#or if like. i see more because I am one of them. you know

[thetreestumptherapist]

I don't really care about the font. As long as it is easily readable for me while I am working. I started some stories in Google docs, but moved them to Microsoft Word and am considering going back for convenience sake and I haven't touched them since I moved them partly because of the default fonts. (I am aware I could change them, but I am too lazy to do so) Maybe I do care after all...

I 100% could write it by hand, and have considered it. The only reason I don't is because editing is more difficult on paper.

I haven't been writing long enough to develop a specific ritual. So maybe my lack of ritual is the real curse?

Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis. That and Hippopotomonstrosesqippedaliaphobia. Yes, these are spelled mostly from memory. I checked the spelling for the phobia, I did not do so for the osis.

I don't know if it's a superstition really, but your characters are alive and will 100% change the story on you and there's nothing you can do about it if you want your story to come out good and cohesive.

I have two. That I will never get it the way I like it, (I know this is an unsolvable dilemma, but it's still a fear) and that no one will like it or even see it when I publish it.

Watching my story come together. As well as coming up with a solid idea for the next part of the story.

Dialogue, because I suck at it.

I do believe in ghosts. Probably not the ghosts you're thinking of though. As a Christian I do believe spirits do things we can't see, but not quite like the stereotypical ghosts in fiction. Although they are very similar.

Depends on your definition of haunted. Haunted as in I was horrified by it? I can't think of one right now, but I am almost positive it has happened. Haunted as in hung over my head because I haven't finished it yet? Yes, my own writing has done that. As have many stories that I need to finish reading.

I am not sure what that old advice is, and I don't know that I want to. Yes, I grieve the darlings lost. I have not yet killed a darling, but I am a sucker for pain and suffering. It just has to be handled correctly. So, if I ever kill a darling, believe me, it will be felt throughout the story and your life. A darling graveyard is a wonderful idea. Thank you for the suggestion. >:)

The Lorem Ipsum is a cruel and unusual punishment. As for the wishes, gaining the ability to actually finish my work, having the dialogue come out correctly, and having the writing be less awkward. I think those would be my wishes. The ability to finish my work could possibly be replaced with the ability to come up with ideas easier, like no writer's block or something. But they are essentially the same thing.

I don't know what subject I would have difficult writing about. Again, I haven't been writing very long or a lot, so I don't have much experience with it yet. Same with easy.

My lack of physical social life does not allow for me to easily lend books to people. But I can guarantee you I would know EXACTLY who had what book, but I probably wouldn't get them back because social anxiety.

Don't do it to my books and I will tolerate your book abuse. I would love to read in the bath, but I am scared of damaging the book.

The weirdest thing I've ever used as a bookmark would probably be a post it note, or gift card maybe, if I actually used a gift card for that. I am very boring with my bookmarks...

I cannot, to save my life, think of any details to tell you that won't make it into the text. I am sorry. I world build as I write and I'm still near the beginning of the story. My dnd campain tho? That would need a whole post of it's own. 👀

"Knowing how the Sangheili felt about their swords and other people using them, she hoped that given the circumstances they would understand her desperation. She picked two of them up while thanking the Sangheili, both for joining their cause and for the sacrifice they made. Then she left the battlefield, but not before paying respects to all the fallen soldiers, human and Sangheili alike. Some simple words of gratitude spoken over the battlefield was all she had time for." This is a passage from a Halo fanfiction I am writing. The story came about because I wanted to emphasize the Sangheili's focus on Honor and Respect and how their views of humans changed during their allyship with us. The MC's name is Emira (subject to change) and respect is also a core value in her morals. She has not gotten to respectfully return the swords to the Sangheili yet, but that will happen soon. If I can figure out how she is rescued or escapes from danger. The battlefield spoken about in that passage has already been left by the conflict and is inactive when she finds it. The Sangheili she thanks are fallen soldiers, and she took the swords from beside their dead bodies. The passage did not change much during its creation.

I started writing because I love making stories up in my head, but I wanted to share them. The bumps are I always picture them as movies in my head, so turning them into words and having it come out as a well-written story is difficult. I am currently writing fanfiction and short stories, but I would like to turn one of my stories into a novel. I just haven't figured out how and I don't know if I will try to get them officially published or not.

The one true love. Life gets lonely, and they can give me emotional support while I struggle with my writing skills.

I wish I could start. 💀 I have 3 WIPs, all my first stories that I actually started writing. (I consider my dnd campaign a WIP because I am considering turning it into its own fic and it is a joy to work on) I haven't published anything and am getting very annoyed by my lack of progress on all of them.

Another reason why I haven't touched my stories for awhile is because I liked Google Docs' organization abilities better than Word's. With Docs they have tabs inside the document so you can actually have your stories separated with in the same document. Whereas with Word, at least to my knowledge, the only thing separates them is the headings. I should go back to Docs...

My couch? And an ungodly amount of clutter? I watch tv in the evenings and sometimes I decide to write while I do so. I get my computer out and have it on my lap, while I sit on the couch and watch tv, ignoring the clutter caused by my undiagnosed ADHD and complete lack of motivation to do anything related to chores...

People put prep work into their stories? Like, they get prepared to write the story? I just sit down and write whatever I can come up with if it fits my current story. Sometimes I have to tweak things so it all fits together.

I haven't come up with any irrelevant details yet. Everything must be part of the story somehow.

Given that most of my characters are based on me, yes I very much regret going into their heads and I haven't come up with a way to get back out yet. Please send help. I think I took a wrong turn back at Imagination Avenue?

I can't think of a specific character that was stressful. The most stressful situation to write though, has been the wedding reception for my (healthy) romance story. I have no idea what to do with it.

My MC for the romance story has probably been the most delightful. Either her, or Nialith Madgarb, (pronounced nye-uh-lith Mad-garb) from my DND campaign.

My brain is a cesspool for the craziest ideas. I pull inspiration from everywhere. Sometimes I wish the inspiration well WOULD run dry so I could have a moment of peace and quiet, but nay, I am doomed to an eternity of infinite ideas that I simply must run with. I am exhausted.

I have not yet written my dreams, nor dreamed my writings.

"Thank you for reading my stories. It means a lot to have people who enjoy my writing. Or are open to civil discussion about why they don't like it. I truly appreciate y'all"

Do deepfakes count? There is a series called "Master Chief teaches" and it's a bunch of videos of an ai recreation of Master Chief's voice and a script where "Master Chief" teaches you how to do stuff. In the video titled "Master Chief teaches you what to do when things go sideways" he says "adopting a solution-oriented mind helps you stay focused on what is most important during any crisis and that is taking action. Without action there is no movement, and without movement problems remain what they are" "Without movement problems remain what they are" is something I return to regularly when I start feeling overwhelmed by school, chores, etc. I could sit there and avoid the problem until it's so bad I can't anymore, or I could take action and make a move to fix the problem when I encounter it instead of sitting there overwhelmed and frozen. I recommend giving the video a watch, even if you don't play or like Halo.

I like to draw and paint (with watercolor, acrylic, and/or ink), and I have dabbled in cross-stitch, embroidery, and diamond art. I plan to draw some of the characters from my stories. I really want to paint Nialith Madgarb in my inks, but I am still working on mentally designing her character.

"Let's eat grandma"... Use the Oxford comma, people. It saves lives.

I cannot remember a single writing rule to comment on right now. If it works for your story and style, go for it. If it doesn't, yeet it into the abyss. Idk

I know an entire alphabet's worth of star wars character's and then some. This has nothing to do with my ability to write. Also, Halo 5: Guardians and Star Wars: The Force Awakens came out the same year, one in October, the other in December. Again, not related to my writing.

They wouldn't even consider me lol. And if they did, they'd think I was insane. And had severe ADHD. And they wouldn't be wrong...

My writing process is too slow and barely existing. Nothing about it is super weird except for the fact that I bounce all over the story and fill in the missing parts once I come up with a way to do so. As for the cats, they like to think they don't care about us, but they 100% do. And they would die of embarrassment if they knew we know they care.

Nothing. If I feel like giving up, I take a break until I inevitably come up with an irresistible idea on how to continue the story. Rinse and repeat.

I don't know if you mean a poem someone else wrote, or one I wrote, so I shall do both. Robert Frost's Stopping by woods on a Snowy Evening: Whose woods these are I think I know His house in the village though He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year He gives is harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake The woods are lovely, dark and deep But I have promises to keep And miles to go before I sleep And miles to go before I sleep. My poem: Where’s my Neverland?: Where’s my Neverland? I’ve got so much in my hand Meetings and school I know you do too We want an adventure But life forces expenditure Paying the bills By wasting our skills Wish I could read until 2 a.m. But, alas, an adult I am And my days are made up Of working towards a paystub I wish we were kids Lying down in our beds Looking out at the sky Where the stars are not shy People today are depressed and dismayed All the time worrying about being betrayed Worried about being laid off from work And still somehow not giving a "fork" Where is our Neverland? Where is our wish? Of fun-filled times and Mom’s favorite dish? Where’s our adventure filled with imagination and beauty? Of digging in sand to find pirate booty? The answer is simple, and yet oh so sad Those days are gone by, the best days we’ve had Those memories are all that we have Of those days made whole by a laugh But, worry not, for there’s always tomorrow So, please don’t obsess over yesterday’s sorrow Look straight ahead While lying in bed Dreaming of heaven Those days will be back soon I reckon Where sorrows will be traded for unending joy And kids in sandboxes again shout “AHOY” And we can always smell the finest of food And all work turns to play and we know that it’s good

I hope this answers all your questions and confirms that writers are in fact weird. :) And I hope the poetry was satisfactory.

Weird Questions for Writers (because writers are weird)

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

6. What is your darkest fear about writing?

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back?

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

20. If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch

21. Could you ever quit writing? Do you ever wish you could? Why or why not?

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

31. Write a short love letter to your readers.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice...what do you Know?

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

[cherrysweets-world]

Eyes of the Gods III

series masterlist - part IV

Pairing: Caracalla x fem!Reader x Geta

Summary: You are forced to leave all previous tasks behind and focus solely on the Emperors. They will have it no other way.

Warnings: 18+, mentions of domestic violence, dead parents, forced proximity, power imbalances, period-typical sexism, eventually dub-con, possessive behavior, toxic relationships

Word Count: 3k

The walk back to your shared room was miserable. Initially you thought it was the events of the past few hours catching up to you but your condition had only worsened by the time you reached your room. Fear and hopelessness had been replaced by the most pounding of headaches and you could hardly stay upright.

The walls seemed to warp and swell beneath your hands as you leaned on them for support. Head swimming, you pushed open the door and staggered to your bed. The straw seemed more uncomfortable than usual but you were grateful for a flat surface to lie upon.

The room smelt clean but even that made you nauseous. Alba, your friend, sat upon her own bed and wore nearly identical clothing to yours. She was handier with a needle and thread than you and so hers were better kept. Alba was, altogether, a more skilled worker than you. Many were! You did not feel as though you stood out. So why had this happened to you rather than someone else?

Her fingers worried the lightly frayed edges, dark eyes gazing at you with increasing concern.

"I heard what happened," she said, coming to stand beside you. "Did they do this?"

"No," you groaned, "this is a sickness, the one that has had half the slaves and workers out."

Alba stepped back. You could hardly blame her. It had taken the lives of several of the elderly slaves and it was a chore to endure. Lady Lucilla had been struck down by it and forced to remain here at the palace to recover rather than endure the journey home.

"I need to pack," you hissed, heaving yourself into an upright position. "I can't handle this right now."

The floor felt cool on the bottom of your feet. You slid from your lumpy bed and pressed as much of your skin against it as you could. It was a small relief.

The main symptoms were nausea, vertigo and headaches. You had at least two of the three. Fine one moment and almost incapacitated the next. That was to be expected when the majority of people lived in such close quarters. Even the masters were not immune.

Tomorrow you would know the full extent of it. Some had speedy recoveries, others suffered for at least a week.

"I do not have the time," you said aloud.

"Time for what?" Alba asked. "Pack for what?"

You let your head fall back onto the bed, stray pieces of straw poking your skull and getting tangled in your hair. A garbled laugh managed to claw it's way up your throat. "I am rising in the world, Alba. I am to serve the emperors directly."

You could not bring yourself to look up to see her face. What would you see? Pity? Sadness? Jealousy, even? Just because you were not happy did not mean that there were not others who would claw your face off to be in your position.

A hand ghosted over your hair. "I'll let the kitchen master know that you are ill. Try to rest."

The door opened and shut with the softest of sounds. Alba probably thought that she would never see you again. She and the other two would have to sleep elsewhere tonight and you would likely be gone come morning.

Truth be told, you did not have much to pack. Three garments identical to the one you were wearing. You picked the two cleanest and left the other. If what Caracalla had said was true then you would no longer need them. Several leather ties littered the floor beside you and you scooped those up, dropping them on top of your folded garments. They were handy for keeping your hair from your face.

Finally, your prized possession. To retrieve it you had to stuff your hand into your straw mattress, fumbling about until your fingers closed around something solid. You pulled it out with effort and clasped it gently to your chest.

It was a carved wooden figure of a wolf, head tilted back as if howling at the moon. The most intricate features were worn away and, truthfully, if you did not already know it was a wolf then you would not have been able to tell. It had been made by your grandfather, a man who you had never known, and passed to your mother. Eventually it had made it’s way to you.

It was perhaps the only thing that had evaded your father's destructive path. Your childhood home had been small and nothing else had avoided his open hands or fists. Including you and your mother.

In your mind they were both dead, though you had only seen your mother's battered body. After that you had left, using the cover of night to conceal yourself. It had served you well up until recently. There was nowhere you could go to avoid the will of man.

There was little point in hiding the wolf, really. It did not seem the sort of thing that would appeal to anyone else. Still, night after night, you found yourself sliding it into the spiky bedding and nodding off on top of it. Your own little secret. Yours and your mothers.

You tucked it between your tunics, out of sight once more. You could not leave it behind.

Sweat formed on your brow and you swiped it away with the back of your hand. The emperors expected you ready and waiting tomorrow morning. That now seemed unlikely but you would not know for certain until then. With a groan, you eased yourself back up onto your bed.

You wondered exactly how angry they would be if you were unable to be there the next morning. You allowed yourself to entertain the thought for exactly one minute and then shoved it away. There was no use in thinking such things now and it certainly wouldn't aid your recovery.

All you could do was sleep. Once again, faced with your complete lack of options, you allowed yourself the illusion of choice and let your eyes fall shut.

The room was still pitch black when you awoke. It did not alarm you at first. Your headache was still present but seemed to have lessened. Your aching limbs were sprawled across your straw mattress, almost as if they were trying to get away from your body.

Blinking slowly, you glanced about and tried to think about what had awoken you. The scuffle of feet, the sound of the door opening and closing? One of your friends likely had come back to fetch something they needed.

You groaned and shifted, attempting to get back to sleep. A warm had closed around your ankle and you shrieked, jerking your head up from the mattress.

"Shhh, poor, sick girl," came a voice from the foot of your bed.

"Emperor Caracalla?" you whispered into the dark. Even as you said it, part of you thought it was impossible. A hallucination caused by your fever. The emperors never came to the lower parts of the palace, they had no need. How could Caracalla be here now, in your room, in the dark?

"I wanted to know why you did not come."

The room was too dark to see properly despite your eyes trying to adjust. It was him. His hand was still firmly on your ankle. You were not sure whether it was you or him radiating that feverish warmth.

"I am sick, Emperor, and it is not yet morning," you tried to slip your ankle from his grasp, "you shouldn't be -"

Caracalla finally let go of you but only to ease himself further onto the bed, curling himself around your legs. You dare not breathe, hands opening and closing beside you. There was nothing you could do. This was not just any man, this was the Emperor. There was probably several Praetorian guards outside your door right now. You had never been safer or in more danger in your life.

"I know what it is to be sick," his voice was raspy, hands wandering over your lower legs, "and now, so do you. We understand each other. We can trust each other."

Your sickness was not the same as the one that plagued Caracalla, that much you knew. Some disease of the mind infected him, leaving him at times vulnerable and then violent. You should have felt scared; instead you felt pity.

