyes were glassy, the mix of lust and love and regret clear in his dark caramel irises.

      You kiss him once more, sweet, forgiving and he takes this as his sign to continue, pushing you down the table, Hotch holds your thighs for support, plunging his cock into your wet cunt with ease, bottoming out at the first thrust. You enjoyed the stretching pain and you never had the patience to wait.

      Lower lips between your teeth, you slide one of your hands to your clit, two fingers working your arousal, quickly replaced by Aaron’s calloused fingers. You arch your back and moan loudly, “Fuck, yes, and move.”

      It feels like an order and for Hotch it is one, he is delighted to oblige, maintaining the same finger moves on your clit and beginning to fuck your pussy, strong, firm and precise at first.

      “Honey, fuck—Please…” His begging is meant to warn you that if you keep clenching around him he won’t be able to control himself, you almost don’t listen, fingers working on your own nipples enjoying the high he is always able to get you in.

      “Aaron—I’m… Fuck, don’t stop, you’re so good.”

      The praising, the guidance, the reassurance, it makes the moans leaving his lips seem like whining, he enjoys it too much.

      “Yeah? Like this?” The way your hands try to grab him is enough answer to him, along with how tight your pussy is throbbing against him, you’re almost there, he can feel it.

      His movements on your clit get sloppier, the sight and sound of your wetness against his digits making him go insane. Your back arches once more and your whole body begin to squirm, the tight coil in your lower belly finally ripping, “Yes, fuck—“ You’re breathless, weak, but you still have it in you to edge him in, “Aaron, baby, cum for me, please.”

      He would be crazy to do anything but, so quickly you ask him and his hands are hoisting both your legs over his shoulders, getting a new, deeper position, it doesn’t take long for you to feel him filling you up, “I can’t live without you, you’re so, so good for me” His lasts broken words before letting himself go.

      You don’t move and neither does he, his dick softening inside you, his hands caging you in the table and his head dropped to his chest, both just trying to recover.

      “Aaron?”

      “Yes, sweetheart?”

      “You can stay.” He looks at you with nothing but love and happiness and gratitude, “But if you screw up again do not try fucking me into forgiving you, I’ll chop your dick off.”

      “You like it too much to do that.” His grin is sincere, feeling finally free to joke around you, he gets out of you and you whine at the loss. “See?”

      “Bite me.”

      “Gladly.”

[charliemwrites]

Part 7 is finally here! I only gave this a quick look over so if there are any glaring issues (like a random cut off sentence) please let me know! I was just so excited to get this one out.

Content: Brandon.

For all the power and influence it has amassed, SpecGru is a notoriously discreet and secretive operation. Mind, no one’s ever strolling down the street shouting their criminal affiliations for God and everyone to hear, but even by criminal standards, SpecGru is like a collective boogeyman. By the time most anyone knows they’re there, it’s already too late – and the rare (verbal) survivors only ever see masks and guns.

Granted, no small part of SpecGru’s prestige comes from whispered stories and unconfirmed rumors. Criminals are locker room gossips, the lot of them. Not that it’s completely unfounded. An execution is an execution, whether someone died with all their teeth and nails or not. (Usually not)

Few people know Price as more than a shadowy theoretical. (Someone must be in charge, that’s how the mafia works.) Even fewer know his face, never mind his name. It’s just good business that way.

In fact, SpecGru’s entire inner circle is shrouded in mystery. There’s not just the gray silhouette of the Don looming over their enemies’ heads. There are the lieutenants to contend with as well, acting on his direct authority, speaking on his behalf (with permission, of course) in his absence.

And then there’s Price’s right hand, the de facto boss should something happen. His heir, for all intents and purposes.

For those that have met Price in person, and by extension his few but devoted confidants, there’s always debate.

Is it Soap, loud and brash, but sharp as a whip? A decisive man, affable with a hidden mean streak?

Or is it Ghost, the quiet and calculating figure always at his side? A deadly and brutal enemy, shrewd and observant?

Kyle lets them stew in their assumptions and reminds himself that they’ll learn eventually – or they’ll be dead. He’s not fussed either way. It would suit SpecGru just fine if a few of those knobs keeled over sooner rather than later.

If only they knew that the hand that would one day grip their leashes was currently holding your purse so that you could pet a cute dog.

Not that Kyle minds; you have good taste. In purses, that is – though the dog isn’t half bad. A fluffy white and grey thing with a stumpy tail, practically crawling onto your pretty blue skirt as you coo and fawn. He started recording the minute you handed him your bag. (Price owes him for this.)

“His name is Mister Beans,” the uni girl enthuses to you.

You practically sob. “Mister Beans!”

He’s loath to hurry you along, but he’s supposed to meet up with Price for a Business meeting in only a half hour. Thankfully, you’re a considerate sort and don’t linger for long.

“Thank you so much, have a great day!” you cheer to the young woman. Then you turn back to Kyle, smiling huge. “Wasn’t he so cute?”

He chuckles. “It was. Wish I could have pet him, but white hair on this suit…”

You hum sympathetically. “I have a lint roller in my apartment.”

“I’ll scratch the next one,” he promises, offering your purse back.

You take it with your far hand and another mumbled “thank you,” then loop your closer arm through his. Don’t even seem to think about it, just accept the escort automatically. Kyle tries not to beam with pride. He used to have to prompt you, holding his elbow out at an awkward angle for you to get the hint. Now, you reach for the arm of whoever you’re with on instinct – as you should. (Another thing Price owes him for.)

“Do you like little dogs?” you ask, strolling with him for your apartment.

In the office, you’re a speedy little thing. Zooming from your desk to Price’s and back at velocity deserving of a ticket. Soap calls you a busy bee and it’s apt. Fluttering to and fro with stacks of papers or your tablet (“Reginald” you call it) everyone knows to make way at the click-click of your smart heels.

Outside, though, your purposeful stride slows to something less awe-inspiringly machinelike. Little Miss at work is a much different creature from Little Miss off the clock – but Kyle quite likes both.

“My mum had a little white dog while I was growing up. Crusty old thing,” he explains. “Prefer medium sized myself. Like a corgi.”

You giggle. “Like the royal family?”

“Oi, I liked ‘em before that.”

You just laugh harder at his defensive tone, patting his arm. He’s always impressed by how fearlessly you joke and tease him and the others. Have taken everything in stride from the beginning, didn’t even flinch when you first met Simon. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost think you had no idea just who you arched your eyebrows at this morning because of a “scheduling disagreement.”

“Speaking of dogs…” you mutter, mirth disappearing.

He follows your gaze through the clear glass of the building’s entry vestibule. Your ex is standing inside, already spotted you and fluffing up like the cock he is.

“Mind keeping back, doll?” Kyle murmurs.

You make a noise of protest even as you hand him your keys. “He’s not going to do anything after what Soap did.”

There’s an ugly black cast around his hand and up his wrist. Kyle smirks at him through the door.

“Rather not take any chances,” he replies.

You huff a bit, but quietly slip your arm from his, letting him take the lead into the building. (He still holds the door for you of course – he’s not a numpty.)

“Get the fuck out, mate,” Kyle says as soon as the door opens.

Brandon looks downright taken aback. “And who the fuck are you?”

“None of your business,” you interrupt, stepping up beside Kyle.

“The hell it’s not!” Brandon replies, taking an angry (stupid) step forward. Kyle mirrors him, making a point of loosening up his shoulders. In a surprising display of good sense, Brandon stops there. “Look, bunny, a high-value man needs a high-value woman.”

Your voice comes out flat and unimpressed. “And that’s you, is it? A high-value man?

Brandon rolls his eyes but sighs, as if he’s trying to be patient with you. Kyle’s fingers twitch. His piece is burning a hole against his back.

“Obviously. I have a degree, a six-figure salary, and two properties – all under forty. I’m objectively attractive, work out regularly, don’t smoke. I’m a good catch, don’t kid yourself that you can do better.”

At Kyle’s elbow, you go very still. The type of still that precedes blood and screaming. He’s seen it in Ghost before.

“Then why are you here?” you ask, tongue dripping acid. “Since you’re such a catch.”

Brandon sighs and shakes his head, trying for fond exasperation and only achieving constipated.

