#sorry if I re-explained anything to you

[looniecartooni]

hello! i hope this isn't too weird but i'm a former winchester mystery house employee who checks the tag on a semi regular basis and i saw your post about the house not following traditional haunting rules and you are 100% correct!! among tour guides i don't think any of us believe the "she was trying to confuse spirits" or "a medium told her to build" narratives. popular theory among tour guides is literally just that she liked building (a pet theory of mine is that sarah may have been autistic and architecture was a special interest for her) and that there were likely no ghosts during her lifetime. the ghosts we're currently aware of are almost entirely former employees, and i expect in a hundred years or so those spirits will move on and the house will be full of ghostly tour guides.

this turned into a long ramble but basically you are totally right and i am SO glad to see someone who recognizes sarah as more than just "crazy ghost lady". i hope your essay went well :)

Hi!

OMG! An actual employee! My report was rushed and I didn't get enough to talk about the architecture, but I got an A. Captive of the Labyrinth by Mary Ignoffo (one of the few non-ghost centered sources I could find) does paint her as a bit of a "recluse" and "loner child" and there are a couple behaviors of hers that do feel like they could be Autistic (I speak as an Autistic myself trying to learn as much as they can about Autism for personal reasons). Mary also says that Lenard Pardee, Sarah's dad, worked in woodwork and had his own company and that during the height of Victorian architecture and design becoming like a worldly go-to style which may have influenced her as well. You might know more than I do on the matter- I can't find any records of his company and I currently don't have the book to investigate a source.

It would make a lot more sense ghost-logic-wise if Sarah herself or people that worked at the estate or frequently visited were the ghosts. Or if whoever owned the supposed original farmhouse that didn't pass on after Sarah started building would have done that.

I was watching a debunking video (one of those really lengthy ones) and I figured given how much everyone talks about the ghost stories in relation to Sarah while sleeping on the fact that this was a female philanthropist of the 19th-20th century trying her hand at architecture. It made for a good, original-ish Art History Senior thesis paper and I just wish I could have properly researched and wrote more about the art and architecture. There's way too much misinformation about her and ghosts.

Sorry- I'm rambling too lol. According to my research- she did just like building and really just wanted to make a really grand Victorian estate, taking bits and pieces of several movements or from county fairs and adapting parts of it to accommodate to her aging body. The 1906 earthquake also had a big impact on the "stairs that lead to nowhere". I'd say "grieving Autistic woman with special interest in building" is a lot more plausible than "ghosts murdered by rifle patented by husband's company has beef with wife or wants to help her build a house to prolong her life". I do believe in ghosts, but I really REALLY believe Sarah Winchester was done dirty by being associated with ghosts.

[commsroom]

It’s my birthday too! !! Happy Birthday! I wanted to ask you about Jacobi since he rotates around my brain like he’s on a microwave plate 24/7. Just, general Jacobi thoughts, go crazy , I think about him all the time

yayy, shared birthday!! i hope you had a good one. you're actually the second person who told me it was their birthday too... june 21st birthday club!!

i feel a little guilty saying this, since it was your birthday too, but jacobi is one of my least favorite characters. not to say i don't have things to say about him, but. i don't care for him at all.

some things i can say about jacobi:

i think the most compelling thing about him is that his character arc is a perfect loop back around to his backstory mini episode - two people are dead. he feels responsible. he's out of a job. what now? in things that break other things, he deflects. he rationalizes - "it wasn't anyone's fault; everyone was just doing their jobs" - but is that really true? or is that what he has to tell himself in order to live with himself, and to keep doing the work that he wants to do. when jacobi says "i was wrong and people died, and the only thing i can do is not be wrong again" to kepler in the finale, it's as much about the deaths that weigh on him. maxwell's most of all.

... and i think there's potential for change there, now that he's able to confront it, but in a lot of ways that's the start of a character arc rather than the culmination of one. i will never believe that jacobi wants to spend any more time around minkowski, eiffel, and hera (nor vice versa, really) - they are also the people who killed maxwell to him, and they will never be "his" people. but i think if you were going to write about post-canon jacobi and that theme of survivor's guilt + escaping destructive cycles, lovelace would be a good counterpart to him for that - she's further along on that journey, he expresses a kind of respect and even almost-friendship for her that he doesn't for the rest of the hephaestus crew, and she has a more... biting sense of humor; i think they could actually be friends (or at least narrative parallels) given the right conditions.

and speaking of narrative parallels: he actually has a lot in common with minkowski. jacobi plays at being a rebel, a loose cannon, etc. because it gets people's guards down, but he's very, very patient, calculating, and measured. he is not an impulsive person, and more than that - he's a follower by nature, and a rule follower. jacobi doesn't believe in the "bigger picture" for his own sake, but he is deeply committed to maxwell's bigger picture. he wants to be told what to do, he wants to feel like he has a purpose within a greater system/structure, and - crucially to dirty work - he wants to be able to shirk responsibility when something goes wrong. jacobi craves certainty, he needs that faith in the judgment of the people who give him orders, and i think what dirty work does by positioning jacobi and minkowski as narrative foils highlights a lot of similarities in their faults.

(it does drive me a little crazy when people compare him to eiffel or say they'd get along under different circumstances, like... no? for all his other faults, eiffel is distinctly anti-authoritarian and sincere. they're like, coworkers with different politics who would really rather not speak to each other if at all possible.)

appearance-wise: i firmly believe he needs glasses (the line about his eyesight not quite being good enough is the kind of thing he'd downplay + it's a fun inverse of people drawing maxwell with glasses when she canonically doesn't need them), he has very specific military masculinity issues (thanks to his father) (and gabriel urbina once said jacobi's car is probably the civilian model of something used in the military) so i think he keeps his hair very short, and. i actually don't think he has notable burn scars. i respect that it's a distinct design choice, but canonically i think it makes more thematic sense that he wasn't personally, physically hurt by that accident (and i think someone would probably have made a remark about visible burn scars on the guy insisting he "is that good" with explosives.)

[bumblingbabooshka]

Having Nonbinary Sapphic Tuvok Brainrot Lately…

You're the realest motherfucker on planet Earth and I hope you know that.

Here's a bunch of bullshit I doodled on the topic of Nonbinary Sapphic Tuvok !!!! And I HOPE you will share YOUR personal brainrot with the class (my ask box, the masses, a text post....whatever gets the word out.) If you've been paying attention you KNOW I love a 'Tuvok discovers he's trans while in the delta quadrant' story Guy who likes girls and has always liked girls...but....not in the same way OTHER guys seem to like girls... Tuvok who never quite fit in with 'other' men even Vulcan men...always preferred spending time with women and girls but never felt precisely LIKE a woman or OVERLY uncomfortable with being identified as a man and Vulcan society doesn't seem like it would be heavily gendered so he never really questioned it seriously. Tuvok who found comfort in titles like Husband and Father...those fit, those are good. Then in the delta quadrant he isn't able to be a husband or a father any more and is just some guy surrounded by humans...hmmmmmm....

Still doesn't really seriously think it's worth questioning or exploring his gender identity (partially out of a desire to return home as he left...what will his wife and children think? He's experienced a LOT of sudden change in regards to his personal identity and life, he doesn't really want to undergo more.) until Seven of Nine comes along and also begins to go through a "Questioning Her Gender" arc. Tuvok thinks about it on his own time for a long time and then finally goes to Janeway for support and assistance and together they spend like SEVERAL months just the two of them seeing what this whole gender thing's about. Tuvok slowly exploring expressing himself in a more feminine manner because he's spent his whole life adhering rigidly to one sort of Look. Unexpectedly struggles with anxiety about this. Neelix: Don't be nervous Ms. Vulcan! Tuvok: [nervous] I am not nervous. Tuvok and Seven BOTH exploring masculinity/femininity and their own nonbinary gender identities...late night slumber par- experimentation. Painting each others nails is...very scientific. It's important. Talking with Janeway was good because she's his friend but talking with Seven, another person actively questioning their gender is....well, it's something else.