Trepidation still had a tight grip on your insides. The Emperor had gone so far as to seek you out in the middle of one of his episodes. Every time you dared to dream that you could go back to being another faceless servant you were struck by reality.

"Emperor Caracalla," you murmured, gently wrapping your hands around his upper arms, "I only do not wish to make you sick. I helped you stay safe before, remember?"

"Yes," he answered, staring up at you in the dark. His skin was cool beneath your touch. It was much cooler in this part of the palace. You did not know what things triggered Caracalla's illness, what made it worsen and then seemingly get better. You did not want to find out.

"I want to make you safe again," you said, urging him up and off the bed. He seemed to be wearing the same clothes as when you had last seen him. "Come with me, Emperor."

Caracalla did not respond but he did as you asked. It was an effort to get yourself to the door. When you opened it you were greeted by six Praetorians, more than you expected. You tried not to feel overly self conscious in your night clothes.

The looked at you with the same curious look everyone had been giving you for the last few days. As if they were wondering what it was about you that had earned the attention of the emperors and why you weren't dead yet.

"Please," you begged, "can you deliver the Emperor safely back to his rooms? See that he gets ready for bed?"

There was a beat of silence and you wondered if you would have to drag yourself up the stairs and see to Caracalla yourself. You had no power over them and they had no obligation to take requests from you.

"Please, I just don't want to get him sick."

The one closest gave you a tight nod. None of them said anything but they helped Caracalla out from behind you. The hallway was well lit and he squinted in the torchlight, looking lost and confused. Guilt swarmed you and you debated forcing yourself up the stairs. It seemed as though he got worse at night. The man standing before you did not look like an Emperor but a boy. It was difficult to remember all the blood and terror he caused and relished in.

"Emperor Caracalla," you tried to smile, "I'll be there tomorrow but we both need rest."

He only nodded, face flickering through a variety of expressions as if not sure which one to settle on. One of the guards cleared his throat and that seemed to bring Caracalla out of whatever stupor he was in. He turned and went with them, glancing over his shoulder as he went until he disappeared from sight.

You let the door fall shut and crawled back into bed. If you were not so exhausted you would have felt angry with yourself. Yes, Caracalla was sick, but slaves and workers fell sick all the time. It was true that you had been oblivious to the full extent of Caracalla's issues. These nightly episodes were not something most people knew about. But you had seen the worse types of injuries and illnesses in your few years at the palace and yet - you felt sorry for him.

Swiping a hand over your face, you squeezed your eyes closed and tried not to think too much about how gently he had touched you or how vulnerable he had looked. You no longer understood yourself.

The next morning arrived quickly. Apart from an aching in your joints, you felt fine. Last night felt like a dream brought on by the fever. All your nights recently felt that way. You gathered your meager possessions and left your room for the last time.

There was a guard waiting outside your door to escort you to the emperors.

"Have they been waiting long?" you said, alarmed.

He only shook his head and angled his body to allow you in front of him. You glanced uncertainly over your shoulder.

"I'll tell you where to go," he barked.

You pressed your lips together and nodded. It made you uncomfortable to have him at your back. It felt as though he did not trust that you would not run away if he took his eyes off of you.

Weary, you followed his directions. Like before, the décor and furnishings got finer and finer the closer you got to the emperors. Apart from the servants quarters every part of the imperial palace was richly decorated but it was something different entirely in the emperor's quarters.

Even the doors were bigger and more ornate. Dusted with gold paint and displaying the finest carvings. Again, you felt small and insignificant. The Praetorians pushed the doors open and you walked in, hands twisted tightly in your tunics.

The room was heavily perfumed but the scent wasn't unbearable. It helped clear your thoughts as you walked in, helped you focus on what was before you now rather than what you had been forced to leave behind. Bitterness and anger would do you no good here.

Geta stood alone behind a desk. It was covered in papers and small trinkets. Trinkets that probably cost more than you had earned in your entire life. He played idly with a rounded crystal, eyes flickering up as you entered the room.

The Praetorians marched out after he acknowledged them, leaving just you and him alone. They obviously felt no concern over leaving you alone with the emperor. It made you feel pathetic.

"I thought you were sick," he said slowly.

"I was."

"I suppose I am fortunate to have you standing before me now," he leered.

You did not respond.

"I heard that my brother visited you last night," he continued. "He is still asleep now. Seems that you wore him out."

You cringed at the implication. "I comforted him. That is all."

"You say that like it is a small task," he said bluntly.

You opened your mouth and closed it again. His words verged on a compliment but not quite.

"I am happy to be of service," you finally said.

"I am sure that you are," he laughed. "There are clothes for you over there. Take off those rags and change."

Geta was suddenly in front of you, ripping your belongings from your arms and tossing them onto the floor. It would have been fine but your carving clattered across the marble, drawing his attention immediately. You almost went scrambling after it, horrified and embarrassed.

"What is this?" he spat, face twisting as he bent down to pick it up.

"A carving," you admitted. "It's mine. I did not steal it, I brought it with me."

Geta held it up to the light as though that would help him make better sense of it. "Your father made this?"

"No," you answered with enough venom that Geta glanced over at you. "No, Emperor. My grandfather made it and my mother gave it to me."

You winced at the careful way he examined you. It felt as though he was able to infer everything about you just from your responses. The wooden carving looked laughable in his pale hands; a stark contrast to the rich colours and jewellery he was adorned with.

He seemed almost amused. That was better than anger, at least. His expression was strangely open as he examined your treasure, twisting it every which way in his hands. It looked ridiculously fragile when he held it.

"You like carvings, then?" he said slowly. You sagged with relief as he held it out to you, cupping your hands so that he could drop it into them.

"I like this one," you said. You bent down and picked up one of your tunics, placing the carving into the centre of it and then wrapping it carefully.

"I am fond of them myself," he offered, watching you carefully.

Your eyes snapped to his, surprised at his omission. Geta seemed surprised himself and he turned back to his desk.

"I ordered you to change!" he snapped, storming back to his desk.

Again, he busied himself with his paper and trinkets but something seemed performative about his actions.

At first you had thought that you could learn and adapt to the emperors. With how unpredictable their moods were it now seemed impossible. Their differences and similarities were also difficult to keep track of. What one found amusing made the other irritable.

Hopes of surviving seemed dim but you would try nonetheless. Your mother tried until she couldn’t and you would do the same.

Clutching your belongings to your chest, you headed in the direction he indicated. There were several togas and stolas laid out. You had never worn anything with such color before. Nothing quite so soft either. You glanced up to see if Geta was looking. His gaze was fixed on his desk. You squirmed out of your toga and into your new clothes, trying not to feel as though you were shedding your previous life.

Geta met your eyes when you yanked the toga over your head. Of course he had looked the entire time. It had been naive to think he wouldn't. He was regularly surrounded by concubines and simpering senators that obeyed his every whim. The emperor felt as though looking upon your body was his right. Maybe it was.

His throat worked as though he about to offer some cruel quip or comment. You braced yourself for what would surely be a crushing blow. It was not that you were especially insecure about your body but privacy was a luxury you had gotten somewhat used to. Now it was just another thing that had been stolen from you.

He tilted his chin up. "Pour me wine."

"Of course, Emperor," you bent your head and did as you were told.

Authors Note: please please leave notes, reblogs & comments if you enjoyed!! I appreciate every single one of you♥️

taglist - @only4thefics @doodle-with-rhy @lover-rep-fanfic @claraisme23 @sashaphantomhive @multifandombtch @delicioushottubpeanut

[starmocha]

Hi hello so im back again with a smaaaaaaallllll rant about Colonel Caleb and general's daughter. I just got the ideea and i had, once again, nowhere to rant about it.

Ahham. So....them having their own 'myth' lets say. They were lovers in their past lives(historical maybe the 1800 or the 1900)but couldn't be toghter since she was of lower status then Caleb, him being a Colonel in the army (i love Colonel Caleb so bear with me) and her being a commoner or someting and she dies in his arms and he swears to protect her in their next lives and faith makes sure to have them be of the same 'rank'??? so he could fullfill his promise FUCK MY MIND IS IN RUINS 😭😭😭😭😭😭

I hope i made myself clear if not blame my mind, thank you! Good night! 😭😂❤️❤️

MINA I AM DELIGHTED TO SEE YOU AND YOUR LOVELY AU AGAIN. <333 gosh I wanted to answer this immediately last night, but Caleb’s latest trailer had me losing my mind and things spiraled 😭😭😭

Giving you all of my attention, because EXCUSE ME. WHEELS ARE SPINNING.

Can we…can we just indulge on this a little more? 🥹 omg excuse the slightly heavy Moulin Rouge! influences sprinkled in here, but this is the vibe I am getting, especially for their “tragic” ending.

A Colonel and His Lover

Imagine Colonel Caleb is dragged to a brothel by his associates and superiors. He finds the whole thing disdainful, but is pressured by his own superiors to indulge in a little nightly fun and let loose and forget their duties for a bit.

He doesn’t plan to. He had planned on leaving the moment everyone finds their partners.

Until he sees you.

Literally lust love at first sight.

He’s captivated by your beauty, your wits, and he’s falling hard and fast before he realizes what is happening.

One night with you leaves him yearning for more. He has already remembered how you felt under him, the way you quivered and moaned for him.

He remembers the sweet nothings uttered between the two of you, and though a tiny part in his mind is telling him that you are just a whore who is good with her tongue, he wants to believe that there is something genuine blossoming between the two of you.

He starts going back to the whorehouse more often. Nightly, if he could. He still puts on an act that he was being pressured to tag along, but in reality, all he wants is to see you again. No matter what it takes, what the price, he wants you and only you.

In the beginning, he was just another client. One of those military brutes who only saw you as something that can be bought for and used until they were satisfied.

You did intentionally charm him in the beginning. A false smile, a few sweet words to prickle his male ego, but it soon becomes apparent to you that Caleb is not like all of your previous clients. When he sees you, there is genuine feelings in his eyes, he is truly looking at you for you and not just a body to be used.

You try to discourage your own feelings, reminding yourself of the different classes you belong to. This can never happen—could never happen.

A prestigious colonel on his way to greatness and a common whore? What a joke. It seems almost insulting to entertain such an idea that you could ever truly be his. You quiet those feelings, try to imagine him as any of those other bastards who drag you to bed.

Except you can’t.

Caleb won’t let you. He sees you for you. He wants to know you, the real you, who you have hidden away for years.

You no longer wait for him to come to you as a client. You begin to sneak around whenever you both could, having regular rendezvouses where he is no longer a client or you’re a whore, but two lovers meeting to be together.

After one afternoon delight, you lay with him in an inn bed, tangled in sheets and wrapped in his warmth, and he paints you a beautiful picture of the life you both could have together.

He would buy you all of the beautiful dresses for you to wear, show you off with pride, his equal at his side wherever he goes. Men may still lust after you, their wives green with envy, but to Caleb, he couldn’t care, because he knows you are his and his alone.

You would live in a beautiful house, your days filled with idle contentment and no longer have to worry about anything or want for anything. Caleb promises to provide you with everything you could want and more.

When you tell him, though, that he is all that you want, his cheeks tinge pink, but his smile is layered with joy and also…gratitude? He looks at you like you are his whole world, because that’s just how it is: you are his world now. He had never thought he could cherish someone as much as he cherishes you.

A beautiful life awaits you. He asks you to marry him.

For just a moment, you hesitate, and he is confused. He gently questions you, wondering if you have any doubts about his feelings.

“No! Never!” you tell him, and then reluctantly, you reveal that you could still feel that distance in classes between the two of you. You worry about his reputation, and Caleb seems surprised.

He reassures you there is nothing for you to worry about. He can handle whatever happens, and he promises to keep you safe.

You agree to marry him.

Life continues as normal as the two of you plan to run away and elope. He had promised you an extravagant wedding, but you want him now, already wanting to be his wife and he your husband.

This rosy life you are seeing turns grey in an instant, everything grinding to a halt when you start to display symptoms of an unknown illness. You start coughing up blood more often, your body weakened some days to the point you need to be bedridden. Secretly, you hid everything from Caleb, not wanting him to worry.

Caleb starts wising up, realizing something is wrong when you continue to evade his questions or even outrightly avoid meeting him again.

When a physician reveals to you that you only have less than five months to live, you realize that the dream life Caleb promised you would never come true. Not wanting him to bear the pain of seeing you dying, you start to drive a further wedge between the two of you, consciously doing things to make him hate you so he wouldn’t ever have to feel the pain of losing you.

It works.

You fight with him to the point that you’re both yelling and screaming at one another until he loses control of his anger and drives his fist into a wall, scaring you briefly, having never seen this side of him before. He doesn’t want you to see him like this either, so he leaves, leaving you with these bitter harsh words and some bills tossed at you in spite:

“I have paid for my whore. My debt is paid and she is nothing to me.”

When he is out of sight, you fall to the ground sobbing, angry at yourself for doing a good job of driving him away and making him hate your existence. The man you loved is gone, and though it hurts, you still wish he would find someone to replace you, because you still love him with your whole heart and never want him to be alone like this.

Caleb is angry and it shows. The Colonel has always been very disciplined and strict, but everyone has noticed his temper seemed even more short. There is no leniency with him. You mess up, he will make sure you learn from your mistakes. You talk back to him, and it will be your last words in his presence.

He starts to drink more often, wishing to numb his pain, to forget your fights, to forget you. There is no alcohol in the world strong enough to cure him of this heartache. In spite of everything, he still loves you. He replays the memories often, wondering when everything had gone wrong.

One night as he sits at the bar, on his fifth glass of scotch, he pulls out a ring box, opening it to look at the dainty little ring he had secretly chosen for you. It wasn’t a huge diamond, but still perfectly sized, and he knows it would look beautiful on your finger.

He downs his glass, pays his tab, and stumbles out of the bar. He staggers through the streets disoriented, not even thinking clearly of where he is going.

He finds himself at the brothel again, and he scoffs. He goes in, demanding to see you.

The madame there tries to turn him away. She knows who he is, and also knows of his secret relationship with one her girls. She knows what you two had planned, because you had revealed everything to her and begged her to never let him come near you again—for his sake. Always for his sake. Even as you are dying upstairs, each day, you breathing growing weaker, you still think of him.

Caleb doesn’t take “no” for an answer and in his current drunken state, he is more prone to violence than usual, slurring insults about you in spite. It isn’t until one of the other girls screams out that you were dying, that he freezes, sobering up instantly.

“What…did you say?”

His whole world had stopped. The colors drain from his face, his heart slowing as he replays her words in his mind. The dots start to connect as he remembers all of your final fights, realizing your expressions had always seemed off somehow.

His throat is dry, his limbs rigid as he tries to move. Suddenly, he runs off in a mad dash before anyone could stop him. He rushes up the stairs, passing several rooms, pushing anyone in his way to the side until he finds your room, the door bursting open and he freezes again, not recognizing the frail woman laying in bed under multiple covers as a nurse is tending to her.

Caleb doesn’t leave and rushes to your side, dropping to his knees as he reaches for your hand, begging you to look at him. He apologizes profusely, his eyes glistening with tears.

“Why didn’t you tell me?! Why did you lie to me?! Why, why…why…”

His large hands wrapped around yours, holding it close to his face as he sobs.

“Ca..leb…”

He looks up, seeing you smiling at him weakly.

“I’m here,” he assures you, “I’m here…I’m not leaving…Not again…”

Too weak to fight, too relieved to see him, you let him stay and you close your eyes.

He stays by your side for your remaining days, cherishing the little time you had left.

One afternoon as he watches you sleep, he sits on the edge of the bed, his fingers brushing aside your hair, his eyes heavy with sadness as he realizes how frail and pale you are now compared to who you were months earlier. Quietly, he pulls out the ring box, taking the ring out, and slipping it on your ring finger. It looks perfect on you, just like he had known it would.

When you wake that evening and see the ring, you start to protest, saying it’s wasted on you.

He silences you with a kiss, and once again, he reassures you that nothing he does for you is ever wasted effort. You are his only bride, and no one will ever take your place.

