#morgan writes

[ssamorganhotchner]

The Flogger

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

WC: 399 (not me actually writing something under 800 words???)

Warnings: minors dni, talks of kink, floggers, paddles, shy!aaron, d/s undertones, that’s about it.

Summary: you take your husband on a trip to the store 🙊

Authors Note: just a little drabble i found in my docs today ◡̈ it is not proofread

i think this was posted before but i never linked it so i lost it 🙃🥲

This isn't your first time at an adult store with your husband, but it is the first time he has taken the initiative to explore some of his own interests. He's a private man when it comes to his love life, so not surprisingly, the thought of someone he knows possibly seeing him here with you makes his whole body warm as he slowly walks towards the back of the store.

Aaron's always been curious about kink, but was never able to thoroughly explore it, at least, not to his own satisfaction. He dabbled a little in college when he and Haley took a break from their relationship, but as far as he was concerned, he still didn't know a whole lot about it. So it's not surprising when he turns to you, a confused look on his face as he holds up a piece of leather.

"Uh, what about, what about something like this?"

The material in his hand is black and leather, thin at the handle and wider at the end, with an engraving of brat spelt backwards in big red letters.

A paddle, you think to yourself.

Smirking, you reach and pull it from Aaron's grasp. “Sweetheart, that's a regular paddle; we are looking for a flogger. You know, with leather tails at the end." You lean in closer, and when your hot breath hits Aaron's ear, he shivers. "Besides, sir," you put emphasis on his title, placing the paddle behind him and tracing it down his jeans, "...if you're spanking me, it's only going to be with your hand."

Aaron chokes, covering it up with a cough, and when you look back up at him, his ears are bright pink. The redness has crept up his dark blue tee shirt and onto his neck, the color making the large vein on his throat stand out, and you bite your lip, willing yourself not to get needy in public.

He's cute like this - shy and apprehensive, and just by looking at him, it would hardly be believable to anyone else that you call him daddy in bed; that tying you to the bedposts with his ties and making you beg is his favorite pastime.

Hanging it back up, you tsk and smirk, and when you walk toward the area of the rope and floggers, Aaron's brain finally catches up to him, trailing not too far behind.

[plurapony]

i miss my girlfriend we are so lesbian like trixie and starlight

[merginyourface]

Womp womp here's another

Day 2: JOI- Mountain/Cirrus

Listen Carefully

Cirrus knows how to make Mountain behave like a good boy.

Content- 2k, explicit, Mountain on his knees, Cirrus in heeled boots (no boot tho kink sorry)

[morgan-writes-fics]

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Rating: Mature

Tags: AU - Modern Setting, Slow Burn, Human AU, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Rivalry, Alcohol, Gay Male Character

No Archive Warnings Apply (at this time)

Summary: Alastor is a Late Night Radio Show Host and Angel is his faithful listener

[macabremorgan]

It's no secret that I'm into violent kinks (at least when the cute preything I'm with is too) and a brainworm that's been eating at me recently is like... poor little lamb/sheep or some other prey shivering in fear before me while I stand over what's left of the livestock guardian.

The sounds of yelping, barking, howling, and struggle finally end after what feels like hours. Whatever has come in the night must be gone. The livestock guardian dog exists to protect you - in her own words, surely she was able to repel whatever terrible thing had come. You timidly poke your head out of the pen, easily able to scramble under the lowest rung of the fence, and see it in the distance, a looming canine figure. You stumble forward, expecting to come face to face with the guard dog, and instead find a monster.

It regards you with cold hunger, standing over the mangled corpse of your sweet, kind guardian, viscera dripping from its blood-slick maw. One paw lifts off of the corpse, and it takes a step towards you, blood dripping into the grass.

"Hello, sweet lamb. Aren't you an adorable little thing?"

A realization strikes you. A mere few feet away, the wolf stands already poised to strike. As soon as you slipped under the fence, you were already caught.

[temporary-dysphoria]

Also, I'm revisiting and finishing up that JigenXZenigata fic that's been in the backburner for like 2 years now because I'm on a tiny bit of leave and don't have uni anymore.

[attapullman]

letting a fic marinate and come together is *chef's kiss*

[zvdvdlvr]

thinkin about emotionally strong reader falling apart into bf’s arms… :,)

     He knows it’s bad when you can’t bring yourself to say anything: no witty remarks to play it off, no humble shrug to show that it didn’t phase you- not even a weak joke that you’d heard from passerby during the previous week. He would have known anyway but he knows how bad it is when you can’t hide the wobble in your chin when you meet him at the door and melt into his arms.

     The sound of your stifled cries weaken his heart because he just knows how long you’ve been trying to hold it all together. You don’t know that he sheds his own tears at your sorrow. You don’t know that he feels his own pained heart grow just a touch because you trust him enough to be able to comfort you- to run to him when there is something you really can’t make better.

     When you finally stop trying to smother out the sound of your cries, it breaks his own heart into pieces because your grief is his. He doesn’t know what to do in this pile on the floor- your arms wrapped tightly around him in fear of him leaving with one hand resting at the top of your head and the other one of his hands supporting your neck as you weep into his shoulder- so he just holds you.

     And later, when your cries turn hoarse and the tears run dry, you let him pull you to your feet. He carries you to the dark bedroom because he knows you get headaches after crying. When you still don’t say a word he goes to the kitchen and scavenges some Tylenol and a cup of water.

     He knows you don’t like to feel helpless- to feel like you need to rely on someone. But if he’s being honest, he likes being able to care for you. He likes how you curl up with your head on his chest and your hands wrapped around him. He likes how you let him draw shapes on your back because you secretly love the physical touch. He likes how you let out soft sighs throughout the course of the movie because he knows you’re still awake.

     But most of all, he likes the intamacy of being the one you run to when it’s all too much because damn it all to hell if he made you feel like you weren’t free to be vulnerable with him.

[feral-ballad]

Craig Morgan Teicher, from To Keep Love Blurry; “The Prince of Rivers”

[Text ID: “trees arched towards me like I was the sun.”]

[i-get-obsessed-fast]

Under Watch

.・゜✭・. Spencer Reid x Hotch’s Daughter .・゜✭・.

Summary: A string of murders on your college campus brings your estranged father and his team to investigate. To keep you safe, he assigns Spencer Reid to watch over you.

A/N: this takes place in the season 6, I just wanted glasses Reid to be in the pics, also not proofread I will come back and correct it later :) xoxox

BYR(b4 u Reid): babysitter Reid, Strict Hotch, Murder, guns, knives, SA, semi-detailed murder description, cuss words, talks of alcohol, kidnappings, stalking, and detailed make out sesh. | hopefully I don’t forget anything!

“I’m free tonight. We can start working on the project.” You tell the guy walking beside you as you both step out of the lecture hall.

“Yeah, that works. How’s seven?” He asks, holding the door open for you.

“That should be fine.” You say with a small smile

You don’t know him well, barely noticed him until today when he’d ask if you’d be his partner. But before the conversation could continue, a voice cuts through the noise of campus.

“Y/n!”