[mishkakagehishka]

But i keep thinking ab how sad it all is like. To my knowledge, Leon becomes a cop bc of the usual fictional motivation of "the law couldn't help my family so i'll be the law that helps" or whatevs and then he was told to stay away from Raccoon City (bc yknow), where he was supposed to start work after absolutely excelling in the academy, but he goes there anyway (hungover, after his gf broke up with him. bc they thought the rest of it wasn't enough for his tragic backstory ig). And then the . Everything. Branagh still forces him to prioritise himself, he gets to what was going to be his desk (sobbing) and there's a note like "first task for our new rookie!! Get to know your colleagues :) the passcode for our desks are the first letters of our names! Teehee!! This guy might not give you a straight answer wink wonk" and you have to figure it out via nameplates and shit because you saw Elliot's guts fall out, and one of them is a zombie and Branagh is the only one actually "alive" out of those six he had to "get to know" as his first task. And the "welcome Leon" banner. OTZ

And then after all that. After all that, when he and Claire and Sherry manage. And you think "oh lovely happy ending, therapy and they can move on" nope. Dude gets literally threatened by the US government to become a special agent. And then RE4 happens. Like ??!?!?!?!??!?!!?

[sinning-23]

Calling Them By Their Full Name

OPLA Headcannons! I thought htis was a funny little thing lol. Anyway enjoy

Warnings: slight mentions of nsfw topics but nothing too serious

Sorry for any spelling errors!

Luffy

-ohhhhh that did not sound like your usual happy, loving voice.

-he knows he fucked up and now he’s hiding from your wrath.

-“MONKEY D. LUFFY, GET YOUR ASS IN THIS KITCHEN. NOW.”

-you could hear a pen drop from how quiet the ship got

-ok so maybe he ate that super expensive, super special dessert you had been saving for a while now. And like, it was going to go bad! All he wanted was a little taste! Than a taste turned into accidentally eating the whole thing.

-He was gonna tell you, honest! But it had proven obvious you found out before he could. He seen you round the corner with RAGe on your face and tears in your eyes.

-"TRAITOR!" You yell, throwing a tired punch to his chest.

-“I’m sorry mami, I’ll find you another one. Promise.” He hums, peppering your face with kisses, squeezing your face between his palms when he did.

-There’s no way you could stay mad at him for long

Zoro

-whoa whoa whoa why are you so ANNNGRY

-hated when you call him by his full name like that, makes him feel like a child being reprimanded

-“RORONOA GODDAMN ZORO.” You boom, Nami’s jaw dropping at the sound. Even she could tell you were pissed

-he’s the sassiest mf alive so he’ll probably just be like, “who the hell are talking to woman?!”

-“You’re a real piece of work you know that??” You’re still yelling and he wastes no time rolling his eyes at you and grabbing you by your waist, the action shutting you up.

“Wanna stop yelling and be a big girl and tell me what’s wrong?” He teases, that stupid smirk you love falling over his features at your speechlessness.

-It’s not often you say his full make but when you do he makes sure you’ll never forget it that same night.

-“Say my name baby, real loud.” He groans, a hand around your throat to steady spent body as he slams back into you

Sanji

-I know thats not a cigarette i smell Vinsmoke Sanji."

-awe hell. Yout tone is deadly. he tried he damndest to stomp it out before you rounded the corner but nope.

-You never use his full name like that. Never.

-did he just get chills?

-"Of course not my love!" He lies throigh his teeth but before he can say anything ese you re lips are on his, you fist gripping the fabric of his shirt.

-He knew he was caught, the taste of tobacco mixing with your usual mint. You pull away, smoothing his shirt out with a warning smile.

-"Don’t lie to me again, I’ll always know when you do, Black Leg." You explain , taking the small cardboard box from his pocket and walking off.

-Even though it was ment as a threat, he couldn't help but feel hotter than ususal. God he loved it when you talked all serious to him.

Bonus: Mihawk

-You know better than to use his full name. Orr to even call him anything besides the usual endearing pet name.

-So when he hears his name called with nothing short of rage, hes trying to figure out who you think you’re talking to.

-"Dracule. Mihawk." You spit, holding the empty bottle in your hand

-Ok so your rage was warented cause he managed to drink the entire vintage bottle of wine you'd been saving...it wasn’t like it was on purpose!

-He doesn’t even bother to look up from his book, just barely giving you a slight glance when you were right in front of him, pointing to the bottle.

-"Id watch your tone darling." he warns, smirking at the way you purse your lips and turn away with a fierce attitude he'd be sure to deal with later.

-“Oh shove it up your ass Dracule.” You scoff, trying to quicken your pace but failing when he’s already behind you, his much larger hand holding your wrist as you yelp.

-His look says it all. You’re screwed.

-So now you’re sitting pretty, bent over and counting each time his hand meets the sore and slightly reddened flesh of your ass.

-“Now, what’s my name again darling?”

[renthony]

In the aftermath of my big post about censorship, multiple people have left comments that boil down to, "it's okay to show heavy topics in fiction as long as they're portrayed as bad."

Let's take a quick look at an excerpt from the full ext of the Hays Code, shall we?

No picture should lower the moral standards of those who see it. This is done: (a) When evil is made to appear attractive, and good is made to appear unattractive. (b) When the sympathy of the audience is thrown on the side of crime, wrong-doing, evil, sin.The same thing is true of a film that would throw sympathy against goodness, honor, innocence, purity, honesty. note: Sympathy with a person who sins, is not the same as sympathy with the sin or crime of which he is guilty. We may feel sorry for the plight of the murderer or even understand the circumstances which led him to his crime; we may not feel sympathy with the wrong which he has done. The presentation of evil is often essential for art, or fiction, or drama. This in itself is not wrong, provided: (a) That evil is not presented alluringly. Even if later on the evil is condemned or punished, it must not be allowed to appear so attractive that the emotions are drawn to desire or approve so strongly that later they forget the condemnation and remember only the apparent joy of the sin. (b) That thruout the presentation, evil and good are never confused and that evil is always recognized clearly as evil. (c) That in the end the audience feels that evil is wrong and good is right

This is the same Hays Code that supported Nazis. This is the same Hays Code that forced Jewish artists out of Hollywood. This is the same Hays Code that targeted artists of color, queer artists, female artists, any artist who deviated from the white American Catholic ideal. And it was explicitly Catholic, which I explained in further depth here.

The idea that art has to have a clear moral, which lines up with the dominant morals of white American Christianity, is foundational to the Hays Code. If you sound like the Hays Code, you need to re-evaluate.

Censorship and moral codes enforced on art are never used for anything other than oppression. The second you try to dictate what is and isn't allowable in art, you side with people who will enforce those rules on marginalized people with no mercy and no hesitation.

Censorship does not create healthy relationships with media, even the censorship you might be tempted to think of as "good censorship."

(And, as usual, being an independent censorship researcher does very little to pay my bills. Kick me a tip on Ko-Fi or pledge to me on Patreon if you want to support my work! <3)

[pathologicalreid]

total eclipse of the heart

spencer reid x gn!reader, fluff

w/c: 665

this was written solely because bri asked. this is for you. sorry for not sending you my strands results. re: spencer is a simple man and just wants you to not blind yourself by staring at the eclipse.

"I am going to zip-tie those glasses to your head if you don’t stop taking them off,” Spencer scolded from where he sat next to you. The two of you were sharing a blanket in Rossi’s backyard, waiting with the rest of the BAU for the eclipse.

Currently, he was standing in front of you, body blocking the rays of the sun from getting to your retinas.

Rolling your eyes, you leaned back on your hands, “That would be a great idea if you had zip-ties with you,” you challenged.

Your boyfriend watched you astutely, making sure your eyes didn’t flicker up to look at the sun. “You are severely underestimating the various items I keep in my bag,” he rebutted, continuing to rattle off the bits and bobs that he kept in his shoulder bag.

Sighing, you inclined your head toward him, “If the sun isn’t totally eclipsed yet, then I don’t know why I shouldn’t be able to look at it.”

“I’ve explained this to you at length over the past week. Even though the sun is partially blocked by the moon, the ultraviolet rays of the sun are still strong enough to do damage to your retinas,” he lectured you, waving from the sun to your face with his hands. “You remember all of this, don’t you?”

You nodded begrudgingly, “The damage done to the retinas is similar to an injury called ‘welder’s burn.’”

Spencer’s face lit up in the recognition that you had in fact been listening to him while he rambled about the solar eclipse. “It’s not painful, but the burn is a result of staring into the sun. The light comes from multiple different wavelengths, and your eyes focus on that powerful light.”

“I don’t like the glasses, they block out everything except for the sun,” you explained, you wanted to be able to see everything. Henry had already fallen victim to the glasses, hitting his head on a table while running around with impaired vision – JJ and Will were inside with him now.