Time dwindles, and he watches you waste away each day, his heart heavy with remorse and anger that he is losing you before his very eyes and there is nothing that he can do to stop this. For all of his strength and glory, Caleb has never felt as weak and helpless as he does now.

He tries to fill your days with as much comfort and happiness as he could.

It was a spring afternoon when he lays in bed with you. He leans back against the headboard, your body resting against his, the cover up to your neck for warmth, but nothing felt more comforting than his own body heat against you.

He tells you stories again and as you listen to him, you wonder why his voice sounds more distant even though he is right here next to you.

Caleb watches, realizing, he has lost you, your body growing colder and unresponsive.

He breaks down crying as a warm spring breeze rustles into the room from the opened balcony door. He holds you close to him and just sobs and curses every deity in the world.

He promises in the next life, he will be a better man and give you what you deserve. In the next life, things will go right. The story of you and him will be rewritten, he swears on his life.

[captain-bubble-wrap]

Hiiii i have a request from your list if you take any at the moment.

10.. "You bought me flowers?"

Maybe Quinn x reader and he brings her glowers just because and shes overwhelmed because she never really had anyone doing that for her (besides her parents on birthdays or something) but never romantically!!

Sorry this took so long! I had two requests come in the same day I combined both prompts. 🩷

You had laid down on your sofa about two hours ago. It had been a kind of throw-away day with Quinn traveling back to Vancouver after finishing a long road series. They had encountered some bad weather and their flight had been delayed, so you had decided to catch up on some sleep while you waited for him to get back to the city since it seemed like it was going to be a late night. However, you had left your phone on the kitchen counter with the volume off, having gone to the movies the night before, so you hadn't heard any of his text notifications.

My Huggy Bear: They're finally letting us take off. I'll message you when we touch down. I love you. (2:32am)

My Huggy Bear: Have I mentioned enough that I've missed you? (2:17am)

My Huggy Bear: Oh, I said I'd message you when we got back, didn't I? 😅 (2:17am)

My Huggy Bear: I do, though, I miss you a lot. I'll be home soon. (2:25am)

My Huggy Bear: I'm guessing you fell asleep. I'm jealous. Turbulence is too bad for me to get to sleep. (2:37am)

My Huggy Bear: I'm going to leave you alone so these messages don't wake you. I love you. (2:41am)

My Huggy Bear: Finally back in BC, babe. (8:12am)

My Huggy Bear: I'm going to come by in a bit if you don't care. (8:55am)

Apparently, your body thought when you laid now that it wasn't just for a simple nap. It would be morning before you finally woke up, and that was because of the sound of your doorbell going off. Slowly, you put your feet down on the ground and shuffled to the door. Having not seen any of Quinn's messages, or even what time it was, everything was such a blur. Through the peep-hole, you'd make out Quinn's figure standing on your porch.

"Oh, hi baby," you yawned after opening the door and struggling to function after waking so abruptly.

He just looked at you and smiled, though he himself, was just as groggy as you were. "Good morning, babe."

You opened your arms for a hug and you both nearly stumbled through the door, "I'm so glad you're home!"

"So am I," he chuckled, holding on to you with his one free arm. "Did I wake you up?"

"It's okay, I didn't aim to fall asleep on the sofa, but I guess I did anyways."

"Ah, so I'm guessing you didn't see my messages."

When the two of you parted ways, you'd close the door and turn back towards him. "I never heard my-- I must have left it somewhere! I'm sorry baby!"

Again, he smiled as he watched you move about and wake up in stages. He knew you'd never ignore him on purpose (as least he hoped not) but he appreciated that you acknowledged when you had missed them. "I didn't expect you to stay awake until we landed. It's okay." Quinn stepped forward and gave you a kiss. That was when the scent of floral hit you.

"Oh, I got you something this morning," he added, bringing the bouquet up from his side. You somehow hadn't noticed, likely because of your sleepy state.

"You bought me flowers?" You asked, shocked by the gesture. "Quinny, they're beautiful!"

"I'm glad you like them," he confessed, watching as you brought them to your nose. "I just wanted to get you something, as an apology for not getting home when I wanted to."

Following a deep inhale of the fresh flowers, you'd look at Quinn concerned, "You didn't owe me an apology, baby! You can't help the weather! I'm just glad you're safe! That's all that matters to me."

"Still, I should get them for you more often. I know how much you like them."

You'd smile at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. "You're so sweet, but you don't have to!"

"I'll see what I can do," he winked, his forehead against yours. "I love you."

His confession took your breath away with how he had said it. His voice was low; that sleepy tone that always drove you wild. "I love you, too, Quinn. So much!"

You both would share a series of kisses --slow and passionate-- that expressed just how much you both had missed the other.

"Do you mind if I stay here with you today?" He mumbled, his lips still close to yours.

\"Of course not!"

"I don't want to drive home."

You pouted, "I don't want you to leave." In reality, you never wanted him to leave when you were together, but it was nice when he asked you if he could stay.

"Come lay down with me?"

"I'll meet you in there. I need to get these into water first." You'd give him the softest kiss to his pouty lips before he would let you walk away from him. Quinn wouldn't wander into the bedroom like you thought. Instead, he'd follow you into the kitchen and hover just over your shoulder while you worked. His arms wrapped around your waist, his lips painting kisses behind your ear and down your neck. He wasn't trying to distract you, and in truth, it would take you a lot longer to transfer the bouquet to a vase than it should have, but Quinn was always a welcomed hindrance.

"I just missed you," he whispered. "I hate being gone for so long now. It didn't affect me until I met you."

Your hands found his at your stomach, as you laid your head back on his shoulder, "I'm sorry, baby."

"Don't be. I just love you. Makes coming back to you so much nicer," he smiled as he spoke, placing one last kiss to your temple before letting you go. "That's enough sad confessions for one morning, yeah?"

You nodded, "Mhm, let's go lay down. I'll make a late lunch after."

"I'd like that, baby. Thank you."

- - -

The weeks following Quinn returning from the 6-game stretch had brought with them numerous surprises. He spent more time at your house than his apartment, more of this things dotted your place than ever had before, and most unexpected of them all were the weekly flower arrangements that showed up "just because", as he put it. He had told you that he would try to get them for you more often, and you should have known better that he wasn't talking to just hear his own voice. Sure enough, at some point through the week, on the road or in Vancouver, Quinn had flowers delivered to you with cute little love notes attached.

Your house smelled like a flower shop and was beginning to look like one as well. Each room had a vase and every time you saw one of them, butterflies tickled your heart and stomach. You hoped that Quinn knew how much each and every one of them meant to you and the meaning they held. He seemed to like them as well, always making small compliments on how nice a certain flower smelled or liking where you had placed one within the house.

He was becoming your Disney prince right before your eyes.

[redwyverndht]

ok. to all those people saying "the people are fine, I don't like the CCP": do you actually know anything about the Communist Party of China? Anything at all?

Do you know about their policies under Deng Xiaoping, the balancing act of "liberalization", how if affects more than one billion people every day, and how those people interact with their government?

Do you know about the practice of Democratic Life Meetings (民主生活會), how officials, from the lowest local offices, to the highest of ministers, are meant to debate and rid the Party of inefficiency through open debate? Do you know how some see it as a mostly ceremonial task with no real impact in policy, and how it's seen as a revival of Maoist thought and policy?

Do you know how all Chinese companies, per art. 5 of the PRC Constitution, have Party offices and committees as part of their company structure, which often host? Have you ever wondered how that changes employee relationships, HR practices, how that could affect culture?

I can't find any English-language information with a neutral view of everyday Chinese culture. Nearly every single website in English talking about committees in enterprises are Forbes, The Guardian, US intelligence agencies. This makes sense, I looked it up in English.

But have you ever seen where your perception of the Communist Party comes from? It's not from everyday Chinese people. Do you hate the CCP, or do you hate the idea of it the American government and its allies of the neoliberal order have planted into your mind? Why do you always mention Taiwan, Tibet, Xinjiang, Tian'anmen Square, Mao's Great Leap Forward?

That is like having everyone only mention the United States in terms of Jim Crow, chattel slavery, imperialism in the support of both fascist dictators and inefficient and unequal neoliberal regimes in Latin America, the killing of millions of people in the Middle East... I could go on for a while, but if you're American you probably know all that.

But is that your entire life?

I am NOT saying governments shouldn't be criticized. But you can't imagine what it is like when those criticisms are the ONLY thing your country is reduced to. If you're American, everyone is forced to know about you. Everyone has to care about your elections, know what a "Republican" is, because you are the hegemon of the planet. For now.

Americans will never encounter that reduction and xenophobia regarding their own country's legacy, because, inevitably someone will go "what about everything else?" Your movies, your inventions, your art, your music, your lives. Everyone will remember them, whether they want to or not. This does not negate oppression inside the United States, nor the actions of its government.

You should criticize that.

But the average citizen outside the American imperial core will not have that same grace. They will have their entire country, their identity, reduced to those things. To Taiwan, Tibet, Xinjiang, Tian'anmen Square, Mao's Great Leap Forward. To the Cartel, drug smuggling, crime rates, insecurity. To religious extremism, to poverty, to the eternal victim of violence.

To you "criticism" of their country's government.

Have you ever considered that the internal politics of other countries is those countries citizens' business? How you should shut the fuck up about governments you don't know, about oppression you don't face? Maybe you should focus that energy ranting about the CCP into actually making a difference in your own country?

How about you shut up when you don't know what you're talking about?

[xiaq]

Story time: Amazon can go fuck itself, and other genteel thoughts.

Good evening. I’m angry.

Up until now, I’ve purchased the majority of items I can’t thrift from Amazon because it’s easy and cost-effective, despite the moral qualms I have about the company. Previously, support was simple. If an item was damaged or a package didn’t arrive, you hopped on chat/the phone, provided proof, and they gave you a refund or return label.

But some shitstain from on high has introduced a new “incident report” process when something goes wrong. You submit your details, you wait 72 hours, and then they give you a refund. This would also be fine. If it fucking worked. But I have, at this point, irrefutable evidence that this is not actually how the process is intended to work. It’s meant to drive you so far up the wall that you either die from a stress-induced heart attack, or rage quit, and they get to keep your money.

In the last several months, I’ve had to submit three incident reports for damaged and undelivered items (I’m also encountering a lot more issues with item delivery, but that’s a different story).

ALL THREE TIMES, the process has taken weeks rather than days because ALL THREE TIMES they conveniently “had no record” of multiple incident reports I submitted despite the fact that I had confirmation emails each and every time.

Now, I’m a petty bitch, so even though the hours I was spending checking in, waiting on hold on the phone, being passed from agent to agent, was not worth the $10 and $20 refunds I was trying to get them to honor, I wasn’t going to give up. This last time, though. Oh they really tried.

So. My item isn’t delivered. I submit an incident report on the 12th and get my confirmation email of the submission on the 12th. I haven’t heard back by the 14th so I call and check. Shockingly, they have no record of my report. I submit another one, get another confirmation email. I call back the next day to check they received it. They have not. I beg them to let me forward the confirmation emails I have. I ask what else I can do different. They tell me to submit a new report and hang up on me. I submit another report. I receive another confirmation email. I call the next day. Can you guess? They have no record of it. This time, I ask for them to stay on the line with me while I submit a new report and confirm it’s been received. He confirms receipt and promises I will receive a response by the 21st. I record this conversation because I have a suspicion.

Hello. It is the 21st. Have I received a response? No. I call back. THIS ASSHOLE, who I’m pretty sure is reading this shit from a script, says, (are you ready for this) “There’s no record of an incident report, you’ll need to submit one.” I insist that I had confirmation in writing and verbally. She insists it does not exist.

So I tell her. I now have four confirmation emails. I have a recording of an Amazon support person with their credentials assuring me with the product number stated, that they’ve received my report. I also have been recording this conversation. And if she cannot assist me, I will be posting those emails and both recordings to every social media platform I have, filing a BBB complaint, and checking with my lawyer to see what options I have for legal action (do I have a lawyer? Of course not. But she doesn’t know that).

Immediately, she is backpedaling. “Oh, let me check again, maybe I missed it.” Less than 30 seconds later she’s back on the line. “I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding, I do have your report here. I will process a refund now.” Shocking. I am shocked.

IT SHOULD NOT TAKE THIS MUCH EFFORT TO GET A COMPANY TO HONOR THEIR PROMISED LEVEL OF SUPPORT.

Jesus Christ.

B and I will be finding different local places to purchase items we tend to buy via Amazon now, because I have every intention of ending our Prime membership. It looks like between Costco and Target we should be covered.

Anyway. No point to this except to rant. Thanks for reading if you got this far. I’m going to go lay under the weight of my dog and try to get my heart rate down.

[meadowfics]

going for a ride

nam-gyu x f!reader + thanos x f!reader + se-mi x f!reader

would it be greedy to want all three in the same night?

warnings: nsfw!!!!!! not a foursome but you get all three of them in the same night. smut!!! 18+!! minors dni. alcohol and drinking involved, reader has female genitalia, reader being insanely down bad, fingering (reader receiving), p in v, overstimulation, oral (thanos receiving), strap (reader receiving from se-mi), strap sucking, squirting, voyeurism, exhibitionism(?), breeding kink, non-squid game au.

this fic is NASTYYY.. so... I am not responsible for the content you choose to read after you click, "keep reading"

in the comfort of your own apartment, you wore an all black outfit.

low waisted wide legged black joggers, a simple black pair of underwear underneath, and a black tube top.

your hardened nipples poked through your tube top, a sight that nam gyu noticed right away when he was the first to arrive.

you invited nam-gyu, thanos, and se-mi to your apartment tonight. at midnight since you got out of work earlier and had free time.

all three of your, "friends," believed that they were coming to get drunk and smoke. thanks to the mini bar you had in your kitchen.

however, you hoped to live out one your biggest fantasies tonight.

what are those fantasies, perhaps?

well, you hope to sleep with all three of them tonight. individually while the others watched.

the first person to arrive was nam-gyu.

when you opened up the door to your apartment for him, the cool air from the hallway hit the front of your body.. causing your nipples to harden and poke through your black tube top.

"whats up!!?"

you say, pretending to ignore nam-gyu's eyes meeting your chest first before fully acknowledging you.

"nothing much, I'm just ready to get wasted tonight."

he brushes past you softly, heading straight to the kitchen where you kept most of your liquor bottles.

"don't have too much fun."

you smirk, knowing that there will be more than fun later.

"well thats what I am here for."

nam-gym looked back at you while holding one of your smirnoff bottles.

five minutes after nam-gyu arrived, you heard your door opening.

it was thanos, of course.

the man who never bothers to knock before letting himself in.

"yo yo yo!"

he greets you.

you smirk as you go in for a hug, making sure he feels your hardened nipples through your top.

he does!

the man pulls back from your hug, keeping his hands on your arms as he looks down at your chest.

"are you cold?"

he asks.

"maybe.."

you tease.

thanos nearly questioned your behavior before he noticed nam-gyu on your couch.

"save some for me bro what the fuck?"

he says as nam-gyu takes a big gulp of the alcohol in his slender hands.

you hear a light knock after witnessing thanos snatch the bottle from nam-gyu.. you knew it was se-mi.

"you know you don't have to knock, love."

the first thing you say after opening up the door, seeing se-mi with her typical smirk on her face, she holds a tote bag too.

"I don't want to be rude.."

se-mi teases, walking inside of the apartment while keeping her eyes on you.

"you? rude? never!"

"because she's a bitch."

nam-gyu cuts in, walking over to stand right beside you as se-mi sits on the chair by your dining room table.

"fuck off."

se-mi rolls her eyes.

on the couch after everyone settled in, with a couple of alcohol bottles on the table and vapes (thanks to thanos), you start to think about how you're going to execute your plan.

its not like your lust for the three of them is one sided.

you see how nam-gyu basically eye-fucks you whenever he thinks that you aren't noticing.

you observe thano's light touches on your skin whoever he is trying to walk by you in a tight space. the way that his hands always rest on your lower hips and always stays for a second too long.

you notice how se-mi always bites her lip whenever you adjust your shirt, pick up something and bend down in front of her, or when you give her your undivided attention.

you go to reach for the smirnoff bottle, unaware that nam-gyu was just about to as well.

snatching it first, you took the lid off and took a shot.

there its a tiny bit left, thanks to thanos drinking most of it when he first arrived.