You turn, scanning the crowd until your eyes land on him. Your father stands in the middle of the quad, his team beside him. The weight of their stares settles over you.

Your brows furrow as you step toward them.

“Why are you here?” The words come out sharper than you intend, but you don’t back down.

Your father’s expression hardens. “You don’t know? Do you not stay informed on what happens around you?”

His tone makes you stiffen. “Mr. Hotchner.” The dean interjects carefully, stepping forward. “We’ve chosen to keep things as contained as possible. We don’t want to incite panic among the students.”

“Not warning them is more dangerous.” Rossi counters, unimpressed.

The dean exhales. “I understand your concerns but unless you’ve run a college campus, you don’t understand the position we’re in.”

You glance past your father at his team. Faces you recognize from home but haven’t seen since you left Virginia. They watch the exchange closely, some with sympathy, others with quiet apprehension.

“What’s going on?” You finally ask.

Your father doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he reaches for your arm, his grip firm but not forceful. “Come with us.”

You were led into the campus security building, where case files are scattered across tables. Your eyes flick to a white-board in the next room, crime scene photos pinned in a neat but unsettling arrangement.

“Shut that.” his voice is sharp, and when you glance back at him, his expression his unreadable.

“We were called here because there's been a series of murders on campus. Young woman.” he says, locking eyes with you.

For the first time, you see it, the fear beneath his controlled demeanor.

You don’t know how to respond, but when he lays down three photographs, fear settles in your chest.

“Sarah Johnston, Abigail Smith, Elizabeth Adam’s.” He lists “Do you see a pattern?”

Your stomach twists. Hair color, similar build. Even the way they smiled in their photos. You and these girls resembled each other.

“Could be a coincidence,” you murmur, though you don't believe it.

“It’s not, he has a type.” he firmly says “You can't be alone on this campus. Travel in groups, carry your pepper spray, and you are not to be alone with any male students.”

You exhale, shaking your head. “I have a project to do with a guy from my class-”

“Meet in a public space, surrounded by people.” Rossi interjects.

“The library is packed, and the study rooms are booked.”

“Cancel.” your father orders. “Tell him you're sick, do it now.”

Your eyes widen. “Are you serious?”

Your father stares. That look, the one that's ended entire arguments without him saying another word. You hesitate, but your fingers move, typing the message before holding up your phone for his approval.

“Good.” he nods, then turns to Reid. “Take her to her dorm, please.”

“I can walk myself.”

He exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “Why can't you just listen for once?” his voice rises, frustration creeping in.

Your mouth opens, then snaps shut.

“What about everyone else?” you challenge, voice tight. “The girls who aren't getting warnings? The ones who don't have an agent escorting them to their dorms? This isn't fair. I'm just a student like the rest of them. I don't need your protection.”

“You don't understand, and right now, I don't care if you do.” he says, his tone final. “My only concern is getting you to your room. And you're staying there for the rest of the night. Reid, take her.”

“If it helps.” Emily adds gently, resting a hand on your shoulder. “A statement is going out today. The school is setting up hotlines, resources, and people will be warned.”

You let out a slow breath. It doesn't make you feel better. Not really.

“Fine.” you turn on your heel, heading for the door. Spencer Reid following right behind you.

The walk back to your dorm is quiet, not awkward, just silent.

When you step inside, you toss your bag onto your bed and gesture toward the other one. “You can sit there. My roommate dropped out a while ago, so no one uses it.”

Reid hesitates before sitting. “Does your dad know?”

You glance at home, confused. “Why would he?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I just thought that’s something a father would want to know.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but our relationship is… complicated.”

“Yeah.” He says, nodding slightly. “I get that.”

You eye him for a second. “You and your dad close?”

Reid shifts in his seat, before you can take it back, he says. “He left my mom and me when I was a kid.”

You frown. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t affect me anymore.”

There’s a moment of quiet before you decide to change the subject. “I have some games. Do you like Jenga?”

That earns a small chuckle from him. “Yeah.”

You kneel beside your bed, pulling out the game. There were probably better things you could be doing, like assignments or your project, but this seemed like a better way to pass the time.

As you both set up the blocks on the floor, you smirk. “Usually when I play, my friends and I have a rule. Whoever knocks it over takes two shots.”

Reid gives you an amused look. “Are you even legal to drink?” You raise an eyebrow. “What, are you gonna tell my dad?”

He tilts his head. “Should I?”

You laugh. “I don’t think it’ll surprise him, I’m pretty sure he expects worse.”

Reid’s expression shifts slightly. “You know, your dad talks about you a lot. He’s very proud of you.” You freeze for a second. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Reid nodded.

You swallow, shifting slightly. “Huh. Didn’t know that.”

He doesn’t say anything else, instead gestures to the game. “You go first.”

The game begins, each turn making the tower more unsteady. Eventually, Spencer study’s the blocks carefully, trying to find a safe one to pull.

“This is getting difficult.” He mutters, eyes narrowed.

You laugh, watching as he finally picks one and pushes it, only for the entire tower to collapse.

“Shit.” He murmurs under his breath causing your eyes to widen. “Did you just cuss?” You teased.

Reid shakes his head with a smirk, while you get up and dig through your closet. When you return, you hold up a bottle. “Two shots?”

His eyes practically pop out of their sockets. “I’m working.” You scrunch your face. “Is it really called working when you’re watching an adult?”

“I’m still on duty.” He argues. “Your dad would fire me.”

You roll your eyes. “My dad loves you. But fine Spencer, be lame.” Before he could reply, there’s a knock at the door. You both glance at each other.

“I got it, " you say, heading toward the door forgetting there was a killer on the loose and Spencer Reid wasn’t in your room to play games.

Spencer moves ahead of you. “I’ll get it.” His voice is firm, leaving no room for argument. You step back as he opens the door.

Standing there is Eli, the guy from your class.

“Oh, uh… is y/n here?” Eli asks, looking past Spencer. You step forward going to the door. “Eli? What are you doing here?”

“I saw your message. Just wanted to check on you.” He says, then glances at the bottle in your hand. His lips twitch into a smirk. “Having a party?”

You quickly lower the bottle. “No, I was just-no.” You stutter.

Eli raises an eyebrow. “You don’t look sick.”

You sigh. “Yeah…I’m not. I just can’t do the project tonight. I’m sorry.” Eli glances between you and Reid before nodding slowly. “Yeah, I get it.”

Silence lingers between the three of you. It’s awkward.

“Wait.” You ask suddenly. “How did you find my room?”

“Lisa.” He answers quickly. “I asked her.”

You nod, but something about it feels… off. You glance at Spencer, who’s watching Eli closely, brows drawn together like he’s analyzing something.

Eli clears his throat. “Well, I’ll let you guys be. Let me know when we can start the project.”

“Yeah, I will.” You say, before shutting the door.

You turn to Spencer. “That was awkward.” He nodded. “Is that your friend?”

“No. Barely know him. Just a project partner.” You say.

“Hmm.” Spencer’s eyes narrow slightly, his expression unreadable. You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” He says, but there’s a trace of suspicion in his voice. “You just can’t be too sure about people.”

