#so I'm very 👀 over his reaction

[baked-hylian]

I wonder if vampire Tera is gonna rat Olrox out to Erzsebet and tell her that he gave them the book that Emmanuel was using

[spacebugarts]

FOUND A FULL PLAYLIST OF MY CURRENT HYPERFIXATION I CAN WATCH FOR FREE LETS GOOOOOOOO!!!!!

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

TF141 getting a boudoir photo album as a wedding gift ♡

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A/N: THIS WAS SO FUN!!! Great, absolutely phenomal idea, dear anon. Simon's part is very sappy (I cried) which might be ooc for him?? Idk, that's how I write him/interpret his character! :) let me know who's your favorite 👀

~Fi 🐝

《Warnings》: NSFW content. proceed with caution. PiV, creampie, cunnilingus, Johnny's oral fixation (yes, that is a warning.)

It's still very sweet and lovey dovey with all of them bc I'm a certified sap <3

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John would be grinning and smirking like a proper idiot when he lays his eyes on those delectable photos of you.

I imagine you had a date night at home, sipping wine on the couch and talking about your wedding that's supposed to take place in only 3 days. He's telling you how he can't wait to see you in your wedding dress and slip that ring onto your finger.

Sneaky bastard.

Be prepared to he called Mrs. Price the days leading up to the big day. John excuses it with:

"Need to practice, love. Don't wanna mess it up in front of anyone, eh?"

He knows what he's doing, you know what he's doing, all is well because if he only knew what that did to you. You're just talking, trying to get the nerves out now so you can go into your wedding with a clear mind and have a good time. When you tell him you have a gift for him, his eyebrows almost overshoot his forehead. Yeah, he knew that was a thing some people did, but he never gave it another thought.

In all honesty, marrying you was the best gift he could ever get. Which is why he feels slightly guilty that he doesn't have one for you (at least that's what you see, internally he's crushed) but that all goes out the window when you sit back down with a sleek beige photo album that has a little romantic quote on the front.

What he doesn't expect, however, is the angelic image of your plush body on full display, draped over a velvet chaise lounge with layered pearl necklaces hanging from your neck. This man is shell-shocked. If he wasn't frozen in place, he would've snapped the book shut.

"And what's this, doll, hm?"

His heart feels warm and fuzzy, thinking these are some lovely pictures of you together on holidays you went on, casual trips to the local pub or just some domestic shots you managed to sneak during his leave.

You can basically see the connections to his brain frying. His jaw slacks, and only after what feels like 10 minutes he regains his ability to think and close his mouth. John is sweating and his cock is rock hard as he flips through the remaining pages.

He shoots you the occasional glance while he's trying not to hyperventilate. You just sit back and savor your wine, trying to hide your laugh behind the rim of your glass. You'd expected a reaction, of course, but you didn't think you'd render the John Price speechless just from a few suggestive photographs of you.

But what absolutely breaks the camels back (or John's, in this case) is the last picture of you. You're kneeling, slightly leaned back and supported by your arms, with one of his Flannels covering your soft tits. That alone would've been enough to drive him crazy, but the sight of his old dogtags sitting against your sternum has him groaning out loud.

The only other thing covering you is a simple pair of lace panties, cupping the soft curve and rolls of your tummy so beautifully, John was ready to take a bit out of that damn page.

He nearly misses the inscription underneath the photo;

To my John; the love of my life, the man of my dreams,

I love you.

You hold my heart and you will forever.

May I be so lucky to find my place in the stars by your side when the time comes, so we'll never have to be apart.

With all my love,

Mrs. Price

And that does it. The album snaps shut and you barely have time to put down your wine glass before John is all over you, taking handfuls of you, whatever he can reach. With how fast he smashes his lips on yours, he nearly gives you whiplash.

He's tugging and pulling at your clothes as well as his own, not saying a thing, just hungrily swallowing every one of your sounds and giggled objections before he decides the couch is uncomfortable and he moves you to the bedroom. You're hoisted up without a warning and you cling to his neck. Immediately, worried words start spilling from your lips, remembering how he'd complained about a sore back just today;

"John, baby, your back-"

"I don't give a flying fuck about my back, love."

He's heaving and grunting like a fucking animal, he's downright feral. Despite all of that, you're still laid down gently on the bed, John would never, ever be reckless with you. But he needs to be inside you now, he'll actually lose his mind.

Usually, he'd spent hours between your thighs first, but he just can't wait. He's pounding you into another dimension but with such gentleness in his gestures, it makes your head spin.

He's holding your hand, breathing sweet praises into your ear despite him filling you to the brim. His urge to claim you goes haywire and he fills you with his cum multiple times before he's sane enough again.

He's covered in sweat and his beard is wet from your spit from all the sloppy kisses he gave you. John will definitely make it up to you and eat you out for as long as you want after.

He'll make a copy of one of the photos and take it with him when he's on deployment, just for the nights he's feeling lonely.

His wedding gift to you are the hickeys on your thighs and tummy and new sheets because you two tore the other ones to absolute shreds.

♥︎

Johnny would probably have a boudoir album for you, too. You get at least one shirtless pic a day, so a whole album of his body on display or in suggestive poses basically screams Johnny. He's already drooling the second he spots that book because he knows what it is and that he's in for a treat.

He's buzzing with excitment.

You never really send nudes for privacy reasons, and then for you to do something like this hit him like a truck in the best way possible. You're standing opposite from him behind the kitchen counter, and you look so nervous to him.

Cue his signature shit-eating grin. You tap your fingers on the dark blue album before having enough of your nerves and just sliding it over to him with a few mumbled words of what it is.

"Awe, for me, mo leannan?" He's a teasing bastard, and he chuckles when you huff and turn your head, obviously flustered. Johnny is legit licking his lips, but when he opens the book, his grin fades so fast.

He knew it would be good, but holy shit, this was so much better than he expected. His pupils dilate as he takes in each of the pictures of you, all of you, all your curves and bumps.

Everything he loves about you. God, you're such a woman, he thinks to himself. Some with lingerie, some without. He's full on drooling at this point, and the only reason why he roughly wipes it away with the back of his hand is to not get it on these sacred images.

He smirks at the picture of you in a tub, all soapy, with pebbled nipples. An obvious dig at his nickname, but, god, does your ass look amazing when it's covered in a thin layer of bubbles. He loves lathering you up in the shower and feeling you up while you're all wet and slippery.

"Good thing I can hold my breath, aye, hen? Might even try to set a new personal record." He's grinning and chuckling meanwhile you give him a sharp glare. You can't deny that the idea intrigues you, though.

But this, oh, this one was him swallowing thickly. It's you in very sheer panties (they're barely even underwear) and his name patch is sewn onto the front. Your hair looks so nice, so do your thighs, he doesn't know whether to look at your eyes or your tits. The button on his jeans is about to pop off from his throbbing boner.

He can't take his eyes off that 'MacTavish' patch that sits right on your lower belly, with the slight curve it has to it from your soft tummy.

Johnny has to hold himself back from gripping the book too hard. He wouldn't want to ruin it.

"Steamin' bloody Jesus, bonnie..."

The album is shut and tucked under his arm, and Johnny jumps over the counter to get his hands on you. Or his mouth, more like. He has a huge oral fixation, so he loves sucking and biting on every inch of your skin. You're pushed back into the bedroom, even though you end up on the floor, and the book is thrown onto the bed.

He rips your shirt up and sucks at your tits and nipples, groaning and moaning at the taste of your skin, all while he's rubbing his clothes cock against your leg. You end up on your hands and knees with one of Johnny's hands on your lowerback while his face is buried in your cunt.

He's eating you out like he's been starved for years, and his stubble is already starting to irritate the skin of your thighs and ass.

You'll have the worst case of beard burn in the morning, but how could you care about that when his tongue is so deep inside of you?

Remember when I said he'd have a boudoir album too? Yeah, now you're in between his legs, your back pressed to his chest with Johnny's album in your shaky hands. And the way your engagement ring catches the dim light of the room has your eyes rolling back.

And Jesus christ, Johnny looks fucking phenomal. You clench around his fingers hard, and he doesn't even have to pull his head from your neck to know what photo you're looking at.

He's smirking and grinning like the ceshire cat, knowing that the image of him in a kilt with no shirt one is gracing your field of vision right about now.

"Ah knew ye'd like tha' one, bonnie..."

Johnny's cooing in your ear, telling you to keep looking at the pictures while he's knuckle deep in your pussy. His bare dick is pressed against your ass and you can feel him rocking his hips to get off.

He's mumbling all kinds of gibberish into your ear, but one of the few things you can make out is "mo bhean"* which pushes you over the edge. You won't be leaving that bed anytime soon.

*(My wife)

♥︎

Kyle is such a sweetheart. I've said it before, and I will say it again, he's such a cutie pie!!! But that doesn't mean he can't or won't get nasty.

He'd offered to make lunch, which was delicious as always, and now you're chatting casually about your day at your dining table. Your fingers are laced together, and he's wearing the biggest smile because all he can think of is how he gets to marry you in just a few days.

He's over the moon. He can't wait to see you walk down the aisle, say your vows to each other, and overall have a great time with all your friends and family.

But the thing Kyle is looking forward the most is the honeymoon. He'll have you to himself for 2 whole weeks and he's stoked. He can't wait to treat you to nice things, love on you, but he's the most excited to fuck you as your husband.

He may look sweet and 'innocent' but this man can fuck, okay. And he fucks well. He knows every little spot that has you mewling and he's so good at using them for his gain.

Kyle will fuck you into the mattress in the Hotel you booked, he's already made up his mind about that, but he wants to absolutely melt your brain by being so loving whole doing it that you can't help but cry out for him.

He has heart eyes at this point, watching you talk about all that happened today and he only snaps out of his dream world when you present the deep red album to him with a sweet smile.

He's got a hunch of what it is so there's a hint of a smirk on his lips. Still, he almost gets whiplash when he opens it.

There's no easing into it, just straight up tits, ass and tummy. And let me tell you, Kyle is loving every second of it. It's no secret that he loves your chub, and that fact that it's extenuated so beautifully in every shot makes his heart and his cock happy. He's a very balanced man after all.

He comments on every single photo because he think it's endearing how you get all flustered and giggly from his compliments.

One picture that has him taking a second, though, is one where you have a lacy band tied around your thigh, with a little golden 'Kyle' charm hanging from it. He's all smiley and giddy, but he does try to discreet adjust his trousers because, holy shit, that's hot.

"Have you still got that, dove? Would love to see it tied around your pretty neck."