Spencer laid back on the blanket with a huff, “Y/N, I love you, but I am not taking you to the ophthalmologist tomorrow.”

Waggling your brows at your boyfriend, you grinned, “What do I get out of wearing the glasses for the eclipse?”

Naturally, he had his glasses on, and he couldn’t see anything you were doing. “You can see. You could not go blind.”

You flicked your eclipse glasses down onto your nose and joined Spencer in laying back on the picnic blanket. “You make a fair argument, Dr. Reid.”

“It’s not an argument, I’m telling you that you will do irreparable damage to your eyes. This is exactly why we went to the library for the glasses,” Spencer reminded you. The two of you had actually gone to three different libraries for eclipse glasses. Mostly because you had been morally opposed to buying glasses if you could get them for free elsewhere. “This is not a situation where you can argue your side, you either go blind or you don’t.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you sighed defeatedly, “I won’t go blind.”

Spencer hummed, “Good, that’s the right choice, baby.”

After just a few moments of watching the moon cover the sun, you lifted your glasses to look over at Spencer, who quickly reached out to put the glasses back over your eyes, “no, wait!” You said, seeing Spencer start to dig through his leather bag.

“I told you,” Spencer explained, waving the zip-ties in the air. Why he had zip-ties in his bag, you couldn’t say.

Shaking your head, you quickly put the glasses on, “That time was an accident!” Your voice was insistent as you collapsed into a fit of giggles.

“You two are being too loud!” Emily called from her blanket.

In a surprising turn of events, Spencer pinned you to the blanket just as you whispered, “Who’s gonna tell her it doesn’t need to be quiet for her to watch the eclipse?”

[whiskeyskin]

Different kind of Intimacy

Premise: After Astarion's confession at Moonrise, you decide that your usual style of feeding just won't cut it any more.

• Astarion x gn!Tav • Mild rating •

Reader POV, fluff, conversation about boundaries set, sweetness, understanding, softness, Astarion feeding, despite female in the inspo picture no mention of gender, love, security, intimacy, doped out Astarion

2.3k words

Shoutout to @ladyofthecreed for this beautiful piece of art for @aevallare! How stunning is it? 🥹💜 And thanks to @crepsley for the tag 🙌

This is a little different than my usual smutty style but I saw this picture and felt inspired to write something a little softer for our boy ☺️

•°•°•

"You can feed on me tonight, if you'd like." You offered with a smile.

"I was so hoping you'd say that." He lilted back to you.

You took a breath to speak again and stopped.

"Yes, my sweet. What is it?" He questioned, with a curious tilt of his head.

After the incident with the Drow at Moonrise yesterday, Astarion had confessed some deep feelings and troubles he'd had.

After he'd admitted his growing feelings for you, despite it starting out as a manipulation, he'd stated very plainly that he didn't want anyone to think of him in terms of sex but that he still wanted to be with you.

So, you'd suggested that you'd become friends first, instead of lovers. That you would still be together but wouldn't have sex until he was ready, if he ever would be.

He'd obviously joked and tried to lessen the mood with a flippant remark but you'd learned him well enough to see he was appreciative of the gesture.

You'd pulled him into a hug, and after his inital shock, he'd held on so tightly he had been reluctant to let go.

He'd offered his hand to hold yours and a silent bond was made between you.

You'd been thinking on this development between you this last day since your conversation together. Pondering on ways to make him more comfortable, to give him more autonomy within the relationship.

Astarion had been very sweet and attentive throughout the day. Like something had settled within him, like something had slotted into place.

He'd stuck very close by you, while carefully adventuring through the perilous Shadowlands.

During battle he'd taken a more protective and defensive role around you, instead of stealthy and offensive. Several times throughout the day, he had slid his hand within yours and lightly squeezed - completely unprompted - just to feel the warmth of your skin.

He'd also spotted something that would be valuable to you in a fight and gifted it to you; you didn't ask how he'd gotten it, even though you could probably guess.

And now, it was time to settle down for the night, he'd dragged his bedroll to rest next to you. Producing a small potion from his pack, you assumed he was probably already hungry and needed to feed, hence your invitation, but you needed to discuss this first.

"I've been thinking, about what you said last night, about not thinking of you in terms of sex," you started, his face pulled into an unsure expression, "It's nothing bad, it's that I've been thinking about how you feed. It's quite, sexually charged. Especially the way you feed. It's urgent and rough and-"

"-Rough? I-I thought I was being gentle. You've not said anything since that first night. I-" He sounded hurt, afraid he'd been causing you pain. You hushed his worries.

"That's not what I meant, I'm not making an issue of it, I promise. It's not something to be sorry for, it hasn't bothered me until now. I thought it was all part and parcel of the experience; foreplay, if you will?" You shrugged.

"I mean, you'd feed, get hard and then we'd usually fuck. But now I believe we need to re-think our approach." You explained further.

"It's not that having sex wasn't out of desire for you. It's-it's complicated to explain," he signed with a furrowed brow.

"I told you, that it's not that I'm not attracted to you, trust me," he smiled wickedly, you shook your head and went to speak but he cut across you to continue, "You are wholly different to ones I've seduced before. This was of my own voilition, for one - although out of necessity as transactional protection but - things have changed. I've changed. You've made me see what I'm capable of. You've.." he paused, swallowing and looking around the vacinity for the right words, "You've encouraged me. Had faith in me. Shown me kindness I've not felt in two centuries. I care for you in a way I thought impossible, but I don't know how to be with someone, without reliving the past.. But I desperately want this to be real, truly real." His claret eyes bore into yours, pleading and sad. You slowly raised your hand to cup the side of this face.

"This is real, just because it's not a sexual relationship, doesn't mean it's not real." You smiled, reassuring his doubts. He closed his eyes and leaned into your palm. Your heart squeezed as his cool cheek pressed further into the warmth.

"The act of a vampire feeding on someone has been made inherently sexual. It's been fetishised, and so in turn, has the whole vampire thing. Which works to the vamp's advantage. I can't blame the people for it. Being bitten, being fed on is an intoxicating experience." You couldn't help but shudder at the memories of you both pressed together.

"For me too," He breathed, his neck tensing, "The feeling of feeding has no match."

You smiled softly and sighed, "Like you said, 'There's nothing more desirable in the world than a vampire'." You both pursed your lips in bitter resignation.

"So, to remedy this, we need to unsexualise it going forward," you continued, "Before feeding was all teeth and rubbing up against each other like animals. Now, it's going to be slow and intimate. Not sexual intimacy, true intimacy."

"It's different to the enemies you drain on the road, or in battle. It's you and me, and that's special. We need to make it special." You smoothed the cool touch of his cheek under your thumb.

He swallowed and sat up, intrigued, "What did you have in mind, my dear?"

You certainly had had some ideas.

"Well, you've tried both of the 'best' places to feed from; the jugular and the femoral," you announced, gesturing to your neck and inner thigh, "But I was thinking of the wrist? It's a pretty neutral place to feed from."

"Sounds reasonable. It's certainly a slower feed than the neck, or thigh." He agreed with a head tilt, "Although they are an awful lot of fun." He said through tilted gaze and a dangerous grin, his hand gliding up your thigh to caress it.

Your stomach flipped from habit, but you squashed it down.

"Stop it," you chastised him with a gentle nose boop. He scrunched his face and let out a small, high chuckle. His hand relented to your knee, thumbing the seam where he'd stitched a hole for you.

"Feeding will be more about taking the time to connect with each other, without sex. It'll be slow, patient.. calming." You let out a long, cleansing breath and blinked slowly, to emphasise the point.

"Well, then. Henceforth, I shall drink from your wrist when you're resting." He gave a tilted nod.

"Um, no. I was going to suggest feeding before sleep. I'd like to be present with you. Truly present with you. Not groggy from sleep, or blissed from sex. I'd like to be with you."

He looked taken aback, but interested, "Alright then.. feeding before rest," he said, testing the idea on his tongue. He seemed to measure it acceptable before asking, "Could I.. request something of you.. while I feed?" He asked, his words measured.

"Of course, darling." You answered enthusiastically, glad for his input.

"Would you.. play with my hair?" He requested, a little sheepishly, "I-I find it. It's not a sexual thing, before I always hated it but.. when you do it-it's.. comforting to me. I-I don't know why."