You nod. “Do you think the unsub will be caught tonight?” He exhales, his lips pressing together in thought. “I’m not sure. So far, he hasn’t left much evidence behind.”

“How does he do it?” You ask, curiosity outweighing your nerves. Spencer hesitates. “I don’t think your dad would appreciate me telling you.”

You cross your arms. “Well, I don’t think that’s my dad’s choice.”

He sighs, clearly understanding your frustration. After a moment, he finally gives in.

“He stalks them.” Spencer says, his voice lower now. “He waits until they’re alone, takes them somewhere secluded. He hurts them… bad. And then he.” His jaw tightens before finishing. “He assaults them. It’s brutal y/n. That’s why Hotch is so worried.”

Your breath catches. His gaze is firm, searching yours, waiting for a reaction. And for a second, you don’t know what to say. You had meant what you said to your dad about it not being fair, but hearing this… it makes you feel something else.

“If he stalks them, does that make his killings far apart?” You ask, your voice quieter now.

Spencer nods. “He’s projected to strike again in a few days, but we are trying to prevent that. He only keeps his victims for a few hours, but he takes his time choosing them. He studies them.”

Goosebumps rise along your arms, and suddenly, the walls of your dorm feel too close. “I need air.”

Spencer watches you for a moment before offering. “Well can walk around?”

You nod.

The two of you walk with no destination, the sky shifting into soft oranges and purples as the sun starts to set. The air is cooler now, and the silence between you isn’t uncomfortable.

“So.” Spencer finally says, breaking the quiet. “How are you liking college?”

You glance at him, appreciating his efforts. “It’s been good. A lot of people to meet, a lot of things to do.”

He nods. “When I was in college, I didn’t really… do much.” You let out a small laugh. “Weren’t you, like, fourteen?”

He smirks. “Yeah. That might have had something to do with it.” You tilt your head. “What’s it like? Being that smart?”

Spencer thinks for a moment before answering. “Uh- I don’t know. Sometimes it’s good. Other times it feels like… too much. Even for myself.”

“Must be exhausting.” You murmur

“Can be.” He admits.

The wind picks up slightly, and you shiver without meaning to. You mentally curse yourself for not bringing a jacket.

Spencer notices. without a word, he shrugs off his own. “Here. Take mine.”

You shake your head. “What? No, it’s cold. You need it.”

“I was starting to feel hot in it anyway.” He says, holding it out to you. You narrow your eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, Spencer.”

He doesn’t argue. Instead, he just steps closer and drapes the jacket over your shoulders himself, his hands brushing against you for just a second longer than necessary.

You blink up at him, caught off guard.

“Now you have to take it.” He says simply.

You huff but pull it tighter around yourself, the fabric warm. “Fine.” Spencer smirks, satisfied.

You glance down, smiling softly. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He replied, giving you the same soft smile, and with that you both continued walking.

The conversation mostly consisting of Spencer throwing out random facts.

Just as he finished explaining why flamingoes stand on one leg, you glanced down and noticed your shoelace had come undone.

“Damn.” You muttered

Before you could react, Spencer crouched down without hesitation, his long fingers grabbing the laces. He tied them quickly, but his movements were gentle, careful.

You swallowed, feeling a rush of warmth crawl up your neck. It was a simple sweet gesture.

“Thanks.” You murmured.

He looked up at you, his eyes catching yours for just a second too long before he stood back up. You cleared your throat, motioning toward a nearby bench.

The two of you sat down, silence setting over for a brief moment before you turned toward him. “So, Spencer, do you have a girlfriend?”

The question clearly caught him off guard. His capture stiffened slightly, and he glanced at you, one eyebrow raised. “Uh-no. Why?”

You shrugged. “Because you do all these nice little things. Feels like there has to be a girl.”

He shook his head. “No girlfriend.”

“Hmm.” You tilted your head, studying him. “That’s surprising.” Spencer gave you a skeptical look. “Why?”

“Because.” You said simply, “You’re sweet. You’re smart.” Then, without much thought, you reached up and lightly brushed your fingers through his hair. “And you’re pretty good-looking.”

The reaction was instant. His whole face turned red, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. Even his ears betrayed him, turning an adorable shade of pink.

“I-I just… I don’t know.” He stammered. “I’m busy, I guess.”

“Yeah.” You hummed, leaning back against the bench. Then, he smirked slightly, his confidence suddenly returning. “Why do you care?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, Spencer. I’m just nosey, must be genetic.”

“Right.” He said, nodding as if he didn’t believe you for a second. You narrowed your eyes at him, amused by his boldness. Before you could stop yourself, you turned the question back on him.

“Well, do you think I have a boyfriend?”

He tilted his head, considering you for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know. Do you?”

“Yeah.” You answered casually, watching as his smirk faltered for just a second. His expression was unreadable, but you caught the small shift, the way his shoulders tensed, the way his fingers curled slightly against his lap.

“Oh. I didn’t know that.” He said

You let the silence hang for a bit too long before grinning. “I’m joking, Spencer. I don’t have one.”

He exhaled, shaking his head as he turned toward you, unimpressed. “Yeah, I think I can see why.”

You gasped, shoving his shoulder slightly. “Wow. Sassy.”

Spencer just laughed, and you found yourself staring at him a little too long, watching the way his smile softened his features.

Then, almost instinctively, the teasing faded. The space between you seemed smaller. His gaze flickering to your lips, so quick you almost thought you imagined it.

Your heart picked up speed.

“You know.” You said, your voice lower now. “For someone who’s never had a girlfriend, you sure don’t suck at flirting.”

Spencer’s eyes darkened with amusement. “Who says I’m flirting?” You arched a brow. “Oh, so you just tie everyone’s shoes for them, and hand out your coat?”

He smirked but didn’t answer. Instead, he shifted just slightly toward you.

Neither of you spoke, but something was different now, he was watching you in a way he hadn’t before, like he was debating something.

And then, before you could overthink it, you leaned in first. He met you halfway.

The kiss was slow at first, hesitant, like neither of you wanted to acknowledge it was happening. But then Spencer’s hand found your jaw, his touch delicate, and suddenly, it wasn’t hesitant anymore.

Your fingers curled around the fabric of his button up, pulling him just a little closer, feeling the warmth of him against you.

Spencer’s lips moved against yours with surprising confidence, his fingers firm against your jaw as he deepened the kiss. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, pleading for entrance, and you don’t hesitate to grant it.

A quiet sigh escaped you, your hands instinctively tightening around the fabric of his shirt.

“Spencer.” You breathed between kisses, your voice barely more than a whisper.

His lips left your mouth only to find the curve of your jaw, then lower, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses along your neck. The contrast was dizzying.

The Spencer you knew, the one who rattled off statistics and fidgeted when people stood too close felt miles away from the one currently leaving a trail of heat against your skin.

Had you really been gone that long?

Deep down, a part of you had always wondered about him.

You’d always thought he was cute. He was different from you in almost every way. Careful where you are reckless, and logical where you are impulsive.

Maybe that was why you found yourself so drawn to him.

His hands moved from your jaw to your throat, his fingers grazing lower, trailing down your body until they landed on your waist. His touch was warm, grounding.