All you answer is that he'll have to be patient and wait till the wedding night to find out. He's laughing and teasing now, but just what till you get to the last page, Gazy.

And the way his smile just melts off his face is priceless. His gaze is flitting between you on the page and you sitting across from him with a shot eating grin. All the blood that drained from his face went straight to his dick.

Not only are you wearing a set of lingerie in his favorite color, but you've got his iconic pair of sunglasses hooked on the center of your bra. And that's not all either, his eyes travel upwards and his base cap is sat on your head and you've got that beautiful smile of yours on your face.

He makes an audible noise, one that indicates you took his breath away, when he takes in the whole picture.

"How in hell did you manage to snatch my hat and my glasses from right under my nose?!"

"Skilled hands, babe."

He's laughing at you breathlessly because he's still enarmoured by the sight of you.

And Kyle will absolutely whisk you away and fuck you stupid in front of your bedroom mirror while you're wearing his hat.

It makes him feral, seeing you like that. He's got both of his arms wrapped around your middle and he's panting into your shoulder. He does look up from time to time to see your blissed out face all while still wearing his cap.

He lets out a strained moan everytime he looks at you in the mirror and his hips stutter ever so slightly.

Kyle is just spewing jumbled words of love because he's genuinely so happy. You make him so happy.

He honestly can't wait to give you your wedding gift. It's a little booklet filled with poems or quotes that reminded him of you, or of how you make him feel. And it will make you cry when he reads them to you.

Definitely not because he'll be ballsdeep inside of you while doing so...

♥︎

Simon, Simon, Simon.... first of all, he's completely blindsided by this. And he hasn't got a fucking clue what's in that black book you hand him one night when you're cuddling in bed.

There's just a giant question mark above his head. When you tell him it's a wedding gift, he goes silent and just looks at that album in his hands.

He never really got gifts, which obviously changed since he's been with you, but he's still not used to it. You're so thoughtful. And sweet. And kind, and perfect and-

he turns his head to you when you softly call his name and if you notice the slight sheen of tears in his big brown eyes, you don't mention it. You just encourage him to open the book. And when he does, a small huff and gentle smile leave him because how are you so perfect?

Yes, all of the pictures are all filthy, but they're all radiating of love and softness, and he can't get over it. How are you so soft? Simon can't get enough of you. You mess up his emotions in ways he never thought possible, and he can't help that his heart starts beating twice as fast.

That you did this for him means more than you could ever fathom, and he'll treasure this album until his end. He absent mindedly reaches for your hand as he flips through the pages, trying to tell you thank you when his words fail him, like they did so many times before with you.

He comes across a shot of your neck, a black leather collared fasten around it with a little silver skull charm. It makes him smile just a bit. He knows just how much meaning is behind it.

That you love him. All of him, which includes the Ghost. In cursive, 'Riley' is written right above your heart, and he gives your hand a squeeze.

Although you love the Ghost because it's a part of him, you've shown him that it's not all he is. That Simon is enough. That he should give Simon a chance and that he's not incapable anymore, like he was as a little boy. Ghost is sort of a protector of Simon, something not many people know, that's why he wears the mask outside of duty too. To shield himself.

But as much as the Ghost's service is appreciated, Simon can handle himself now. The Ghost will forever be with him, but so will you, and you'll wipe his bloody hands with a smile. You've shown him that you accept Ghost just as much as you accept Simon, and that means the world to him.

He sniffles ever so quietly, and you lean your head against his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He moves on, gently turning the pages, and as much as his heart is touched by your kind gesture of this album, that doesn't stop his cock from stirring. It's pictures of your naked form, after all.

He loves every single inch of you and he's told you and shown you so many times, kissed all your insecurities away and took your mind off any bad thoughts about yourself by fucking you so well and lovingly to the point of tears.

Never, in a million years, had he expected you to return these efforts. You kissed all his scars and held him softly when reassuring any doubts he had. That's when he truly and fully fell in love with you.

He can feel himself getting hotter with every passing image of your soft body bent in different positions and clad in delicate garments, if any.

The best for last, as always, and it's a picture of you kneeling in front of a mirror, completely nude. A picture of Simon in full military regalia is tapped to the mirror and it's surrounded by a bunch of hearts drawn on with lipstick.

His name is written under the picture in your handwriting, and he can see you holding a lipstick, in the middle of finishing another heart. His breath hitches just for a split second.

He swears he'll burn this photo into the back of his eyelids.

It shows him just how great and raw your love for him is, and it makes him all fuzzy on the inside. The text at the bottom finishes it all off, and he's actively holding back tears, overwhelmed by so many feelings for you.

Dear Husband,

We're flawed; but that's how I like us. You're you, and I'm me, and I wouldn't change it for the world. You've made me a better version of myself, and that makes me love you so much more. I'm so proud of you, Simmy.

Love,

Your wife

"Thank you, my love. Thank you for this, and for loving me and for everything you've done for me. I love you"

His words are soft and painfully honest as he gently sets the album aside. You've made him a better man. A better Simon. A happier Simon. A Simon that's slowly starting to heal.

It starts off with a soft kiss that slowly turns more desperate and needy to the point you're gently being pushed back onto the bed, your clothes are discarded, and Simon absolutely worships you. He kisses every inch he can reach and touching you in all the ways he knows you like.

And, yeah, Simon can be rough and fuck you stupid for hours, but tonight, he just wants to feel close to you, and make you feel as good as you make him feel by simply loving him. He's talking you through it, holding you while he makes sure you take every inch of his cock.

His strokes are slow and deep, just like his love for you, and he revels in the way your eyes roll back each time he slides into you to the hilt. The drag of his dick against your walls has you moaning and whining, and when he presses down on your pudgy lower belly to intensify the sensation, you're putty.

You two fuck the whole night like this, no matter how sensitive you are, you need to be close to each other.

And in the morning, he'll wake you up with his face buried in your pussy because he's out of his sappy mood and his only goal now is to absolutely ruin you.

♡

Bonus: I can totally see Simon giving his dad the biggest middle finger known to man all the way in hell when he's standing by the altar on your wedding day. It just screams: 'fuck you, stupidly bastard. Despite all you've done to me and my family, despite all that's happened, I've persevered. I've overcome it all. Look at me now.'

Right after he's smiling up at the sky, knowing that his mum and brother are watching and that they would've loved you just as much as he does <3

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I hope you enjoyed!! I love all my boys <3

(If you find any typos, it's 2.am. give me a break pls)

[inkedinshadows]

Red or Black

Pairing: Azriel × Cassian's sister!Reader

Summary: Cassian insists on helping his sister out when she needs to choose an outfit for a date.

Warnings: brief allusions to sex

Word count: 908

A/N: I was watching Friends, so of course this silly little blurb happened. If you're a fan of the show, you probably already know where this is going 👀

You had a date with Azriel tonight, and you didn't know what to wear.

You two had been going out together for a few months now, and you were both smitten with each other. You were sure things would become more serious very soon. But for now, your time together consisted mainly of dates that usually resulted in spending the night with him. You would mostly cuddle until you fell asleep, but a few times, cuddles had led to discarded clothes, heavy sighs and pleasure like you had never felt before.

You wanted tonight to be one of those times, and you wanted to look alluring and sexy. You wanted to feel alluring and sexy.

But you couldn't decide which lacy slip to wear under your dress to surprise Azriel when he'd take it off, so you picked up both options and walked out of your room to ask the most fashionable person you knew for advice.

Mor was lounging on a couch in the living room and you smiled at your friend.

“I really need your opinion about something,” you said as a way of greeting.

She sat up straighter, her brows raising, but when you stepped through the doorway, you noticed your brother sprawled over the armchair. You quickly hid the slips behind your back.

“Hi, Cass.” You gave him an awkward smile. “I didn't know you were already home.”

He shrugged. “I came back earlier and I thought I'd wait for Rhys here.”

“Yeah, yeah, always talking about yourself, Cassian,” Mor chimed in, waving a hand in the air to dismiss him. She turned to you with a smile. “What do you need my opinion on?”

You glanced at your brother. He was looking at you expectantly, no idea of what you were struggling with.

You backed away a step. “Maybe you could come into my room and we can talk?”

She nodded, already rising from her seat, but Cassian leaned forward in his chair. “Oh, come on, Y/N. I'm your brother. You don't want my opinion?”

You clutched the undergarments behind your back with one hand while grabbing Mor's wrist with the other to drag her out of the room.

“Not really, no,” you replied quickly. “But thanks, Cass.”

“Y/N, you're my little sister. What can you possibly need that I can't help you with?”

Mor was snickering now, probably having seen what you were trying to hide by her new position at your side. You felt terribly awkward and embarrassed, but you knew Cassian wouldn't let it go easily and a part of you wanted to make him feel just as embarrassed.

“Alright, big brother,” you made sure your words were dripping with sarcasm, which made him frown.

You let go of Mor's hand and held up the two slips for him to see. One was red, with some intricate swirling patterns, but still the most revealing thing you had ever bought. The other one was black, much simpler and just as see-through as the first one.

“Which one of these should your little sister wear,” you went on, watching as his eyes went wide with shock, “so that your best friend would want to do her?”

Cassian looked away and leaned back in his chair, his face contorted into a scowl as he muttered, “The red one.”

You chuckled at his reaction, and while normally you would crack a joke and go up to him to kiss his cheek, right now was probably not the best moment. Especially because Mor reached out to study the lingerie you had displayed, and you waited patiently for her input on the matter.

“I never thought I'd say this, but I agree with Cassian.” Her fingers brushed the thin fabric. “Actually, you have to tell me where you bought it. No one could resist this.”

You smiled as you looked down at the small piece of clothing. Red was your color, you knew that. It complimented your skin tone and your hair. But you were leaning more toward the black one, thinking that maybe Azriel would prefer it.

“You sure?” you questioned. “The red one?”

Mor nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, absolutely. Azriel won't be able to keep his hands off you. He—”

“Oh, yes, Mor. Please go on.”

You both turned to your brother, now glowering at you from his seat.

“I mean it, Mor. Go on,” he grumbled. “Tell us exactly what Azriel would do to my sister. Pretend I'm not here. Don't let my presence bother you, I'm begging you.”

Even as heat rose to your cheeks, you bit your lip to keep from smiling at his tone. He did have a point, though. While you might be comfortable talking about these things with Mor, and Cassian might imagine you and Azriel were past chaste kisses, you definitely didn't want to discuss what happened behind closed doors with him. He was still your big brother.

“Anyway, thanks guys.” You offered one last smile as you began to walk out. “I'm going to get ready now.”