"what the fuck? you just drunk it all!"

"so?"

you smirk.

"so, go get us another one."

nam-gyu uses his hand, a wave, in order to signal you to go get another liquor bottle.

even though you could be pissed off, you think this is the perfect moment.

"no."

nam-gyu's eyes darken.

"what?"

you smirk at the way his fists clench together.

"make me."

your head leans back on nam-gyu's shoulder as his fingers rapidly bump inside of your core.

the black joggers of yours were on the ground at this point, your black underwear pushed to the side as you sit in front of nam gyu, leaned back on the front of his body.

he held your left thigh, keeping it open while using his right leg to keep your other leg apart.

basically, your private parts were displayed for the other two to see.

se-mi watches along, breathing a little bit harder than normal as she looks at your pretty pussy, seeing how soaked you are while while taking nam-gyu's long fingers.

thanos had his vape pod attached to his lips, basically using it as a oral fixation while watching nam-gyu going hard on you as well.

you put your head up for a second, biting your lip at thanos who gave you a look of lust back. a look which says,

"I'm next."

as you clench around nam-gyu's fingers, he pulls out.. he goes to circling around your clit as well while biting your shoulder.

thanos was close enough for you to reach out and squeeze his thigh.. you could tell he was turned on since his dick was pressed up against his pants, begging for release.

if only you could see how se-mi was turned on at this moment, seeing your wet center on display in front of her as your boobs were popped out of your tube top.

the mean man pushed you off of him, making you go on all fours on your couch with your head resting on thano's thigh.

nam-gyu impatiently pulls his pants down halfway before pushing into you, stretching your walls out as your mouth hangs open.

"fuck!"

you moaned out on thano's leg.

the purple haired man played with your hair as nam-gyu started rearranging your insides.. his dick punching your g-spot as thanos looked at you with lust.. growing impatient for his turn.

you tried lifting your head up to look at se-mi, who is paying attention to the way your ass repeatedly smacks onto nam-gyu's hips.. but nam-gyu uses his hand to push your head back down into thano's lap.

your moaning is nonstop as you feel thano's boner pressed onto your cheek through his pants

you want to help him but you doubt that nam-gyu would appreciate that.

as you clench onto his dick, nam-gyu takes a few of his inches out before he releases inside of you.. painting your walls white.

when nam-gyu pulls out and flops onto the opposite side of the couch, obviously very tired and drunk to pull his pants up all the way.. thanos lifts your head up slowly.

"don't worry babygirl, I'll go a little bit easier."

you take your hands and help him pull his dick out of pants.. not bothering to pull his pants down all of the way either.

your plump lips attach itself to his tip like a magnet on a refrigerator.

you take your time sucking on thanos, who had his head thrown back while not bothering to cover his moans.

se-mi looked ahead, starting to grow impatient with the sight.

little did you know, se-mi had a strap inside of her tote bag.. which she was planning on using when nam-gyu and thanos left, but it looks like they'll be staying for her show.

noticing that you were still naked from the waist down, you crawled around thanos leg, continuing your handjob on him, before arching your back again.. making sure that se-mi saw your soaked vagina from arm's length.

your moans were barely concealed as you were riding thano's cock.. the palms of your feet balancing on the couch as your boobs basically took over the rapper's eyesight.

se-mi basically looked at your ass the entire time, while nam-gyu was nearly knocked out on the end of the couch.. thanks to your good pussy and the alcohol mix.

"you're so deep, fuck!"

you yelled the last word.

"keep going, just like that."

thanos praises.

your second orgasm of the night nearly takes over, you coming undone all over his dick and thighs.

however, he was not done yet.

thano's wraps his arms around your waist, and thrusts up into you at a rapid speed.

sorry to your neighbors, but you squealed as the overstimulation took hold of your body.

"maybe I should nut in this pussy like nam-su did, huh? we could get you pregnant and you'd have to wait nine months to guess who the father is, huh? nam-su what do you think about that?"

"its nam-gyu."

se-mi cuts in, nearly cringing at thano's dirty talk.

"fuck!"

you yelp as you feel thano's pulse inside of you..

he finishes inside of you, breeding you the same way his friend did minutes beforehand.

your legs were sore, but you were not going to leave se-mi hanging.

the woman pulled your body on top of hers, bringing your lips to hers as her hands went around to grip your ass.

at this point, nam-gyu is awake.. as if he never went to sleep in the first place.. while thanos watched with tired eyes.. of course they wasn't going to miss this!

nam-gyu already has his pants pulled up as he looks at se-mi's hands on you.

se-mi plans on going soft with you, at least until she notices that you've gained some energy back.

her left hand continues to massage your ass, while her right hand goes to reach into her bag..

when she pulls some dark red straps out.. a burgundy color almost.. nam-gyu looked ahead in confusion.

thanos, seeing nam-gyu's confusion on his face, smacks his knee.

"dude, its a strap. she's gonna fuck her with a dildo."

"ohhh, cool."

nam-gym giggles.

"se-mi, I need you."

you whimper.

"how badly?"

se-mi smirks, pushing you off of her lightly while she goes to stand up.

the taller women takes her sweatpants off, leaving her black boyshort underwear on as she puts on the straps.

of course she is keeping her shirt on, she is not letting someone like nam-gyu get any more ideas.

"I need you so bad, please!"

you sit on your knees in front of se-mi.

your hand goes underneath her shirt, getting a handful of her breasts and squeezing them before going to roll her nipple with your pointer finger and middle finger.

"fuck!"

se-mi groans.

after the woman puts on the six inch black dildo onto the straps, you move to lay down on the couch, with your head nearly on thano's thigh again.

"no no, come here."

se-mi points down at her strap.

you bite your lip, coming back to se-mi on your knees.

"I want you to suck my dick."

se-mi whispers seductively.

you grab the plastic and start sucking on the tip of it, as if it was the real thing.

however, se-mi pushes your head down further onto her strap, making you deep throat on it.

spit falls down the sides of the straps as se-mi fucks your throat, her biting onto her lip harshly as you look up at her with love-filled eyes.

"I didn't know you had that dominance in you, se-mi."

nam-gyu teases from the other end of the couch.

"shut the fuck up."

se-mi clenches her teeth.

after growing too desperate, the woman pulls your head off of her.

she turns you around on all fours like nam-gyu did earlier.

as a woman, she knows which places you want stimulated and paid attention to.

so, she teases the dildo along your slick, teasing the head around the clit before pushing into your hole.

"shhitttt!"

you clench your teeth.

your vagina is so, so sore. its clear that you will not be able to walk for the next few days, since it seems like se-mi isn't going to be so easy on you.

at least you're soaked, because the other woman didn't need any lube to start rapidly fucking into you.

your eyes roll as your mouth is hung open, no moans coming out at this point since you're so overstimulated.

"here."

you hear thanos say before you feel his thumb press into your mouth.

you suck onto his thumb like you did with his dick earlier as se-mi touches all of the right places inside of you.

"fuck fuck fuck!"

se-mi smacks your ass, leaving a hand-print there.

you couldn't process your next orgasm quickly, since all you feel is a waterfall break inside of you.

"oh my god."

you moaned, embarrassed.

"holy shit, do you see that dude?"

nam-gyu asks thanos, who looks ahead in surprise.

the men do not know if they're fascinated or jealous.

after squirting all over se-mi's strap, getting your liquids all over her and your couch.. she pulls out slowly.. aware of how sensitive you are.

the woman takes off her strap, tossing it to the side before putting her sweatpants back on quickly.

you're tired, laid on the couch naked with your back facing up.

se-mi picks you up slowly, holding you on the left side of her body.

"hey baby, are you okay?"

se-mi comforts you.

"tired, but I'm okay."

you mumble as you wrap your arms around her waist.

"would you like us to get you any water?"

"please."

"nam-gyu go get her water."

se-mi demands.

surprisingly, nam-gyu listens without protest.

"what can I do for you, baby?"

thanos comes up to you, massaging your lower legs as you look at him with a twinkle in your eyes.

"come lay."

you pat on the spot on your left, since se-mi is on your right.

"so what about me?"

nam-gyu comes back from the kitchen, holding four water bottles.

"you can lay here."

you signal for him to lay on top of you, his head laying on your chest as the other two give you warmth from the side.

in conclusion, your lustful plan worked out pretty well.

[demonic0angel]

Dead silent in the dragon au? I'm a sucker for them and I do like dragons

(Sure :D)

Part 4...?

Cassandra observed the lair of the Ghost King, a powerful dragon who was said to have an undiscoverable lair and a hoard full of mysterious treasures. In reality, while it had been hard to find, it was rather ordinary. She had seen bigger. Her own sire and guardian had a lair that was based entirely on an underground cave system and he had riches that had knights and lords from various kingdoms and countries coming to kill him every week.

The Ghost King’s lair was still impressive, just not what she had expected from the various rumors she heard. The lair was modestly sized and on the bigger side, and located inside of an abandoned human castle. The hoard itself was a collection of strange objects that she could not decipher.

Perhaps human object lovers like Jason, who collected books, and Damian, who had only just started to collect swords, would know.

Cassandra was a little confused by this collection, but the Ghost King’s scent was pleasing and some of the things he had were sparkly, so she wasn’t too ready to leave yet.

She perked up at the sound of growls and fire breathing. She flapped her little wings and climbed onto the ceiling with her claws. Quickly scurrying outside, she watched wide eyed as a beautiful white dragon was digging his teeth into a beefy yellow dragon. The white dragon was on the smaller side, leaner, but he had sharp fangs and claws and they were able to tear into the flesh of the other dragon easily.

The other dragon blew fire and wailed, but the white dragon pulled back to breathe out ice and trap it before digging back in, blood spurting and dripping from mortal wounds.

Cassandra watched in awe as the dragon flapped his wings for extra strength. Said wings were large and wide, colored white with black at the tips.

Most amazingly, they were feathered wings. The rest of the dragon’s body was scaled, but those feathered wings rose high and mighty, like clouds and mist.

The white dragon roared and then in one vicious move, bit down on the neck of the other dragon, reared his head back up, and then tossed it to the side, where the yellow dragon whimpered and then flew away with a flap. The white dragon bristled, snarling, before wiping away the blood on his snout.

Cassandra shivered at the raw strength of this dragon before she gave a low purr and crawled back inside, where she dropped from the ceiling and then began scenting the strange hoard. She was determined to meet this dragon for herself.

The Ghost King came back inside his lair, pausing as he registered her scent before he cautiously approached. When he saw her, he froze in place for a long time before he spoke.

“Hello. I am Danny, youngest son of the Nightingales.” He gave a bow, discreetly trying to rub off more of the blood on his pearly scales. His two pairs of eyes blinked at her, green and bright like emeralds.m

Cassandra gave a bow. “I am Cassandra, oldest daughter of the Waynes. What is your hoard made of?”

Danny, the Ghost King, crept towards her and said, “It’s my collection of astrology items. Human made things that let you see the stars.” He paused in front of her. “I love the stars. These things help me see and study them.”

Cassandra gave a turn, eying the hoard in a new light. “Fascinating. I’ve seen many hoards, yours are one of the most different.”

“… you like it?” He asked, tail wagging.

She nodded.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, tail wagging even more.

Cassandra paused. She had never been called beautiful by another dragon before. Her black scales looked muddy and they were freckled and scarred. She was not slender like other dragons, because she was a fighter, not a flier.

For a moment, she was extremely self conscious in front of this beautiful, white dragon who was King and powerful and interesting and gentle.

“I… I know that I am not the ideal mate, but I can protect our nest. I’m the best fighter in my family,” Cassandra said.

Danny leaned down and then nuzzled her. “You’re beautiful. No one has approached my lair or hoard before and stayed. Your scars are comets and your scales look like a starry night. I’m strong, but I hate fighting. With you, then maybe….”

Cassandra purred and rubbed against his chest, their scales making sparks together.

Danny returned the rumbling purr and then asked, “May I formally court you?”

She chirped happily. “You may.”

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reacting to their s/o who loves smiles but feels insecure about showing their teeth

Request: Halooo I am the same anon that req wisdom tooth drabble!!! So can I req for svt ot13 s/o that love smile but never showed their teeth cause they're insecure with it?? I do have an open bite and I do be jealous w ppl that can smile with their normal teeth 🥲🥲 Also can I be ur ⭐️ anon??

A/N: This is dedicated to all kinds of smiles—big, small, toothy, closed, crooked, or perfectly aligned. It’s easy to compare ourselves to others, especially when society has such rigid standards for something as personal as a smile. But the truth is, the world isn’t looking for perfect smiles; it’s looking for your smile—the one that lights up the people around you, the one that reflects your joy, and the one that makes you you. Whether you’re someone who shows off their teeth confidently or someone who keeps their smiles shy, you are absolutely radiant just the way you are. I hope this reaction brings you warmth, and maybe even a little courage to embrace your smile, because SEVENTEEN and I think it’s the best one there is. Thank you for reading, and remember: your smile is a gift, not just to you but to everyone lucky enough to see it! 💛

I definitely encourage you to read everyone's part, especially Minghao's.

Seungcheol: Cheol would notice right away how you always smile with your lips closed. He’d encourage you without pushing too hard, so you’d catch him saying things like, “I love it when you smile—it’s my favorite thing about you.” And when you explain why you’re self-conscious, his protective mode kicks in. In his mind, you’re perfect exactly as you are. He’d make a habit of kissing your forehead after every smile, as if to say, Thank you for sharing this with me. Warm, comforting, and always your biggest cheerleader.

Jeonghan: Jeonghan is a tease—but in the sweetest way possible. He’d catch you hiding your teeth and tease you playfully about how even your shy smile could start a fan club. But deep down, he’d be the FIRST to remind you that nobody’s smile is ‘wrong’. He’d even come up with ridiculous scenarios like, “If anyone says anything about your teeth, I’ll report them to Smile Security.” Sure, it’s dramatic, but somehow it’s comforting. With him, you’d slowly start to see your smile through his eyes: bright, genuine, and absolutely worth showing off.

Joshua: Shua’s the ‘patient and reassuring’ type. He’d never rush you into anything but would always make it known how much he loves your smile—whether or not it shows your teeth. He’d probably sit with you one evening and casually mention how he used to be insecure about something too, just to remind you that everyone has their struggles. The way he’d look at you every time you smiled? Pure love and admiration. Slowly but surely, you’d start feeling like, Maybe my smile isn’t so bad after all.

Jun: Junhui wouldn’t even let you finish explaining your insecurity before he’d start showering you with compliments. He’d be so sweet and genuine about it too, like, “What? But your smile is so pretty! Have you seen yourself?” He’d probably find little ways to make you smile more, through goofy antics or heartfelt gestures. The best part? He’d never let you feel like you had to change—he loves your smile, whether it’s teeth-showing or not. And his genuine enthusiasm? It’s impossible not to feel a little brighter around him.

Hoshi: Hoshi would make it his personal mission to see your biggest, toothiest smile. He’s dramatic like that. He'd do the silliest things to make you laugh, like impersonating the other members or dancing in the weirdest ways (mind you he's performance team leader TT). When you finally let out a full smile, he’d stop mid-act and just stare. “Wow. That’s the one. That’s the smile that could light up a stadium.” And you’d know he’s not exaggerating (even though he’s Hoshi and exaggerates everything). It’s just how he loves—with his whole heart. I'm feeling soft :(

Wonwoo: He’d notice your insecurities but wouldn’t bring them up directly. Instead, would focus on making you comfortable and appreciated. He’d probably start complimenting you in subtle ways, like, “Your smile is really nice,” or “You look happiest when you smile.” Over time, his steady reassurance would make you feel less self-conscious. And when you finally smile without holding back, he’d just give you that soft, proud look, as if to say, See? I knew it was beautiful.