You weren’t sure if you were pulling him closer or if he was the one doing it, but the space between you two was practically nonexistent.

Then, suddenly, he stiffened.

Spencer pulled back so fast it left you breathless, his wide eyes darting around. “Did you hear that?”

You blinked, still dazed. “What?”

“I think I heard something.” His body tensed, one hand instinctively resting on his gun as he stood, scanning the area.

You quickly straightened, glancing around. The campus was quiet, the only sound being the distant hum of crickets and rustling leaves from the breeze.

“Maybe we should head back.” You suggested, still trying to catch your breath.

Spencer nodded, but not before his gaze flickered back to you, his lips slightly swollen from the kiss you’d just shared.

“Yeah.” He said, his voice quieter now. “It’s late.”

The both of you walk back in silence, both thinking about the actions that took place a moment ago.

As you finally reach your dorm, something on the floor catches your eye. A pink envelope.

Spencer notices it too, his sharp gaze narrowing. Without hesitation, he bends down to grab it. “It just has your name.” He says, his voice low. He hands it over, and you take it.

You open it without thinking much, assuming it’s some harmless note. But the moment you pull out what’s inside, a wave of fear washes over you.

“Oh my god.”

Your voice trembles as your fingers clutch the two Polaroid photos. The first is of you and Spencer kissing. His hand cupping your jaw, the image capturing the undeniable intimacy of the moment.

The second photo was when Spencer was scanning the area after hearing a strange noise, his hand on his gun. Someone had been watching. Someone had been right there.

You shove the photos toward Spencer. His expression hardens as he studies them, brows furrowing deeply. He looked furious.

“We have to give these to the team.” He says firmly.

“No, it’s probably just a prank.” You argue, though your voice is weak. You’re desperate to convince yourself, but even you don’t believe it.

Spencer shakes his head. “We can’t be too sure. I’m sorry.” He apologizes as he slides the photos back into the envelope.

You swallow hard, the weight of it all crashing down. “My dad’s going to be upset.”

Spencer steps toward you, his fingers brushing the strands of your hair behind your ear. “It’s going to be alright.” He assures you.

Your eyes scan him, and you can see guilt flashing across his face. You know he feels responsible, and you can’t help but feel the same.

Without another word, he pulls out his phone. “We have something that might be connected.” He says into the receiver, his voice clipped. “Alright. We’ll be on our way.”

The walk to campus security is silent, the dread growing heavier with every step. When you arrive, your father is already there, his signature stoic expression barely concealing his concern.

“What is it?” He asks, striding toward you both.

You and Spencer exchange a quick, uneasy glance. Spencer hands him the envelope.

Your father opens the envelope, his eyes flickering over the contents. The tension in the room is unbearable. You swear you can hear Spencer’s heartbeat.

“What is this?” Hotch’s voice is low, but the restrained anger is clear. His gaze shifts to you, demanding answers.

“They were taken of us… not too long ago.” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn't respond immediately. The weight of his silence is crushing.

“So, I send an agent to watch over you, and instead, you make him go against orders. You kiss him while a murderer is on the loose, on your campus, targeting girls.” his words cut through you.

“I-I know. I'm sorry.” you stammer, instinctively glancing at Spencer. “It was my fault.”

But Spencer immediately shakes his head. “No it wasn’t. I’m the one that didn’t follow orders, it’s not her fault.”

“I don’t care whose fault it is. You both had orders, and you failed to comply.” He looks directly at Spencer. “Reid, join JJ. Now.”

Spencer hesitates, clearly torn, but nods. He gives you one last glance before walking away.

“Y/n.” Your father’s voice lowers. “We need to talk.”

You follow him into an empty room, the door clicking shut behind you. The air is thick with unspoken words. You brace yourself, expecting the worst. But when your father finally speaks, it isn’t the scolding you anticipated.

“Do you think you might know who took these?” His tone is calm, but his eyes remain sharp.

You’re caught off guard. “No. I don’t.”

“Think y/n. Is there anyone - someone you’ve been seeing? Someone who might have been watching you?”

You rack your brain, the panic making it hard to focus. “There’s… Eli. The guy I’m working on a project with. He came by to check on me, but that’s really the only person I’ve talked to.”

Your father nods, processing. “And your roommate, do you think she seems like the type to give out your whereabouts? Does she seem untrustworthy?”

You shake your head. “I don’t have one.”

His jaw tightens. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“I didn’t think it was important.” You admit, your voice small.

“You didn’t think it was important to tell me you were alone in your dorm? That was the one thing I take comfort in while you are away, knowing there was someone else there.”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

His expression softens just a fraction, but the frustration is still evident. “We’ll talk about this later. Right now, I need to question Eli. What class?”

“Psychology.” You say

He gives you a short nod and turns to leave. You follow him out, but the tension lingers.

“Garcia can you look through the schools files for an Eli, a class he takes is psychology with y/n.” He says on the phone.

“I don’t think it’s him.” You say quietly. “I’ve barely seen him around.”

“And that.” Derek interjects, stepping beside you, “Makes him even more suspicious.”

Emily nods in agreement. “If he’s the unsub, he could’ve been targeting you. Sudden appearances aren’t always coincidences.”

You sigh, and take a seat in one of the chairs, the weight of everything pressing down on you. Despite the hum of voices around you, exhaustion wins. Your eyes fluttered close, and before you realize it, sleep over takes you.

“Okay, Garcia gave me the location of Eli’s apartment.” Your dad’s stern voice snaps you awake. “Morgan and JJ, come with me. Prentiss and Rossi, stay here and keep an eye on them.”

Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you sit up. “What’s going on?”

Your father doesn’t answer, already halfway through to door. Emily steps closer, her expression a mixture of concern and relief. “They found Eli’s apartment. But, y/n … Eli was never enrolled in your class.”

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

“He’s been sneaking in.” She says softly. “Pretending to be a student. We think he’s been watching you for a while.”

You stare at her, the words sinking in. Your pulse races as the realization hits. “Oh my god.”

“It’s becoming clear that you were most likely one of his next victims.” Rossi joins in, their eyes both full of empathy.

“But he seemed so…” you trail off, struggling to find the right word. Normal doesn’t feel right. Not now.

“I know.” Emily says, nodding. “It’s difficult. But we’re close to figuring this out. You’re safe now.”

You swallow, the reassurance barely easing your nerves. Rossi lays a reassuring hand on your should giving it a gentle squeeze “It’s going to be okay kid.” He says you nodded and watched as he walked away.

You sit back down, gathering the information you’ve just been told.

Just as the heavy silence settles in, Emily tilts her head, smirking slightly. “That’s a nice sweater.”

Confused, you glance down. It’s only then you remember, Spencer’s sweater. The sleeves are a little long, the faint scent of his cologne lingering.

“Oh. Uh it’s not mine.” You mumble, tugging at the hem. Emily’s smirk deepens. “I know.”

Without another word, she stands and walks toward one of the other rooms, leaving you with your thoughts. You let out a long breath, rubbing your hands over your face. The stress is unbearable.

“Here.” Spencer’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. He holds out a cup of coffee, his fingers brushing yours as you take it.