“I’m not willing to just throw away two years. I’ve invested a lot in this relationship, and we can still make it work.” It actually starts to make Kyle nauseous, the way he talks about you like a business decision. “I mean, you have some things to make up for but eventually, we can go back to the way we were.”

“And what,” you say through gritted teeth, consonants sharp enough to pierce skin, “do I have to make up for?”

Kyle listens, flabbers absolutely gasted, as Brandon answers.

“You ran off to play desk bunny for a man I don’t know. God only knows what ‘favor’ you did to land that job. You’ve lowered your value as a marriable woman but there are ways to make it up to me—”

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

Kyle’s ears ring like the first time he heard his mum curse.

Brandon looks taken aback too. You don’t give either of them a chance to respond.

“I know it’s not fucking me. Because if you were talking to me, you’d be stupider than you look.”

Brandon’s face flushes with anger. He takes another step forward. Kyle takes two in return, shaking his head in warning. Unfortunately, Brandon doesn’t know how to read his face any better than yours.

“C’mon, mate, it’s common sense. A lock that opens for any key and all that.”

Kyle’s heard it before. “Women ain’t locks, mate.”

“If you don’t get out of this building right fucking now, I will ruin your life,” you snarl.

Brandon does a double take. “Is that a threat? You can’t—"

“You bet your pasty ass it is,” you reply without missing a beat. You raise your voice every time he tries to interrupt, barreling through his weak protest like a train. “Fifteen fucking minutes. That’s all it would take to destroy you, your stupid sister, your bitchy mother, your pervert father, and that fucking slag you got pregnant twice.”

Kyle’s eyebrows rise with each word until he’s fairly certain they’ve floated up to the ceiling somewhere.

Brandon, though… Brandon’s face is ashen.

“How… how did you…?”

“Get. The fuck. Out.”

Kyle doesn’t give him the option to refuse. He scruffs Brandon by the back of his bland suit and shoves him out the first door of the vestibule. It closes and locks just as he turns around, a rebuttal finally juddering to his bloodless lips. You haven’t even turned to watch him go.

Kyle approaches you feeling a bit like he does coming to Price with shit news when he’s already pissed.

He almost says, you sure know how to pick ‘em – but thinks better of it. There’s practically frost forming beneath your feet, the air around you is icy.

“Walk you up, little miss?” he asks, offering his arm.

You gently take his arm and exhale heavily. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

You invite him in at your door. Your hands are shaking a bit. He politely accepts, shooting Price the others a text that he’ll be a bit late. He’s not about to leave you in a state.

As usual, you step out of your shoes at the door, leaving you in your shimmery stockings, then pad to the kitchen.

“Tea?” you ask as he follows.

“I haven’t the time, doll, I’m sorry. I just want to make sure you’re alright before heading out.”

You turn, expression softening. Just like that, you’re back to your usual self, sweet as honey.

“I’ll be alright, I think,” you reply, sighing. “That was a long time coming.”

He leans his shoulder in the doorway, unable to help chuckling at the memory of your ex’s gobsmacked expression. The corners of your mouth curl up in shy amusement.

“Seemed like it,” he replies. “We should weaponize those f-bombs you dropped.”

That coaxes a giggle out. “Graves would be first on my list.”

“The boss’s too.” And oh, Kyle can’t wait to tell Price about this. (As if he needed another reason to hate Brandon and adore you.)

“Christ,” you groan, “you’re going to tell him about this, aren’t you?”

He’s at least able to muster an apologetic grimace. “You know I have to, sweets.”

“Suppose I’ll get the really good tea tomorrow,” you muse.

“He liked those pistachio scones from the corner café, too.”

You light up. It just so happens that they bake your favorite muffins too. “Good idea.”

“I’m full of ‘em.”

You snort, but there’s a fond smile on your face. Regretfully, he notes the time on the stove clock behind you.

“You’re sure you’re alright here by yourself?” he asks.

“I’m sure,” you promise, crossing to give him a warm hug. “I lock the door and windows like Simon told me.”

“Atta girl,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, yeah?”

“Seven sharp!” you chirp.

He pauses at the door, “You call if there’s any trouble.”

You poke your head around the corner. “You don’t sign my paychecks; you can’t tell me what to do.”

He points right back at you. “That’s from the bossman direct.”

“Then he can tell me himself.”

He arches his brows. You blink.

“Don’t tell him I said that.”

He chokes back a chuckle. “Sweet dreams, little miss.”

“Get home safe, Kyle!”

As far as business meetings go, one with Los Vaqueros is almost pleasant. Sure, they always try to overprice their products, but haggling them down is practically a game between Price and Vargas by now. The shipping agreement between them and SpecGru is long established by now, a major link in the international arms market.

“Negotiations” are relaxed enough that Rudy and Valeria are playing cards with Ghost and Soap at the sitting table, whiskey glasses at their elbows. The plan for the next six months is all but set when Price suddenly jerks. In an instant, his face goes dark, shoulders tense.

“Something wrong, hermano?” Vargas asks.

“I’m getting a call.”

Soap and Ghost snap to attention.

There are only a handful of people that can reach Price during a meeting. All but one is in this room.

As he brings the phone to his ear, Kyle sees your name on the screen.

“Yes, love?” he answers.

Even from a couple feet away, Kyle can hear your voice through the receiver – high and panicked. Kyle’s already reaching for his keys.

“He fucking what?” Price barks.

Soap and Ghost jump to their feet, cards and drinks forgotten.

“Barricade the door, get a knife. We’ll be right there.”

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Masterlist

[mypoorocs]

Thinking about a first time Whumper x veteran Whumpee...

When they first meet:

"You don't seem nearly scared enough. This isn't your first time is it?" "You seem weirdly nervous. Is it yours?"

"Ugh! Out of everyone in the city I could kidnap I had to get stuck with someone else's leftovers!"

"You used to belong to so-and-so, didn't you? Ah! They're my idol! Oh! This is exciting. I get to study their masterpiece up close!"

"WHY AREN'T YOU SCARED OF ME?!!!"

"Oh. You've never done this before." "Stop judging me. I have a knife."

"How is it you know exactly what I like?" "You torturers are all the same." "You've done this before??"

"I won't kill you, but I need you to cooperate. I am new to this, just so you know." "Yup. I'm going to die."

"Mmmm, I love how you move when you're in pain." "Thanks! I've been practicing for years."

"Who taught you to scream like this?"

Whumpee helping Whumper figure out the basics:

"Why are you on your knees?" "Oh sorry. Do you not like that? The last guy liked me that way. I just assumed…" "No, no. It's a good idea. Keep doing that. I just… never thought of it."

"So, what are the rules?" "Rules?" "Yeah, dumbass. Your rules for me. Do you want me to call you sir? Master? Or can I keep calling you jackass?"

"Do you want me to put up a fight or should we skip straight to the submissive stage?" "Oh... uhhh... don't fight too much. I don't trust myself not to accidentally kill you." "Oh, yeah. Good point."

"What kind of scream do you like?" "There are kinds of screams?" "Yeah. The last guy liked it when I ugly-cried. But I'm pretty good a bloodcurdling and whimpering like a kicked puppy. I can try to stay quiet but I can't make promises there..." "Hmmm... try all of them. I'll tell you which I like best."

"You cleaned??" "Yeah? Was I not supposed to?" "I didn't know you could make captives do that?!" "For the record, I didn't do it because I'm scared of you - your arm gets tired after giving me like three lashes. I did it because I'm going to be spending a lot of time bleeding on this table and I doubt it occurred to you to disinfect it."

Whumpee teaching Whumper how to whump:

"Show me what they used to do to you."

Whumper studying the scars on Whumpees body to learn the best places to cut/stab.

"Oh no! A knife? How original!" /s

"If you stab me right there you'll kill me. You have to go one inch to the right. Yeah, right there-AHHHHHH! …yup. Right there."

"I'll make you a deal. Let me have a solid eight hours of sleep and I'll show you where to pinch the nerve that will paralyze my left arm."

"You can't leave me tied up like this!" "I can do what I want!" "Yes. Okay. True. But like, you've either got to tie my knees to my chest or let my feet touch the ground. Otherwise I'm going to asphyxiate."