Woozi: Woozi would be a mix of logical and sweet about it. He’d listen to your reasons and then quietly debunk every single one of them, like, “Who said teeth have to be perfect to make a smile beautiful? That’s nonsense.” He’d focus more on how your smile makes him feel—happy, loved, and lucky to know you. And if you ever caught him sneaking a photo of you smiling? Just know it’s because he wants to remember how happy you looked in that moment.

Dokyeom: Oh boy, Seokmin would be all over this. He lives for smiles, especially yours. He’d probably start a whole campaign to make you feel better about it, complete with compliments, funny jokes, and random bursts of Look at that gorgeous smile! energy. You’d have no choice but to smile around him because he’s just that infectious. And when you finally let out a toothy grin, he’d gasp like, “I KNEW IT! YOU HAVE THE BEST SMILE IN THE WORLD!” Dramatic? Yes. Effective? Absolutely.

Mingyu: Kim Mingyu, the man he is, would be the type to go above and beyond to make you feel good about your smile. He’d start by complimenting you constantly and taking candid photos where you look natural and happy. Then, he’d show them to you like, “Look at this—your smile could cure my bad days.” He’d probably even bring it up to the members like, “Isn’t her smile the best thing ever?” And when you roll your eyes at him, he’d just grin and say, “See? Even your eyeroll smile is perfect.” AHHGHTCGTCGCFFCCT

Minghao: Hao would be supportive and no-nonsense. He’d listen to your insecurities, acknowledge your feelings, and then remind you that nobody’s perfect. “Imperfections make us human,” he’d say, and it would somehow hit deeper than you expected. He’d probably encourage you to focus on how your smile feels rather than how it looks, and over time, his grounded perspective would help you see your smile in a whole new light. With him (with others too), you’d start to appreciate the beauty in being uniquely you.

Seungkwan: Seungkwan would be the loudest advocate for your smile. “Are you kidding me!” He’d probably start hyping you up every time you smiled, to the point where it becomes impossible not to feel confident about it. And if anyone dared to say something negative about your teeth? Oh, he’d drag them to filth, no hesitation I'm telling you. With Seungkwan in your corner, you’d never have to doubt your smile again.

Vernon: He would be ridiculously sweet. He’d casually drop comments like, “Your smile’s cool,” and then act like it’s no big deal—when really, he’s melting inside every time he sees it. He’d never pressure you to show your teeth but would secretly be over the moon whenever you did. And the way he’d look at you in those moments? Pure adoration. Honestly, he’d make you feel like the coolest person in the world, open bite or not.

Dino: Chan would be all about boosting your confidence. He’d give you a pep talk about how unique smiles are the best smiles and how yours is his favorite thing about you. He’d hype you up so much that you’d almost feel like a celebrity. And when you finally smiled without holding back, he’d act like it’s the greatest thing he’s ever seen. “That’s it! That’s the smile that could rules my heart!” That’s just how much he cares.

[revelboo]

Am I going insane or has no one asked for D-16??? If not them I am going to humbly bEG YOU PLEASE LET ME SMOOCH HIM HE DESERVES IT

Sure! Took me a bit to figure out a plot convenience to get a reader to him, Megatronus Prime, and Silverbolt

Fight For You

D-16 x Reader

• Hefting his drill, D-16 sidesteps out of the way of a much bigger, cogged bot. The other not even sparing him a glance. Not even seeing him, because miners are barely above drones in their optics. But what he’s doing matters even if they don’t see him. There’s energon because of him and the others, risking their lives to make sure there are no shortages. That no one goes wanting. And if they cut his rations again? It’s because it was needed elsewhere. Cogless bots are smaller, need less even if there’s a vague dissatisfaction he has to keep pushing down.

• Listening to the chatter around you and sipping at the one glass of champagne they’d allowed you, there’s a nervous tension threading through you that’s part anticipation and part, mostly, anxiety. You pick at the steak they’d put in front of you, surrounded by other dishes, caviar, lobster, things so far out of your budget they’re a treat. If you had any appetite. You keep thinking this is likely a last meal and of the six other team members for the first jaunt, only one is tearing into the food. Everyone else as jittery as you are. But most of the drones have come back just fine. They’d captured staticky, conflicting images of a green world, a glittering city, and more. The gate unstable and shifting, but the scientists think they’ve figured out the intervals it swaps to a new location. That your team will be able to step through, take samples and step back out.

• Waiting for Orion and the others to fall into recharge, he heads to the roof of the dorm assigned to miners and tips his face up to the glittering, dizzying beauty of Iacon. Watches a flight capable Cybertronian streak by and wonders what that’s like. To be so free. Orion is the dreamer, though. Always has been. While he’s the realist. Knows that’s not meant for them. “I matter,” he whispers, voice lost in the noise of the city humming around him. Because he needs to believe that. To be satisfied.

• Heart rabbiting in your chest, you shuffle to an awkward halt, lined up shoulder to shoulder with the other explorers. Over the comms, someone’s humming the Jeopardy theme as you face that churning miasma of light and shadow. The government had dug up the gate decades ago, secreted it away to figure out. And it’s definitely not human tech. Already sweating in what’s essentially a space suit, you can hear yourself breathing as you flex your fingers in the thick gloves. They’d kitted you out with your own oxygen and water, the suit dragging you down and you want to look back to make sure the carbon fiber tether is still secured to the winch. Just in case, they said. In case they couldn’t walk back through on their own.

• “Hold,” calls a voice, almost painfully loud inside the helmet as feedback squeals in your ear. “We’ve got a power fluctuation.” And you feel it when the gate shifts, like a hook sank into your gut, tugging at you. Stumbling back a step as power arcs off the gate. Is this normal? There’s a klaxon screaming and your heart drops. Barely hear someone yelling ‘abort’ when the first person breaks and tries to run. The concrete floor under your feet buckling and cracking and you fall, sliding toward that miasma. Someone’s screaming and it might be you. Grabbing at your tether as you slide and someone else falls on you and you both hit that churning surface.

• Venting tiredly, he turns to go back down and get some recharge and feels a soft thump against his ped. And- what is that? A mini-con? A tiny, little bot with a domed, silvery head trailing a severed cable behind it. And it’s soft when he bends to nudge it with a servo. “You okay, buddy?” Head lifting to look for a transport, for any sign of where you’d come from. Knows the wealthy sometimes keep mini-cons as companions, but that tether? Had you run away? Being kept against your will? Denta gritting, he scoops you up and carries you down with him into the dorms. If you are a runaway, it’s none of his business, but mini-cons aren’t pets. No bot should be chained. But hiding you is only going to cause him problems if your keeper comes looking for you. Still, he can’t just ignore you. Can’t pretend he doesn’t see you, because he knows too well what that’s like.

[enchantressiren]

❝𝐏𝐀𝐂: 𝐀 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥.❞

Who has their eye on you? (Very detailed)

Masterlist.

Author's note,

I would appreciate if everyone read this -> Boundaries.

Divider.

Pile I.

If you’re into men, then this pile is for you. If not, you picked the wrong pile (an intuitive disclaimer).

There is a tall man who makes sure he takes care of himself and always eyes your body like eye candy. Their smell is rich, it makes your nostril flare up slightly, aching to be beneath him and allowing him to stuff you full. This man knows how to draw you in and likes to play coy around you. Possibility of him manifesting you as their specific person with one sided love (on his side), or you both are manifesting each other unaware you both are looking for the same qualities in each other. He is someone who likes to subtly touch you and apologize gracefully for others when you know damn well he is bullshitting. He is someone who focuses on being the best version of himself for the wealth that streams from his wallet. Meaning, it does not matter who you are, he is going to do everything in his power to take what is his. Even if that means it is you and your private parts.

Some of you actually have already had sex with him and have made him your friend with benefits, or you have somewhat of a situationship. During sex, they absolutely love to grope your ass, always telling you how perfect it is and how it fits right with his dick. How it thrusts nicely into your ass or pussy (depending on your situation). Or how it feels so warm on the tip of his dick as it hits and molds nicely into your sweet spot. He is the epitome of those mafia stories you see in smut stories or Wattpad stories (but very nicely done stories). He reeks of sexy perfume and dark red, adding a bit of dark blue if he were a color. His aura drags you in, which is how the both of you had sex in the bathroom, somewhere with people, whether it was hidden or risky, or how you both met if you don’t have a specific relationship with them. He is someone who will brag about how good his aftercare is but suck painfully with it and need your guide for it. His ego is through the roof, but you make this bastard soft as a puppy. He is aching to be around you, and when he is, he always struggles to hide his boner, or the bulge in his pants. He loves sucking your juices or will if you do decide to have sex or date him.

If you do decide to date him, the relationship will be gorgeous and surprisingly healthy considering how his mind runs. Or how you have seen him with others, the trope “I hate everyone, and I mean everyone but you and my pet” is really it. Key of advice: make sure to give him a blowjob during angry sex so he can become pudding and pamper you. His last lover never gave him oral, so he has been craving it, but also, it is part of a love language for him.

Masterlist.

Pile II.

It’s not a who, more so a what. Now, I know that sounds confusing, but let me make it clear. Do you speak to deities? Spirits, ghosts, and so forth that are associated with sexual energy? Because that is what I am picking up, and their energy is so soothing that you know you can trust them, and they are there to guide you through your journey. I would not say they are like spirit guides, or part of your ancestral guide, but they are similar to a teacher.

They are eyeing you because they want to protect you and make sure you follow their teachings. A lot of you are becoming impatient with your future spouse, lover, fwb, etc., coming to you and assuming every person that feels ‘’right’’ to you, or that you connect well with, is your lover/situationship. None of them that are coming are yours; you are supposed to meet them, and that is what they told you, so listen to them. They are meant to help you despite what others have said about them. Some of the people that you have spoken to were into this and have told you not to trust them because of what they are and the stories about them, but from an energy perspective, they are trustworthy and actually adore you. Now, I am always hesitant to talk about deity energy since I don’t know if the pile you are reading is actually for you or not, but I will give you signs that may help:

Lucifer, Lilith, Nyx, Athena, Zeus, Tlazolteotl, sponge it up, something to do with pain, tears, and breaking his heart, breaking my heart, Apollo is my certain love, and the demons of it’s figure.

Now, if these signs are not fitting with what you have seen, heard, spoken to, etc., then do not trust the deity you speak with. It does not matter if the deity you speak to is not in the sign list, it is only what signs were channeled. and what resonated. And if it does not fit through, please cleanse your energy fast and efficiently since I keep seeing red warning signs and alarms ringing in my head.

Moving on, your deity has spoken to you about the gifts your future person will bring into the relationship, but they have spoken about how you are being ungrateful with the circumstance you have right now. I understand that sometimes trying to figure out who your future person can be draining and exciting, but it can also cause weird paranoia. And that sometimes it feels like those mystery games, but you have to let it go, trust in your deity (and spirit guides for some), and work on yourself. You have to learn to trust your intuition about which deity you speak to, about who you have sex with, and when you masturbate (because intuition tells me you are causing yourself more pain in associating yourself with your trauma kinks/thoughts instead of focusing on what makes you feel good), and ignoring the signs that tell you to leave certain situations surrounding you. Your environment has a lot of toxicity, and you only stay in them so you do not feel lonely, but sometimes it is a good thing to be lonely since you learn a lot about who you are. And that is something you need and what your deities have been telling you. Some of you are ignoring their teachings because you use people to hide away from your pain.

You need to talk to yourself as you would with someone else that you felt close to and get to know yourself as a best friend. Learn to appreciate your behaviors that you find “repulsive,” and understand that it is okay to be different than everyone else. Being different is not repulsive, it is a beautiful and cool thing. Fitting in is what is ruining your relationship with yourself and your future person. So instead of being so impatient about something that can happen within the year, why don’t you use that time to do better for yourself? Because at the end of the day, the only person who is stopping you is you. You are the person who can change your world, even if it is something small. For example, let’s say you are living in a toxic environment, but you have a desire to learn all you can? You can use free resources that allow you to. The internet has the same resources that allow you to learn, you do not need courses to learn or scholarly reports to learn. Everything is available to us now because of how broad the internet is. Now, you could have complained about it, but you did not and decided to do better for yourself and change. One step at something is much better than doing absolutely nothing. Even if you read something for a minute, it can still benefit you.

I felt like something was missing when I was editing your work, but some of you have to understand this fully. You cannot manifest your future person either. Some of you thought about it throughout this pile, and like I mentioned, I understand how desperate you are for love, but this paranoia that is surrounding you and your heart is the problem. I understand that you can manifest anything, and it does not matter how you do it, but you have this belief that it does matter, and you must have emotions in order to manifest. So instead, why don't you have a clear mind and heart for this person, so when you do meet them, you can be better for both yourself and them as well as make it easier for yourself to manifest with a clear conscience? Do not be your own blockage when it comes to this or sabotage yourself through your overwhelming paranoia that surrounds your mind every second of your time.

Masterlist.

Pile III.

Your first kiss back from August when you were either a kid or a teenager. You still keep in touch with them. I wouldn’t say the kiss meant anything between you both, I would say it happened by accident for the both of you until now. Have you noticed their flirty remarks with you, especially when you hang out around others, how they only gaze at you despite others coming to flirt with them, how they pamper you for no reason, or how they are doing it more frequently, how they decided it would be best if they stood next to you where the cars are located rather than the other way around? How they believe it is important for you to suddenly take care of yourself, and though some of you already do, they make it somewhat overbearing, but you push it aside because it is them. Have you also noticed how doting they are with you, how sometimes they coddle you, or how they make sure you have taken your medication when it comes to your body or latest surgery? Have you noticed all of these, or have you been pushing them aside because you would rather stay oblivious instead of admitting your teenage crush has feelings for you, or perhaps has already fallen in love with you? With your ability to be genuine with everyone, with your ability to show people respect and compassion without seeking anything back, with your ability to write efficiently without the need to re-edit your work, with your ability to be smooth when you think you are being geeky and awkward. Have you also noticed how they make somewhat dirty remarks only around you? Have you noticed they do it out of respect for your body and privacy, and yet you still decide to ‘’act’’ oblivious because it is too scary to admit they like you back? The word "back” scares you, it is like your heart is trying to escape, but a strong pull is pushing you back into the same corner. It is not a bad thing to be committed to someone in a relationship, but for you, being stuck in one relationship and not having the ability to explore with others seems suffocating. And for you, all of this stems from trauma, that one memory you are pushing away in hopes it gets pushed away as well.

I am not the person to decide for you whether or not you explore this relationship with them; all I will mention are some things that may change your mind since that is what your heart is begging for you to do. As well as some key things to help you heal.

When things become tough for you, your favorite activity is throwing the relationship away or sabotaging your achievements through disrespecting your honor and then laughing about it. When things become tough, it is easier for you to feel shame or regret rather than deal with the toxicity of your actions. And lastly, when things become tough, it is easier for you to be your own ruthless villain than to take accountability for your wrongdoings. Yet, at the end of the day, there is one person who has always stayed by your side, never changing their mind on who you are because they know how far you can go. They know how much potential you would have if you allowed yourself to deal with your sadness and realize that being sad is not a weakness nor is it a blessing. Our emotions are simply emotions, they come and go. Sometimes they make us realize some things, giving us mental clarity, and other times, they are a reminder of how we feel about the situation, or internally. In short, emotions are subjective and man made, therefore, feeling those emotions should not be the problem when it comes to challenges arising. You should understand that you are the one creating those emotions.

For example, let’s say that I am dealing with a breakup. The usual response would be to cry about it and think about them constantly, be angry and try to seek revenge or be petty, maybe sleep around and brush them out of my mind, etc. But this would stem from how secure I am with who I am and how our relationship was like. Though, if I were secure, then I would understand what had happened, use that sadness as an opportunity to improve, and learn the lessons. Embrace the fond memories, or perhaps use those memories to find someone better for myself. But then again, this is my idea of how a breakup would go if someone was healthy or unhealthy. How do you see it? You have to ask yourself this.