“Thank you.” You murmur, the warmth of the cup grounding you, he gave you a soft warm smile. “I’m sorry Spencer.” You apologize.

His eyes scan your face. “You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

You blink at him. “You’re acting as if I didn’t kiss you back.” He says. Heat creeps up your neck. “I just feel like this is my fault.” You admit, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re stuck here instead of searching Eli’s apartment. Emily having to babysit now. And all because-”

“Because we went for a walk?” Spencer finishes, raising an eyebrow. “And kissed? You do realize that without that walk, and that kiss, we probably wouldn’t have gotten this close to catching him.”

His words sink in. The guilt that’s been gnawing at you lessens, just a little.

“So in some weird, messed-up way.” He continues, his voice softer. “It’s a good thing.”

You manage a small smile. “I guess.”

Spencer’s grin grows, and for a second, the tension in the air lightens. “Well, I should get out of here before Emily comes back.”

“Probably a good idea.”

With one last lingering look, he turns and heads out. The warmth of the moment fades as the waiting continues. Minutes pass, then thirty. You sip the last of your coffee, anxiety prickling beneath your skin.

The sudden sound of the door opening draws your attention. Your father and Morgan stride inside, and between them, handcuffed and smirking, is Eli.

“Prentiss, Reid.” Hotch says, his voice sharp. “Join JJ at Eli’s apartment. She’s going through it now.”

Spencer and Emily don’t waste a second, slipping out of the building. You barely register them leaving, your focus locked on Eli. He walks past you, and despite the restraints, his presence feels suffocating.

“It’s not over.” He evilly smiles as the words left his mouth, your blood runs cold.

“Don’t speak to her!” Your father snaps, his voice booming. In an instant, Hotch has Eli shoved against the wall, his face pressed hard against the surface.

You flinch, heart stammering. Eli only laughs. The sound sends a shiver down your spine.

“y/n.” Morgan’s voice is calm but firm as he steps closer. “If you need anything, we’re here. Don’t go anywhere alone. Got it?”

You nod, barely able to find your voice. “Got it.”

Morgan gives you a reassuring nod before following your father into the makeshift interrogation room. You’re left there, your mind racing. Emily’s words from earlier echo in your head.

“You’re safe now”

You want to believe that, but with Eli’s words burned into your memory, it’s hard to feel safe at all.

After what felt like hours, you made your way to the restroom, you splash cold water on your face, the droplets sliding down your skin as you brace your hands on the sink.

The reflection staring back at you is pale and exhausted, the weight of everything visible in your eyes. You close them for a moment, willing the lingering feeling to disappear.

But then, the sound of a lock clicking behind you jolts you awake.

Your heart leaps as you whip around. A man stands in the front of the door, his expression twisted with excitement. He’s holding a gun, the metallic glint catching the harsh bathroom light.

“We’re going to do this the easy way, okay Claire?” His voice is disturbingly calm, like he’s rehearsed these words a thousand times.

“Claire?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “I’m not Claire.”

But he doesn’t listen. He steps forward, his grip tightening around the gun. You instinctively back away.

“It’s okay.” He soothes, though his eyes are wild. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want you with me.”

He’s closing in now, his body looming. You can feel the panic rising, your chest tightening. Every part of you screams to run, but the barrel of the gun hovers dangerously close.

“Let’s go home, Claire.”

The words send a chill down your spine. You open your mouth to scream, but before you can make a sound, the gun is at your temple. The cold steel sends a shock through you.

“We’re going to be quiet, okay?” He growls, his lips brushing against your ear. “Don’t make me shoot you, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Your pulse pounds. You can feel his erratic breathing, the tension in the air thick and suffocating. Every instinct tells you to fight, to scream, but you don’t.

“Okay.” You force out, your voice trembling.

He grabs your arm, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you towards the door. Each step is slow, calculated. He cracks the door open, peering down the empty hallway. You silently pray that someone will come, your dad, Morgan, Rossi, anyone.

But the hall remains empty.

No one sees.

No one hears.

And then, he’s dragging you through the exit.

——

Back in the interrogation room, Eli sits slouched in the chair, a smug grin plastered across his face.

“You’re making a mistake.” He taunts, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Rossi narrowed his eyes. “A mistake?”

Eli nods, chuckling to himself. “I knew you’d come. That’s why I was home. You’re too predictable. And while you’re all in here wasting time on me…” he leans forward, savoring every word. “No one’s watching your daughter.”

The room shifts in an instant. The air turns cold. Hotch’s face darkens, fear flashing through his eyes.

“Morgan, Rossi. Stay here.” Hotch orders, his voice sharp. Without another word, he storms out. His movements are frantic, searching every corner of the building. Empty chairs, empty hallways. The tension grows unbearable.

“Where the hell is she?” He demands, slamming his fists on the table when he returns. The sound echoes through the room.

Eli simply smirks. “I don’t know.”

——

The van jerks violently as the man speeds through the dark streets. Your wrists ache from the rope biting into your skin, and the duct tape over your mouth muffles your desperate pleads.

He’s erratic, mumbling to himself as he drives. You pray for the sight of flashing police lights, for anyone who might notice how reckless he’s being. But the roads remain empty.

After what feels like eternity, the van screeches to a stop.

“We’re here.” He announces, giddy like a child on Christmas morning.

He yanks open the back doors, his rough hands grabbing at you. You scream, the sound muffled and desperate. You kick, pounding your fists against his back as he hauls you over his shoulder. But it doesn’t faze him.

The air shifts as he carries you inside. The stench is unbearable, a rancid mixture of mildew, rot, and something metallic. The walls are stained, rust creeping across the cracked concrete. Water pools around the floor, dark and slick.

He dumps you onto the ground, the impact knocking the air from your lungs. Before you can react, he pulls a heavy chain from the corner, the rusted links clinking together.

“This is so you don’t try and leave like the others.” He sneers

The chain clamps around your neck, the padlock snapping shut. The weight is suffocating, restricting your movements to only a few feet. You twist and pull, but it’s useless.

He crouches in front of you, his grin wide with satisfaction. “We’re finally together, Claire. Just like I promised.”

Tears burn your eyes as you stare at him, your heart continues to pound violently. The panic threatens to consume you, but you fight it. You have to stay calm. You have to find a way out.

But as he watches you with twisted delight, the truth sinks in. No one knows where you are.

The tape rips from your mouth, the sting sharp against your skin. You gasp, your chest heaving, but before you can speak, the man crouches in front of you, his eyes wild and desperate.

“Before we continue, Claire.” He says, his voice low and deliberate “I need you to be truthful.”

Your glare sharpens, every nerve in your body screaming to fight. “I’m not Claire, you psycho! Let me go!”

The words barely leave your lips before his hands snap to your face, gripping your chin tightly. The veins in his neck bulge with fury.

“You are Claire!”

His trembling hand digs into his pocket, pulling out a worn photo. He shoves it into your view. “This is us, Claire! Before you decided to leave!”

The woman in the photo has your face, or almost. The same features, the same hair.

“That’s not me.” You whisper, shaking your head.