Your heart swelled and your eyes began to gently fill at the surprisingly sweet request.

"Of course, I will." You smiled, blinking back unexpected tears.

Astarion smiled back and took a faux breath and huffed it out in expectation.

"So, shall we, my dear?" He flourished a hand for you to lie down.

"We shall," you nodded, "How do you wish to do this?"

"Lying down would be fine." He suggested.

"If that's what you'd like." You began unfolding your leg from the crossed position to stretch it before laying down.

"Wait.." he stopped, then looked up through curious eyes, "What about this?" He asked, as he gently laid the side of his head down on your thigh.

You beamed, "That's nice.. wait-" You scooched a little more, "Lay on your back."

He did as he was told and shuffled around so the back of his head lay fully on the cushioning meat of your crossed leg, the other extended alongside his body.

You gazed down at him laying contentedly in your lap, "How's that?" You asked.

He manoeuvred himself to rest more squarely, testing the feeling, which he seemed to agree with.

"Comfortable."

"Which wrist?" You offered both in the air.

"Wrap your arms around, and I'll feed from your non-dominant one."

You leaned down more, rounding your spine so you weren't sat so upright. You cradled his head with your arms and let your wrists hang loose.

Astarion took your hand and wriggled himself within your arm's embrace, then looked up and smiled at you. Your own broadened across your face.

"Is this alright?"

He nodded, paused then crooked a finger at you.

You bent down a little more and he brought his fingers to tenderly grasp your chin and pulled you in for a delicate kiss, barely anything in comparison to others you had, but filled with a warmth and softness that hadn't been there before.

"Thank you." He breathed, "For thinking of this, for respecting my wishes."

The breath was stolen from your lungs and your chest ached. You couldn't deny it, you were in love with him.

You didn't reply, you simply pressed a kiss to his forehead, "Eat up."

He paused again, looking like he was about to say something but decided against it. He took your hand and carefully pulled up the sleeve, before bringing it to his nose to inhale deeply.

This was a little ritual he liked to do, like a fine wine; you have to smell the bouquet.

He chastely pecked several times at the thin blue lines on your inner wrist, before slowly sinking his fangs and drinking deeply.

The pain, while still present, was surprisingly minimal. Much less sharp than his usual snapping bite down on your neck, or inner thigh.

You rest your other arm on his chest, but quickly his other hand grasped your hand and placed it on his hair.

You grinned to yourself, "My mistake, sorry dear." You admonished yourself, giggling, while beginning to weave your fingers into his loose curls.

Astarion mumbled against your skin, something sassy no doubt, but it was hushed by the sensation of his hair being twisted between your deft fingers.

He moaned into your wrist; it wasn't with reverent pleasure, it was in contentment.. ease..

You stared down at the beautiful pale Elf laying in your lap, feeding gently on your life force. His ears were lightly wiggling as he drank, latched onto skin.

You stifled a laugh, he was like a kitten nursing milk. It was too adorable. Of course, you'd never seen this angle to witness it before. It was beyond endearing.

He looked so peaceful with his eyes closed, slowly drinking his fill of your blood. His body language relaxed, instead of poised to pounce. The pace of his pulls against your wrist laboured and suckling.

Seeing him like this, calm and steady, instead of scared and jittering, unlocked a compartment of your heart you'd fervently kept closed off from the world.

Gods, you loved him.

You loved him so much you ached.

Your heart physically panged to see him so blissfully unbothered and relaxed.

You brushed his hair out of his face, and twirled it between your fingers. You smoothed his locks like petting a contented animal, and wove fingertips under the length, to massage the base of his skull.

Each movement illiciting a gratified sigh, his body sinking lower and lower into your lap.

After a while, your head started to feel woozy and your extremities were starting to go cold and numb.

"Astarion?" You whispered, gently rubbing your hand on his chest and tapping twice with your peace fingers, "That's enough, love."

He stirred, dazed from feeding. He clamped his two fingers on the puncture marks, as you reached for the healing potion from his pack to pour over them. A small drizzle and the marks were healed.

You took a steading breath and swigged the rest down to help with restoration of blood before a spell from Shadowheart in the morning.

Stoppering the empty bottle and placing it on the ground, Astarion's weight still lay heavy on your lap.

His lips and teeth dyed the colour of you, as he smiled dopily, eyes remaining closed.

You sat with him in the moment, returning to weave his white curls between your fingers. The vague warmth of your blood coarsing through him transferring back to you through skin contact.

Astarion let out a serene and easy sigh, his eyes heavy as he tried to open them.

"That felt.. very different." He whispered, almost like he was breathless.

You kissed your fingers that waited on his chest and pressed them to his temple. He kissed the air back at you, body still heavy and exhausted.

"I don't know how to describe it. My body feels heavy, but light.."

The light pulse of your blood through his dead veins was present again under the pads of your fingers.

"I assume this new feeding technique is a success then, dove? You inquired, keeping your voice low.

Astarion swallowed thickly, the stain of blood still on his teeth. He licked his lips lethargicly, "Most certainly. I feel.. completely.. utterly.. totally.."

"I hope the end of this sentence is a good one." You teased at his lack of composure.

He let out a sharp exhale of amusement through his nose, "It is.." he muttered.

You smoothed the line of his jaw, careful to not touch his sensitive ears. You smiled at the recent memory of them twitching as he fed.

"Did you know your ears wiggle up and down when you feed?" You asked in soft merriment.

"I did not.." he replied, flexing his eyebrows slowly.

"It's very cute."

"I am not cute." He tried to exert, with not much conviction, "I am a terrible creature of the night, feeding on helpless victims. I am a monster. I am not cute." He posited in feigned outrage.

You gazed down at the soft, tortured, beautiful soul in front of you and quickly blinked back the tears that swelled.

"No, you're not my love.. and I promise one day you'll see yourself the way I see you." You beamed at him.

Astarion squeezed your had three times, you repeat it back. You take a shaking breath in and blow it out, smiling.

A different kind of intimacy.

•°•°•

Yo.. down here.. fancy some more? 👀

[joonsytip]

Only for Love || Mingyu [Teaser]

Pairings: Mingyu x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Husband!Mingyu, Cold Wife!Reader, Arranged Marriage au, Contract Marriage au, Divorce au

Synopsis: When an accidental discovery has your perception of happy married life crumbling down, you do what you think is the best for everyone involved. Naturally, your opinion of the best doesn't cater to your husband's. So what happens when things spiral out due to unforeseen events?

Warnings: Reader is cold but also shy, Mingyu is gullible and impulsive, lack of communication, misunderstanding, miscommunication, reader is objectified once, hurt, crying, profanities, mentions of divorce, sexual intimacy, mentions of pregnancy, rest will be specified under the part when published

Main story out now checkout here!

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

"Let's get divorced."

When Mingyu came home late at night to see you awake and waiting for him, there was an uncanny feeling that settled within.

Your hands are crossed, face void of any expression. If not for your next words, Mingyu would think he's hallucinating.

"We can decide on the terms and clauses, all as per your convenience.", you stress, "I do not expect any trouble from your side."

Mingyu finally registers everything you have said till now and everything hits him all at once.

"W-What are you talking about? Why do you want a divorce all of a sudden?"

Your monotonous tone rather asks him another question, "We have been married for over two years, nearing it's third anniversary. Do you want to be tied in this marriage?"

Though Mingyu thinks he doesn't know you well enough but he knows you enough to catch the wind of your words.

His gaze turns towards his office room and his suspicion confirms to be correct when he sees the door opened ajar.

"Why did you enter my office? I had clearly warned you about not doing so.", he says in a strict voice.

"That doesn't answer my question.", you say getting up, "Anyways it doesn't matter anymore, I want you to move out of our shared bedroom right now and shift to the guest room. I'll get a lawyer, you get one too and proceed with the divorce."

As you turn back, you feel your husband's hand wrap around yours.

"How are you so calm? Why are you not asking me anything? Do I really mean nothing to you?", you hear a string of questions falling out of his lips, "We are married for almost three years now and your cool headedness after, I'm assuming, knowing everything makes me aware of the fact that I really don't know you."

You jerk your hand out of his grip and turn back to look at him, "And how is that my fault? Maybe you've never tried to know me.", your voice drops another octave, "You can stop with the doting husband act, now that I know the truth."

Mingyu doesn't miss the way your eyes show vulnerability for a moment. Your words strike a chord within him.