Once you have asked yourself this and finally understood it, ask yourself another question. “Why do I feel the need to distance myself from those that actually care for me? What am I seeking when I do this, and how is it helping me?” Asking this will help you understand if you actually want a relationship in the first place and help trigger those fears in a safe manner instead of you pushing yourself to be someone else when you answer self-aware questions.

Now that you have asked these and fully understood them, allow me to speak about your friend, and then it will be your choice. And if you need to stop this reading and come back after a month, then please read this when you are fully ready.

This person has been by your side when you ruin your past relationships. They are someone who will stop what they are doing to be by your side or help you when your past comes back to you. Sometimes, they will pamper you with fresh fruits or hot meals and hope it can soothe your mind away from those thoughts that have been affecting you lately. They are someone who will soothe your tears with kisses or caress your tears away with pure determination; someone who sees the bright side of things when you think it is better to be realistic and pessimistic. They are someone who texts you faster and makes sure your feelings are taken into consideration, as well as your family (if you are close with them) or your pet that may be sick at the moment, and if not, your pets. They will buy you the things you adore without any expectations or seeking your validation (your exs were like that). They are someone who will be firm with you when you make a mistake but not allow you to walk over them. They are someone who sets boundaries with you and others, and though it does not go well with others, they keep their head high and focus on what is more important to them. They are someone who hates the concept of gossip and makes sure to not engage, and when they are pulled into it, they act oblivious and make sure people see them as ‘dumb’ or ‘silly.’ To them, it is better to be seen as that than engage with something repulsive like that. They are someone who makes sure they uplift people, especially behind their back, and you have seen it multiple times, thus causing your heart to fall for them.

Yeah, you are crushing on them hard since you were young but have been pushing away from your past experiences. Some of you are actually in love with them but keep gaslighting yourselves because it is easier for you. And ironically, ‘Love Someone’ by Lukas Graham popped up. It fits quite well with how they view you and how you view this whole situation. I believe there is nothing else to channel because once you listen to the song, everything will make sense.

Masterlist.

[therightbeaches]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 ⋆ 𝐚. 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

synopsis: following a near-encounter with death, your not-quite-boyfriend slash boss takes it upon himself to take care of you. [5.7k] contents: fem!bau!reader, reader was mentioned to be hurt but no gory descriptions about what happened, but theres semi-graphic (?) descriptions of hypothetical injury, first kiss, soft hotch, this is fully self-indulgent fluff (forgive me) a/n: i've never written for criminal minds before and i am rather nervous so please dont criticize too harshly :') + i tried to not make him too ooc (not sure how well that worked out.) i also beg for one-shot requests because i love writing them :p reblogs and comments are more than appreciated ♡ i hope you enjoy!

Sense by sense you come to.

Taste. On your tongue lingers the metallic taste of blood. It coats your throat thick like petroleum jelly. The aftertaste of artificial sweetener. Saccharine.

Smell. It’s sterile, alcohol swabs. Dully sweet like laundry. Coffee and creamer. So good and warm it’s nauseating.

Hearing. Steady beeping somewhere from your right. The rustle of fabric. Birdsong bleeds through thick walls. A phone rings, shrill and stark amongst the dull hustle and bustle outside of your room, and a woman speaks unintelligibly.

Touch. A pinprick tag itches against the back of your neck. Scratchy cotton sheets and a gauzy blanket and a too-flat pillow. Then a slow-burning hurt that climbs through your limbs like being devoured by flame, and you think that if you didn’t already meet your end then this must be what it’s like.

Your eyes blink open. The fluorescent lights above are too bright for you to see anything. Metal clinks as someone opens the curtains, then, Aaron’s face comes into your view in a hazy blur. He has a big bandage on his left cheek and prominent dark circles but otherwise looks well enough.

“Hello,” he says, and a warm paper cup of coffee is pushed into your stiff hands. “How do you feel?”

“Bad.”

“I know. I’m sorry. How much does it hurt?”

“Um... a six and a half. I mostly feel really out of it.”

“They’ve given you as much painkillers as they can. I bet that the brain fog will lift once you have something solid to eat.”

You push yourself up slowly as he edges into focus. In one hand he has a black duffel bag with your old shirt’s dirty sleeve hanging out of the zipper top, white fabric stained rust-brown with dirt and old blood. In the other, a thick manila folder with a seal adorning the front and his pen shoved into the crease.

There’s a strange silence then; strange within itself and strange in the fact that, with him, silence is never strange. His lips twitch downwards: he can feel it too. Then he inhales sharply as though it stings to speak.

“You were more than brave out there. You saved Julia’s life.”

“Thank you. That’s what I wanted to do.”

Your tone must not be convincing enough because he puts the bag down and curls his fingers around the half-rails of your bed, reinforces the idea with a pointed look and sighs, “I’m being serious. We wouldn’t have made it in time to help her without your courage.”

“Thank you,” you say again, milder this time.

He doesn’t say anything further. He doesn’t need to. The sort of unspoken communication that blossoms with time and effort; he looks out for you, and in turn you look out for him. It’s the same for the rest of the team, of course, but it’s no coincidence that you’re the one he always picks to watch his six in the field. And, again, he needn’t speak for you to know. Perhaps born from the innate desire to wane the burn of vulnerability; words stamped across his skin invisible to the untrained eye.

It’s different this time, though. He’s leaving not because he wants to — rather, he has to, stolen away from you as you were him by your profession (a whole thirty-six hours he had to spend without you around to nag him, what a tragedy it was!) You’d expected him to come just to leave since the moment you saw him, but perhaps foolishly, you’d clung to a shard of hope that’d cut up and bloodied your palms. You rub them together self-consciously.

He waves the folder in the air unenthusiastically and, despite him knowing you’ve already put the pieces together, voices it anyway.

“I can’t really stay for long,” he says simply.

“Where are you going?”

A prompt, disguised by niceties in typical fashion, though entirely unnecessary with him: when will I be able to see you again?

He sucks on his teeth and flips the folder open. “Albany. I think a day or two at most and we’ll be back.” He spares the details of the case lest you worry yourself to your grave. Your recent brush with death has already been nearly too much for the team to handle.

You don’t mean to slip into the habit of doubting him, not Aaron, who knows better than to lie to you because always he’ll splinter, crack, then crumble into a fine powder under the weight of your gaze. He’s smart, so smart, and so perceptive and by God if you know anything, you know him — down to the lines of his fingerprints and each individual eyelash across his waterlines, and you know now that something is troubling him.

“What is it?” you ask.

His brows crease in the center like you’ve said something offensive. “What is what?”

“You’re sulking.”

“I’m not,” he says, sounding like he’s sulking.

He knows something that you don’t and he doesn’t want to tell you — evident through the bob of his Adam’s apple with a thick swallow, the whitening of his knuckles around the bed’s guard rails. You give your cup a perfunctory squeeze and the plastic lid pops off and skitters to the ground.

There’s another silence wherein you wait, he waits too, staring at you dumbly. An eternity passes till he brushes his thumb over the length of your forearm, elbow to wrist, then traces the ridges of your knuckles before letting his arm drop limply to his side. He looks around to make sure nobody is within earshot and draws the blue privacy curtains around your bed to enforce extra precaution.

“I was just worried,” he finally says, his voice lowered. “I still am, honestly. You know, seeing you like… this.” Like, sick and weak, strung up with IVs like a puppet and unable to move without strain. “And I don’t want to leave you,” he adds as an afterthought.

In the presence of other agents, doctors, strangers, he’s a professional. He knows how to keep things curt and platonic, but when it’s just you and him, I missed you, I was worried about you, I need you around, I can’t lose you.

The way he speaks to you makes you feel something. He worries about you every moment you’re on the field. He frets over you when you’re ill, misses you when you’re apart, thinks about you all the time. Long ago you’d passed the threshold between mere team members to friends, and now, you’re touching base with what’s next. Beyond friends. Borderline lovers. Whatever that could mean for you. And the vulnerability in his voice strikes you, making him sound so small, so pained by your pain.

“You don’t need to worry,” you say, hoping to soothe his qualms. “I feel alright.”

“I can’t help it. I thought... I don’t know what I thought.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” is your light response, then a switch of the topic, and you ask again, “Will you tell me about the case?”

He puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder, then it moves to push your hair out of your eyes. Lingers in a soft caress on your cheek and your palm fits over the back of it when you lift your hand to cover his.

“Like I said, I think it’ll only be a couple days. Don’t stress yourself out over it. I want you to focus on getting better, alright?”

“Can you call me?” you ask.

“Every chance I get.”

And, trapped in the makeshift prison of your hospital bed, you can only croak out a weak goodbye that scratches your throat as you watch him leave.

⊹₊ 𐙚

It’s been a week since they discharged you from the hospital, assigned a lot of rest and fluids. Seldom a word from Aaron, though, and you, too, are beginning to fret just like he had over you. Your cuticles are peeled from existence, you’ve bit your nails too short and raw and red, your lips are chapped to the point your mouth tastes of metal more often than not.

Penelope has been more than kind and has kept you company in your too-empty apartment, even bringing over the case file and a grainy image of the evidence board sent over by the rest of the team for your viewing pleasure. You didn’t have much of value to add and ended up feeling more useless than you were to begin with.

Now, your gaze is trained on the toes of your too-big socks. A seam is misaligned along the top and the heel has pulled up to the back of your ankle. And you think of him. He’s all you can think about as of late. Feels something like nausea crawling up your throat to think of something happening to him.

Nervous. On edge. Sick with worry. He said one or two days. It’s been six and counting, who knows what could have happened to him out there, he was being secretive about it and he’s never secretive with you. Not you, why wouldn’t he tell you what was happening? Why wouldn’t he let on any details about the case? What if he’d anticipated getting hurt or —

You don’t dare entertain the thought. The only reason you’d imagined it up in the first place is because it happened to you. In the end, you’re still very much human no matter how much bureaucratic authority you have. That’s to say, you’re very much flesh and blood and bone, and from the safety of your apartment Aaron is even more so when he’s out on the field. Flesh can be cut, torn apart, blood can spill unstoppably like a faucet, bone can shatter into a million unfixable pieces. A bulletproof vest will do nothing against a knife jammed into his neck or a shotgun to the back of his head. You shudder and tug at your socks to un-bunch them from your heels.

In the middle of your bout of overthinking, the lock on your door clicks and turns and it swings open with a quiet creak. Aaron stands in the doorway, backlit by the dingy lights outside, akin to an angel with the cast of his hair and the contours of his face dipped in shadow.

“Hello? Honey, I have something for you,” is the first thing he says, the silhouette of his arm twisted to hide something behind his back. From his other hand dangles his go-bag, which falls to the floor of your living room with a dull thud. He peels out of his jacket and tosses it over the back of a chair.

The relief chokes you. Strangles you till you’re blue in the face. You’re struck speechless and can only watch as he pushes the door closed behind him and tosses the keys into the catchall on the hall table, toes off his shoes, then comes over to sit with you on the couch. Plastic crinkles behind his back as he moves closer.

“I’ve got something,” he says again. “A present for you.”

“Aaron-”

“Before you say I didn’t need to, I wanted to,” he interjects, waving a hand to stop you. “I saw them while I was out and thought of you.”

“The anticipation is killing me.”

All turbulent emotions vanish like morning dew on a sunny afternoon, your heart thrumming hard against the confinement of your ribs. You let yourself think it’s only because you’re just excited to see him in good spirits, certainly not because he places a hand on your knee and squeezes lightly, or looks at you with poorly-concealed adoration in his gaze, or the knowledge of the fact he thinks of you often enough to go out of his way to get you something nice.

From behind his back, he produces a bouquet of pink roses wrapped neatly in a matching shade of cellophane with a flourish and you nearly fall to the ground. He’s brought you flowers. Roses. He saw roses while he was out and they made him think of you, and that thought alone nearly has you knocked out cold.

You’re able to mutter his name before you reach for his shoulders for a hug, and he lets out a small huff as he’s pushed down to lay back on the couch with your arms around him.

“Consider this my apology for being too busy to call,” he murmurs.

“Thank you,” you say, breathless. “Consider your apology accepted.”

His free hand rubs up and down your back, lingering flush to the space between your shoulder blades to press you close to his chest. “How have you been?”

“I’m okay.”

“Yeah? Has Garcia been taking good care of you?”

You nod into his shoulder. “You know her.”

“That I do. Do you have a vase that I can put your flowers in?”

“There’s one in the kitchen cabinet.”

But he doesn’t yet stand to retrieve it, too engrossed in the warmth of your hug. This is not how a boss acts with his subordinate. Not even how a friend would act. If he were just a friend he wouldn’t come to you first, because your space is his space, and he wouldn’t have brought you a really nice bouquet, and he wouldn’t find such comfort in your embrace and the smell of your perfume that he goes slack under you. Him and you, always, together.

A moment passes and he shifts out from beneath you. You watch him get up with remorse, his hand holding onto yours till the distance draws his fingers away.

“You know,” he begins, rummaging around in your cabinets to find the aforementioned vase, “I’ve been honing in on my cooking skills.”

“That so?” you ask from the sofa, jelly-limbed with your neck craned to watch him.

“I can make stir fry if you want dinner.” His arm retracts from the cabinet, hand around the neck of your vase.

So he cooks for you. Insists upon it, even. Even though the hospital cleared you fine to go home and you feel more or less well, he insists on taking care of you. You let him. Maybe for his peace of mind. A chance to take care of you just like you’ve taken care of him countless times before. You won’t pretend to not like having him dote on you.

The roses sit between you, lit by warm candlelight because the overhead light buzzes too loud and the bulb flickers when you turn it on. It’s sweet and it’s romantic, shit, you really shouldn’t be getting so personally involved with your boss. The no-fraternization rules implemented by the Bureau higher-ups have been hammered into your skull since the day you joined, yet just look at you. Too late for go-backs now.

Over the table, you say, “You can stay the night, if you want to.”

It’s not that you’re implying anything because you’re not, voice void of sexual innuendo. He doesn’t seem to take it in such a way anyway. His gaze meets yours and he draws closer with a hand curled like a cage atop yours.

“I will,” he replies. “If you want me to.”

“I do.”

He’s slept over before a secret half-a-dozen or so times, mostly on the couch. Only in your bed once. That one time was after you’d came home from a particularly bad case, and it was the second time you’d seen him as upset as he was. Beaten black and blue, scraped up worse than he’s ever been on the job. You’d diligently cleaned his wounds up (always too proud to sit in the back of an ambulance and let a professional take care of it), sat with him until he fell asleep, then you never spoke of it again.

Tonight he sleeps beside you. Blissfully unaware to the way you stare at his profile — the line of his nose, the mess of his hair where it’s fallen over his forehead, the way the light catches on his fluttering lashes and turns them a pale blue. The back of your knuckles run against his cheekbone. Tender, soft, so unlike most anything else he knows now.

He’s beautiful. All of you belongs to him.

You stir to Aaron’s heavy arm draped across your abdomen and crack one eye open to see him staring at you. The room is warm, sunshine spilling over his back to paint him shining gold, and the tip his of nose presses against your neck when he sees you’re awake. He must’ve gotten up before you woke because you can smell fresh-cut grass from the open window and the scent of coffee brewing floats in from the kitchen, and from outside you can hear the humming drone of a lawnmower, the song of morning birds chirping.

“Did I wake you up?” he asks, more a murmur than anything.

You shake your head no. A part of you — the small part that yearned for his care and attention long before now — is awestruck. You’ve got Aaron in your bed, the same Aaron who bleeds and hurts and fights beside you, the man who hadn’t wanted you on the team in the first place, and he’s touching you like you’re made of glass.

“What do you want for breakfast?”

“I’m okay for now,” you reply.

“Are you sure, honey? I can cut up some fruit for you. You could do with some vitamins… maybe some sun, too.” Mournfully, he gets up from bed, leaving you with only the warmth of the sheets where he lay just a moment ago. You watch, blinking slow, breathing slow.

“I’m really fine,” you insist meekly, pulling the blankets up to your chin.

With hands planted on either side of your head, he leans back over you in bed, brows pulled in concern like you’re still bedridden in the hospital. His thumb ghosts over the delicate skin of your undereye, then lower, feather-light down the slope of your jaw and to where your collarbone peeks out from the neck of your shirt.