“You always like to lie!” He growls, his voice cracking. He finally lets go, pushing you back against the cold wall as he paces, running his free hand through his greasy hair.

Then he stops.

“Who was that guy?” His voice drops, seething. “The scrawny agent. Why were you with him?”

You blink, confused. “What?”

His teeth clench. “Why did you let him touch you?” He snarls. “Why did you let him look at you like that?!”

He’s talking about Spencer.

“No, no.” You stammer, your pulse racing. “He’s no one. You don’t have to worry about him.”

But it’s too late. The idea is planted, festering in his mind. He shakes his head, a bitter grin twisting his lips.

“I need him here.” He says, his voice trembling with conviction. “I’m going to bring him here.”

“No!” You cry, panic lacing your voice. “You don’t need him! You have me!”

“You need to help me, Claire!” He pleads, crouching down once more. His eyes are wide, frantic. “You have to get him here.”

Tears burn your eyes as you shake your head. “I can't do that.”

He reaches forward, his rough thumb swiping a tear from your cheek. “Don’t cry, darling. It's going to be okay.”

But it won't be.

“Tell me the number.” his voice cracks, dangerous edge creeping in. “I wont.” you whisper.

His hand snaps to his belt, pulling out a small knife. The light catches the dull blade.

“Why are you making me do this?!” he roars, the knife flashing. Before you can move, the cold steel slices across your arm. The pain is immediate, searing. You scream, clutching at the bleeding wound.

——

“Y/n is missing.”

JJ’s words hit like a bullet. Spencer’s heart drops.

“What?” He breathes, his voice sharp. “How? Someone was supposed to be watching her.”

“We don’t know, but Hotch needs us.”

Without another thought, they leave Eli’s apartment and rush back to campus. Spencer’s mind races, his breath short. This can’t be happening.

Emily and JJ make their way into the building but before Spencer reaches the door behind them, his phone rings.

His hands fumble as he answers.

“Hello?”

“Spencer.” Your voice quivers on the other end. “It’s me.”

His chest tightens. “Y/n! Where are you? Hold on! Let me get Hotch.”

“No!” Your voice cracks. “Spencer, don’t. Please… just come. He wants you here, and he says he’ll hurt me if you bring the team.”

“Y/n.” Spencer runs a trembling hand through his hair, panic gripping him.

“Come unarmed.” You whisper. “The address is 3840 Cherry road.”

The line crackles. And then-

“Don’t come, Spencer! Please!”

A sickening thud enters through the phone, your muffled cries follow.

“y/n!” Spencer shouts, his voice breaking. But there’s no answer.

The line goes dead.

His hands shake as he scribbles the address onto a scrap of paper, dropping it where someone will find it. Without another word, he bolts for the SUV.

——

The building looms ahead, rotting, desolate. Spencer moves quickly, his steps silent. The walls are damp, stained with water and time. The stench of mold lingers.

Then he sees you. Sitting against a wall, your head hanging low.

“Y/n.” He gasps, rushing to your side. Blood stains your lips, your nose, and a fresh cut marks your cheek. You’re barely conscious, your head lolling.

“Spencer?” You murmur, your voice weak. But as your eyes adjust, terror flashes across your face.

“No.” You whisper, your hands weakly pushing him away. “Why did you come? I told you not to.”

Before Spencer can respond, a voice rings out.

“Stop touchin’ her.”

Spencer freezes. You both turn, dread pulling in your stomach. The man stands, his eyes blazing with fury.

He lunges, grabbing Spencer and shoving him to the ground, he then pulls out a gun.

“You don’t want to do this.” Spencer says, his hands raised. “We can talk.”

“Why were you with Claire?” The man’s voice booms, echoing through the building. “She doesn’t want you! She wants me!”

“Claire?” Spencer asks cautiously, trying to keep him talking. “Don’t say her name!”

“You want the truth?” Spencer’s voice is steady now, his eyes never leaving the gun. “She doesn’t want you. She never did.”

You stare at him in shock, wondering if he’s gone crazy.

“She wants me.” Spencer presses, his voice low “She doesn’t want you.”

“Do you want me to explain more of what we did?, what you didn’t get to see?” Spencer asked. “What is he talking about?” The unsub asked as he made his way towards you angrily. “You slut!” He spat in your face, but before he could strike you a gunshot echos.

The man in front of you crumbles, blood stains his chest. His eyes go wide, and the life drains from him.

You gasp, and look to see Spencer standing, his gun drawn, chest heaving.

He rushes to get the keys out of the pockets of the dead man, then to you unlocking the chain from your neck, and untying your wrists. The moment you’re free, you collapse into his arms.

“It’s okay.” He whispers, holding you tightly, his hand going up and down your back. “You’re safe now.”

You cling to him, sobbing. “I was so scared.”

“I know.” Spencer breathes, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”

The sound of footsteps echo. “They’re in here!” Morgan’s voice rings out.

Hotch bursts through the doors, his eyes locking onto you and Spencer. You let go of Spencer and make your way towards your dad, stumbling, but he needs you halfway and catches you in his arms, tightly pulling you against him.

He was scared to let you go, scared you’d disappear.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers, his voice thick with guilt.

You shook your head not wanting to hear his apologies, you were just thankful to be able to see him again.

“I want to go home.” You whisper, your tears soaking into his shirt.

Hotch’s hand gently cups your face, his fingers tracing the cuts. He nods, his voice trembling.

“We’ll go home, baby.”

——

1 month later…

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and stepped into the familiar hum of the BAU office. Jacks small hand gripped yours tightly while the other held a plate of cookies, still warm from the oven. As you passed through the glass doors, a wave of familiar faces greeted you, their smiles wide with excitement.

“Y/n!” JJ’s voice rang out first, her arms already reaching for you. She pulled you into a tight hug, swaying you slightly before Emily joined in.

“I was wondering when we’d get a visit!” Emily grinned, her dark eyes bright.

“Yeah, I would’ve come sooner but-”

“But I told her to stay home and rest.” Your dad cut in, his voice warm as he appeared beside you. Jack immediately wiggled free to run into his arms.

“Makes sense, recovery is important.” Rossi added, his fatherly tone laced with relief.

“Yeah, but it could’ve been worse.” You said, shrugging. “I’m just glad I healed up so quickly.”

“We all are, kid.” Derek said, squeezing your shoulder. His easy grin was one you’d miss.

“And what do we have here?” Penelope asked, her bright eyes locked on the plate in your hands.

“Cookies.” You answered, holding the plate up. “I wanted to thank you all. For everything. For helping me.”

A chorus of “Aww’s” and “Yay’s” echoed through the bullpen, and you set the plate on the nearest desk as the team eagerly grabbed a treat. Your father’s arms wrapped around your shoulders, his grip, strong and steady.

“Thank you.” He said softly, his voice just for you.

you met his gaze, the tension that had once existed between you now barely a shadow. “Thank you, dad. I wouldn’t be here without you. I’m sorry for how things were before. But I’m glad we’re…better now.”

His eyes softened, and he kissed the top of your head, a rare display of affection that made your chest ache in the best possible way.