Whumper having an inferiority complex:

"I CAN DO ANYTHING THEY COULD DAMMIT!" (They = Whumpee's former Whumper)

"WHUMPEE! YOU'RE NOT BETTER THAN ME!" *Whumpee trying not to laugh when Whumper fucks up something really basic.*

"You must think I'm so pathetic." "NOo! Of course not! You're doing amazing! Really you are! I'm so fucking scared of you right now. I promise."

"I'll never be as good as the person who hurt you before." "You'll get there! I promise. I was like his fifth victim - I'm your first. Be kind to yourself!"

"How the fuck did your former Whumper do it?" "Yeah... you're not getting that out of me..."

Whumper being paranoid that Whumpee is manipulating them. Even though they hold the power they feel like Whumpee has more control over the situation because they know more.

Also...

Whumpee knowing just how to manage Whumper. They instinctively know when to be a little defiant and when to do exactly as they are told. They know just the right tone of voice to speak in, and just how to move, scream, to keep Whumper as pleased as possible. The sooner Whumper is satisfied the sooner it will stop.

Whumpee pretending it hurts worse than it does, lying about which places/tortures hurt most, acting more sick or tired than they really are to get rest/food, acting more scared than they really are… It's not like Whumper could know better.

[alwaysmoncheri]

summary: you and spencer spend a night together—watching scary movies and sharing kisses

cw: female!reader, established relationship, kissing, fluff, cheesy writing, sexual innuendos, mentions of blood and gore, 871, spencer reid x reader

<3

the room pulsates with the eerie glow of the tv screen, casting elongated shadows that seem to sway with the suspenseful music. the air crackles with tension and anticipation as the horror movie unfolds, each gruesome scene capturing your attention and eliciting gasps from the figure beside you.

"jeez, why is this movie so gory?" spencer, still reeling from the last shock, mumbles. he instinctively curls up under your shared blanket, seeking refuge in the crook of your side. as another character meets a grisly fate on-screen, blood spraying across the tv, Spencer flinches and pulls the blanket up to his face, inadvertently pressing even closer to you.

you can’t help but smile at his reaction, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. your fingers continue to run through his soft hair as you playfully remark, "spence, honey, you do realize this is better than what we see at work, right?"

"it's different watching it on a screen, okay?" spencer replies, peeking out from behind the blanket, his eyes wide with a mix of horror and curiosity.

"do you want me to turn it off?" you tease, a playful glint in your eyes.

"no, no, I'm fine," spencer insists, though the tension in his shoulders betrays his unease.

"are you sure?" you continue to tease, lifting an eyebrow. "I think you're looking a bit pale."

"and I think you're enjoying this a little too much," spencer shoots back, a mock glare in his eyes.

"can you blame me?" you grin, gently ruffling his hair and giving him a quick kiss on his cheek. "You're so cute when you're scared."

spencer groans, throwing him head back against the couch with exasperation, but there is a playful twinkle in his eyes. "but i'm supposed to be the one to protect you. i'm supposed to put my arm around you. that was the whole point of watching a horror movie." spencer explains with defeat in his tone. 

spencer had eagerly anticipated a night spent with you nestled in his arms; it was his turn to offer you the comfort and security you deserve. he wasn't voicing any complaints, for he cherishes every moment spent with you, but tonight he wanted to be the one to provide solace. knowing the hardships you had faced growing up in an abusive household, spencer believes you deserve someone who can envelop you in comforting arms during tough times, someone who can be there when you need it the most. and he is determined to be that person for you.

"clearly that backfired," you reply with a playful smirk, earning a defeated frown and watery eyes from spencer. your teasing words linger in the air, but as you notice the vulnerability behind spencer's eyes, your own softened. it becomes apparent how much this act meant to him, the significance of reversing roles and offering you the warmth and protection you deserve.

a tender smile plays on your lips as you gently place a hand on spencer's cheek, your touch conveying unspoken gratitude and understanding.

as you lean in, your lips press softly against his forehead, and spencer's eyes close, savoring the tender connection between you, “spence, you don't have to protect me," you reassure him, tracing circles on his back with your fingertips. "it can be a mutual protection."

“okay.” spencer responds in a hopeful tone before the movie on the screen in completely ignored and spencer sits up only to lean is head down for a soft kiss. 

his lips are so soft, his kiss is so sweet, and when his fingers gaze the edge of your shirt, gently brushing your exposed skin, you gasp and spencer smiles. you feel the genius’ cheeky grin against your lips and you can’t help but want to kiss it away. 

"besides, you're my boyfriend.” you mumble against spencer’s lips, “you can have your arm around me no matter what movie we're watching," you add, leaning into him and wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“yeah?” spencer responds with growing confidence, and you hum in response before your lips are back on his. 

just as spencer leans you back against the couch, the door swings open, and in walks derek morgan, sporting a wide grin and carrying a bucket of popcorn like he is about to enjoy a blockbuster movie. “forgot you had company?” derek smirks, realizing what was happening before he walked into the room. you and spencer’s faces flush as you situate yourselves back into presentable positions and morgan chuckles as he sits himself on a chair next to the two of you. 

the movie continues and spencer’s arm falls across you shoulders, rubbing small circles across your shoulder blade and back.

"next time we're not inviting morgan over," spencer mutters under his breath, making you giggle.

"oh, shush," you whisper back, playfully nudging him. morgan, catching the mention of his name, turns towards the two of you with a questioning glance. spencer flashes a sweet smile, and you send a thumbs up his way.

"maybe you should go over there and put your arm around him," you suggest, amused.

"absolutely not.”

masterlist . spencer reid masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

[bring-forth-his-sac]

Kneel

Summary: Negan reminds you what you’re supposed to do whenever you see him in the Sanctuary 

Pairing: Saviors Era Negan x f!reader

Tags: !NSFW!, power play, dominant Negan, swearing, intimidation, erection, pet names

Word Count: 1.8k (this was meant to be under 1k but I once again forgot how to stfu)

“My oh my, where are your manners?”.

Shit. You knew this would happen eventually. It feels as though Negan has had his eye on you for weeks now, just waiting to pop the question. Because obviously, six wives isn’t enough for one man and he’s in need of another.

You, more specifically. 

You’re in the middle of pushing crates piled on to a small trolley when he approaches. He smirks, baring his teeth as he casually swings Lucille by his side. As if the odds are stacked against you, the hallway is empty, leaving only you and Negan. Alone. 

“You’ve been here, what, two months now?” Negan acts as if that’s just a guess and he hasn’t been keeping track.

You stand tall beside the crates, making it abundantly clear that you won't be an easy target for him. Your eyes are steady, a defiant gleam in them as you hold his gaze.

No matter how charming or beneficial being with him would be, you refuse to be some damsel he can have for his own twisted amusement. After all, you’ve taken care of yourself for this long in the apocalypse, why rely on someone like him now?

“I have” you confirm, not wanting this conversation to draw out longer than it needs to. Even if you’re on his good side, it’s hard to feel relaxed with Negan’s attention on you.

He hums in response.

You watch as Negan's gaze shifts, his features becoming more stern as he stands there. It's as if a switch has been flipped, transforming him from the charismatic leader to the cold and dominant figure you know he can be.

“So you gonna do it?” he questions, the sharp edge to his words sending a clear message: he’s not asking, he’s telling.

You can feel your jaw clench. Is he expecting you to just throw yourself at him? Or thank him profusely for allowing you to stay here? 

Feigning innocence, you gesture towards the crates. "Do what? My job?" you retort, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you intimidated. You go to move the crates again when you feel it - the silent warning of Lucille’s sharp tips resting gently on your shoulder. 

Negan maintains a stoic expression, letting Lucille display his authority. His voice is low and gravelly, resembling a growl more than anything else. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, just cause I think you're pretty fuckin’ hot, and ask again" he explains.

Hearing Negan's flippant admission, the way his voice drips with lust as he mentions his attraction to you is enough to send a thrill down your spine. It's a complex feeling to know that a man like Negan is attracted to you. It's thrilling, dangerous, and undeniably exciting all at once.

You hold your breath, expecting Lucille to scratch her way across your face at any moment. But instead, Negan takes a breath and asks again “Whenever I decide to grace your fucking presence, what is it you’re going to do?”.

You feel as if you’re back in school, after getting asked a question by a teacher who knows you weren’t paying attention. You’re unsure what would be worse; to answer incorrectly or to not answer at all. 