“I’ll bring you a bowl,” he says, disregarding the rejection.

And then he kisses you before he leaves to the kitchen. Nothing full-fledged, only a brief press of his lips to your cheek, but it renders a swell in your gut, too hot beneath your quilt, breathless like your heart is going to rip straight out of your chest and chase him down to kiss him again. The print of his lips burns white-hot. A brand on your skin.

He pauses in the threshold of your bedroom and looks back. “I’m sorry if that was… weird.”

“No! No, it wasn’t weird. I liked it, actually.”

“Oh, okay.”

Aaron fusses over you incessantly the entire day, from cutting your fruit up to holding your hand to help you to the couch, despite your insistence that you’re fully recovered. He isn’t so used to putting his feelings so brashly on display, but you’ve been walking this tightrope between friends and more for a while and it’s no secret he wants it. Wants you. Wants whatever you may have to offer. No matter if you’re well or not, he’ll want you.

“Thank you,” you say over lunch, picking idly at the tangerine he’d peeled for you. “For staying with me, I mean.”

He lifts his head. He’s opened the window above your sink, citing the lovely weather and your need for sunshine as his reasons for letting the bugs in, and it makes his eyes shine from his seat facing the sun.

You’re like a vampire, he had said. Don’t get me wrong, definitely a beautiful and kind one, but fresh air will do you good, then he’d laughed as he stood in the spill of warmth exuding from the open window.

In his hand is the other half of the tangerine, which he assiduously peels the spongy pith from and discards in a small heap atop your dining table.

“I hope you know that I don’t mind.” Aaron breathes out and hands you two slices stripped of their white viscera. “I like taking care of you. Every so often someone get hurts on the field and it never gets more comfortable to deal with. It makes me feel… good to be here with you.”

“That’s really nice of you to say.”

“It’s only the truth.”

You’ve been better for the greater part of a week and no longer need babying like you did at the start, you think, but withhold on commenting for fear that he thinks you don’t like having him around. You more than like it, really, and you like it even more when he leans over the table enticingly.

He’s smiling widely when he speaks. “And the company is the best part.”

“Even if the company is a vampire?” You touch the side of his throat, flush over his jugular where a vampire might bite. His heart thrums hard beneath the pads of your fingers when you push down with the faintest pressure.

“Even so.”

⊹₊ 𐙚

“Can I see you in my office? There’s something that I want to talk to you about.”

You stand from your desk. Aaron — rather, Hotch, because you’re at work — has been staring at you through his window the entire morning like a reverse-scenario zoo animal in an enclosure. It’s been unsettling to feel someone’s eyes on you perpetually but you let it slide because you know he’s just worried. He made it very clear that he didn’t want you coming back to the office so soon, for worry you might bump a fading bruise on the exceedingly dangerous desks in the bullpen or injure your back further by sitting in the expensive, cushy roller chair.

It’s an overcast Monday in light of your sunny weekend. Aaron had messaged you at five-thirty in the morning, insisted heavily that if you intended on coming in today then it had better be with a warm coat on. You’d come to a tentative middle ground via a knit sweater that he likes because Emily runs cold and makes sure the whole office knows it (Seriously, you can’t remember the last time she’d allowed it to be less than the low eighties, and most of the team would rather bear the heat than listen to her gripe about how cold it is. Today, it’s freezing. The heat is broken and you figure you’ll have to deal with it once she comes in.)

He’s waiting for you when you step in and close the door behind you, drawing the blinds. “How are you?”

“I’m well. I’d be better if you’d stayed home to rest.”

“I promise I’m recovered enough for desk work, Aaron.”

He grumbles with no real upset and beckons for you to come around the other side of his desk. When you do and lean back with palms braced over the lip, a broad hand slips around your waist to touch your back. He drops it quickly. So unprofessional, you might tease, if you weren’t so pleased with the fact that he’s unabashedly touching you at work.

Something in the air has shifted. Following the night you spent together, it’s as if the spark between you has turned into a real firecracker, a sparkling dazzle of neon color and fizzling light. He’d left Saturday afternoon after a lot of coaxing that you’d be alright alone, made you promise you’d eat real food and not just cereal and frozen pizza and TV dinners. Most importantly, he wouldn’t leave without kissing you silly all over your cheeks and forehead and jaw. And when you’d anticipated the killing blow and closed your eyes and parted your lips, he’d bid you goodbye with an affectionate pat to your shoulder.

It was cruel, but you don’t mind waiting for a real kiss. The riper the fruit, the sweeter the juice, isn’t that what they say? This thing, for lack of a better word, with Aaron being as discernible as it is, is still relatively new. Not to mention he’s navigating romance for the first time again after Haley, so you’re more than willing to take it slow with him.

“What did you do over the rest of the weekend?” he asks conversationally.

“You know, the ushe.” You tuck your cold hands between your knees, press your lips together like you’re really devastated by the answer you’d come up with. “I laid around feeling sorry for myself, missing you…” you trail off, wistful.

“You poor thing,” Aaron responds sympathetically. “What can I do?”

You lean forward with a mock show of great sadness, though not without an underlying coquettish, hopeful demeanor. “The only thing that would make it all better is dinner later tonight with someone special.”

“What a coincidence. I was just thinking of asking my own someone special if she wanted to get takeout and spend the night at mine after work.”

It’s awful, the way he’s staring at you and beaming. Like you’re the one who hung all the stars in the sky, crafted the constellations just for him; like you control the tide of the ocean and the spin of the Earth; like you’re the light that makes the moon glow. Makes you want to grab him by his hand and bring him back to your place and never let him leave the comfort of your apartment. Keep him safe and warm and content.

You settle instead on smoothing his lapels down. He isn’t propositioning you when he asks you to stay over — never would he be so blatant, and you don’t think you’re quite involved enough yet for such a risqué offer to be on the table (though the notion has you imagining a torturous handful of things that you wouldn’t dream of telling him about.)

“Tell you what,” he begins. He moves his chair to be positioned in front of you. You have to look directly down to see him face-to-face. “We’ll pick up some dinner and we can watch whatever movie you like. Do you have your go-bag?”

“I do... and if I want to watch Mean Girls?”

“I’ll watch anything you want,” he supplies.

“Oh, how sweet are you?”

“Don’t tell anyone. My professional reputation would be ruined.”

Truth be told, there is a prominent lack of ‘professional reputation’ in Aaron’s department, at least within the team. He can pretend as much as he likes for as long as he likes but it’s their specialty to sniff out lies, pick up on secret cues, and of course they notice when he comes into the office with two cups of coffee instead of one, when he holds your hand to help you up the steps of the jet. You’ve received enough conspiratorial looks to know that they know.

You don’t suppose Aaron is your boyfriend. Your relationship with him is a nuanced thing. Becoming the brunt of office gossip is one thing, jeopardizing your careers is another — Strauss has her suspicions and there’s been, well… talk that stokes the (albeit small) kindling flame. It comes down to having a discussion that will remain on the back burner until the both of you can sit down and discuss the professional implications and the other difficult things that Aaron doesn’t want to talk about.

Dark has long since encompassed the Bureau by the time that he decides to be done working. You’ve been waiting on the couch in his office for the better part of the day, his suit jacket draped over your legs fashioned into an impromptu blanket. And then there’s the shuffling of loose-leaf paper shoved into folders, the scratch of his chair’s wheels as he pushes it in.

The toes of his shiny oxfords come into view and a kind hand pushes a loose lock of hair out of your face. “Are you ready?”

He wedges his hand beneath the small of your back to get you up. You’re tired from your day and limp when he encourages you to sit, but ultimately allow him to prop you up against the back of the couch. You take his hand to stand up when he offers it to you.

One and a half years ago, he wouldn’t dream of holding your hand. Wouldn’t even sit next to you in the conference room or on the jet, in fact. But Aaron didn’t really start liking liking you until eight months ago and didn’t tell you for even longer. It took him a long while to gather the courage to come out and just say it like any normal adult with feelings might do.

If you told your former self you’d wind up holding hands with Unit Chief SSA Aaron Hotchner, going home to eat dinner with him and sleep in his bed, you’d have laughed in your own face. The most you’d ever let yourself indulge in such a fantasy prior to his grandiose confession of more than friendly feelings was maybe, just maybe, in an alternate timeline you’d met Aaron under different circumstances and it would have been history.

But you have him in this timeline. You have him picking up your dinner, driving you to his house, crouching down in front of you to undo the buckles keeping the straps of your kitten heels fastened around your ankles. He rubs your calf after tucking your shoes away before he stands and walks to the kitchen.

“What a long day,” he comments. He loosens the knot of his tie and looks over at you over his shoulder. “For you especially, I imagine. Does it get tiring, laying on the couch in my office?”

“Mhm,” you hum agreeably. “A very long day of very grueling paperwork. My boss can’t stop assigning me more and more when there are other agents who could share the workload.”

You know Aaron is smiling, even as he’s faced with his back to you. It’s clear in his voice. “Maybe your boss just thinks you’re very diligent and produce quality work.”

“That sounds to me a lot like favoritism, Hotchner.” You saunter up behind him, draping your arms around his waist. He tears apart the plastic bag holding your food then separates portions onto two ceramic plates.

“Uh-huh,” he says wryly. “You see, honey, favoritism would be more like if I let a member of my team quote unquote lay down to rest her eyes on my sofa instead of doing her work like I very kindly asked — oh wait, doesn’t that sound familiar?”

“So I am your favorite? Ooh, how scandalous. Imagine if word got out that you were picking favorites.”

“I must be doing something wrong if you have to ask.” Aaron turns and puts a hand on the back of your neck, scoffs, shakes his head good-naturedly. This mood he’s in, playful, teasing, is so rare, and you love it. “Do you ever see me letting Morgan take a nap during work hours?”

“Derek will nap regardless if you let him or not.”

(This is true. You’d caught him sleeping in the conference room once. He’d made you swear not to tell Aaron in exchange for vending machine money — and who were you to deny such a generous offer? Your silence was easily bought via chocolate bars.)

“In that case, I might have to give him a stern talking to.” His expression is grim.

“Oh, please don’t. He gave me money to buy candy from the machines if I swore not to tell you.”

Aaron is delighted by this answer. “But you’re telling me anyway?”

“Does that make me a bad friend?” you ask morosely.

“No, no. You’re the best friend. And an even better subordinate for ratting him out… it’s good to know where your loyalty lies.”

He’s laughing when he says it and then he isn’t laughing a mere moment later. Rather, he’s leaning in on a whim, eyes fluttering shut, a hand over the back of your neck, thumbs a whisper against the curve of your cheek. There’s a perceptible flash that travels like lighting up your spine — he’s going to kiss you for real this time, you know he is, and it’s something you’ve wanted for who-knows how long and it’s finally yours to have. To keep. And it’s not just about the kiss, is it? It’s about Aaron, like it most always is, and you thank your lucky stars one by one to have found a man like him and to be able to keep him.

But it’s over nearly as soon as it began. How torturous for it to end so quickly when you’ve dreamt of kissing him day and night. It’s only right for you to go for another and another and another, and yes, juice is always sweeter when the fruit has had time to ripen.

[urstruly-ghst]

peek-a-boo ! - dorm leaders

in which you like hiding in the most random places and surprising them

authors note: like they're gonna be so mad but ykw they love u

ALSO OMG 1K FOLLOWERS ??!! ty everyoneee <3!

riddle rosehearts

you're lucky, riddle notes, he is used to these antics from che'nya. he was so blessed to know those tactics, because riddle wouldn't know what to do if he was unprepared of this situation: you were hanging upside down because you hid on top of his closet!

smiling and humming happily, you edge close to the very end of the closet door; as if you're taunting him.

"heyyy riddle!"

"you get down this instant and be careful!" riddle said mortified as he started pulling his pillows and duvets to the ground to cushion your fall. you jumped and riddle yelled and used his magic to make you float.

"my rose..." he said with a glare as his heart thumped hard against his chest. "never do that again."

leona kingscholar

herbivore is what he calls you, however he feels like that calling you "kitten" is now appropriate. you act like some juvenile kitten who just saw the world. though, leona isn't keen on that behaviour.

leona is on the verge of assigning ruggie to you now, with how your conquest to fright him with the many times you put yourself in places you shouldn't be in. for example, the dorm's tall trees.

"herbivore!" leona growled as his heart sank when he heard from ruggie you disappeared somewhere in the dorm. you whistle and shake a bit to signal to leona you were up on the tree.

"hey, kingscholar!" you said smugly as you lounged atop the tree. leona felt scared and irritated, why must you make things difficult before he has to nap or practice? he struck the tree and made into sand before catching you, his grunt and your wide eyed stare was enough to send the dorm into a frenzy.

"you are not leaving my side, understood?" leona said as he wrapped his tail around you.

azul ashengrotto

azul is still trying to get used to how legs work and being in high up places. so why must you torture him and hide in the most inconvenient of places? the most outrageous was his laundry basket, which mind you, now smells like you! (not that he minds, but still!)

he's trying to find you in the vast dorm room, azul curses his extensive dorm sometimes when it came to how you hide. azul thinks that floyd is also helping you, which is worse, now he has to deal with double the trouble.

"beryl...? come on out, we have plans remember?" azul calls out a bit wary and frustrated that it was dead silent and you may have been hiding for too long. oh, sevens, you may be hungry!

"boo." you say as you grab onto his ankles, azul shrieked and fell. his legs failing him, you giggle as you crawl out of the bottom of some floor board? azul glared as he recovered composure.

"we're making a new deal." azul says as he readies himself to make a contract with one new rule: stop sneaking up on him.

kalim al asim

it wasn't kalim's problem to find you, jamil or someone else does. it infuriates jamil that kalim joins in on your little escapades. sometimes you make it a contest to see if one can hide longer.

though, kalim does get scared sometimes. you learned some tricks from him too, and it is a disadvantage to him especially when you disappear for too long. for example, right now, you're nowhere to be seen and his spacious dorm makes the search even more difficult.

"sunshine? sunshineee?" kalim echoes in the hallway, jamil also on a search for you on the other end of the dorm. it was fun at first but it was concerning and record-breaking. kalim turned a corner and a plant grabbed onto him. kalim nearly flooded the plant until he realized it was you.

"easyy, baby!" you say as he almost sent a flood your way. kalim sighed in relief, and smiled brightly because you now were found!

"yeah, well... you know how i am with being alone!" kalim giggled nervously, as if to remind you of his status and what that entails. you nodded and said "oh" with the realization. lesson learned i guess?

vil schoenheit

you're lovable, vil would say, as his patience thin at the prospect of you disappearing. usually, it was easy to find you. predictable is what vil calls your hiding skills. also, rook hunt happily indulges in the request of finding you (unfair with his unique magic.)

today, however, vil was on his own trying to find you in the dorm. he was an expert at the little nooks and crannies of the dorm. however he was bested because you dropped by, literally, in front of him effectively startling him.

"kya!" vil said as he brought out his wand ready to attack. you smile as you brush yourself off, falling from the chandelier. he sputtered before glaring. vil checked your vitals and tried to see if any injury was there.

"hiya sweetie!" you chirped and vil clicks his tongue as he carefully inspected you. once he's done, he flicks your forehead with a glare.

"don't 'sweetie' me, potato. you could've been hurt. now, come. we are overdue for a good scolding and pampering" vil said with a glare as if he is making note of a new potion to stop your hiding tendency.

idia shroud

frankly, idia thinks you're insane. he even straight up considers bringing you to a facility to check up on your mental capacity. why? who hides in a room filled with computers with no jacket? do you know how cold those rooms are? idia and ortho found you smiling as you hid in some closet box where the power supply is.

and trust, idia keeps you under lock and key after that. but you had your ways, you'd hide under the desk, the bed. behind his clothes, anything. it came to the point idia made a software called, "find prefect."