"I'll sleep in the guest room.", Mingyu says in defeat, "And we're gonna talk it out tomorrow morning.", he sounds sincere when he says, "I'm sorry. I hope you'll give me a chance to explain everything."

But little does he know, you've already closed the room for any diversions, that you've decided to part ways with the person who has betrayed your trust.

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip.

[miley1442111]

cookies-a.hotchner

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

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

a/n: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR 1000 FOLLOWERS, Y'ALL MEAN SO MUCH TO ME I CAN'T BEGIN TO EXPLAIN IT!!!!

summary: you're the cute barista he sees everyday.

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem barista reader

warnings: fluff, mentions of sa, aaron is a cutie in this, sorry if this doesn't make sense, i was studying german all day and idk if I have the patience to re-write this :)

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

Aaron’s nervousness grew as he stepped closer and closer to the counter. Aaron Hotchner was not a man to be anxious, nervous, or shy when it came to speaking to people, even new people. Aaron Hotchner was a confident, intelligent man who was very important and powerful in both his personal and work life. 

So why was he so nervous to speak to the cute barista he saw every morning?

In his defence, you were drop-dead gorgeous. Aaron loved everything about you, your hair, your style, your face, your lips (he spent a lot of time looking at them), and everything about you. You were so interesting, so nice, and very good at making him a good cup of coffee. 

“Aaron! How are you today?” You asked, a smile on your face as he got to the top of the queue. 

“I’m fine thank you, how are you?” he smiled. Good, I got through the first sentence. 

“I’m great! It’s so nice out today,” you mentioned the weather everyday without fail, Aaron smiled and agreed with whatever positive outlook you had, even on the gloomiest of days. 

“It is,” he nodded. 

“The usual?” you asked, getting a cup ready. 

“Please,” he nodded. “And one of the cookies please.”

You stopped your writing on the cup to look up at him. “A cookie? I wouldn’t have put you down for a cookie guy, Aaron.”

“It’s not for me, my son loves the cookies from your shop,” he admitted, since he’d brought Jack here on your day off (yes, he had your schedule memorised. You worked Mondays to Fridays between 7am and 1pm, Saturday off, then on Sundays you worked the closing shift), and he’d enjoyed the cookie quite a lot. 

Your eyes flickered with something like… disappointment, but it was immediately replaced with your signature smile. “Any specific one?” You asked, eyes moving from him to the display case. 

“The red one, he loves spiderman,” he decided after a moment of deliberation. 

“A man after my own heart,” you smiled, and bagged the cookie, giving him a soft goodbye as he waited for his drink and cookie down by the other side of the till. 

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

Your co-worker gave you a sad smile as you deflated. Your cute regular, Aaron, was obviously married with children, who wouldn’t want to make him a dad? Who wouldn’t want to give him anything he wants forever? He was just so handsome and so sweet and so-

You get the point. 

You were smitten with a married man you had no chance with. Sigh. 

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

Saturday 4pm

Aaron walked in with Jack’s hand in his and the rest of the BAU team behind him. He was in his marathon wear, after just running the town's marathon. The shop was practically empty, it probably had something to do with the time and the fact that they were giving out free food at the finish line. But Aaron wanted nothing more than to b-line it straight to your cafe and get a latte and a cookie (he tried a bite of Jack’s and he very much enjoyed it).

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

The bell above the door rang and you put on your best customer service face to be met with Penelope Garcia. Your sister’s friend from college that visits every summer. 

“Pen?” you smiled 

“Y/n!” she squealed, opening her arms for a hug. You came out from behind the counter to hug her.

“How are you?” You asked as the rest of the group looked at the two of you. 

“I’m so amazing! I cannot believe your sister didn’t tell me you opened the cafe?!” She practically scolded. 

“Don’t be too hard on her, she doesn’t exactly… know,” you chuckled uncomfortably as Penelope’s face fell. 

“Why wouldn’t she know?” She whispered, turning you both away from the prying eyes of the group. 

“She… she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore,” you shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“Why? What happened?” 

“After the… after Ryan did, y’know, what he did, she told me she believed his version and not mine. C’est la vie,” you sighed, picking at your nails as you explained. 

“What?!” Penelope was practically crying. “That’s awful!” “I’m fine,” you chuckled, going back behind the counter. “Now, what can I get you?”

“I have the order written down, it’s a lot,” a tall man from the group offered. 

“Sounds great,” you smiled at him. He handed you over a piece of paper with various drink orders and food orders and you started working on them right away, since you were the only one working that day too. Penelope paid, and watched over you as the group chatted about various cases and congratulated Aaron on his performance. She soon realised she wasn’t the only one watching you, Aaron’s eyes were firmly planted on either you, or Jack. 

Interesting. 

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

As you brought over all the drinks, you finally let yourself look at Aaron. 

Fuck, he looked good in a t-shirt and running shorts. It was becoming unfair. 

There were three women on the team. Penelope, not his wife for sure- she was dating Kevin. A blonde woman, showing photos of her kids to the group and sitting far away from Aaron- not his wife. A brunette woman who was gorgeous who sat right beside him, but there was no physical contact- maybe his wife? You couldn’t tell. 

As the night wore on and they started trickling out, you were left alone with Aaron for a split second. While clearing their table, you accidentally knocked into him and spilt coffee on his shirt. 

“Shit, I am so sorry!” You immediately apologised and Aaron just stared at you with this dazed look for a second, then smiled. 

“It’s fine, I promise,” he nodded, but you felt awful. 

“Please let me get you some tissue or something Aaron,” you pleaded, bringing the cups over to the till before running to grab some tissue paper, not even waiting for his response. 

“It’s really not a big-” Aaron started but you hushed him, trying to get some of the coffee off of his shirt. He stared down at you as you worked, muttering soft apologies and sighs or annoyance at your carelessness. “Can I ask you out to dinner?” He blurted out, not even thinking. God, his head felt so hazy when he was around you. 

You slowly looked up in shock. “Pardon?”

“I’m asking you out,” he repeated. 

“But don’t you have a wife-?”

“She and I got divorced a while ago. I get Jack- my son- on the weekends,” he explained. 

“Oh, then in that case, yes please,” you smiled. “I’d love to go out.”

“Good,” he smiled, then he turned quite serious. “I promise to just move things at your speed, I overheard what you and Penelope were talking about,” he sighed. “You’ll call all of the shots, I promise.”

Your heart swelled. He was a gentleman, a dad, and a lovely person? How could you be more lucky? “Thank you, that means a lot.”

Aaron walked out of the coffee shop, a large stain on his white shirt, but a date too, so he really didn’t mind.

He also didn't mind the teasing he got from Penelope on the way home.

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

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[zephyrchama]

hi!! please can you spare a crumb of leviathan fluff please?

You knocked on the door to Leviathan’s room out of courtesy, but he was already calling for you to “come in.”

“No password?” you asked. You had been expecting a fun trivia question like always.

“No need. I could tell it was you.” From the sound of your approaching footsteps to the way you knock, and even the little pause between those two actions. Everyone seemed to know your distinctive traits better than you did.

“What’s up?” Leviathan didn’t look over. He was too preoccupied with his manga. He held it up in a way that obscured most of his face. His legs were sprawled out on the floor with his back against an ottoman and a stack of the latest releases by his side. Leviathan had a knack for lounging comfortably in the most inconvenient positions.

“I was looking for something to read. Mind if I browse your collection?” "Mmhmm.” Having unfiltered access to Leviathan’s collection was a rare privilege extended only to you, who could be trusted to borrow things without damaging or losing them. Or selling them, spilling food on them, bending the pages. There had been an extensive list of detailed rules you pledged to follow.

You spent a couple of minutes browsing the shelves. Honestly, nothing stood out. The room was silent, save for the occasional turn of a page and the humming of the lights. You were just bored and hoped to spend some quality time with a certain nerd, however, he was busy.

Giving up on the shelves, you decided to plop down in front of Leviathan. He was so immersed in his comic that he didn’t notice. A lead-up to a large-scale battle scene occupied so much of his attention, he failed to realize you were crawling over his legs like a spy in an action flick. You finally grabbed his attention by squeezing your shoulders between his arms, bumping your head against the book as you tried to worm under it.

“Hey! Ahh!” Leviathan was startled. He raised his hands in shock, or maybe to preserve his manga, but either way it created a wider path for you to take immediate advantage of. You snuggled up to his shoulder with the determination of a thousand shounen protagonists.