Slowly, Negan starts to increase the pressure, Lucille’s spikes digging into your skin through the thin fabric of your shirt. She prickles at your skin, the feeling thankfully being more uncomfortable than outright painful.

Instinctively, your legs buckle and you sink to your knees before him. “You kneel.” Negan drawls as you go down “There you go. Not that hard, is it?”. 

Negan eases the pressure, the painful stabs from Lucille's barbed wire gradually lessening as you comply. You breathe a silent sigh of relief, hoping Lucille didn’t break your skin and leave puncture marks in her wake.

Despite your best efforts to maintain a defiant expression, you can feel a flutter of something in your stomach. It’s subtle, but undeniable. You stare up at him with a determined glare, refusing to acknowledge the confused mixture of disdain and arousal coursing through your body.

Negan lets out a low, guttural groan, his head tilting down to meet your gaze directly. His expression is equal parts hunger and satisfaction as he takes in the sight of you kneeling before him.

"Goddamn," he murmurs approvingly, "now this is a view I could get used to”. Negan's signature cocky smirk returns, the brief display of dominance seemingly fulfilled for now. 

It’s easy to feel somewhat distracted in your current position, your head level with his crotch. The temptation to look is strong but you’re aware of what his reaction might be and so you quickly push the thought aside. Fighting with your inner urges, you subconsciously nibble at your lip, accidentally fuelling Negan’s amusement.

He sees straight through you and you know it.

Moving the bat from your shoulder completely, he lightly taps it against the crates. “You come to me if you ever want a change of lifestyle,” he coaxes “I got some real sexy dresses upstairs that haven’t been claimed yet”.

The tension between you both is palpable. There’s no denying that you feel a throbbing sensation between your thighs, the logical side of your mind growing hazy and clouded by lust. Your response catches you off guard, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "I think I’d look better without them on," you hear yourself say, the words daring and suggestive.

Are you really flirting with the man who just forced you to kneel!? Damn him.

Negan immediately picks up what you’re putting down, “Oh is that so? Think I’d need to be the judge of that, sweet thing”. 

Bringing his free hand down to your face, Negan surprises you with his soft touch. You can feel his fingertips tracing along your cheekbone before gently cupping your face in his hand. 

The contrasting sides of this man are striking and downright annoying to put up with but you don’t fight against it. It’s hard to decide which side of Negan you actually prefer; the dominant leader that forced you on your knees to satisfy his ego or this charmingly soft man who calls you pretty pet names. 

Unable to resist the temptation, you steal a quick glance forwards. You only sneak a brief look but sure enough, there’s an obvious bulge right there, a mere inches away from your face.

A part of you wants to whimper at the sight but another part of you wants to scoff and get up, stopping this game of cat and mouse no matter the consequences of ‘disrespecting’ his authority.

“Well, damn" he practically groans as you look back up at him "I don't see why we should wait until you try on one of the dresses." His words are direct, the implication clear that he's craving you just as much as you're craving him.

But the ball is in your court now. Negan keeps his hand on your face, staying deliberately still, leaving the next move up to you. He's put his cards on the table, making sure his desires are known. It's up to you to respond, to show him that you want him just as badly.

A thought flickers through your head. How bad would it be if you did hookup with Negan? You know you’d have a good time but there would be consequences. Even though Negan seems casual, there’s no doubt he would push you to become another wife. Once he sinks his claws into you, he won’t simply let go after a hookup or two. Why would he when he can have an unlimited number of wives just for himself?

Before you can make that decision, movement in your peripheral vision catches your attention. You snap your head in their direction, watching as a figure hesitantly comes closer, uncertainty laced in each step.

Joey — or, Fat Joey, as he’s so graciously called by Negan — steps closer, nervously wringing his hands together.

Negan follows your gaze, letting his hand drop from your cheek as he huffs. “Fat Joey! Holy fuck, who knew you could sneak… or cockblock” he exclaims, putting on his bravado act.

Taking advantage of Negan's momentary distraction, you quickly stand up, using the opportunity to distance yourself and get back to work. The feeling of embarrassment washes over you as you realise what that must have looked like for Joey, who just stumbled across you both.

Negan shoots you a quick look. It's not an angry glare but rather a pout, as if he had expected you to patiently wait on your knees until he’s done talking to Joey. 

Joey speaks up, his voice a bit shaky as he tries to sound professional. "Boss, Simon wants to talk to you, he said it’s important" he says, attempting to mimic a soldier's stance "He tried contacting you on the walkie but didn't get an answer". 

Negan reluctantly gives Joey his attention, a hint of annoyance in his expression. You swiftly begin to move the crates, deciding to take Joey’s interruption as some kind of divine intervention that’s telling you not to give into Negan so easily.

“Simon already rounded up the other lieutenant’s, so they’re just waiting for you, sir” Joey rambles on as you pass by. 

Just as you're about to make your exit, you pause, unable to stop yourself from making a snide comment. You turn to Joey, purposely avoiding Negan's gaze. "Oh, Joey," you say with a hint of sarcasm, "don't forget to kneel. He likes that." 

Joey, completely oblivious to the sarcasm behind your words, takes your reminder as sincere advice. He immediately drops to his knees, a look of panic on his face as he hastily apologises. "S-sorry, sir!" he stammers "I didn't mean to forget!".

Negan takes a step back, his hand instinctively going to cover his bulge now that someone else is so close. ”Yeah, sure, just get the fuck up,” Negan grumbles.

As you walk away, you throw a playful goodbye over your shoulder. "Bye, sir," you say with a smirk, feeling a small sense of victory at having left Negan standing there with Joey, who’s still babbling on.

Negan stays silent, mulling over his thoughts. He can hear Joey drone on but he isn't interested. There's only one thing on Negan’s mind.

You’re definitely a keeper.

[abigail-pent]

thoughts on HTN Act One as I reread for the ??th time:

- very early on the narration says John appeared to Harrow in "what seemed to you to be his guise as the Kindly Prince" - ooh the shade

- when the Body appears to Harrow "time could be relied upon to work as it ought" - which seems connected to John's ability to stop or slow down time

- John was keeping the bodies of the 9th as insurance... against what exactly??

- Both Harrow and Alecto are described as having identical divots in their lips. This absolutely cannot be an accident or a coincidence. We know that Harrow also is meant to look exactly like Anastasia, and that she is confirmed to be of the Tombkeeper's line. But the lip thing sort of suggests she might somehow be a descendant of Alecto too...? Which sort of gels really well with everything we hear later about Alecto's particular fondness for Anastasia, and her instinct to kiss Harrow on sight... and like... anything is possible through necromancy and/or whatever thalergetic power Alecto has going on... and also would make Harrow and Gideon descendants of Alecto and John, respectively, which has one hell of a symmetry to it... so I guess I'm a "Harrow is a descendant of Anastasia and Alecto" truther, this is my truth now

- also: we know from NTN that a version of Alecto can take residence in Harrow's body, and we have an idea (in part from the part of ATN chapter 1 that tazmuir read that one time) that Harrow followed some kind of revenant link at the end of HTN and ended up in a version of the Tomb, in what seems like Alecto's body. which implies there is a revenant link between Harrow and Alecto. and we know from the end of HTN and the shocking nature of the Nonius summons that it is exceedingly rare to form a revenant link out of pure force of will alone. now, Harrow is not lacking in force of will, and neither is Alecto. but Harrow has not physically interacted with Alecto that much at all, even though she spent a great deal of her young life being effectively haunted by her, which we've established happens by revenant link. I posit that the revenant link between them might be this strong because of a genetic link between Harrow and Alecto, which (using the Silas/Colum logic of the Eighth House) might better enable Harrow and Alecto to like, mutually displace their souls and sort of swap bodies for basically the whole length of NTN.

- the reason Harrow and Ortus are not permitted to further the Tombkeeper's line, besides the obvious that neither of them want to and also yuck, is that it would mingle the Drearburh scion and cavalier lines beyond repair. which implies of course that BOTH the scion and cav lines are important to preserve, at least on the Ninth. the Ninth cav is supposed to have a particular ancestor - presumably Samael - and that ancestor cannot be Anastasia.