As the others laughed and chatted, you scanned the room instinctively. And there he was.

Through the glass walls of an office, Spencer Reid stood, his tall frame slightly hunched as he watched you. His eyes met yours, warm and hesitant. Without thinking, you smiled. He moved towards you, his steps quick.

“Y/n.” He said

“Spencer.” The way his name left your lips felt far too easy. “How are you feeling? Are you- are you okay?” His voice was careful, but the concern was evident.

“I’m good. Really good.” You reassured him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Better than ever, actually.”

His smile mirrored yours, though his eyes lingered on you like he was still checking for any sign of pain. “That’s…that’s good. I’m happy to hear that.”

“You should grab a cookie before Morgan eats the whole plate.” You joked, tilting your head toward the group. “yeah, I probably should.” He laughed softly, but he didn’t move.

His gaze held yours, something unspoken passing between you.

“How about you? How’ve you been?” you asked, shifting slightly closer. “Oh, you know. Same old routine,” he said with a small shrug. “Books. Cases. A lot of facts no one asked for.”

You grinned. “Still no girlfriend then?”

His eyes widened, and he stammered. “Uh, no. No girlfriend.”

“Shame.” You teased. “I finally turn twenty-one tomorrow, you know. So if you’re free we can finally have that drink you denied me last time at my dorm.”

He blinked, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You remember that?”

“Of course I do.” You grinned. “And now you don’t have an excuse.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I’d like that a lot.”

“Good.” You lingered on the word, savoring how his cheeks turned reddened.

“I could pick you up.” He offered quickly. “If you want.”

“Perfect.” You nodded. “I live with my dad now, so just come by.”

“You moved back to Virginia?”

“Yeah, I transferred. It’s… nice being here. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until I came back.”

“I’m glad you’re back.” Spencer said softly. “Maybe we can, uh, hang out more.”

You tilted your head, biting back a grin. “I’d like that. A lot.”

“Cool.” His voice cracked slightly, and the way his eyes flickered down to the floor only made him more endearing.

“Cool.” You echoed playfully, reaching for his hand. “But first, cookies!”

You tugged him gently, his hand gently squeezed yours, neither of you said anything, but the warmth lingered.

You and Jack stayed a bit longer, but the team eventually had to get back to work. With a few more laughs and lingering hugs, it was time to go.

“Well, it was nice seeing you guys,” you said, gripping Jack’s small hand. “Don’t be a stranger!” Penelope called with a wide grin.

“You’re always welcome,” Emily added. “And next time, bring cupcakes,” Rossi teased, flashing his signature smirk.

You laughed, the warmth of their affection lingering. “I will. Promise.”

After waving goodbye, you led Jack through the glass doors and out to the parking lot. Once you reached your car, you carefully buckled him into the backseat, ensuring he was comfortable.

“y/n.”

You froze, the sound of your name stirring something electric inside you. Turning, you saw Spencer walking toward you, his long strides closing the distance quickly. Before you could even process it, his hands cupped your jaw, fingers tracing the delicate lines of your face. And then, his lips were on yours.

It was sudden, desperate. His mouth moved against yours, soft and warm, but the urgency behind it set your skin on fire. The faint scent of his cologne mixed with the crisp air, and the world seemed to blur around you.

You pulled back, breathless, your wide eyes meeting his. “What was that?” you asked, though your lips still tingled from the kiss.

“I-I don’t know,” Spencer stammered, just as stunned as you were. His thumb brushed your cheek as if trying to memorize the moment. “I just felt like… I needed to do that.”

A slow smile spread across your face. “Well, I’m glad you did.”

And before he could respond, you pulled him back in. This time, it wasn’t rushed. Your hands slipped around his neck, fingertips tangling in his hair as his lips met yours once more. He responded instantly, his body pressing closer, the kiss deepening. Your tongue traced along his, and a soft, quiet groan escaped him, a sound that made warmth coil low in your stomach.

You could’ve stayed like that forever. The way he held you, the way his mouth tasted like coffee and something distinctly Spencer, it all felt intoxicating.

But then you remembered, the kid you’re responsible for in the back of your car.

“Spencer,” you murmured against his lips, reluctantly pulling away. “I have to go.”

He nodded, his forehead resting against yours. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You smiled, brushing your fingers over his cheek. “If you’re free tonight… I’d love to come over. Maybe we can pick up where we left off.”

His eyes darkened just slightly, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “I’m free.”

“Good.”

He stepped back, but not without stealing one last lingering glance. Ever the gentleman, he opened the car door for you, waiting as you slipped inside.

“Drive safe,” he said softly, his hand still resting on the doorframe. You gave him a playful wink. “I will.”

As you pulled out of the parking lot, Jack’s voice piped up from the backseat.

“Eww.”

You caught his grin in the rearview mirror and brought a finger to your lips. “Shhh.”

He burst into laughter, and despite the embarrassment, a giddy warmth settled in your chest. . .

hope you guys love this, it took so long to write but I’m glad it’s finally finished! Lmk your thoughts<3

Thank you to everyone who reposts, and leave kind messages, you guys are the reason I continue writing! I appreciate it so much!

Tag list

@alastorssimp @sleepysongbirdsings

Check out my other works here<3

[morgantheblue]

Tales From The Comic Store! #1

Today's Tale-Satanist Posters and Other Nonsense

So I work in a comic store, normally its a great job. But sometimes, you have days where you wish you stayed in bed. Other times you see something so baffling, it makes you think you had.

Today's story is a combination of both.

This story happened around 18 months back, it was a quiet midweek day and I was finishing up my lunchbreak in the staff room upstairs. We had recently got a new stock of movie posters in and had spent the morning putting them in the rack and taking the old display ones down.

Several of the posters were of horror movies, like Friday the 13th, the Exorcist, Nightmare on Elm Street etc. This, apparently, was upsetting to one customer.

So as I'm heading down the stairs and out of the staff door back onto the shop floor I hear someone screaming as if it was Armageddon and someone else telling her firmly to leave and that she was not welcome back in the shop.

I round the corner and see what looks like a nice old granny screaming that we're a shop of Satanists and murderers...because we have posters of horror movie villains. She was ranting and screaming at one of my co-workers even as one of my bosses kept telling her to leave.

Luckily she seemed to get the hint and left without anything escalating beyond yelling and shouting. Still it was a strange experience for all involved.

The most important thing was no one got hurt. But its something we still bring up whenever we get stuff in related to horror.

I'm just glad she never found out about Sacrifice Sundays. That would have been harder to explain away!

[ssamorganhotchner]

writing at Starbucks before work 🩷☕️

[merginyourface]

Ghostober Day 1: Cuckolding :)

@kroas-adtam list bc she is my heart and soul foreva

Pairing: Aether/Rain, but really Mountain/Rain

Something Mountain really wanted to try, something Rain wants to do to make him happy... but that's not really how this works

clit used for Rain, safeword use, mentions of panic but nothing serious that isn't almost immediately resolved, fairly short bc I have catching up to do.

[arthursfuckinghat]

They really made a character like Arthur Morgan and not only gave him crippling self esteem issues, but they gave him confidence so low that he doesn't share his passions with anyone ever.