When Azriel knocked on the front door an hour later, Mor and Cassian were still in the sitting room, Rhys now with them. Your friends wished you a nice evening, but your brother refused to even look in your direction and opted to glare at the wall with his arms crossed.

Luckily, Azriel didn't seem to notice or care as you took his hand and followed him outside.

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @andreperez11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate

[liulith]

We as a fandom need to open our hearts to the insane comedic potential of Sir Pentious being included as a background character in stories taking place in the "old days" before Vox and Alastor's falling out. AND the comedic potential of one-sided Sir Pentious -> Vox.

Why?

Canon!Sir Pentious is attached to his era's aesthetics but he also wants to be "hip and cool" (see pilot episode; Sir Pentious as the how do you do fellow kids meme) and join the "Almighty Vees". When did he start wanting that? He's not a media demon trying to keep up with his audience and be a likeable public figure. He's a mechanic trying to conquer Hell by force thanks to his machines and obviously relishes in acting like a villain (fear me! I'm so evil! I'm the architect of destruction! etc. etc).

This is very different from the Vees' approach - maintaining a perfect public image, insidious manipulation tactics... Vox threatens Alastor in the show, but the Vees clearly haven't built their power through turf wars, which is and has always been Pentious' one and only strategy. All the machines we've seen him make are war weapons (+ the Egg Boyz who do his bidding, and help him operate those very weapons). Voxtek probably sells weaponry too but that is more Camilla's domain, so it would be more logical for Pentious to try and join her.

Pentious' and the Vees agenda and interests aren't aligned, so why is Pentious so desperate to join the Vees?

there are many reasons why Pentious could want to be part of the Vees besides the one I'm gonna talk about but you know what MY agenda is:

Vox is Pentious' idol. Pentious is an inventor, an innovator. He would have loved waking up in Hell with a mechanical body he can upgrade however he wants and finds the whole concept fascinating.

He's not against new technology, as his creations clearly go beyond what people could have had invented in his time despite their "steampunk" aesthetic (see: the effing death ray). So I think his current "limitations" are more a matter of him having to stick with what he knows best because it's hard to keep up with the constant stream of new tech. This is why he's more than impressed with Vox's extraordinary ability to adapt to change and master new technologies again and again. He's a fellow innovator! That's one reason for Pentious to be obsessed with the guy.

And if you think obsessed isn't the right word, think about this: Sir Pentious repeatedly challenges Alastor to fights even though he's clearly outmatched and it's an incredible risk to take considering what Alastor does. Pentious is OLDER than Alastor, he was there when he broadcast the most powerful Overlords' scream all over Hell. Plus, losing always leaves him in a very vulnerable position (without his best weapons). Is it madness? Hubris? An obsession for Alastor? No!

Sir Pentious to Alastor: Silence! Now Cower! For when I've slain you, the Almighty Vees will finally acknowledge me!

Sir Pentious thinks defeating Alastor is the only way the Vees will finally acknowledge him. No matter how dangerous it is, he has to try, for the Vees (Vox). Just like he took the risk of angering the Princess of Hell to get in Vox's good graces. This says a lot, for someone as paranoid as him, who doesn't trust anyone who is "too nice" to him.

If Hazbin had more episodes there should have been one about Pentious struggling with the fact he disappointed his idol and told to KHS 👀

(btw this is old news but we know that one of the Hazbin episodes that Viv originally pitched was about a science contest organized by Voxtek in which Pentious and Baxter competed against each other! Pentious could have done that after ep2!)

Anyway, back to the comedic potential of it all & Vox's arrival in Hell. Can you imagine his reaction as a newly fallen Sinner, when he's hanging out with Alastor (aka following him like a lost puppy?) and he meets Sir Pentious for the first time? Like sure, Hell is full of insane people but Alastor obviously has a Reputation and no one ever challenges him. And suddenly... Hm... Alastor?? There's an airship with a giant cannon pointed right as us?? Firing a DEATH RAY?!

It's also so funny to imagine Sir Pentious being obsessed with Alastor and considering him his archnemesis back in the day, only to slowly become obsessed with Vox instead and only caring about defeating Alastor because he thinks Vox will like it. It starts with Sir Pentious trying to "gather intel" on Alastor's new "ally", spying on them or sending his Egg Boyz to do so (and we already know great he is at spying so you can guess how that goes lol), and the rest is history.

Alastor loves attention so he probably let Pentious spy on him behind bushes from time to time if only because it's very entertaining to watch him try to be discrete and make his shadow tap on his shoulder. How hilarious would it be if Alastor noticed Sir Pentious' growing crush on Vox but not Vox's crush on him? Also, Vox misunderstanding Pentious and Alastor's relationship and thinking Pentious is a weird obsessive ex... The world is a stage and the stage is a world of entertainment!

[ginkgo-phyta]

I'm back again 😅

Hopefully, I'm not the only person with this opinion, but how do you think Spencer would react if his significant other told him that they thought he looked hot with his bulletproof vest on? 👀

omg is this injured spencer request anon?? I NEED TO KNOW im so sorry if it's not tho, whoever you are thank you so much for coming back!! i love you with all my heart you should use a special emoji as like ur own lil signature! :D

okay so i wanted to try blurb(?) format but mmm okay not really cuz just a wall of text was stressing me out but this is def more informal than my other work (look no capital letters!) and because i love you so much i present two scenarios for you :P... i cant fight this feeling anymore guys he rlly is so hot in his vest im becoming my most feral self grrrrr RAH RAH ALRIGHT hope you enjoy, my love!

OKAY SO SPENCER REACTING TO YOU TELING HIM HE'S HOT IN HIS FBI VEST gn! reader, fluff, second scenario a little steamy in tone but nothing explicit just h*rny vibes, no other warnings

if you weren't a profiler: you'd never thought about it before- spencer in his bulletproof vest. sure, you knew that his job required him to go into sticky situations where the prospect of gunfire was imminent and he would have to wear proper equipment, but you never put two nd two together. you never even thought of a kevlar vest as something that could be hot...until you saw a picture of him wearing it.

"what the hell is that." you blurt out, voice serious with hints of concern.

"huh?" spencer's as clueless as ever, a little worried about your reaction. he was just showing you random photos his team members had taken over the years, all printed out for easy viewing courtesy of the ever-so-accommodating penolope garcia. someone had taken a pic of a beautiful lake where the bau had saved yet another victim, the sun dipping below the horizon line of pine trees, painting the sky purple and pink. "um...the sunset?" spencer was confused, "i guess maybe it was kinda a weird time to take a photo, but no one was hurt and we caught the unsub and the sky really did look-"

you cut off his rambling with a wave of your hand, eyes never leaving the photo in front of you, "no, no...what's that." you point to what you were talking about, a figure standing off to the side.

spencer takes a minute, becoming even more bewildered "...me?" in that moment your world changed.

"oh my god... "you whispered in a daze, firmly pulling the picture out of spencer's fingers and into your own, "what...what are you wearing?"

"honey what's wrong? it's just my bulletproof vest. i know it might look a little funny, but it, y'know, keeps me alive..." he scratches the back of his neck. a couple seconds of silence pass, but to spencer it feels excruciatingly long.

"spencer," you look at up at him deadpan "you look so fucking hot." to say your boyfriend was shocked would be an understatement.

he was absolutely blown away by your response, so much so that the way his face contorted looked borderline disgusted. "wha-what?? huh? what?" he clamored, eyes flitting over your face to find any sign you were joking.

"seriously, baby, you look so good. oh, my God!!" you almost shriek, gripping the picture tighter, the widest, dumbest grin pulling up your cheeks as you giggle like a schoolgirl.

spencer smiles at your reaction, still a little perplexed "you really think so?" the notion begins to sink into his bones, making him giddy.

you very enthusiastically nod your head, "are there any more pictures of you like this?" you rip the rest of the photos out of spencer's hands, scouring through them at light speed. out of nowhere, spencer laughs out loud, his nose scrunching in delight.

"i...don't know what to say. i'm flattered you think that," a wonderful blush shimmers over his cheeks, "but no i don't think there are. sadly." he playfully adds.

you stop all movements, slowly turning towards him, suspiciously calm. "well then," you grab your phone and suddenly stand up "looks like i'll just have to ask penelope for some!"

"wait! wait, no!" spencer calls after you as you start speed-walking away, your shirt barely escaping his fingertips. he yells out your name, his serious tone interrupted by a giggle of his own as he begins chasing you, "get back here!" he knows: garcia can never ever find out about this...

if you were a profiler: you had seen spencer don his FBI branded bulletproof vest hundreds of times over the years. although you had pined over him for years and were now finally in a relationship with him, seeing him like that didn't make you feel any type of way really. sure, you thought he looked strong and handsome, but most of the time you were too caught up in the case or situation at hand to focus on how he looked. until now. something had shifted in him in the last few months, not just with his ever-changing haircut, but within the way he held himself; more confident, more sure of himself, even more cocky, if you will. whatever it was, it drew your eyes to him in his tight little vest like a lightbulb draws in moths- instantly and continuously. it all came to a head when you caught the unsub responsible for drowning and resuscitating his victims until they couldn't be brought back to life. spencer dove into the lake with emily to apprehend the killer while you had helped the kid he had hostage reunite with his mother. you smiled at the scene in front of you, the teenager running into his mother's shaking arms, her holding him close in a tight embrace. another good ending, you thought to yourself before turning back to watch your fellow profilers make the arrest. suddenly, you mouth goes dry. there spencer reid stood; soaking wet, clothes sticking to his skin, chest rising and falling as he panted to catch his breath, his hand pushing his wet hair out of his face. and that stupid, goddamn kevlar vest. oh, fuck. the others walked away from the dock to situate everyone and themselves in respected vehicles that sat back on the road a few hundred feet away from where you currently were. as spencer moved to follow behind emily, hands trying to flick the water off of him, your gaze stopped him in his tracks. he stood there, a bit confused as to why you were walking towards him, seemingly entranced, instead of beelining behind everyone else.

he spoke out your name, but you remained silent, stopping just a couple feet away from him. you took him in one more time: the way his shirt became translucent, granting you with peeks of his skin; his sleeves rolled up, showing off his delicious forearms; the way his soaked pants choked his thick thighs. you became woozy with desire. spencer watched as your eyes dragged over his figure, drinking in every inch of his dripping body. "oh, baby..." you voice drawled out as soon as your gaze landed on his bulletproof vest, "you're absolutely soaking wet." spencer's eyebrows shot up his forehead at the suggestive twinkle in your timbre. you approached him further, chest just inches away from his. if he wasn't so intrigued by your reaction, he would have been a bit more cautious of lingering teammates. your hands came up to ghost over his vest, "did i ever tell you how good i think you look in this?" you looked up at him through your lashes.

spencer chuckled, "in the bulletproof vest?" you nodded in response, but spencer still couldn't really believe it. "uh, no, actually, you haven't." his eyes glinted at the way you bit your lip, his hands moving on their own accord to rest on your hips. you could feel droplets of water seep into the material and lick your skin, but you didn't give a rat's ass.