- so Pyrrha helped Anastasia decorate a nursery for her child with Alecto, not with Samael; and Samael likely had a kid somewhere already with someone else. Ortus was a descendant and by implication probably Nonius was too?

- does Harrow still owe Ianthe the favor of the chain, even after fixing her arm?

- what the fuck is the favor of the chain

- besides that it obviously recalls Samael in some way

- you know how at the beginning of HTN when Ianthe tells Harrow "I will tell you when my sister is dead, thank you, Harrowhark, and that day is not today!" well it's been bugging me for like 4 whole years because that sure sounds like they have some kind of necromantic walkie talkie situation going on. but if there is some kind of necromantic link between them, like @silasoctakiseron suggested re their possibly identical nature + eventful birth, then... maybe there is?? a one-way "find my twin" beacon?????

- when Harrow and Ortus are in the dream bubble and she's like "I think 'bone frenzy' might be a term open to coarse misinterpretation, personally" and he says "he thought nobody who read the Noniad would be the sort of churl who misread a simple and evocative collocation like 'bone frenzy'" and he goes on to suggest that "such a person probably didn't even read in the first place, and would be more inclined to trifle with prurient magazines or pamphlets than to bother themselves with such a complex epic as the Noniad" and "he wouldn't want such a person to read his poetry anyway" - THE SOUL MELD, IT'S HAPPENING, AND ORTUS KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT IS GOING ON!

- John sure did hallow that old man's bones on the Mithraeum...

- there's a bit of a parallel between Alecto's "you are going down a dark corridor. You need to turn around" and John's "walk towards me" when Harrow is in the River

- fascinating that John says "the River is a predator"...

- "The choice is beyond me now, Nigenad, unless you can conjure me the spirit of Matthias Nonius, in which case I'll take on his services if he promises to not speechify!" AHH THE FORESHADOWING! I HAVE MISSED THIS ONE FOR LITERALLY 4 YEARS

[merlinspussy]

I was rewatching Merlin S5EP9 a little while ago and I noticed a little detail which, albeit doesn’t add anything to our understanding of the plot, really portrays Arthur as a character that has been both trained to kill from birth and someone who has faced several betrayals from the people he loves.

I’m not sure if anyone has pointed this out before, after all the show ended over ten years ago now but if that is the case, then I guess I’m adding my piece to this discovery:

In every single scene where Arthur and Gwen are together and he’s pretending he doesn’t know that she’s enchanted, he’s either defending himself or is ready to defend himself.

For example, I’ll start off with the obvious:

Arthur doesn’t eat or barely eats when he’s around enchanted Gwen.

Logically, Gwen’s probably not poisoned the food because one she’s already tried that and two I imagine the castle was on high alert for any poisoned food so soon after Arthur actually was poisoned. Even so, he can’t bring himself to eat the food because how can he be sure she hasn’t? She managed to poison him effortlessly before. He is going to let his guard down now he knows that he can’t (temporarily) trust her.

That said, he might not be eating because his wife has been ensnared by Morgana and any worry he is feeling is likely also ruining any appetite he might have. It’s up for interpretation I suppose.

Secondly:

In this scene, Arthur picks up a dagger and starts fiddling with it.

Subconsciously or not, his training and instincts have kicked in and he’s ready to defend himself if Gwen suddenly drops the ruse and attempts to kill him. Now obviously, Arthur wouldn’t dream of killing Gwen but, like I said earlier, he is a warrior who has been trained from birth and has also suffered numerous assassination attempts and betrayals from people who he has loved.

Now do I think Arthur initially struggled with reconciling enchanted Gwen and his wife? Of course, it’s only natural, but as we see here:

Arthur seems to realise that the wife before him is still the wife he loves and that any evil that was residing in her heart was not hers but Morgana’s. He seems to come to this because Gwen, though she is pretending, sounds remarkably sincere when she asks Arthur if she had done something to offend him. Which I feel is a very painful echo of something Gwen would say to Arthur had she not been enchanted. Which is why he promises that there is "nothing he would not do" for Gwen. He really wants his Gwen back.

All in all, I really like these details because I think it really fits Arthur’s character because it just reinforces how he has grown up. With the show’s comedic element, it can be easy to forget where these character have come from, especially Arthur who is more often than not shown to be a bumbling idiot with the emotional intelligence of a brick wall.

I also think it is the staple of good acting when an actor is able to embed unspoken quirks and mannerisms within their performance. It is the sort of dedication and detail which brings the characters to life.

[makoodles]

HERE ARE SOME DADDY!PRICE/BRAT-ISH READER THOUGHT FOR U BABE <3

- price who scruffs reader and drags her to his office when they mouth off to him. like full stop, she is NOT allowed to do that.

- price who takes care of his girl & pampers her when she acts like a good girl. she’s his princess, even though she obeys him she has him wrapped around her finger.

- price bending her over his lap and spanking her just because she’s pushed him just a /litttllleeee/ too much this week. it’s not even a punishment, this is just her warning.

- i am such a big fan of pussy inspections. i’m so sorry, but i cannot help it. price making sure you haven’t been playing with yourself because you KNOW you’re not supposed to. just opening your legs and prodding around for a while, sometimes he does it just to be mean and tease you.

- getting too drunk & needing to have him take care of you. clinging to him while he focuses on driving, maybe even crying a little about how much you /need/ him.

RAHHHHH THIS CAME IN LITERALLY RIGHT BEFORE I PUBLISHED MY PRICE DADDY KINK FIC SO YOUR TIMING IS UNMATCHED

i am so so head over heels for soft daddy price who is obsessed with pampering his darling girl. even when you're bratty, he thinks that you're just adorable. this man is whipped for you

definitely the fuck around and find out type tho in a way that is honestly so intimating! all he has to do is level you with one of those stern, furrowed eyebrow looks and if you have any kind of self preservation instincts you'll be tossing that attitude of yours out the window.

he's so so patient with you, but there's a limit to everything and you learn how far you can push him. i feel like one of his big limits is being a brat in front of other people. in private, your prickliness and audacity is treated in the same manner as someone might react to a tiny kitten baring its claws. he thinks it's cute, and will watch with amusement as you try to get your own way

but in public? oh, girl. don't even try. it's not worth it

[kedreeva]

on the topic of peafowl play, would/do peafowl enjoy those pet puzzle toys? would they have the patience or interest to complete 1 outside of food motivation? i don't know why but i always imagine peafowl as the brilliant but lazy types and i wonder if that headcanon of mine has any plausibility lol

I gave my peafowl one of those chicken treat puzzles (this one) which they are supposed to peck/scratch at and roll around, which drops scratch grain slowly on the ground and gives them something to do until it is empty. It's basically two yellow bowls bungee-corded together by a single cord on the inside, anchored at that little black nub. You fill one half, and then "seal" it as a ball- but it's not clipped together or anything, just bungee tension holds it together.

I set it down for Aris for the first time, and rolled it so she could see it had scratch in it that would fall out. She pecked it once, examined it for roughly 10 seconds, and then grabbed it by the little black nub, and shook the hell out of it, bursting it open and flinging scratch all over the pen. She dropped it and everyone went about their business eating the scratch.

I taught Eris how to press buttons to "speak" to me; she had a few treat buttons, a food button, a water button, and some Word word buttons like "want" and "Eris" and "yes" and "no." She used them to argue with me and make fun of me for forgetting to put water in her wet food one day.

I gave Bug toilet paper rolls with holes cut in them, stuffed with paper towels and superworms. She learned to pull the paper towel out almost immediately. She gets a bowl of fresh foods when she goes into her pen in the mornings, and it started with me walking in and coaxing or carrying her in. Now she goes and waits on the perch where I put the bowl. I give anything leftover she didn't eat to the barn crew, so when I go to collect her in the evening, Polaris and Opal are usually waiting on the table where I put the bowl.

I bring Artemis indoors to do paintings with her, and she knows the order is indoors->bath->dry off->painting+treats, so if I bring her in, and she gets a bath, and I wait too long in the drying off, she will start scolding me until we start painting.

If I let the birds out of their pens, they get free range time while I'm outside. When I call "hup hup!" loudly and repeatedly, they all start walking back to the coops. Many of them know up commands. Artemis and Bug have both learned to put their trains up if I ask (and that's a no-treat trick, they just do it). Beep knew "ask nicely" when she wanted something (which is what led to me training Eris with the buttons), so she would scrape her beak on me if she wanted something. Beep also played with a lot of different toys.