Like what do you mean Arthur loves to write but thinks he writes like a fool?

What do you mean Arthur loves to draw and is really talented but he doesn't see it that way?

What do you mean Arthur loves the smaller things in life but doesn't feel like he's deserving of good things?

What do you mean there was a whole different side to Arthur that the people he cared about rarely got to see?

What do you mean he lived and died with parts of his life tucked away tight in the pages of the journal that only one other person has ever been able to read?

What a tragedy.

[stottlemorgan]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Arthur Morgan NSFW Headcanons (Mid Honour) ⟡ ݁₊ .

I wrote these to help with my writing, trying to figure out what Arthur's like, and I really liked these so I thought I'd share 'em! Go wild! Female!Reader btw ⁠♡ This has 18+ smut in it, mdni x Low Honour Version x

⟡ He's actually a bit of a challenge to turn on. He may be a bit touch-starved but he's controlled. He loves a bit of PDA and showing you off, but he isn't one to get hard instantly. He can deal with sultry glances and smirks from you, if anything it makes him chuckle to himself and shake his head.

⟡ In order to get a more pronounced reaction from him, you have to tease your underclothes or brush your ass against his hips as you make your way past him in camp. He's a lot more receptive to physicality. And sound, if you run up behind him, wrap your arms around his midriff, yank him down a bit and whisper in his ear, he's gone.

⟡ He tends to end up smothering you if you're smaller. Sometimes by accident, sometimes not.

⟡ He starts off more reserved but as he grows hotter, his language and sounds start to slip. A "Jesus..." here and a "Shit..." there. He'll start groaning, his nose scrunching, baring his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. The majority of his sounds are heavy breaths, grunts, groans, the occasional growl. When he comes, he'll sometimes let out stuttering "Oh-"'s that get louder before melting into laboured panting.

⟡ But he'll also murmur silly, cheesy things in your ear through his ragged breaths. "You make me believe in Heaven." "I musta done somethin' right in life to have you fall in my lap."

⟡ He sweats like a pig. Post-orgasm, he's huffing and grabbing his shirt from where he threw it to wipe his face and neck.

⟡ He loves pleasuring his partner, and looooves eating women out. Kissing, sucking, lapping, making you squeal and whimper. He savours your sounds, wanting more and more. He'll keep at it until you're overstimulated and batting at his head, or until he has to come up for air, beard soaked. He'd happily drown in you.

⟡ And when you give him head? He's a little nervous having the focus be on him but once you start, he's sucking in shaky breaths, eyes fluttering shut, jaw slack, in heaven. He'll grab at the air a little, fingers twitching before he paws at your head gently. He'll cradle your face in his palms and moan when your dreamy gaze meets his whilst you lap at the underside of his cock. He'll thrust into your mouth nice and slow, his veins flooding with arousal and his muscles tingling with utter disbelief that he's lucked out so highly with you.

⟡ He's an ass man, but just loves your body in general. He loves gettin' a handful of you; Ass, hips, waist, thighs, breasts, all of you. "You're a first-rate stunner." He'll growl softly, a smirk curling his lips, his thick fingers dipping into your warm flesh, "My girl."

⟡ If he needs you to be quiet during sex, he'll shove his neckerchief in your mouth out of necessity. "Sh, shh, shhh, darlin'. Can't be wakin' up the whole camp with those pretty sounds of yours. Here now, open up."

⟡ If he's sans neckerchief, he lets you bite his shoulders or have you suck on his fingers. "You gotta keep quiet, sweetheart." He'll whisper against your skin as he cups the back of your head and brings your mouth to his shoulder or pushes two thick fingers into your mouth.

⟡ He'll instinctively support you; holding your hips, wrapping his arms around your waist, grabbing your shoulders to stabilise you. He loves being pressed against you, feeling your heart against his chest or back, relishing the connection.

⟡ He's also always checking that you're enjoying yourself, whether it be by asking you outright or watching you for signs of discomfort. "That feel good?" "Y'alright, darlin'?" "Looks like that feels good, hm?" "Yeah? Like that?"

⟡ He gets unsure about leaving marks on you via biting, sucking, spanking, not wanting to hurt you too much or mar your skin. You have to convince him you want it. He feels a bit guilty until he sees how much you enjoy it. And he can't deny the way the sounds you make when he does it strikes lightning through his loins. "You really are a little hellcat, ain'chya?"

⟡ He doesn't mind being marked himself though, not at all, doesn't matter. He's marked all over anyway, what's one more mark? Especially from you.

⟡ He love love loves kisses. All over him, all over you. If you pepper kisses about his face and chest, he'll very quickly flush a gorgeous crimson and look at you, dazed. He'll pull you into his lap and kiss you all over until you're laughing loudly.

⟡ He'll click his tongue at you gently like click click click "Sh, shh, shhh. Easy, girl, easy."

⟡ He'll also tut at you if you're being bratty or feeling overwhelmed. Tut, tut, "Now now, girly. Don't get shrewish with me." or tut, tut, "Oh, sweetheart. I know, I know, c'mon, sweetheart. Keep going, just a little longer."

⟡ He's a soft dom/switch mostly, but if you can get him aroused enough, he relaxes into being a little more dominating.

⟡ He occasionally enjoys being dominated but more so enjoys either a relatively equal sexual dynamic or he naturally falls into a soft dom, caring, cooing role.

⟡ He's not immune to losing himself in the moment, though. He'll breathlessly mutter a "God..." or his breath will hitch like he's been winded before his movements will become rougher, more desperate, like this blissful feeling will slip through his fingers if he doesn't grab you. "C'mere." "Gimme more, girly." "Un-unh, don'chu move now."

⟡ He naturally praises you, not giving it much thought other than wanting you to feel incredible. "That's it, darlin'." "Lookatchu." "Good girl." "Atta girl." "Ain'tchu a picture." "Pretty lady, takin' it all." "That's it, girly, keep on, keep on." "Yeah, more'a'that, baby. Oh, you're so good."

⟡ And when you praise him? Most of the time, he'll duck his head down and wince. "Naw, shut up." "Quit all that." Before trying to divert the focus back onto you by squeezing your ass or rubbing your waist.

⟡ But if he's lost in pleasure? It'll drive him mad. His grip will tighten on you and he'll hiss and huff. He won't respond to the praise verbally but he'll flush red and let out soft "Oh"'s as he holds onto you for dear life.

⟡ If you put his hat on, he will automatically want to have you ride him (But not before barking out a laugh). "Y'think y'can be a cowgirl without ridin', hm?" He'll say before spreading his legs and patting his thighs, "Giddy up, girly." He'll say with a sarcastic lilt, his eyes aflame with excitement.

⟡ If he's particularly tired, you can ride him hard enough to draw a whine from him. His head will fall back, his hands falling from you, his hips jerking into you messily. "Oh, darlin'."

Hope y'all enjoy! I love writing Arthur smut ✗♡✗♡

[temporary-dysphoria]

it be slow, but it do be coming.

Lupin follows Fujiko to work and meets Zenigata. While he's there he meets a very cute 'eyebrow wiggle' baker.