"well, you do." you whisper, hands wrapping around the back of his neck as you pull yourself up to press a kiss to his lips, "really, really good." your mouth moves enticingly with his.

"oh? is that so?" he whispers against your lips, diving back in, his fingers digging in your hips. he graciously kisses you for a moment before it dawns on him that you're both still at work- in an active crime scene, at that. "mmh, mmh!" he vocalizes between kisses as he tries to move his head back a smidge. his eyes peak open just enough to see if anyone else was around. your lips are addicting, rendering him unable to fully tell you to stop, unable to fully pull away himself. he's relieved when he spots no one. still, he know this is far from appropriate. spencer's hands move up your body to wrap around your wrists behind him, pulling them away from him and the same time he pulled away from you, "okay, okay!" he breathes out with a chuckle, "i believe you now" he tries to catch his bearings, but your pouting face causes him to laugh again

"spencerrrr," you groan at the loss of your beloved's kisses and he turns you around and pushes you towards the spot where the others vanished, walking behind you with his hands on your shoulders, your body held at an arm's distance.

"let's go, angel." his words brought out a hmph! from you. "we can do more of that later at home" he whispers, leaning in ever-so-slightly.

you turn your head back to get a glimpse of him, your eyes and smile equally wide with excitement, "can you bring the vest with you?!"

A/N: OKAYYYY lemme stop myself before things get filthy LOL do yall know which episode im referring to in the second scenario? that end scene will always get me my eye are GLUED to spencer the entire time GODDAMN. okay anyway i hope you liked this anon!!! pls tell me yalls thoughts <3

[cherry-holmes]

REGRET

Part 1

(Javier Peña x F!Reader)

Credits of the gif on the image.

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Finding out you’re pregnant create a split between you and Javier. He soon will discover that one can regret they own words.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Word count: +3k

Warnings: Writer prefer to not give details to prevent spoilers. Read under your own responsibility.

A/N: Hello👋🏻 This is a little something that came to my mind when a saw this gifs last week🧍🏻‍♀️ Let me know in comments if you like it👀

------------------------------------------------------------

Javier and you have been dating for a year and a half now. It started as something casual. You were just neighbors, then you used to talk about the weather when you crossed paths in the building. Then, he invited you for a drink, and you ended up in his bed.

He told you he was a DEA agent, and you talked about your community service as an English teacher in Bogotá.

Javier was funny and charming. He always treated you like a princess and fucked you like a slut. He was attentive, but he worked a lot. You never seriously talked about what exactly you were, but you spent much more time at his place than yours. He hadn't given you a key, precisely, but he told you he had a copy on top of his door so you could enter when you arrive and he was still at work. He picked you up from the school, and you cut his hair when needed.

Life had been busy, and you never really stopped to ask him if your relationship had a label. The truth is, neither of you had actually stopped and asked each other what would come next when he caught Escobar and/or you finished your community service.

You never thought about it, until that damn morning.

"Fuck."

It can't be happening. Two lines on a pregnancy test were the last thing you needed. You looked at it for a long, long time, trying to process what was going on. You wanted a blood test to confirm, but there's a reason why you already took a pee test. Morning sickness and a delay in your period activated the alarms. You hadn't told Javier anything yet, but it was only a matter of time now.

That afternoon you went to the laboratory, and by noon you received a phone call confirming the results. You were, indeed, very pregnant. After you hung up the phone, you cried a lot. How were you going to tell Javi? What would you do with your job? What were you going to tell your parents? Did you really want to have it... him/her?

You felt the urgency to make a decision in that very moment. Javier was going to ask you when you told him, and you knew he hated the "I don't know."

It took you one, two, three hours, and you had an answer. You knew it was the right one because you thought it would take you a lot longer to decide. But when your heart landed in the same place over and over so quickly, you simply knew it.

Javier came home late at night, but earlier than usual. He looked tired and pissed, and he let his weight fall on the kitchen chair to devour what you had made for dinner. You looked at him the entire time, and the nervousness in your chest made it impossible to eat anything. You wanted to tell him. You couldn't contain the news any longer.

"Javi," you began. He didn't look at you for more than a second before his sleepy eyes fell on his plate again. "I have something to tell you. It's very important."

"What is it, babe?" he asked, his voice slurred.

"I..." You fought the lump in your throat, encouraging yourself to tell him. "I'm pregnant."

Until that moment, you didn't know what you expected. You didn't imagine him crying with emotion and jumping around the apartment, screaming to the four winds that he was going to be a dad. But you didn't imagine what his real reaction would be, either.

Javier didn't even look at you. He dropped his fork, leaned back in his chair, and passed his hands over his face. It wasn't a surprised, emotional reaction. He was pissed. He was cursing the situation.

You didn't say anything as you felt your heart and soul sink into your stomach. Disappointment washed over you as you saw his reaction. You tried to think of something else to say, but you went blank.

"We can't," he finally said, really looking at you for the first time that night.

"What do you mean we can't?" your voice was only a whisper.

He looked at you like you were crazy. "You're not seriously thinking about having it."

Your mouth went dry, but tears welled up in your eyes. "Well... I do."

Javier's face hardened. "It's not safe, not with what I do, not with Escobar still out there."

"We can figure this out together," you said, your voice quivering. "I-I know this country is dangerous and this is probably not the right time, but is already happening and I..."

"Are you sure you're...?" he began. It hurt you the fact that he couldn't even say it.

You stood up and reached for your purse. He saw you as you placed both the pee and the blood test in front of him.

"Puta madre." Javier stood up, pacing the kitchen. "Did you take the pills?" he demanded.

You nodded. "I do. But they're not a hundred percent effective."

He ran his fingers through his hair in an almost desperate gesture. "I can't do this. Parenting is not on my plans, and you know it."

"I didn't want this to happen either, Javier, and I'm sorry," you said, trying not to cry. "But you need to people to make a baby. So, we have to figure this out together."

"Don't complicate things more," he added. He made his way to the living room, pacing like a caged animal. "Think about the consequences. I can't risk my focus on this job for this."

Tears streamed down your face. "So, what? You want me to get rid of it?"

"I think it's the best option for both of us."

After a long, cold moment of silence, you shook your head, stepping back. "I can't believe you."

He sighed heavily, looking away. "You don't understand... it's too dangerous."

"I don't care," you cried. "I'm gonna have this baby. With or without you."

He sighed. He saw the determination on you. Now he needed to make a decision, since you're not going to change yours.

"Ok," he said finally. "It will happen, but you need to go back to the States."

"No," you sentenced. Javier couldn't believe your stubbornness. "I'm not going to leave, either. I can't leave the school. Those kids need my help."

He was doing his best to not completely lost his patience and say something (more) that he could – and will – regret.

"I can't concentrate on my job and take care of a pregnant woman," he sentenced, adding your name at the end in a way you had never heard before.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. "Well, then don't worry about me. I can handle this on my own."

Javier stared at you, his eyes dark with frustration. He thought of his parents. They didn't raise a man who shirks responsibility, one who doesn't own the consequences of his actions.

For a long moment, the only sound was the ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall. Finally, Javier sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"No," he said. "If that's what you want, fine. You'll have my financial support, but that's all. As soon as you finish your community service, you'll go back home. I'll send you money, that's it."

"I don't want anything from you, Javier. Not if you're not going to do it with real love," you whispered, heartbroken.

Javier's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. He turned away, staring at the wall, his hands clenched into fists.

He looked down, unable to meet your gaze. "I never saw myself as a dad. I don't think I ever will," he admitted. "That's all I can offer. I'm sorry it's not what you expected. I'm sorry I can't be the man you need."

------------------------------------------------------------

Days turned into weeks, and your relationship with Javier seemed to be stuck in a constant struggle of awkward interactions and avoiding each other. He started working even later, and sometimes he didn't even spend the night at the apartment. He came back the next morning smelling like whiskey and cigarettes. When he did sleep at home, he took the couch while you slept on his bed. When you woke up in the morning, he wasn't there.

Both of you finally reached an agreement. You recognized that you needed his help, and he was aware that he had to be responsible for the situation. You moved in with Javier so you wouldn't have to waste money paying rent. Moreover, you would return to the US when you were seven months pregnant. He would conclude his duty in Colombia however long it took. Neither of you wanted to talk about what would happen then.

Your belly was now thirteen weeks along. Soon, Javier found his place filled with baby stuff. Every day he discovered something new you had bought: tiny clothes, maternity clothing, maternity books. His bathroom smelled like the body cream you used to apply on your belly, and there was a list of pregnancy-friendly foods hung on the refrigerator. He could tell you were putting your heart into preparing for the baby, and at times he felt guilty for not being able to find his own paternal instinct.

On the contrary, you were caught in a fragile rhythm. He continued his dangerous work, and you dedicated yourself to your work at school.

Nights were still lonely, but at least you had your baby. You talked and sang to them. You applied anti-stretch mark creams to your belly, and read everything about babies and labor. You were excited to meet your baby boy or girl, but sadly, at the same time, you felt heartbroken because you loved Javier, and you wished he was more present during the process. However, you had to accept that it wasn't mutual. He didn't love you; he never truly did and probably never would. He just liked to fuck. You should have known it before. Maybe you did, but you were so in love with him that you thought you could change him. Either way, it was too late now.

Javier gave you more money than you needed to cover everything you needed. He never said no when you told him you needed medicine, to pay for a doctor's appointment, or special food that didn't provoke nausea.

But he never went to those appointments with you. He never asked how they went, either. He never showed any interest in the progress of your pregnancy. It was as if he had completely detached himself from the situation, leaving you to navigate the journey alone.

Or at least, that was how you saw it. The truth was, Javier was having a difficult time processing the fact that he would be a father. He had never seen himself getting married, let alone having children.

Furthermore, there was something terrifying about having a baby in Colombia during the war he was fighting. He had witnessed men fall, leaving widows and orphans behind.