I guess the point is that they are pretty smart birds, given a chance and good circumstances. They can be incredibly stupid, too, but the majority of them are pretty smart most of the time. But they don't have a lot of patience for things that are not either immediately rewarding or that they choose to focus on. Beep once spent an hour trying to get the button off my jeans, but if you offer Bug a mouse and move it away before she can get it, she'll usually just stop caring. If you give a treat to one bird, they might snub it, but they'll kill a man for it if someone else gets it and acts like it's good.

So COULD they become interested in a pet puzzle and possibly solve one? Maybe? It really just depends on what's in it for them, and/or how interested someone else is, and/or if they think it's their idea. They don't really have a lot of grabbing strength in their beaks, so that factors in, too. They do NOT like to peck hard things.

They DO like to destroy stuff though. If you could make an edible tissue box, they would absolutely lose their shit about it. Every peafowl I've ever owned LOVES tearing tissues out of a tissue box and ripping tissues to shreds to try to eat. Don't know what that's about. Leftover raptor instincts to disembowel things, I guess.

[heeliopheelia]

"i think i've always loved you" (jungwon x reader)

genre: fluff word count: 0.9k requested by @miukityy-deactivated20230802 ♡

masterlist

The hallway is unusually silent as you walk through the empty school with an injured Jungwon hanging on your neck. It's an irony, really, that you, out of all people, have been chosen as the one to walk him to the nurse after he'd hurt his ankle in a result of bumping his head with one of his teammates and falling down roughly.

"How's your leg?" You ask to somehow fill the silence, hand gripping his waist tightly.

He shoots you a pointed look before scoffing with slight amusement. "Not the best," he hums, finding humor in your shy words. "I think it might be twisted."

"That would suck," you murmur quietly.

This finally gets a laugh out of him. "Why are you still so awkward around me?" He chuckles, pinching your side playfully. "You really have no reason to be, after all those years. Makes me think you hate me or something."

He's teasing, you know that. But still, his words make you squirm a little because they couldn't have been farther from the truth.

You know it's weird that you're still so tense around him even though you've been, more or less, friends for such long time. But you like to tell yourself that your behavior is absolutely excusable. Because how else is one supposed to act around their long time crush without blowing their cover?

You lower your head, deciding on an honest answer this time. "Funny cause I always felt like you're the one who hates me."

Jungwon snorts from your ridiculous thought. "That's crazy. C'mon, everyone knows I've always liked you." His confession does little to pacify your already pounding heart and just when you think about letting it slide, he goes on almost as if someone treated him with an honesty potion. "No, scratch that. Actually, I think I've always loved you."

The quiet, almost embarrassed mumble just can't go past your ears this time, completely disregarding Jungwon's deepest wish that you didn't actually hear his words. Your body tenses up as you halt your steps, head shooting to the side to cast a shocked glance at Jungwon.

Did you hear that right or are you just this far gone into your delusion?

"What?" You manage to stumble out. His arm wrapped around your shoulders all of sudden leaves a nearly burning trace behind and you shiver slightly. "You really must've gotten it hard in the head, huh?"

Jungwon strangles a groan that bubbles up in his throat, knowing well that this slip up was no one else's fault but his. Oh God, he's really doing this. Running his free hand over his face, he unsuccessfully tries to shake off the sudden nervousness spreading over his system like some kind of a parasite.

"No, what? I wasn't- Okay, fuck, whatever," he breathes out quickly, stumbling over his words and slightly loosening his grip on you to face you better. "I'm in love with you. I mean it. I've been ever since you barged into my class and hit Riki's head with this brick-ass notebook of yours."

You flush at the mention of the memorable momentum from over four years ago. With ears burning, you forget about his injury for a hot moment and step away from his touch, the sudden movement catching Jungwon off guard and causing him to stumble forward with a whine, right back into your smaller frame.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," you rush out the apology, arms instinctively finding their way around his middle again, keeping him steady.

You're left breathless, feeling absolutely each and every emotion striking your heart one by one. And in this moment, looking up at his ever so pretty face, cheeks slightly flushed with pink and eyes wide with nerves; you decide to show your answer through actions rather than words.

So you raise to your tippy toes and capture his lips with yours without even a hint of hesitation. Even if Jungwon's heart literally jumps out of his chest, all hair rise up on his arms and world nearly halts to a stop – he never lets you know any of these things as he dips his head down, allowing you to get more comfortable and settle back on your feet, kissing you twice as intensely as he finally lets go of all the pent up tension in his body.

He presses his lips deeply to yours, drinking every quiet sound that you make as his hand makes its way up to your face, fingers brushing your skin so gently in the total contrast to his relentless mouth biting and bruising yours.

And fuck him for not growing the balls to confess to you sooner.

You let his desperate lips do anything and everything to yours right now, ignoring the tingling that guarantees they're gonna be swollen and burning after he pulls away. But you're way too infatuated and greedy to loosen your grip around his neck.

You're unwillingly forced to break the kiss when your lungs feel as if they're about to collapse, so with one, two, three more pecks to his wet lips, you take a step back, yet not far enough from him to not feel his heavy breath on your face.

"I might like you a little too," you can't help but tease quietly, now finally content with your feelings and watching giddily as a fond smile makes its way to his red lips.

He hums, hands moving to your hips. "Only a little?"

"A tiny bit," you keep the banter up, squirming with a squeal when his fingers dig into your sides in a tickle.

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi

[caitchercatlady]

Not Having a Good Time

-Heartslabyul Version

Note: Hey, everyone. So I've had these stories on the back burner for quite a bit, and I do have intentions to work on more than just this one imagines series. I hope you guys like this one nonetheless first <3

Riddle Rosehearts

As much of a stickler Riddle is for keeping the peace, unless it's necessary not to, he can tell when someone is not in the mood for nonsense in the exhausted sense of the word. He will ask to speak with you in private, away from any snickering and gossip.

"Queen's Rule #568: Grievances must be shared over a cup of lavender tea and the griever's favorite treat."

You and Riddle will enjoy this occasion in the quiet side of the garden, where Riddle allows you to rant about your issues as he listens with open ears. Riddle always had Trey and Chen'ya who would listen to his problems, so it was only right as a Housewarden to act upon his position with you, even if you aren't his house student.

He knows it's not the permanent solution, but, while also warning not to tell anyone that this happened, he gives you a hug of comfort, lifting your spirits just a little.

Trey Clover

You have your head to the floor, so you don't notice Trey approaching when you accidentally bump into him and step on the tip of his shoe. Already distressed enough as it is, you apologize profusely. Trey smirks as he replies:

"It is just a shoe, not my mother's flower garden. Why don't you walk with me?"

As Vice Housewarden, the solver of the majority of the dorm's problems and the mediator of all squabbles, it is Trey's natural instinct to approach you the moment he sees the frown on your face. He allows you to express your grievances as you walk through the campus garden.

Trey believes the best way to release stress is a nice baking session. He even lets you do the kneading and taste testing steps.

Cater Diamond

Even though you just want to be alone in Ramshackle Dorm, prior to your return to your dorm, Cater couldn't help but notice how stressful you've felt all week if your account is proof of anything. He couldn't help but send you a DM on MagiCam.

Your latest pic is looking pretty gloomy. If you wanna talk, spam me as much as you like. -CayCay <3

You gladly take the offer since you felt comfortable ranting not face-to-face. You can tell that Cater is reading them by reacting to each message you send with an alternate sad or a heart emoji.

As a peacemaking offering, Cater tells you that if you are ever interested in doing a "Cay Cay pampering session," he'd be at your dorm in half a finger snap to help clear the stress from your mind.

Ace Trappola

When you're not feeling your best, the last you need is someone or something to make it worse. Ace didn't get on your best side as he pulled off the "dunk your face into your lunch" prank today. He didn't react so nicely when you told him off, but after realizing what had gone on prior to that prank, he finds you during flying class to try to make things up for what he did.

"Yuu...what happened at lunch today, I'm sorry. I should've just said, "Hi," and asked how you were doing. I didn't know you were already mad. Please forgive me. If you can't, let me make it up to you somehow."