"oh geez. ortho boot up find prefect" idia said as he saw how you're not in his room again. idia was jittery knowing that you'd bribe ortho into not revealing where you are for a prank, which ortho seems to love lately.

as ortho boots up, it takes a while, you surprise him by covering his eyes. a loud shriek occurred as the lights turned off too. idia burns up and ortho giggled as he finally finished booting up

"prefect is 4 centimeters away from your location!"

malleus draconia

how adorable, malleus says, as you try to hide from his careful eye. he's quite used to lilia and his hiding skills, so you can't hide no matter how hard you try. yet, malleus entertains this folly and pretends to be shocked whenever you try to spook him.

though, malleus gets concerned by how you take risks in hiding at the most obsecure of places. his personal fright was you hiding by the moat because it was the least expected. as malleus dries you up, he shakes his head and gently scolds you.

"you have to admit, the moat is a good place to hide" you chide as malleus uses his magic to lift you away from the moat. you drip from being sprung from the water and shiver at the wind.

"it is quite the unexpected turn. but i'd rather have my dear child of man safe and dry." malleus scolds as he dries you up and pinches your cheek to scold you.

"ahh fine" you surrender, knowing you really can't fight his logic, you were starting to cramp up from trying to stay afloat.

[kkentobox]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀nsfw abc! w/ jschlatt.

author’s note: as i’ve mentioned before, i’ve always wanted to make one of these sooo here it is! :D if you guys would want to see a sfw one, let me know <3 do not steal or plagiarize any work belonging to kkentobox !

A + AFTERCARE —- what they’re like after sex.

⠀⠀⠀⠀schlatt will always clean you up immediately after you guys are done, it doesn’t matter how long it was or who was doing the most work; he’s very quick to get up to grab a clean towel to clean you up and bring you water, maybe even a snack sometimes. after he makes sure you’re well hydrated is when he’ll pull you in close to hold you and press kisses to your forehead. it’s not him if he doesn’t cuddle you and fall asleep right after!

B + BODY PART —- their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s

⠀⠀⠀⠀his favorite part of his body will always be his hands! he knows how much larger they are compared to yours, knowing how to use the extra length to his advantage.

⠀⠀⠀⠀it’s very obvious how in love he is with boobs, he doesn’t care how big or small they are; if they’re there, he’s grabbing them. however, your mouth comes as a close second in his eyes.

C + CUM —- anything to do with cum, basically.

⠀⠀⠀⠀i am a huge believer that he has a breeding kink, so he’ll definitely come inside most of the time as long as you continue to let him. before you guys tried it, he would always cum in the condom or on your chest.

D + DIRTY SECRET —- pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs.

⠀⠀⠀⠀huge pantie stealer, multiple pairs would go missing before laundry day and you begin to think the cats are just hiding them because of how embarrassed he is to admit that he’s staining your used panties with his cum. so whenever you guys go to the mall, he’ll buy you so many more so “you’ll stop whining”, little did you know, he’s helping you pick out his favorites so he can steal them later on.

E + EXPERIENCE —- how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?

⠀⠀⠀⠀schlatt definitely seems like someone who prefers serious relationships over hookups or situationships, so i can see him having experience through his last partners. he knows what to do and knows a couple tricks, but he mainly focuses on learning how you like it. taking his time with you and making mental notes on what you enjoy more.

F + FAVORITE POSITION —- this goes without saying.

⠀⠀⠀⠀standing by the fact that i know he loves the intimacy of missionary. though, he also loves cowgirl and mating press. maybe even a full nelson if you’ve been acting up!

G + GOOFY —- are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.

⠀⠀⠀⠀he likes to keep things relatively serious considering he values how intimate it is to have sex, but he’ll always crack a smile if he notices how cute you look during the moment or just because how much he adores you.

H + HAIR —- how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.

⠀⠀⠀⠀i cannot see him being fully shaven, you guys see how much hair he has. it’s not a full bush because he trims it down, but there’s a good patch of hair that lightly tickles your nose when you go down on him.

I + INTIMACY —- how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect.

⠀⠀⠀⠀he’s a true gentleman in the bedroom when you’re not misbehaving! he’s very touchy in the moment, the type to hold you close that you’re suffocating, the one that holds your hands during missionary. he’s also a huge sucker for heavy eye contact, he loves seeing how telling your eyes are.

J + JACK OFF —- masturbation headcanon.

⠀⠀⠀⠀the j in jschlatt stands for jacking off. before you guys started dating, he definitely had to touch himself six days out of the week because of how pent up he was from work. he doesn’t really bother to do anything to himself now unless you guys have to be apart, but even then, he needs to see you to actually get off.

K + KINK —- one or more of their kinks.

⠀⠀⠀⠀breeding & size kinks are big ones for him, without a doubt. light choking, slapping, degradation & edging on both ends, praising, role-play, dry humping !!

L + LOCATION —- favorite places to have sex.

⠀⠀⠀⠀the bedroom, his office, his car, quite literally anywhere in the house. when you guys moved in, it’s become a tradition to have sex in every room of the house to truly make it home.

M + MOTIVATION —- what turns them on, gets them going.

⠀⠀⠀⠀he’s a simple man in my eyes. lingerie, arguing with you, seeing you in his clothes, hearing you say you want him, thigh highs, watching you get really excited about the things he does for you, when you catch an attitude with him, buying things for you + watching you try them on, making home videos.

N + NO —- something they wouldn’t do, turn offs.

⠀⠀⠀⠀age play, animal roleplay, dubcon and any fluids that come out of you are hard no’s for him.

O + ORAL —- preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.

⠀⠀⠀⠀i see him enjoying pleasing you more, always hungry to go down on you at any hour of the day. waking you up with head, bending you over the counter while you’re making food, etc. though, he could never resist or deny you of giving him head, he’s a man after all. he’s a good balance of both.

P + PACE —- are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.

⠀⠀⠀⠀he’s a mix of both! there’s days where all he wants to do is make passionate love to you over and over, letting you take all his love. there’s other days where he can’t help but give you the meanest, harshest thrusts that make your mind go numb. he’ll grab ahold of your neck, gently squeezing as he forces you to look at him while he pounds into you.

Q + QUICKIES —- their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.

⠀⠀⠀⠀he prefers doing the actual thing and being able to take his time, but he also can’t help himself or wait until you guys are in the comfort of your home. sometimes he needs five minutes in a friend’s bathroom or pulls over on the side of the road for a quickie, it all depends on how needy you guys are.

R + RISK —- are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.

⠀⠀⠀⠀he’s willing to experiment with you, but he’s still very cautious about doing things in public. the biggest risk you guys take is when he takes you over his gaming set-up, knowing all it takes is a slip of a button to go live and show everyone the mess he’s making of you.

S + STAMINA —- how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?

⠀⠀⠀⠀there’s an average of five to six rounds with him, he just cannot get enough of you and will not stop until he feels he’s dumped everything he has into you. he can last a while, but as you guys get closer to calling it is when he starts to get overly sensitive and cums really quick.

T + TOYS —- do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?

⠀⠀⠀⠀he’s begun to grow a collection just for you, though the vibrators have recently become used for the both of you. has multiple dildos, vibrators, handcuffs that he’s ordered specifically for you! the recent order being a dildo made identical to his cock.

U + UNFAIR —- how much they like to tease.

⠀⠀⠀⠀the biggest tease known to man, especially if you’ve been bratty recently or needed him to put you in your place. he’ll deny your orgasms every single time until you have tears streaming down your face and beg for him to accept your apologies.

V + VOLUME —- how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.

⠀⠀⠀⠀he seems more like a dirty talker to me, especially when he gets closer to his orgasm. i can see him maybe groaning or grunting more than actually moaning; unless you have him on the bottom. then he’s whimpering quietly under his breath, trying to keep quiet.

W + WILD CARD —- a random headcanon for the character.

⠀⠀⠀⠀as mentioned before, he has a thing for seeing you angry during arguments or just when you’re moody and decide to give him attitude. something about seeing you angry makes his cock jump in his pants, he doesn’t know if it’s because of how endearing he always finds you or if you just become ten times more attractive when you look angry.

X + X-RAY —- let’s see what’s going on under those clothes.

⠀⠀⠀⠀big dick. huge. i don’t see him being much a grower? you’ve seen how huge he is compared to most people, i know he’s packing. seeing maybe 6.5 inches soft, 7 inches hard in his tarot cards. he’s not overly girthy, but he gives you a nice stretch every time that requires prep beforehand.

Y + YEARNING —- how high is their sex drive?

⠀⠀⠀⠀he can go for hours seeing as it takes him some effort to cum, but he’s always putting your pleasure before his own anyways. you guys are probably doing it at least once or twice every day because of his high libido, but he makes it worth it.

Z + ZZZ —- how quickly they fall asleep afterwards.

⠀⠀⠀⠀he’s out like a light as soon as he’s done with his aftercare, usually because of how intense his orgasms are, he just needs to sleep to get his energy back.

[koifishhies]

(via @aq2003)

I do generally agree with op’s point about queercoding villains in media; it hasn’t stood the test of time because with growing acceptance we’ve just come to see those characters as cunty or whatever. it kind of devalues what actually made that character a villain. however I have to lean more toward aq’s point here; I don’t think “taking the gay out of” richard would really work in this instance… because he’s not a villain?

I mean, he was a shitty king and an asshole, but the whole play kind of revolves around the fact that they humanized him by the end.

I’ve said it enough times and so has aq2003 here, but “the point” is that richard goes from unsympathetic to extremely sympathetic. not because he does some righteous action to warrant this change of heart, but due to the way shakespeare frames the narrative. he purposefully gives you an obnoxious bitch you should hate, but then doesn’t give you the satisfaction of seeing his downfall. instead, by the end, you’re left feeling sad for him.

I think it’s interesting to consider how that puts the queercoding in a slightly different perspective. shakespeare baits in the stereotypers with the stereotype, and once he’s got them where he wants them, hits them in the face with these raw displays of humanity. he forces them to confront the fact that, gasp, they are sympathizing with the queer character.

in a social climate (england ~400 years ago) where queerness was seen as nothing but sinful, richard ii subtly made the audience sympathize with a queercoded character!

the whole switch up also makes you stop and confront how you actually feel about the guy. all those reasons you thought you hated him, whether it be his arrogance, his pettiness, his fail twink swag; they don’t actually matter. after all, he didn’t get more sympathetic because he stopped being a gay little freak. he got more sympathetic as he lost power. the real problem was power.

while I agree that this doesn’t work as well for modern audiences because we probably like him a little too much right from the get go, I don’t think the modernized equivalent would be to make him a nepo baby, or a tory, or whatever. I don’t know about you, but if I saw a play that had the objective of making me feel bad for a tory, I would gift the playwright a box of my own shit in the mail. the play needs you to hate him at first, yes, but also to have the ability to sympathize with him by the end. and I feel like in this social climate, no one’s getting sympathetic for a republican.

am I making sense??? do you get what I mean?????

also there is something to be said about the fact that half the reason they deposed him in the first place was because he was too “queer”!! that’s a whole other angle of analysis in which him being queercoded is literally essential to the plot. but I’ll leave that analysis to someone else.

one last thing, though: let’s not forget, this is a historical play at the end of the day. you can’t really take queerness out of this story, because, drum roll, the real richard was probably a bit fruity! robert de vere is often named as a potential lover of his. this is still kind of debated, but even if it isn’t true, him being deposed for being too “queer” very much is. they literally didn’t like him back then because he was too “effeminate.” he tried to stop the war. he prioritized the arts in his court. he was born in france.

so I guess the real fail twink swag… was in our history books all along…

I know that Richard2Shakespeare is played as an obnoxious little twink for political and drama reasons (you’re telling me a queer coded this tragedy etc) and to let the actors chew the scenery a bit, and the indecisiveness is a tragic flaw that sets him apart from the clear penetrating masculinity of eg Bolingbroke etc etc. it’s great that there is a whole play about “the deserved downfall of cunty little maximalist who changes his Starbucks order 3 times with a huge line behind him.” However, I have forgotten what I was great revelation I was going to write here, so here are some richard2shakespeares I found while trying to remember

[wlwsoccerfics]

The Tattoo(MapiXIngridXTeenReader)

Summary: you tried to hide a tattoo from your moms but failed.

You knew your moms said you needed to wait for a tattoo until you are 18 cause they really wanted you to be sure about this. Well you had other plans & didn't want to wait for two more years. So you got one of your friends who wanted to become a tattoo artist one day tattooed you. You got a little Shooting Star on your ankle. You were quite Happy with the outcome. Now you only had to make sure your moms wouldn't see the tattoo for a while.

Turned out this was harder then expected because your moms became suspicious of you when you started wearing socks around the house cause you never did that. "estrella fugaz(Shooting Star), why the socks around the house?" Mapi(your mami) asked you. "I might be getting sick, my feet are cold and i don't feel well." You told her, before your mami could say anything your mama almost leaped out of the kitchen to feel your forehead. " min lille kjærlighet(my little love), are you having a fever? do you need to lay down?" Your Mama(Ingrid) wanted to know. Feeling relief when she realized you don't have a fever. "Maybe a little nap will help!" You answered. Just glad to leave the situation without your parents finding out the real reason.

Your mama and Mami were waiting till you closed the door to your room before your mami spoke up. "Ingrid what happened to our little girl? She was acting weird. I miss the days where she sat on my shoulders playing airplane or Rollercoaster, giggling like crazy and yelling 'mami you are the fastest!' and now we have this 16 year old mysterious and grumpy Teenager!" She asked was almost pouting. Your moms had adopted you when you were 10 years old. You were always on the smaller side though. So when you were 10 you looked more like an 8 year old. Your Mama shrugged her shoulders. "Like you said Angel! She is a Teenager now! But she is a good Kid! I don't think she is hiding anything from us!" She replied. Oh If she only knew how wrong she was.

When your mama went to check on you she walked into your room since you didn't close the door entirely. "Are you feeling better, Love?" She asked. "I feel fine! It's nothing!" You Tell your Mama. "Okay. Why don't you take a shower then and Join me and Mami for a morning walk?" She suggested. You always went on morning walks with them so saying no wasn't an option. "I will be ready in 10 minutes!" You told your Mama. "Alright! We will be waiting!" Your mama replied and walked into the living room to your mami. "She is gonna join us for our walk!" Your Mama informed your mami.

You went to take a shower, humming one of your favorite songs gently. After 15 minutes you were still in the shower. "cariño! hurry!" Your Mami yelled out. You didn't hear her though. After a little longer you stepped out of the shower, dry yourself off, put on some clothes, only thing missing were socks. So you went to your room, which was outside of the bathroom cause thankfully you had your own bathroom attached to your bedroom.

You sat on your bed about to put on the socks when the door was pushed Open. You should have fully closed it. That was on you because if it would have been fully closed your Mama would have knocked. "kjære(Sweetheart), what is taking..." Your Mama stopped talking, her eyes went to your ankle. "Y/n Ebba Engen Cebrián! Is that a tattoo?!" Your Mama asked, she wasn't yelling but she was loud enough to make your Mami Show up. "What tattoo?" She asked your Mama. "Care to explain, y/n?!" Your Mama stated. "I am sorry, i love you both!" You tried to tell them. "Nice try. We Love you too but you don't get out of this that easy! Why do you have a tattoo that we told you not to get before your 18th birthday!?" Your Mami wanted to know. "I didn't want to wait! I know i shouldn't have! really i am sorry for trying to hide it from you? but it's not such a bad thing. I mean i didn't drink or do drugs. Just got a tattoo!" You told them. "You better didn't have done either or you will be grounded till you are 25!"your Mama replied, sighing softly. "Agreed! You still are in trouble for this! You are grounded for a week. you are going to practice with us, play the game & can be part of team stuff like dinners, but no friends and no phone!" Your Mami answered. You have just made your debut playing with your moms on the team. So at least you could to that. "Seems fair!" You didn't even argue and handed your Phone over to your moms. "Again i am sorry!" You admitted & looked at them. "Can i get a hug?" They both hugged you. Having a Family hug. "Of course love." Your Mami said, she wouldn't never deny you a hug. Neither would your Mama. You went on your walk together.

Turned out you didn't miss your Phone that much at all during the week. Being grounded was over quite fast. But you still wouldn't keep stuff like that from your parents anymore.