He realized that he was more scared of leaving you and his child alone in this chaotic and unfair world if something happened to him. Or worse, he feared that you have to pay for his sins and mistakes. He couldn't bear the thought of that, and he often had nightmares about losing you both.

He didn't know how to express his feelings for you. He couldn't let himself relax and just settle into the nest with you.

One of those nights, when he decided to come home earlier after work, he found you sleeping in bed. You had an open book beside you on a page about what to expect during the second trimester. You had fallen asleep in an awkward position, so he had to gently wake you up to help you move into a more comfortable one. You mumbled in your sleep, calling his name softly and sweetly. Javier felt warmth in his chest, a need to cuddle with you, touch your belly for the first time, and hold you and the baby close.

But he just couldn't do it. He didn't know why, but he couldn't. He limited himself to tucking you in with a warm blanket and opening the window for fresh air, as you liked it. He went to the kitchen, filled a glass with water, and put it on your nightstand because he knew you got thirsty in the middle of the night.

Javier observed you for a moment, peacefully sleeping, carrying his baby. He missed your soft lips and your fingers in his hair. He missed making you laugh and talking to you about each other's days. And now, he longed to make things right and try to win your heart back.

Tomorrow, he said. Turning down the lights, he went to his place on the couch.

But tomorrow was too late.

------------------------------------------------------------

He left early in the morning to attend an emergency meeting at the Embassy. Steve spend all morning complaining about Messina and the tie-and-suit motherfuckers, but Javier's thoughts were on you.

He was lost on his own thoughts, trying to find the right words to tell you. He was still scared, but he was determined to try. To make it work.

He was on his desk, a report on his hands but he wasn't reading it, when his landline rang.

"Peña," he picked up.

"Is this Javier?" a woman's voice asked urgently.

"Who's this?"

"This is María from the school," she said. He immediately knew something was wrong. He barely remembered María, you had presented each other last year on your birthday.

"There's been an emergency," she continued explaining, anguish filling her voice. "She's been taken to the hospital."

Javier's heart dropped. "Is she okay?"

"She collapsed in class. They think it might be related to her pregnancy. You need to get to the hospital as soon as you can."

Javier didn't waste a second. He grabbed his jacket and bolted out of the Embassy, ignoring Steve's confused shouts. The drive to the hospital was a blur, his mind racing with fear.

What happened? You were fine last night... Didn't you? He felt a pang of guilt. What if you didn't felt well but you didn't say anything because you thought he would be mad? Fuck... He should be more available for you. You should trust him.

When he finally arrived at the hospital, he rushed to the reception desk, asking for your name. The nurse nodded and directed him to the emergency room. His heart pounded as he approached the doors, dread settling in his stomach.

He found you lying on a hospital bed, pale and hooked up to monitors. The doctor was speaking to a nurse nearby. Javier's throat tightened as he stepped closer.

The doctor noticed him and approached. "Are you related?"

"Yes, how is she?" Javier asked, his voice shaky.

The doctor sighed. "I'm sorry to inform you, but she lost the baby. There was nothing we could do. It was a miscarriage."

Javier felt like the ground had been ripped out from under him. He looked at your unconscious form, tears welling up in his eyes. "Can I see her?"

"Of course, but she's sleeping right now," the doctor said gently. "She's stable now, but you had to sedate her. This has been very traumatic for her."

Javier nodded and moved to your bedside. He took your hand in his, feeling the weight of his own failures crashing down on him. He had failed to protect you, to be there when you needed him the most.

Hours passed as he sat by your side, holding your hand and watching you sleep. When you finally stirred and opened your eyes, he was there. His eyes were teary, reddened from his contained emotions.

"Hey," he whispered, placing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I'm here," he said, squeezing your hand. "I'm so sorry. I should have been there. I should have done more."

You closed your eyes, tears slipping down your cheeks. "I lost my baby." Your voice was barely a whisper, little sobs escaping your lips. You were still in a haze of sedatives and mourning.

Javier nodded, his heart breaking at the pain in your voice. "I know. I'm so, so sorry."

"No, you don't," you said, hurt and anger painting your weak voice. "You didn't want my baby."

"I was scared," he confessed, his voice cracking. "I didn't know how to handle any of this. But I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted to lose our baby."

You shook your head, tears streaming like rivers down your cheeks. The gaze you gave him was filled with anger and resentment, piercing through his chest.

"Fuck you," you cried.

Javier flinched as if you had struck him. He looked away, unable to bear the intensity of your anger and sorrow.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, his voice barely audible.

"You never be there for us, so don't come and say you're sorry," your words melted into an unstoppable crying. You felt like if your heart would literally broke into a million pieces. Grief and exhaustion weighing heavily on you, you felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness.

"I know I can't make this right. I know I failed you. But please, let me be here for you now," he pleaded, but there was nothing he could say to soothe your unbearable pain.

"You're a piece of shit, Javier," you spat, your voice trembling with anger and grief. "I don't want to see you ever again."

You turned away from him, your tears flowing freely.

He lingered for a moment, hoping for some sign of forgiveness, but when none came, he slowly left the room, closing the door behind him.

He stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall, feeling the crushing weight of his failures. He had lost not only his child but also the trust and love of the woman who meant more to him than he had ever admitted.

Part 2

[forgeofthenine]

Wanna expand on that nsfw for the tieflings fiendish traits 👀?

NSFW Expansion on the bachelor's fiendish traits

Dammon

So, I've said a fair few times that Dammon has the biggest breeding kink out of the three

I'm also an open fan of tieflings having knots

Dammon absolutely knots you every time you have sex, and it's always with the intent of knocking you up-

He just loves the feeling of you squeezing around his knot right before he cums

Absolute euphoria for him

The blacksmith wraps you up in his arms too as his cock stays lodged inside you, keeping you comfortable as you cockwarm him for the next half hour or so

His knot also swells when you give him oral, so wrap a hand nice and tight around it

The absolute prettiest noises leave him when you do

He's reluctant to knot your mouth but would do it if you really begged him for it

He's so gentle too the first few times you take his knot, telling you how good you are as he watches how it slips into you

Dammons very proportionate too, a nice thick cock with a perfectly sized knot to match

Zevlor

This man has such sharp teeth and claws

Sharper than any human would ever have, for sure

Some of the old hellriders say it's why some of the new recruits used to be scared of him

For you, however, they're an absolute turn on

He's so gentle usually, but after a few months he'll be willing to indulge you with a few bites down your neck and chest

If he's feeling playful he'll bite at your thighs before giving you oral

He never bites hard enough to intentionally draw blood, but sometimes he'll leave some sort of mark on you

Especially if he's in rut

And his claws?

He always tries to hold you gently, even when fucking you, but when he sees how much you like his claws he definitely takes note

His nails dig into your hips as he thrusts into you, leaving pretty little marks all over you

Zevlor runs his claws over your body too, only letting them really bite into your skin if you beg for it

Rolan

Like most tieflings, Rolans body is covered in various bumps and ridges

It the ones on his tail that generally interest you the most

He's happy to start using his tail more in the bedroom after the first few times you two are intimate

You can imagine his surprise at your reaction to him dragging his tail between your legs

It's opens up a whole new kink for the both of you

Riding his tail

He wants you to pin him down and straddle his tail, Rolan loves the view

Honestly, bend him over on the bed and get yourself off on the base of his tail where the ridges are the largest

Sometimes he just wants to be manhandled a bit

He spends so much time thinking about stuff, it's more enjoyable to just be mindlessly used for his tail sometimes

Rolan starts to tease you too, with his tail slipping between your legs when you don't expect it

He's a real menace

[rubberbandgirlme]

so. i've replayed the demo once more, and this scene baffled me at first, his indifference and displeased face like?? hello??? what happened to our knight in shining armour?? and then i realized it's one of the very few moments he lets himself be real.

it's clear that leander doesn't like getting involved when he might look bad to one of the parties, so this is such an honest and raw reaction when he has to act, when he has to choose between the loyalty of his followers and the potential gain of doing 'business' with mc, and he hates it. also the way he slides back into his good guy mode in the last sprite is just so tasteful 🤌

i think he chooses to take mc's side not because he likes them so very much, but because it's the path of least resistance: bloodhounds are most likely to stay loyal anyway, someone mentioning the senobium is obviousy not a big deal — well, not big enough to go into a fight with your leader, — and the bandaged hands, on the other hand (what a lame pun!!!!!!! sry), are a very promising tidbit (remember that information is currency). like i'm sure leander guessed there was something wrong with mc from the start, just didn't know the details. btw mc noticed his act — the practiced speech of help offering and his suspicion about mc needing a magical solution.

also i'd like to pinpoint that he's the only one eliciting that vital piece of information from mc to potentially gain leverage. it's not like we as players have any choice here but hear me out: even ais and vere (!!!) are showing some kind of respect regarding mc's hands. ais stops mc before they undo their bandages and vere is 'careful not to disturb them' when grabbing mc's arm. did leander reaalllyyyyyyy have to go that far (also if mc hesistates to touch him, he will grab their hand himself :DDD)??? he wants to make sure you need to trust him and him only like dude. i'm still not over the piece of a dialogue below i mean how can he be so honest and manipulative all at once?!?????

"you were right to hide this from me (but now i know). that curse of yours... it's unlike anything i've ever dealt with (i can't help you). i can tell you're discreet (praising) but you'd best not go showing that off to anyone else (so that only i know your secret)"

and the most fascinating thing? i don't think he's a genius mastermind or anything of sorts, he just gets people, operates on an intuitional level, it comes to him naturally, and most of the times he believes that he's doing good.

tl;dr leander is one of the most interesting characters i've ever come upon and it's captivating to see him slip out and back into his goody two-shoes persona and i hope we'll get more moments when he's raw and real soon 👀

[somerandomdudelmao]

You may of already been asked this, or just straight up mentioned it before, I'm not sure, but I've been thinking. Robo Raph can't feel pain yes, but can he feel anything else?

Can he feel as Donnie works on and repairs him? Can he feel Mikey as they're hugging in that last panel, or is he just numb to any and all sensation? He could be able to feel weight maybe, or maybe not with how strong he is.

While sad, it'd make perfect sense if he's unable to, he's in a robot body after all. Just some thoughts. 👀

Ooh, that's a very interesting question >:0

Initially, once he became a robot, Raph could sense many different things. Donnie did a tremendous job of making his brother as comfortable as possible in a mechanical body. Raph at that time was able to feel temperatures, textures, pressure, almost all tactile things in general. He could also feel smells and hear voluminous sounds. And his mechanical body was much more receptive to his condition. He shuddered when he was cold, he flinched if he was frightened. He didn't have to consciously want to make a movement to make one. Donnie wanted to make sure that the robotic body would be as responsive as the real one. Or at least...close to it.