If Ace wasn't sincere, you supposed he would've waited until after class was over to apologize. Now that he was listening, you let out everything that had been going on before Ace pulled off the prank. You also express the "I message," which Ace is more than willing to accept.

With Vargas busy with...whatever Vargas is doing, Ace offers you to go on a flying ride with him. A little entertainment screaming would do you some good to make you forget about your problems...even just a little.

Deuce Spade

Deuce finds it odd that you've been less chatty as of late. You barely even spoke when the professors pointed to you for answers to their questions. He catches you after class and asks what's happening. He's all ears to hearing you out. That's when you finally respond, and he feels the pain with every word that comes out of you.

"Ah geez, Yuu. I'm really sorry. I think I've been feeling it, too, and when I'm feeling that way, I need a Blastcycle ride. Wanna go on one right now?"

You don't find that to be a bad idea, so you guys head out and take a campus ride to let the issues out of your hair. The island is lovely enough for its wind to brush it right out.

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

It Fucks with me that straight up

Purgatory hall, the new characters and basically people in Mc//ourlives don’t know what Belphie did in chapter 16 and esp in Nightbringer, like we 100% habe trauma and like straight up makes me wanna write angst but I’m Shitty with it and always fuck it up

So I’m just….gonna ramble under cut about it? //spoilers for both games I suppose!

-

So to start, there’s several instances of the brothers (and in one occasion Barbatos and Diavolo separately) get aggressive towards reader and I like imagine they must have some kinda PTSD since they’ve literally died and honestly I self project and I act nothing like Mc…I’d be in fucking tears miserable over the fact I just got warped in the past without anyone but my mentor

Like I cant see my family, friends or PETS for who knows how long???

Just imagine how it would feel….

You’re already living in a worn down old building since the moment you’ve arrived in the past, where else can you go?? The brothers aren’t friendly, you have not a cent to your name, just what’s on your person the second you’re dropped off and left. You WANT to think things will be ok, Solomon is here to help you so at least you’re not alone but…

You will die eventually, what if this takes too long, and you die here? Will anyone from your timeline ever find out?

Would you family know? Your friends?

Solomon keeps reassuring you that it’s fine, but he’s a sorcerer who’s immune to everything…his own stupidity gave him immortality…maybe if you’re unlucky enough he’d make you immortal and you’d…wait till you could see the brothers ‘normally’ again. Well them and everyone else.

As time goes on you ultimately are forced to continue to try to re friend them. Solomon is equal parts helpful as he is a problem, but it all seems to work out.

Until they find out your human. Why does it matter? You never said you were a demon! You TOLD THEM YOU WERE HUMAN. They laughed it off…why is it your fault…your not like them?

Belphegore was the aggressor, just like before. You don’t know if he was going to hurt you and you didn’t want to find out. You saw his hand reaching towards you, almost like they were going for your throat…

Again…

“Not again!”

You screamed as you collapsed on the ground, hand instinctively going to protect your neck. You’re gasping for air even though you haven’t been touched yet, you’re terrified. Is this really it? Is he really going to kill you again? Did you really think…this would end well, Solomon? Diavolo? Barbatos?…Anyone?

Now you are where you are, trembling and in tears on the ground. But you didn’t feel anyone grab you, you did however feel like someone walked in front of you. To your relief, Solomon had come to your rescue…

You wanted to appreciate it, but all you wanted to do was go home now.

You let out a broken sob, you honestly didn’t care anymore if they saw you like this. You have been through hell and back for these idiots and yet, you still love them so much, so much so that all you want to do is see them again, but the version of them you know.

You love them, they are worth it, but why do you have to suffer for it? Your time in the human world after Devildom…nothing bad happened…maybe…you’re the problem?

With your mind spiraling, you don’t even hear everyone shouting, you don’t hear your name, you don’t hear who says it.

All you can do is cry and hope whoever sent you here shows mercy and let’s you go home.

(Ok now it’s done sorry)

[lillified]

Just curious, why do you ship Megastar?

[long post incoming, apologies, you activated my sleeper phrase]

Short answer: I like these characters and their potential. I like the idea of them, and I made up new versions because I want to see their dynamic and subtext taken seriously, and not flanderized/made into a meanspirited joke by media that is supposed to be "mature"

Long answer:

when i was watching transformers as a kid i was really interested in the dynamic of two characters who are mean and jaded and instinctively push eachother away, but work extremely well together. i didn't really understand coding yet, but in my interest in the decepticons as an entity with an ideological identity that wasn't just "bad guy" (transformers was like. the first time i really started thinking about deeper meanings and propaganda in media, which probably explains why i am as obnoxious as I am) I was always sad with how megatron and starscream never really got the chance to have their dynamic approached in a different way. in a lot of ways those two are the heart and soul of the decepticons, and I've always thought that putting more care and attention into their relationship and not just writing it off as a cruel plot device would be the first step in having a more nuanced view of the Decepticons as a whole

personally I believe that, in a similar way to batman and the joker, those two have always had a dynamic that kind of blurs the lines, and at times is outright suggested. unfortunately though, like batman and the joker, over time an unwillingness to engage with the reality of that uncomfortable, sort of meanspirited coding just led to the near-sighted stereotyping becoming crueler and more abusive. acknowledging that it exists at all means acknowledging there was that bias, so the "joke" was just repeated until it became the only thing their interactions were really known for. it's an act of flanderization, and that makes me sad

i guess my case in point is--they have a lot of potential that just isn't realized. even in places where their relationship is given depth there's still almost always this really tonally dissonant violence to their interactions that's never unpacked, not really, because how are you going to sell toys of that? moreover, how are you going to make megatron "redeemable" after that? what could be considered strange, poorly executed slapstick in its origin became aesthetically worse and worse, but was never given serious thought--and I think that makes the story, overall, worse! "maturing" the brand didn't make it smarter, it just made an elephant in the room, and now Transformers is so locked in to its decided status quo that we haven't had a different perspective on any of these characters since Animated.

I apologize for the rant, but it's something I think about alot and your question is somewhat related to that. I'm frustrated by how dismissively these characters are written in versions of Transformers that are supposed to "smart" and "mature", I'm frustrated by how that negatively impacts the story, and I'm frustrated by how the people who like these characters can be dismissive of it. I think there's a lot of story potential and thematic insight into the decepticons that can be gained by looking at these two as characters with a history, and not just a bad joke! I think that you can have all the best parts--the sabotage, betrayal, bitterness, and the irony of someone you refuse to trust who still manages to know you better than anyone else, and have that shown through actions and character development, and actually written instead of having to be overscored by unintelligible violence for the sake of being "dark" and reaffirming, in the cheapest way possible, that you're looking at characters who are evil! I want to see that in a story!

my work is honestly not really about what I think transformers IS, or HAS to be, but what I think it has the potential to be, and what my interpretation of the themes means to me. I want to see all of the Decepticons viewed with a different lens, and these two are probably the most important Decepticons, both on a story/thematic level and a cultural one. transformers was the first piece of media I was really consciously critically thinking about, entirely by chance, and in the interest of art and human expression I want to make something different that is interested in being more thoughtful

anyway, sorry again for rambling. I might delete this later to keep my page clean, but I appreciate the question! I'd give more specific examples of why I like the stuff I made up but those would be spoilers.

[your-local-hoemie]

I've genuinely never put in a request for something before so ur the first T.T

I was wondering, what would happen if you just wandered into scaramouche's room?

Im sorry if this is oddly specific, but I was hoping for a NS!FW M4M, possibly with Balladeer instead of wanderer, and if you do this thank you so much :))

NS!FW. 18+ ONLY!!!

OF COURSE!!!! Thank you for asking!!!!

You’ll have to forgive me if it’s not great. Even though I edge more towards masc im still not 100% sure how dudes work djdhdu

Also good lord, I went kind hard (hah) with this one, my cheeks were gLOWING while writing this. I’m never seeing heaven istg 💀

Edit: I accidentally went a little off script because I got extremely flustered so I’m sorry T-T

Warnings: ns!fw, dom!scaramouche (he needs his own warning), mild degradation, mean words, bratty behaviour, smug little shittery, lots of spicy words, swearing, male!reader, not proof-read.

Characters: scaramouche as: The ✨Balladeer✨

Scaramouche and you had a weird relationship.