“What… what? What are…? Whu?” Leviathan was at a loss for words until he finally settled on demanding, “what is this?”

You were still trying to get comfortable, which was causing Leviathan a lot of discomfort. You rolled over to lay your back against his chest and bent your legs over his knees. Tugging his arms back down so you could see the manga, you explained, “I wanted to read this one.”

“It’s volume 18 though…?”

You nodded, “cool.”

“Did you even read the other volumes? You won’t get it at all.”

You tilted your head far back to look up at Leviathan, catching his eye for a brief moment before he glanced away. You felt him shudder. “I wanna read this one, though, so explain it to me.”

Far from the upcoming battle in his manga, Leviathan faced a raging battle in his mind. He couldn’t even remember what happened on the last few pages. He’d have to go back and re-read them.

“If it’s too much, just pretend like I’m not even here. I’ll figure it out on my own,” you said. The art looked good enough that you could admire that, even if you didn’t know anything about the plot.

“As if I could do that,” Leviathan complained. With a sigh, he hooked his arms under yours and brought his legs up so you fit better in his lap. Now you wouldn't slide down or constantly readjust your position. His movements were slow and deliberate attempts to make the both of you comfortable. He was cautious, as if you might jump up and run off at any moment.

“We can voice the lines out loud together,” you suggested, “but you’re gonna have to speak up or I won’t be able to hear you.” A chance to play voice actor sounded great to Leviathan. He was definitely interested. ”I’m right here though? What do you mean you can’t hear me?”

“Sorry, what was that? Come closer, the thumping in your chest is just so loud.”

With an embarrassed groan, he slapped the manga against his head and buried his blush-stained face into your hair where you couldn't see.

[miguelsslvt]

punk! miguel x innocent! reader

word count: 879

TW: nsfw, smoking, hair-pulling, corruption, swearing, creampie.

request: @sukioyakio ★

A/N: this isn't edited and is poorly made so i'm so sorry. also can i just say thank you so much for over 600 notes on my first drabble?? oh my gosh?? anyways, enjoy and welcome to the club! ^^

imagine punk! miguel being the 'bad rep' of the school. in the 3rd year of college, he took physics, chemistry and spanish language. he would smoke behind the science classrooms, refuse to wear clothes that he calls 'society norms' like a blazer or a button up, and instead wear a black leather jacket with pins like 'pink floyd', or 'anarchist' all around it. he would yell, slander and mock almost every teacher whenever he's in class (which is very rare).

most of the girls honestly adored him, apart from the odd popular girl or two finding him too 'annoying' or too 'muscly' for their liking. he didn't give two shits, he already knew his body count was probably higher then their grades.

but then there's you. sweet, innocent little y/n. where most college students spent their weekends partying, you spent it in your dorm room re-reading 'moby dick' for the 6th time. you took phsycology, english literature and spanish language. and if you were completely honest, the only reason you chose spanish language is because your boyfriend at the time (now ex) was spanish. god, did you regret picking it for him.

you noticed miguel, like every other person in the school would. but your first time was different. you were running late, extremely late for your first class of the day. damn you, alarm. that's when you noticed miguel, outside science block, groaning.

despite being late, you took a curious peek at what the man was groaning about.

'stupid fucking lighter..' he mumbled, trying to light his cigarette, but failing. you knew better then to interfere, to even speak to the most intimidating man in college. but, for some reason, you ended up giving him your lighter.

'thanks, you smoke? i can give you one for a trade.' miguel said, as you smiled so sweetly. you explained how you didn't smoke, or did anything like that, and that you only carried a lighter 'just in case of emergencies'.

that's when miguel's interest in you piqued. you were such a sweet, innocent girl, and that drove something in him. something that he didn't realise he wanted. he usually only went for girls with his taste and style, girls he'd meet at festivals or clubs and were either high as heck or sexy goths. but you, you were different.

soon enough, he realised you were only in his spanish language classes, and that you weren't the best at it. perfect. your weakness was miguel's strength.

that's how you ended up in this situation. bent over miguell's desk in his dorm, mumbling his name as hee proceeded to sbuse his way into your sweet cunt.

'you want to tutor me..? that would be so nice miguel!' you had said so excitedly, there was a spanish exam coming up and miguel so kindly offered to tutor you the friday night. and being so naive and quite desperate for the help, you happily accepted.

his room was filled with different posters and signs like his favourite bands, anarchistic posters, stickers saying things like 'fuck the government!'. his leather jacket was discarded somewhere on the messy floor, as his hands grasped your hips to push you even deeper onto his cock.

'm-miguel.. m-miguel please!' you whined, your mascara running down your face.

he just chuckled, as he pulled your hair lightly, moving you onto the bed as he laid you down on your back, as he started bullying into your pussy once again. he was so mean.

your light blue dress was somewhere on the floor, ripped to shreds. it was your favourite dress, but you had other things to think about at the moment.

'yeah.. you like that, cariño? you like being fucked like a slut? not used to being so used, are you?' miguel teased, as you just moaned in response. he hadn't realised that fucking a cute little angel could be this enticing. fuck, he could get used to this.

'i.. miguel! i-i've never-' 'shh.. i know, i know, a sweet girl like you hasn't ever been treated this way.. i'm sorry for being so rough, but i dunno.. the way you're tightening around me suggests you like the harshness..' he said, his hand wiping your mascara-smudged cheeks. your body was submitting to him in every way possible, and he felt like a starved predator being fed for the first time in years.

'i-is it normal to feel l-like this..?' you whimpered, eyes shut from the pleasure. 'yes.. yes my sweet girl it's very normal to feel like this.. let me give you all the pleasure you've missed out on.' miguel whispered in your ear, as he started thrusting faster and faster, pushing you over to the edge.

you let out a loud moan, your back arching as you came. the way you clenched onto him drove miguel over the edge too. his thrusts became erratic and sloppy, as he let out one more groan as he came deep inside you.

you were panting, your eyes still shut. he pulled out slowly, placing a sweet kiss on your temple. 'god you're so cute..' miguel whispered to you, as you just whimpered in response. he chuckled deeply.

god, he might just get addicted to such a good innocent little thing like you.

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

One of your "It's a Match" chapters gave me an idea. LOVE that series btw!

What if Gaz is a virgin so Simon let's him lose his virginity with his gf? Simon is there to guide Gaz and make sure he does it right so you get as much pleasure out of it as needed. Then you give Gaz the ride of his life while Simon controls when and where he gets to cum. The poor man whimpering beneath you from the edging and denial until he finally gets permission to cum.

Sub!Gaz x Dom!Simon x Switch!Reader

(Feel free to ignore this as well.)

Took some creative liberties with the prompt and made Switch!Reader a mean/brat tamer domme even if Gaz isn’t necessarily a brat (just felt more practical for me to do it). Sue me.

Sharing is caring. || Gaz x F!Reader x Ghost

Rating: E Words: 4.7K (this one got away from me sorry) Pairing: virgin!Gaz x gf!Reader x bf!Simon CW: smut, voyeurism, hotwifing, domination/submission, oral sex (m! and f! receiving), unprotected piv, fairly rough/forceful sex (BUT CONSENSUAL), praise, slight verbal degradation?, body mods (piercings). other tags: pre-established couple, loss of virginity, pre-agreed upon conditions, consent checks, no beta we die like soap. a/n: no thoughts, just vibes. NOT PROOFREAD

Simon first brought it up one sleepy Sunday evening, when you two were lying side by side in bed, his arms snaked around you as you read an e-book, his eyes glued to the TV on an episode of some crime show.

“You know,” He had said, Roman nose rubbing the top of your head affectionately. “I’d like to run something by you.”

“Hm?” You cooed as you rolled your head back on his chest to look up at him.

“So Kyle has this problem,” Simon began to explain as he looked down at you, brown eyes peering through his blonde lashes.

That got your senses tingling and you immediately set aside the tablet to dedicate your attention to the topic at hand, turning your body to properly face him, your arm coming to rest on his shoulder.

“What kind of problem?” You questioned, an eyebrow raising in intrigue.

Simon’s eyebrows twitched lightly, a tell-tale sign he was about to bring up something ‘embarrassing’, some good gossip. “Go on!” You immediately insisted, catching the little microexpressions on his face.