Unfortunately, mechanisms can get old and break down. Especially in such an aggressive environment.

Gradually, over time, Raph lost most of his "sensory organs" He can still feel when he touches something, can feel different levels of pressure, but temperature and textures no longer exist for him, nor do smells. He can hear well, but it is increasingly difficult for him to understand where the sound is coming from. Also, due to the loss of his eye, he can no longer perceive the depth of space normally.

Also, his robotic body barely expresses his unconscious reactions and quirks. If he wants to do something, he needs to make a conscious effort to do it. That's why he looks so “calm” most of the time.

In fact, over time, Rafe goes from "this is just like my normal life" to "now this is a video game interface" and let me tell you, some of the keys are sticking out more and more.

————————

And yes. He can feel it when he is being taken apart to be repaired. It's not absolutely terrible, but he doesn't like the feeling. But not sensing anything at all is even worse for him. So, every time Donnie offers to turn off the sensors for the repair, Raph refuses.

[ladyempty]

We all know the story, Steffon on Aerys' orders goes to find a bride for Rhaegar, one of good lineage and valerian. But he doesn't find any good enough so Rhaegar marries Elia.

Now, let's imagine, there is a last Velaryon who is consequently the Lady of the Velaryon house but is constantly traveling to the free cities to increase the fortune of the house so Velaryon!Reader went unnoticed by Steffon.

What would Yandere Rhaegar's reaction be when Velaryon Reader appears at the Harrenhal tournament married to a man from Essos and already with three children, two girls and a boy, all with platinum hair? 👀

"you're in the water, i'm in the fire."

° | My first order! I can't believe it!! Thank you very much 💜 English is not my first language. | ° | This is a yandere work and may contain triggering behavior. I'm not in favor of that in real life. | ° | pairing: Rhaegar Targaryen x Velaryon! Reader

Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, the last dragon and with the advancing madness of King Aerys, the final hope of house Targaryen. Surrounded by an air of melancholy and a veil of sadness, he sought in books and parchments a refuge for a tired mind beyond his tender years.

His thirst for reading, always insatiable and sadness for no reason, it was no surprise that the Targaryen sought answers in his most reliable “friends”, books, the certain mental instability that surrounded him left fertile ground for his almost insane thoughts and dreams to take over. leadership. He had clung to every word and prophecy spoken about the Targaryen house as if it was the only thing that mattered, he had complete confidence and certainty that the promised prince would be born from his bloodline. Of his blood and flesh. A justification that went beyond men's understanding for their birth and unhappy existence. He had a greater purpose.

And he certainly wouldn't rest until he accomplished it. His marriage to Elia, like so many other royals, was purely political with no real feelings shared between them. Rhaegar didn't feel frustrated, Elia was kind, intelligent, fun and beautiful, from the second largest house in Westeros, he had nothing to complain about. A bolt of happiness struck him every time Elia managed to get pregnant, it was the beginning of the realization of his destiny. Just one more and then finally a dragon will have three heads as it should be.

But of course that didn't happen. The wife was very weak, her body would not be able to handle another pregnancy without her dying in the process and possibly along with the child who could not be born. It was not a pleasant risk, it would also cause certain disagreements in the political relationship with Dornes. He just needed a son, no matter who mother him.

It was a sunny day that morning, the sun was pleasantly warm, and the glory of the day in the riverlands spread before his eyes. On the sides of the road, the fruit trees hide with their delicate greenery and the birds busy with their melodies come out of hiding to enjoy some of the sun's rays. He was accompanied to the tournament at Harrenhal by his wife, children and father, who, paranoidly, would not allow any of his guards to remain more than two feet away from him. Observing each of those present with dark and suspicious purple eyes, not recognizing their own allies and subjects.

They arrived at dusk in time to attend the tournament's opening ceremonies, a grand banquet held in the Hall of a Hundred Hearths with nearly every lord of the seven kingdoms present, laughing and dancing along to the lively melody that resounded throughout the great hall. Elia quickly walked away to continue a conversation with his brother, the king remained quiet, his half-closed gaze migrating from one person to another with the speed and distrust of a trained dog. And after countless requests from nervous ladies and smiling gentlemen, Rhaegar surrendered to playing at least one melody on the harp.

The spirited Lady Lyanna seemed more moved, shedding a few tears and letting out a few shaky sighs, and Rhaegar was almost convinced that she was a fragile and lovely maiden before Stark poured, between grumbles and without any hesitation, an entire goblet of wine on her head of the younger brother. The action managed to surprise the prince, the girl had a joy that was not constantly present in her life and that was very well appreciated. Her mind strayed for a moment, and Rhaegar admired the young woman's beauty, she was charming and youthful like a flower in bloom.

His thoughts strayed again as an unsettling silence fell over the great hall like never before, the ladies ceased their gossip and the lords no longer clinked their overflowing goblets of the most expensive wine. All eyes were fixed on the large entrance door, which creaked as it was moved again. By instinct, Rhaegar followed the crowd's gaze and later, when he recalled the moment, he would not regret his decision.

A couple closely accompanied by three children entered the room. The man was tall, with copper skin and short dark hair, with a beard and wore an ice blue doublet. He carried the youngest child with him, a small girl who didn't look two years old anymore and certainly couldn't keep up with the adults. On the left side was another child, a boy just over five years old, with short hair and blue clothes, just like his father and next to the boy was another girl, with closed features, a little taller. And on the right side was the woman who was assumed to be the man's wife.

At that moment Rhaegar's heart skipped a few beats, his heart accelerated, the butterflies in his stomach appeared as quickly as lightning that left him breathless, an electric current running through his body until it reached his clouded and restless mind. If before he found Lady Lyanna adorable, now her appearance paled in comparison to the unknown woman's elegance and beauty. Their still hazy path takes another path, the long platinum hair that shone silver under the candlelight and the purple eyes like amethysts, of the woman and the children.

Was this a Joke? How was it possible? Rhaegar could not recall any woman with Valerian features in any house great or small in the seven kingdoms. If he knew, she would certainly be his wife right now. This thought darkened his features, due to the incompetence of others Rhaegar did not have the woman of his dreams, much less his three children as the prophecy said. His eyes fixed on the boy... Rhaegar didn't have the promised prince....

As the night wore on, the Targaryen prince's eyes never left the unknown woman's warm figure, every smile, every graceful dance, every sway of her platinum curls, even the quick glimpse of her stockinged legs. Everything was caught in the Targaryen's hungry, shameless eyes, the hunger that grew in her strange squirming with every little interaction she had with her husband or children. Every smile that was never directed at him was a punch to his face and a kick to his gut.

That Wasn't Right, Why Was This Happening? It was his destiny, those should be his children and his wife. Were the gods testing him? How could they be so cruel?

He approached without delay the moment you were left alone by your husband, the youngest daughter firmly holding the skirt of your light blue dress. Rhaegar put the best smile he had on his face before greeting, cornering the woman, who he now knew the identity of, to talk more personal, more gentle, more compromising. He simply couldn't contain himself, a dissatisfied tingling spread through his hands with every minute that passed without touching the softness of his face, a touch that could be interpreted as inappropriate but felt absolutely right in the prince's mind.

Rhaegar nodded calmly with a slight smile at each word you said, unable to contain himself any longer, his hand gently placed one of the platinum strands of your hair behind your ear, his fingertips trailing gently down the side of your slender neck. Restraining himself from saying anything or moving forward with his movements. Ignoring the way you winced and tried to politely walk away.

Why were you shy? Soon you would be married. It was destiny and nothing mattered beyond that. You would follow your duty.

[imrllytootiredforthis]

any thoughts abt yandere beomgyu or taehyun? 👀

gn!reader

warnings: yandere subs, dom reader, reader is kinda (really) mean, bully beomgyu (for beomgyu's part), bully reader (for taehyun's part), it's smut with a sub yandere so more stuff along those lines, etc.

beomgyu:

i will preach the sub bully yandere beomgyu until the day that i die-

he's such a spoiled, conceited brat that feels like he can step on anyone he deems 'deserves it' and get whatever he wants with the point of his finger

until he meets you,

who will put up with none of his bullshit, giving him none of the reaction of what he wants but maybe that's what makes him so interested in you

maybe it's the fact that he doesn't know how to deal with his emotions in a proper manner

or the fact that he's head over heels for you but doesn't know how to show it other than jeering at you in the hallways, calling you names as you walk by

but he quickly realizes that maybe you're not the best person to try to torment (pt.1 and pt.2 of previous bully!beomgyu)

because as mean as he can be, he knows you can be so much meaner than him

but maybe he likes that a little too much

even after all that he continues his little games, seeing just how far he can go, just how far he can piss you off until you're on him, making him 'regret ever being such a little bitch'-his words, not yours

he starts rumours about you, nasty ones that you can't seem to shake from the others susceptible to his influence

they'll believe anything he tells the, all because he has a pretty face and a self-acclaimed big dick

(which is, admittedly, partially true but you'd never tell him or anyone else that)

it would be a shock to anyone, really,

that beomgyu,

the guy who badmouths and bullies you on a daily basis,

tripping you in the halls and sticking crude things to your locker, causing problems and pointing the finger in your direction.

no would suspect that he,

is nothing but a whore on his knees for you behind closed doors, willing to do anything and everything for you to call him a few names.

that he sits on his knees on the tile floor of the dirty bathrooms after school, long after people have left for the day but not late enough that there won't be a few who've stayed behind for whatever other reason

that he gets off to this very idea, face red with the humiliation of it all.

moaning and whining under the eyes of the once again beomgyu - acclaimed 'school slut', fisting his cock as he desperately tries to get off,

begging, pleading with you to just touch him, just please, please, please bring him some relief.

you only roll your eyes, tugging his head back by his hair.

and he loves the fact all too much that he can see the anger that's been simmering in your eyes for weeks finally bubble to the surface. the sadistic mean side that you keep hidden from everyone else

"and why should i touch you?" your voice is a sneer that makes his cock throb in his hand. "because i'm a whore who slept with the teacher to get good grades?"

his eyes are wide, needy, greedy.

he's too used to getting whatever he wants. he's too used to people falling to their knees around him just because he's a rich boy with a pretty face.

"just, didn't want anyone else to want you-" he pants, your fingers threading through the all too soft strands of his hair. "you're mine."

"No."

he lets out a yelp when your shoe nudges against his dick,

rough and so fucking dirty but it's you and you're finally, finally touching him

you need to teach him a lesson.