No one knew whether you hated each other or if you were actually close.

Including you-

Sometimes you’d be at each other throat with any sharp object you could find and then the next, you’d be defending the other for whatever morally questionable crimes you had committed.

You happened to be one of the unfortunate fatui members that had been assigned to Scaramouche.

You don’t really know how he didn’t decide to murder you for your instinctive comebacks whenever he’d insult you.

He’s never admit it but he enjoyed having someone to banter with that wouldn’t immediately shit themselves the second he glanced at them.

Which is why you were now in his office for…

Well you didn’t really know.

He was busy doing paperwork that he was making extremely obvious that he hated every second of.

You were sitting in a chair across the room from him, equally as bored.

“So what exactly do you need me for… sir”

“To sit there and shut up.”

“…why?”

Letting out a sigh, Scara rolling his eyes, waving your questions off.

“You know, I’m supposed to be doing work. Going out, getting information, torturing, stealing, all the good stuff. Not sit in a room with a pouty brat-”

Clearing your throat, you suddenly realise what you had done.

Oh shit-

With a glare more threatening than a cryo mage in the rain. Scara placed his pen neatly down on the table, carefully organising the papers in front of him with sly grin.

Double shit-

“You know, you do a lot of talking for someone who can’t even handle to be alone in a room with their boss for more than an hour”

“Yeah well you’re not really the most enjoyable to be around…boss.”

The balladeers grin became even more sly as I pushed the chair away from his desk, standing up and taking a few steps forward, positioning himself right in front of you.

“I’ve had a very stressful day and I think I could use a little worshiping. Why don’t you use that mouth for something other than pathetic remarks, hm~?”

“Excuse me-?”

Without a hint of hesitation or shame, the harbinger placed his hand on your head. Most likely relishing the feeling of actually being taller than someone for once.

“Don’t act like our… banter doesn’t get you hard. I’ve seen the way you squirm when I get a little too close~”

Scaramouche pressed your head close to his crotch, speaking with a tone laced in sly smugness.

“I know you’ve imagined what I could do to you. I bet you even stroke yourself to the thought of me. Having the hand of a deity stroke you~”

Obviously he was right. Which just annoyed you even more, causing your pride to outweigh the sheer embarrassment coursing through your veins at his lewd words.

“You know how much shit you’d be in if I told anyone about this, right?

Scaramouche frowned at your remark, swiftly taking your chin in his hand and forcing you to look up at him.

“If a word of this leaves your mouth to anyone other than me, I will make you wish that I killed you. Understand me?”

Feeling your words catch in your throat, you give him a irritated nod, unable to fully deny how hot the whole situation was becoming.

“Good. Now, be a good for your god and worship me the way I deserve.”

Smirking down at you, Scara unbuttoned his shorts, letting his already hard dick bounce out against your face, making him sigh out in satisfaction.

“I always thought you looked so much better on your knee’s~ now suck.”

Blushing violently and not even able to deny how turned on you were, you locked eyes with The Balladeer and took him inside your mouth.

“Good boy~ just like that..”

Petting your hair with a surprising amount of gentleness, Scara pushed your head back and fourth, making you gag as his tip hits the back of your throat.

“Why don’t you touch yourself for me like the desperate, horny slut you are~”

Letting out a small, muffled whimper, you knew you were completely at his mercy as you couldn’t help but move your hand down, touching yourself as he commanded.

Scara thrust his hips more intensely, picking up his speed as moans and grunts escape his lips causing you to match his speed with your hand.

Feeling his hand grip tighter on your head, with one finally thrust and a loud groan of pleasure, scara finally released himself down your throat, pushing you over the edge as you coat your hand and pants in your load.

“Mmh! You’re such a good fuck toy,m. Now make sure to clean up the mess m’kay?”

Pulling out, leaving a messy string of saliva mixed with his load; Scara took a deep breath and returned to his paperwork like nothing happened, leaving you panting and and mess on the floor, still somewhat dazed.

“Y-yes…sir…”

HSIDUDICUIDJDIVUDO AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

squeaks 👺👨‍🦽👹🧍

[claiestve]

𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬 ꨄ Dontis

˜”* ❝𝘼𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙚, 𝙄'𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙞𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙨𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙚.❞

⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ᴅᴏɴᴛɪꜱ ɴᴇᴇᴅꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀꜱ ᴍᴜᴄʜ.

⎯୨⎯ " " ⎯୧⎯

"Does this hurt you?" 

You wrapped Dontis’ hands and arms with a bandage. They were covered in scars and heartbreakingly deep cuts. You knew he was strong enough to handle the pain but it still upset you seeing him like this. At least he came back in one piece though, right? Still, you wished he’d be more careful. 

"No."

"Why didn't you take me with you?"

“You need a break from the hunting and the fighting. Why would I take you? Even then, my life was on the line and I would never put yours at the same risk.”

He was awfully serious today. Like, less bubbly and gentle. You could tell why, he was injured in every place imaginable and he just came back from defending himself and other people. No matter how long someone’s been alive, that’s something that’ll forever shake them. Nonetheless, you wished he lightened up a bit. It was usually you that’d be the pessimistic one. Not that he was being negative, just, less positive. 

“Maybe if I was there, this wouldn’t happen.”

“Yeah, to me. It’d happen to you and then I’d be here caressing your hands, flirting with you, and making you feel bad.”

“I am not flirting with you, Dontis. I’m trying to help you.”

“Lying won’t get you anywhere, dear.”

You rolled your eyes at his remark. All you wanted was for him to be safe and healthy and you wished more than anything that you were there. You knew he could handle himself. He’s not incompetent but you just have that instinct for your dear incubus.

“And… Done! Can you move your arm well enough?”

“Ah, yeah. Thank you.”

He adjusted himself onto the bed and laid back. He seemed more tense than usual. You narrowed it down to him just being in a lot of pain. It made sense, he came to you with his arms practically painted with blood. Those cuts were deep too. 

“Are you going to keep staring or will you join me?” He smiled at you. 

“I mean, do you want me to?”

“It would make me feel better.”

He opened his arms out for you as you adjusted yourself. Dontis loved doing that, holding you. He loved to have you in his arms, on his chest, and breathing at the same pace as him. You loved it just as much. Though, you’d never admit it and you’d never ask to cuddle. 

When he finally had you, he wrapped his arm around your back, having your chest face his. His grip was more secure than usual. 

“Dontis?”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Ah,” He cleared his throat, “Yeah? Why? Do I seem off? I’m sorry if I do.”

That. Right there. Not that Dontis was impolite, because he wasn’t, but he was unapologetically himself. That’s who he is and has been since you’ve met him. But right now, he’s apologizing for… acting strange?

“Dontis. You can talk to me. Actually, no. Please talk to me.”

He used his free hand to hold one of yours, playing with your fingers. 

“I suppose I’ve just been thinking a lot. I’m a survivor of something huge and I made it out with my friend and his love. I should feel accomplished and I do.”

“But?”

“But I can’t. I can’t dwell on this. I have a purpose, to comfort. It seems my kind only live to serve their purpose. I don’t want to though. I want to live my life and with people, I love without only serving my purpose. I do love comforting people but if I could just have a domestic life with you and settle…”

“Why can’t you?”

“It’s not in my blood. I’m not even supposed to think about it. You shouldn’t be the one listening to me anyway. Just… act like I didn’t say anything.”

You unraveled your intertwined fingers and held his hand by the palm. Caressing your hand, Dontis hummed, knowing you would put him in check. 

“Dontis. Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like it’s okay, don’t.”

“You’re not supposed to be my therapist, that’s my job.”

He tried to pull his hand away from yours. It didn’t work. You wouldn’t let him push this aside. You wanted him to know that you were there for him no matter what. 

“I don’t care what your job is, Dontis. It doesn’t matter. I’m here for you no matter what. Yeah, your kind have things you’re ‘meant to do’ but Dontis, you’re so much more than that. You’re more than what you were born as, okay?”

“Thank you. You know, you’re kind of good at this. Maybe you’ve learned some things from yours truly.” He teased. 

It was nice to see him being playful again and embracing his personality. He knew he wasn’t alone in this as long as you were here and that’s all you wanted. 

“I love you, okay?”

“I know, dear hunter, I love you too.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

haihaihaihai!!!