“He’s a virgin.” Simon revealed, causing you to gasp, pulling your head back and shaking it in confusion.

“NO?!” You said in shock. “With that pretty face of his?” You blinked.

“I know.” Simon says and then cocks a brow upward. “So what do you say?”

You didn’t need clarification, you simply smirked and shot him a look.

-

That’s how you ended up here.

Simon made all the arrangements, established rules with Kyle, and finally brought him over the that following Friday.

“You sure about this, sir?” Kyle asks, ever respectfully, sat on your living room couch, with you by his side, Simon sitting across from you on the arm chair by the chandelier.

“As sure as anyt’in’.” Your boyfriend replies and casts a glance at you. “You sure, da’lin’?”

“100% sure.” You answer, before glancing at Kyle. “Are you sure about it?”

“I… I am. But… It’s… It’s your relationship, I don’t want to cause an issue.” Kyle tells you, looking at you sheepishly, dark lashes fluttering anxiously over those stunning brown eyes of his.

“It’s not our first time doing this, I’m sure Simon’s told you all about it.” You reply in a reassuring tone.

“I know but…” Kyle says as he looks at you, your hand on his knee, finger drawing light circles on the denim of his pants.

“We’ll start off slow, at your pace. If ever there’s anything you don’t like, we’ll stop.” You assure him. “Simon’s here for that, after all… Not just for my sake, but yours too.” You add.

Kyle nods and gulps down a deep breath, casting one last glance at the form of his lieutenant, sat imposingly on the arm chair, legs spread open, lounging without a car in the world. One of his legs is bent near the seat, the other stretched across, foot resting on the edge of the coffee table, and arms resting comfortably on the rests, one of his hands holding a tumbler of Bourbon. His head is cocked to the side with interest.

The young sergeant nods again and slowly leans toward you. One of his hand tentatively wraps around your hip, fingers grazing the expanse of your ass in the shorts you’re wearing, while the other grabs you around the back of the neck, his lips connecting to yours.

Your warm, wet tongue swirling with his, soft breaths and gasps coming from your mouth as you let him take the lead for a moment... it’s all making his confidence grow. Sure, he’ll need guidance eventually, but for now he’s got this.

His hand slides to cup your ass, grabbing it with a greedy grasp, squeezing his fingers into the thickness, the other sinking into your hair, fingers gently clutching your scalp as they tug into the hairs.

He’s kissed plenty of people before, this isn’t new for him, and yet, it still feels completely different, in the way you’re not ‘his’ to kiss. But, somehow, that makes it all the better.

Slowly, your lips separate and you glance up at him a single look to check on his state and he nods imperceptibly, which causes your hands to slide down his chest and begin feeling him up.

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you atop of him, hands sliding under the fabric of your top to feel up your back as your own find the hem of his t-shirt and tug it up to expose his chest.

Your fingers trace his pecs, his abs, nails softly drawing down atop him, making him shiver. He’s younger than Simon, his skin infinitely smoother, his body fat percentage definitely lower, not a trace of hair on him. It’s so different from your boyfriend… And you welcome the change.

You help him take off his t-shirt, throwing it haphazardly to the side and then lower your mouth onto his jaw, neck, shoulders, collarbones… You’ve barely started and the poor kid looks like he’s already seeing the universe and all its stars, his cock having sprung to attention so quickly that the bulge in his pants keeps rubbing against your inner thigh.

Slowly, you slip down from atop of him, your hands sliding down his body as you kneel before him on the floor, hands tracing over his thighs in the jeans he’s wearing, fingers squeezing his strong muscles through the fabric.

“You’ve never gotten a bj before, have you?” You ask him, eyebrows cocked and eyes locked onto his face. He shakes his head immediately, muttering something about ‘getting a handy’ back in secondary but that was the extent of it.

“Poor thing.” You coo at him. “Never got to feel a pretty mouth wrapped around that cock, hm?” Yo teased him playfully, watching how his eyes widened, eyebrows scrunching pitifully, as you undid his belt and tugged down his jeans.

“You’re in good hands, Garrick. She’ll take good care of you. Has a very talented throat.” Simon pipes up behind you. You don’t even have to look behind you to spot the smirk on his lips, the way the dulcet of his voice comes just short of a boast and a brag of how lucky he himself is, and how lucky Kyle is that Simon was willing to share you.

You help Kyle out of his sneakers and jeans before beginnin to palm him through the black cotton of his boxer briefs, his cock already peeking up from behind the waistband, leaking precum in anticipation. “Someone’s eager, hm? Are you excited, Kyle?” You quip to him.

“Mhm. Very. Very!” Kyle nods, his eyes glued to every single movement of yours, from the way your hands palm at his bulge, to how your fingers caress his smooth skin, to how they hook onto the waistband and roll down his underwear, peeling it off his body.

He’s big, bigger than Simon, even, though not as thick… He’s circumcised and he’s perfectly shaven. You wonder if he did that for your sake, or his own preference. There’s a thick vein running down the underside of him, one you can’t wait to feel pulse against your tongue.

Taking his cock in your hand, you stroke it slowly before allowing your tongue to run atop of it, base to tip, your tongue gently grazing the leaky tip, spreading the precum over the head before slowly parting your lips and guiding him inside.

The moan that escapes the boy in front of you makes you smirk, he twitches below you, fingers clenching on either side of his thighs, as if resisting squeezing into tight fists as you slowly allow his cock to slide deeper into your mouth. Then, you start bobbing it, up and down, cheeks hollowed out and lips grazing the warm skin leaving a mess of saliva around him.

Kyle’s quick to react this time, his hand grabbing you by your hair, legs trembling on either side of you. Your eyes shoot up to find his, only to find that his head is falling back onto the back of the couch, eyes screwed closed, mouth hanging open like he’s experiencing an out of body experience.

“He’s certainly enjoying himself, isn’t he?” Simon remarks behind you, receiving a finger signal from you, a sign of agreement, a preestablished way of communicating, since your mouth was busy. “That feel good, Kyle?”

“Y-Yeah… Yeah… I-It… God…” Kyle groans in between swallowed breaths. Poor thing, you want to coo at him, already too lost in the pleasure to even speak… Oh, how beautiful he’ll look soon, fucked out under you, drunk on your pussy…

You don’t notice Simon coming up from behind you until you feel his hand grip your head, atop of Kyle’s, calloused fingers digging into your scalp. His other hand shoots out to grab Kyle’s head from the back, pulling it forward so he’s forced to stare at you.

Then, your head is shoved forward, Kyle’s cock sliding down your throat with no warning Simon’s hand holding you in place, while Kyle’s eyes widen and an obscene moan escapes his mouth. Simon controls your head, pulling and pushing you onto Kyle’s hip. 

It’s no wonder that Kyle’s whole body starts to tremble, eyes widened and having trouble staying focused, or open, mouth left wide open as Simon makes him fuck the back of your throat, experienced eyes keeping watch of your reactions and signals and of Kyle’s…

He’s controlling the speed at which you go, how deep you take his cock down his throat, how much of a mess you make with your spit, and how long you get to breathe whenever he pulls you off before pushing you back on. A reminder. He’s always in control.

“Come down her pretty throat, go on, Garrick.” Simon demands. Kyle, poor thing, has already been holding on with teeth and nails to keep himself from climaxing too soon, wanting to prove himself as more than just inexperienced… But Simon’s order is so severe, he can’t keep it up… And he lets go, twitching in your mouth and shooting his come down your throat.

Simon lets go of you both, giving you a moment to catch your breaths, brown eyes staring at the result of what you just did, you, out of breath, a mess of drool down your chin, and eyes welled up with tears, and Kyle, out of breath, a mess of drool around the base of his cock, and eyes glazed over.

“Good job, da’lin’...” Simon tells you, pulling you up ever so slightly, kissing you sweetly, his tongue piercing flicking across your tongue, as if he’s looking for a taste of Kyle in your throat. 

After a moment, he pulls back and looks at Kyle. “Now, you’re gonna thank her for the favour she made ya, hm?” He warns. “Let’s take this to the bed. C’mon.” He demands, taking you by the hand and leading you to the bedroom, leaving Kyle to have to keep up.

Simon, unlike you, is a practical man. He doesn’t waste time. By the time Kyle has made it to the bedroom after barely 20 seconds, he’s already got you naked and splayed atop the mattress, a pillow placed under your hips.