"i'm not yours. and you're fucking dumb if you think i am."

one that he won't forget

"because why would i be if i was just a 'good fuck' but had some weird kinks." you laugh dryly, remembering the glint in his eyes as he stared you down, whispers formulating all around the hall about you and him.

"the irony, that you're spread out on the ground of the bathroom floor like some kind of dog, panting and begging for a treat from me? calling you a pathetic whore? and i'm the one with the weird kinks here."

you scoff

"you wish i let your pathetic dick anywhere near me, much less fuck me down into a mattress."

he can barely focus on what you're saying,

only on the feeling of your foot grinding down onto him.

he should find this demeaning,

disgusting,

wrong.

he should shove you away and get the fuck out of here with whatever decency he has left.

but he doesn't have any.

he enjoys this more than he could ever shamelessly admit, being here under your mercy

forced to be down onto his knees, stepping down on his dick as you degrade him

he could never say it aloud

but it isn't that hard to see from body language alone

the way he looks up at you with hearts in his eyes, as if you're some kind of god, blessing him with your very presence

adoration

and awe

and pure and utter love.

every cruel word dripping from your lips like honeyed venom, making his heart beat faster and his cock throb harder.

"you're fucking disgusting."

his hands fly around to grip onto your thighs, fingers digging into the fabric of your pants,

eyes lidding in bliss

"imagine if they could all see you now, spread out like this. would they idolize you then?"

he could lie and say that he didn't like it when you pulled his head back, fingers pressing into his jaw to open his mouth up,

before spitting on his tongue.

be it would be so obviously a lie.

he could also lie and say that he didn't go dumb at the taste of your saliva on his tongue, swirling around with his own before dripping down his throat

-it's the closest he's ever gotten to actually kissing you

he could say that he didn't, embarrassingly cum all over himself from it, letting out a strangled cry as ropes of it stain onto his ridiculously expensive shirt and pants

and your shoe

all while his eyes never leave yours.

looking up at you with the devotion of being the only thing that can manage to make his heart beat this fast

"now lick it off, you dog."

taehyun:

and you know what?

for the sake of these, let's just have it the opposite way for taehyun.

mean, bully reader who taunts him all day, calling him names and cornering in the hallways.

shy, lone tae who lets it happen, his head turned down, his cheeks stained pink when you do,

you didn't even realize him in the beginning, scurrying past you when you were mean to others, laughing with your friends

but he always knew you

watching you as you disinterestedly twirled a pencil through your fingers, two seats away from his

he could say from the very beginning that you interested him far beyond what was probably appropriate-but he couldn't help himself

not when he couldn't stop thinking about you, imagining the condescending tone you used directed at him for once

that sneer on your face, the look of disgust or the sadistic smile. you were gorgeous every way.

and he couldn't even restrain himself picking up his old digital camera he'd used years ago before getting bored, blowing the dust off it

and using to take pictures of you

people noticed him a bit more after that, not by much but the big camera always present in his hands or around his neck garnered it's fair share of attention

you noticed him, finally

glanced at him out of the corner of your eye in the hall or in class, but you never fully acknowledged him, never talked him

but for awhile a few looks were enough, his pictures were enough

until they weren't.

he needed more.

he needed you to look at him.

to be mean to him.

to notice him.

and you definitely did when he seemed to trip out of nowhere right in front of you and your friends,

pictures spilling out of his bag from the impact, spreading out all of the linoleum floor for everyone to see

You.

you smiling, you laughing, you frowning and glaring and sneering.

in class, on your route home, in your home.

pictures taken through a window of you half undressing, getting into bed, eating.

you stared at the photos...

before your gaze turned to him...

with everything he'd ever wanted.

finally your sights were set on him.

the word perv was thrown around, stalker and creep.

he liked them when they were from you

but those were nothing compared to the other things you'd do to him.

things he'd do for you without a second thought.

taunts were not enough. rumours he'd done a well enough job creating on his own. the rest was left up to you to fill.

you took his camera. he hasn't seen it since.

he doesn't care.

he has something much better now.

you. in the flesh. in front of him.

you had your own name for him too.

"dog."

that was perhaps his favourite.

yours too it seemed.

you thought it fit well to him.

his eyes wide, almost puppy-like when you approach him in the hallways.

you're not supposed to be here, technically he's not supposed to either.

not a peep of protest when face to face with you,

smirking toothily as you back him up into a wall, so close your nose nearly touches his, your hand resting on the wall over his shoulder, successfully trapping him in place.

he likes this position too much, even if he squirms away from your touch.

"Do you have it?"

taehyun is the type of guy you could bully for the answers to the homework or a project, but that would be too easy

you could steal his things and beat him until you were satisfied but that would probably be easier, still

it wouldn't appease that fire curling in the pit of your stomach when you see his lip quiver and his eyes flutter with unshed tears,

coincidentally it didn't appease that masochistic side to him either, the side that liked that fire in your eye when you made him do another embarrassing act

but maybe part of him that you liked so much was the willingness he had, the devotion he had to you,

following you around like a lost puppy,

at your beck and call whenever you wanted or needed him and even when you didn't.

he sits alone in his room, staring at your contact in his phone waiting for the next time you decide you're bored and want to make his life a living hell once more

coincidentally, lighting his life up once more

in some ways he needed you

and in other ways you needed him

the power trip that it gave you, knowing he'd get down on his knees in front of you and kiss your shoes, not because he was scared of you but because he loved to do it just as much as you loved to order it

"y-yeah, i have it."

he pulls something out of his bag, holding it out to you.

a small device, nothing special but the small plus and minus on it

you smirk. and slowly you let your eyes travel down the length of his body.'

"good boy~"

was it natural to feel a chest palpitation

when you call him that?

when you look at him with those eyes?

when you're so mean to him?

why does it only make his heart flutter?

"so what happens if I..."

you click your tongue at the exact moment your slide your finger down to click the plus button up,

click,

click,

click,

his body jolts, a rush of heat spreading throughout his body.

the toy vibrates inside of him, just for you.

click,

he clenches his jaw tight, trying not to make a sound under your eyes

"too much!" he squeaks.

you tilt your head to the side.

click.

he lets out a dry sob, body trembling against the wall, shaky legs only being kept upright by your hips pinning him to the surface.

"oh baby," a finger pushes his chin up, brushing over his pulse point and adam's apple before forcing his eyes onto yours.

"don't be a wimp now~"

you move in, close and for a momentary second of bliss he thinks you'll press your lips against his and fulfill the nasty wish of being touched by his bully for all too long

his eyes fall shut, lips parted in quiet pants

but you don't come.

you only laugh.

click.

"it's only too much when i say it's too much, puppy~"

his head spins. his eyes squeeze shut harder

and suddenly he hears a different click, more of a flash if he had to place it-

-a shudder?

he pries his eyes open to see you standing there still, somehow seeming to tower above him despite being the same height.

with his camera in hand.

"look at the camera puppy~"

and so he does

he whines, glazed over eyes staring directly at the lens, the utter adoration seeping through into the photo when you eventually print this out and keep to look at whenever you want

and he pants, just like the pathetic puppy he is

but he's your puppy now

click.

a/n: :)

[7ndipity]

Dating Jungkook headcanons

Jungkook x Reader

Warnings: some swearing, a lil suggestive, I think that's it

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anon who requested this, I've never written a list like this before so it's a little scattered, sorry. Anyway I'm very soft for this man now, goodbye.

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Dating Jungkook is, for lack of a better word, messy. But like in all the best ways.

Late night hangouts when y'all can't sleep and you just end up at the local convenience store, eating snacks or whatever and talking until you notice the sun coming up.

I know I wrote a lil blurb abt it already, but karaoke dates are a regular occurrence. Doesn't matter if you can sing or not, y'all are just having a good time seeing who can hit the highest note(it's him, sorry)

He's one of those people whose friends probably tease cause he says "my s/o is my best friend". But he actually means it, you are his best friend.(I really feel like he would fall for a friend, but that's a discussion for a ot7 reaction I'm working on for next week👀)

Acts really cocky sometimes, but will fold like a house of cards(ha) into the softest boi at the slightest provocation from you.

He's fucking whipped for you, and he knows it.

Was so nervous to kiss you the first time that he legit backed out like three times before it finally happened.

Probably has some kind of nickname for you like "my light" or "my life."

But on the other hand, y'all also tease each other relentlessly, it's like a second love language with him.

Like he will sit there while you're trying to read or smth and poke your cheeks until he gets a reaction out of you.

Will make height jokes, even if you're only like 1in shorter than him.

"Tiny baby." He coos while patting your head. "I'm gonna climb up there and kill you." You warn. "So tiny, so precious."

But if he catches anyone else giving you a hard time about something, God help them.

Possessive(*cough perilla leaf debate)

Gives you his sweatshirts to wear because you look cute in them, but also loves that it's a subtle sign to anybody else that you're his.

This goes both ways though, he loves when you call him yours.

The first time you called him "your boyfriend", he legit short-circuited for a second.

Would probably have matching, macrame type couple bracelets that y'all made together for your second or third month anniversary.

Protective AF

Does that thing where he makes sure you walk on the inner half of the sidewalk when are you're out together, so you're protected from the street?

Not big on Pda exactly, but usually has an arm around you or is holding your hand. He doesn't even realize he's doing it sometimes, it's just kinda become a habit to have you close as much as possible.

He gets so little time with you as it is, so he just wants to make every second count.

When it's just the two of you though, he becomes a fucking koala and will NOT let you go.

Clings to you like his life depends on it.

Begs you to stay over all the time, swears that he can't sleep well unless you're next to him.

At this point, you might as well move in, half of your shit's at his place already anyway.

Looks at you like you're a literal dream.

Like some mornings when neither of you are really awake yet, you look over and he's just staring at you over your coffee mug like🥺

Loves to make you flustered tho

Like, if he notices you have a thing for his arms, he's gonna take every chance he can to roll his sleeves up in front of you just to see your face go red.

Randomly walks up to and gives you these deep, intense kisses and then? just fucking walks away as if nothing happened? Like, nuh-uh, get your ass back here and finish what you started sir!

Talks about your future together with such casual certainty. Like "when we get married, we should get a house like that".

Refers to Bam as your child.

Idk where I'm going with this or how to end it, so I'm just gonna stop here, but yeah. I just think he's neat lol.

[andy-wm]

What we know now, after they have started MS

This is a short post, because life is a lot right now and i have very little emotional energy. But this felt important, so here I am.

Tonight I revisited an older post and realised I'd never completed the thought process i began there...

When Jimin released his solo album, FACE, I wrote this analysis post.

Part of that analysis talked about my impression of JK's backing vocals on Letter.

We had seen Jimin's Production Diary, and based on the clip of JK in the recording studio I thought he didn't know he would be asked to sing backing vocals.

Here's a screen grab of that post:

After watching the docuseries, BTS Monuments: Beyond The Star, we know that was correct...

It was a surprise to him when Jimin asked him.

In fact both aspects of that prediction were right, he didn't know about the song at all.

I have two questions:

Why would Jimin have kept the song a secret from JK?

And

Why wouldn't Jimin himself ask Jungkook to sing it? Why get PDogg to ask him? Jimin was RIGHT THERE.

Actually, make that three questions.

Why did Jimin scurry away as soon as JK asked to listen to the song?

Jimin earnestly said, "I made a fan song", while holding Jungkook's face in his hands.

That's such an intimate gesture, by the way. If my Best Friend held my face that way while they told me they'd done something, I'd take it to mean that the something was significant for/about me.

Jungkook asked to listen to the song, and Jimin... vanished. He retreated to the sofa to sit out of Jungkook's line of sight.

He's suddenly shy? Shy of Jungkook's reaction?? Wierd, but ok...

Unless the song is REALLY significant to JK....

In short, yes, it is REALLY significant. We already kinda guessed that right? But now, in light of their situation, it's more significant...

So, Jungkook recorded his part of the song.

Lets think about the lyrics...

Bear in mind this was written and recorded long before they had confirmation that their application for companion enlistment was successful...

These lyrics are even more significant in that context.

Plus

This is the part of the song that's in banmal. The switch from polite to familiar signals a change in the relationship, (I wrote about that in a previous post) and since Jimin always talks to ARMY politely, we can asume this part of the the song (at least) is directed at... someone else 👀

"We dont know what the future holds, don't worry I'll stay by your side."

Now consider that Jimin has written these words for not only himself to sing. He's asking Jungkook to sing them with him.

He's asking Jungkook to sing this love song with him.

With no hesitation, Jungkook says yes. He does the recording there and then.

And when JK is finished recording...

He tells Jimin that the song is really nice. Immediately, Jimin is a limpet. He's all over Junkgook like he's made of Velcro. A stark contrast to his earier behaviour when his vulnerability made him scurry away.

Jimin jokes that Junkgook should record a message for ARMY and Pdogg calls him out on that lie. Of course JK refuses. "It's your song." he tells Jimin.

Jimin is pushing his luck here, first asking JK to record a message, and then asking him to claim ownership (or share responsibility) for the song.

Jk has no trouble saying no to that.

It seems like more than a meaningless joke to me. One of those suggestions alone might be, but both? It left me wondering if Jimin suddenly felt scared that he was revealing too much with the song?

I'm kinda impressed that JK, for all his love and support, wasn't prepared to rescue Jimin from his choices. He simply, but gently, said no. It tells me a lot about their relationship.

It also tells me a lot about both JK's honestly and his belief in Jimin.

eta, I was tired and once my thought bubble popped i just hit 'post' and fell asleep. But it's exactly a year since Jimin released FACE and i think it's a pretty cool coincidence that i came back to this randomly on this day.

Happy FACE day, ARMYs. 💛💜

[arminsumi]

Imagine Gojo taking the students all out in Tokyo for the day and the reader goes and buys everyone ice cream and then hands Gojo one and he’s shocked that one of his students considered him and she’s like “because you’re my favourite teacher” 😭😭😭😭😭 I think he’d low-key be so excited

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡

A/N: (my lactose-intolerant crying noises in the distance) ahh so cute!! i hope i wrote it as you imagined 💗

Wc ≈ 600

Pairing: GOJO Satoru x gn.reader

Summary: during a day out in Tokyo, you decided to thank your favorite teacher in some small way. Of course, he kept those words you said to him close to his heart for years.

Warnings; a little bit of flirting 👀😳, a little cheesy, i'm pretty sure it's gn but if you catch smth not gn lmk!!

A bright sun blazed in the Tokyo sky. You put your hand to the crown of your head to act as a shield from those blinding rays as you disembarked the train.

The station felt lively; people were buzzing around purposefully on their own little missions, just like you and your fellow students of Jujutsu High.

Gojo towered over you four, keeping a watchful eye from the back of your little formation as you headed out the train station. It was always you and Yuji in front, talking so fast it sounded like a crazy chattering noise to passers-by. Nobara interjected when she disagreed with Yuji. Megumi interjected when he disagreed with you — Gojo silently listened to it all and tried not to laugh.

"Hold that thought — who wants ice cream?" you asked, eyeing out a store that was packed between two others.

While you four argued about the best flavors and bought cups of double servings, Gojo paced around the bright stretching street with long legs, like he was observing the world from behind a film of his memories.

"Gojo!" you called out to him. Your voice brought him back to reality, he turned to face you, hands in pockets as they so often are.

"Y/n!" he jokingly replied with reciprocated enthusiasm. "Enjoying yourself today — ?"

"This is for you." you said, handing him a cup of the biggest serving of mochi ice cream he's ever seen in his life.

He seemed a bit too taken aback at first to register that it was for him, even though you clearly stated that it was.

"For me...?" he asked surprisedly.

"Yeah, for you." you assured. "Do you not like ice cream...? I'll eat it with Yuji if you don't want it, he was eyeing out the mochi but it was too expe — it — uhhh anyways!" you stopped, trying to cover up the fact you spent a lot of money on his ice cream.

He chuckled, "Ah, you shouldn't have blown your savings, I'm right here y'know you could have asked for me to pay."

"But you brought us out here today, I wanted to thank you, and um... I anyways wanted to get something for my favorite teacher." you said, throwing in 'favorite' just to test his reaction.

" 'Favorite' huh?" he smiled teasingly, "That's very cute." his response made you lower your head, cheeks feeling warm, heart racing a bit.

He took the cup of ice cream from you. "Thank you, Favorite Student. Though you're really fueling my sweet tooth."

"I'm sorry!" you laughed.

Roaring Tokyo noises filled your ears, you barely heard a snippet of what he said next — but he also said it so quietly, like a mumble, as if he didn't mean for you to catch it.

Something like... " ... 'got a sweet tooth for you, too."

Your friends crashed the atmosphere right then.

Yuji had stolen a bite of Nobara's ice cream, it was a whole scene. Gojo calmly watched it play out while scooping mouthfuls of ice cream into his mouth.

For the walk back at the end of the day, you noticed that Gojo stuck a little closer to you — when crossing train tracks, in crowded places, through the station, all the way up to the mountain that Jujutsu High was sat on top of.

He was so excited and flattered to know that he was your favorite. You could tell, because he teased you about it for the rest of your life.

"I'm Y/n's favorite." he proudly boasted whenever he could. Oh you just know he especially rubbed it in the other teacher's faces.

Years later, he brought it up to you in the middle of a late-night conversation. "But I'm still your favorite, right? Good, good. No one else better take my place."

[meyerlansky]

i'm very 👀 about what bucky's family situation looks like, actually. historically, his dad died in nov '42, so he's only six months out from it at the start of the show, but it never really comes up—he doesn't flinch or offer anything back when gale talks about his dad, which... maybe he had a good relationship with his dad, so he doesn't have anything to offer. but he doesn't look at gale like he's surprised at cleven sr being a bad dad the way i'd expect a character with a fairly happy, uneventful home life to react to "my dad left me sleeping on benches"-level bad parenting. and if he DID have a shitty relationship with his dad, that's the perfect moment to empathize and bond over it. but he doesn't take it.

and then we get the revelation that he doesn't get any letters in the stalag. obviously he's not getting romantic letters, but one of the other guys mentions a letter he got is from his mom, with equivalent relief and comfort to gale's reaction to marge's letters. in so doing the show establishes that letters from family presumably count for the conversation the bucks have wrt having someone to get letters from. bucky's mom is still around. why doesn't he at least get letters from her? he's got two sisters, historically—one's three years older and the other's six years younger. both ages that wouldn't exactly hinder sending letters to your POW brother. but nothing.

initially i was gonna say i have trouble believing that bucky—who wears every emotion he has plain on his face, who's so stupidly easy to read that everyone thinks they know exactly what's going on with him in every scene, and who has a hugely visible downward spiral when his preferred options for coping with STUPENDOUS AND COMPOUNDING traumas are taken away from him—either:

has so solidly processed his dad's recent death inside six months that he doesn't need to externalize any reaction to it, or

is somehow better at keeping the details of how he feels about his family close to his chest than he is about basically every other feeling he's ever had

and it's still possible that his relationship with his family is simply unremarkable and there's nothing deeper to it. or that he had a bad relationship with his dad, but not any worse than your average "my dad and i didn't get along great" kind of deal, not cleven-level bad. but... i dunno, man, i have trouble buying THAT, more than i have trouble buying that the situation is deeper than bucky lets show.

his MOTHER doesn't even write to him. and we don't find this out until he's been stalag'd for over a year. so he... does actually keep it pretty close to his chest. more importantly, he keeps it close to his chest when it's something he could use to strengthen his relationship with gale. that doesn't really fit with the read of bucky as an open book looking for anything he can get from gale. like... it doesn't fit with that read of him at all.

it feels way more likely to me that there's Bad Shit there, and that that Bad Shit extends beyond bucky's relationship with his dad, into his relationship with his mom and even into coloring his relationship with his now-adult sisters. something like being kicked out, or disowned, or bucky deliberately going no-contact. and that's interesting on its own—what could he possibly have done to lose his entire family like that? my personal guess is he got caught with a boy and got kicked out over it, but it could be hetero slutting around too; it could be the drinking or the gambling or not going to school or his parents just fucking suck absolute ass, or any number of things that aren't Picturesque Rural Wisconsin Family appropriate

but also. i'm really fascinated by the sense of... isolation, i guess? that this confers on him as a character. he's such a loud, eye-catching presence In The Moment, and i wonder how long it takes the people around him to realize that he only seems to exist In The Moment, and doesn't have a past he's anchored in enough to discuss it even with the people he's closest to.

like how long does it take gale to realize he's spilled his guts about his dad to bucky, in a way that very clearly carries some level of "i'm letting you see something no one else has seen" feeling with it... and he got nothing back of equivalent weight wrt bucky's family, not just in that conversation but at any point that we see on screen? months? years? does gale EVER realize bucky's hidden/neglected to share his past even after gale's given bucky his?