He’s on his knees in front of you and beckons Kyle closer with two fingers, before he uses those same two fingers to rub over your folds and spread them open, revealing just how wet you’ve gotten from merely giving Kyle head. “You see that?” Simon coos at him while you stare at them both, holding yourself up on your elbows.

“Y-Yes, sir.” Kyle replies with a nod, his own hand reaching to touch you, carefully sliding between your puffy lips, gliding across easily through the slick. 

Simon grabs Kyle’s wrist and carefully guides it across to your clit, finding it with the speed of a man that’s been fucking you often since you two started dating. He knows your body, knows you better than anyone, and he’s about to show Kyle exactly how to touch you to get you to fall apart like he does…

You immediately stiffen up when you feel the pads of Kyle’s fingers against your clit, the pressure behind them coming from Simon’s hand as he rolls his fingers in light circles. It’s familiar and it immediately causes you to hum in pleasure and hiss, lying yourself back on the mattress.

“Ideally, you always keep something touch that needy little clit there.” Simon explains, more like he’s giving an anatomy lesson than having a threesome. “Be it a tongue, a finger, what have you.”

Simon’s hand then slides Kyle’s fingers away, making you whimper from the loss of contact. “Be patient, da’lin’, you’ll get more soon.” He quips. “Needy girl… Thought you were going to be all bossy with Kyle, now look at you…” He coos. 

Simon turns Kyle’s hand over and, using his own hand, parts your puffy cunny before helping Kyle push two digits into your slick warmth. Kyle’s fingers are no biggy, not thick and calloused like Simon’s, and they’re surprisingly easy to take on. You moan softly at them, before becoming just a bit more vocal when Kyle’s fingers pad over your G-spot when Simon curls them just so.

“Right there, you see that?” Simon beckons, Kyle responding with mild agreement that you don’t even register because, soon, his fingers start moving, fucking in and out you per Simon’s instruction, while your boyfriend’s tongue quickly finds your clit, the cold piercing rubbing and flicking at your most sensitive spot, causing your back to arch on the bed.

“Oh, fuck, Simon…” You whine, legs already shaking, more so per the stimulation, which causes your boyfriend to use both of his free hands to keep your knees spread open as far as he could comfortably get them, tongue still lapping up at you with purposeful strokes.

The shaggy blond hair of your boyfriend vanishes for a moment, as does the experienced tongue touching you, before it gets replaced with Kyle’s slightly messier and uncoordinated attempts, Simon observing Kyle and noting your reactions and how much weaker they are, upset at the lack of proper stimulation.

“C’mon, Garrick…” Simon croons. “Your tongue’s sharp enough to roast Johnny, but you get here and it gets shy?” He taunts, before using his hand on the back of the sergeant’s neck to guide him a bit.

“I’m trying…” Kyle remarks, his face feeling warm against your skin, showing he’s likely blushing despite his darker complexion hiding it, his fingers still moving in the way Simon taught him, his only saving grace.

“Scoot.” Simon remarks and pushes his head aside, ever so slightly, causing him to rest against your thigh. Simon’s head pushes in near Kyle’s, resting against your other thigh, and his tongue catches your clit again, though the angle at he’s at now, slightly at an angle, allows Kyle to spot the way Simon moves his tongue: soft circles, zigzagging side to side, lips also rubbing against you.

Kyle watches closely, eyes widened, pupils blown with lust at the sight of Simon’s face so close and going down on you so eagerly, his eyes glued to your face up top, as if checking every single reaction you have to your boyfriend’s mouth. And react you do. Your moans are louder, jumpy, desperate, your hands grabbing the bed covers and squeezing tight, your cunt seeking Simon’s mouth as you fuck yourself onto it.

Kyle wasn’t the type to watch porn often, having little time and little interest in it, more so because he knew it wasn’t a good habit or realistic to expect it to be realistic… But the sight of Simon’s lips sucking and rubbing into your slick like it was the most delicious meal he’s ever gotten to eat was better than any of the porn he’s actually seen.

Simon’s able to make you come undone in a matter of minutes, the whimpers and needy moans, the shallow breaths, the way your head was left spinning, lolling to the side as Simon eased you down from your peak and then dropped a chaste kiss to your thigh before standing up again. 

“You saw that?” He teases Kyle, who nods eagerly, no words coming to his lips after the display he just got. “You’ll get there eventually. With practise.” He assures him before patting him lightly on the shoulder. “Up you go.”

“How are you doing, da’lin’?” Simon asks, checking on you as you nod and show him a thumbs up, causing a chuckle to come from his chest before he takes a seat in another armchair in the corner, a spot he usually uses when having insomnia, right by the windows, to work on his laptop while you sleep near him… Except this time being used for something else.

“Go on, then, continue.” He demands as he sprawls out on the armchair, legs spread and already undoing his belt and fly, seeking relief from the tight feeling in his own jeans.

You nod eagerly and quickly shift to be sat on the bed, pulling Kyle toward you. “You still want this?” You ask him as you look him in the eyes… As if Kyle, needy the way he is now, after the sight of you coming undone on Simon’s tongue, would ever be able to answer anything other than a resounding ‘YES!’.

“Mhm… I do.” Kyle assures you with another nod… So, you kiss again, hands sliding over each other’s bodies just like they had on the couch before, exploring the free skin, allowing Kyle to grope you more easily. He seems fixated on your ass and thighs, fingers kneading the extra meat in them and holding you close.

His cock has long recovered from his first orgasm, now rubbing against your tummy as he kneels in front of you on the mattress. But not for long. Soon, you’ve laid Kyle on his back, and you’re straddling him, one leg on either side, slowly rubbing your folds over the length of his veiny cock.

“You’re gonna take ‘im for a right, da’lin’?” Simon asks, your eyes seeking him out in his armchair. The way you’re positioned, he can see all of you. Your pretty tits, the way your lips spread to rub against Kyle’s shaft, your legs parted open and knees digging into the mattress.

“Mhm…” You reply, your expression having shifted once again from the needy, submissive mess he had made of you, to a more dominant, playful one as you look down at the sergeant below you, looking up at you like he knows he’s in for a wild one.

“Go on then… But try not to break him, yeah?” Simon teases and winks at you, his hand already palming his cock through his own black boxer briefs.

“No promises…” You quip in return and wink back, before, carefully reaching a hand forward to lift Kyle’s cock from its resting spot against his hip.

Slowly, you sink yourself into it, his narrower build a lot easier to accommodate than Simon’s girth… But you soon regret how eagerly you did it, when you feel Kyle’s sheer size slip inside easily, his tip striking your cervix forcefully with that one swft motion.

“Bloody hell…” You grunt and bounce back a bit to relieve the pressure. “You’re big, aren’t you?” You tease Kyle who’s already unresponsive, poor little thing, eyes twice as wide as they had been when you gave him head, barely nodding in response.

Shifting your weight around, you plant your feet on either side of Kyle’s hip. “I’m gonna move, okay?” You warn him, setting your open palms on his thighs, behind your back, earning another nod from Kyle.

Slowly, you start to ride him, each bounce of your hips drawing the most delicious moans out of Kyle, his head lolling back over the foot of the bed, eyelids fluttering and his back arching.

“Gah- Fuck-” Kyle grunts, his breath already ragged before you’ve had time to do anything, just slowly moving, feeling his lengthy size rub against your walls as you force him to bottom out every time.

Kyle’s voice gets higher, whinier, his forehead dribbling with sweat with each thrust you force his cock to deliver into your slick cunny. “Feels… so… sososo so good…” He whimpers, his tone almost pathetic.

“Yeah… does it feel good?” You croon at him, a mischievous smirk on your lips, his cock drawing soft moans off your mouth as well.

“Yeah… yeah… yeah…” Kyle nods needily, his breath staggered and swallowing excess saliva.

“Yeah? Was it all you were expecting, pretty boy?” You tease him some more, earning another handful of needy ‘Yeah’s, his mind too overwhelmed with pleasure to consider saying anything else. “You don’t want me to go faster then, do you?”

“No… no… faster…” He replies, his head shooting forward, clearly eager to experience what ‘faster’ would feel like.

“Oh? Then you were lying? It doesn’t feel good, you need it faster?” You croon at him as if he was behaving like a brat and not like the good boy he really was.

“No… nO… it’s- it’s-!” Kyle tries to reply, desperate to clear the misunderstanding. Not that you give him time for it, as you speed up the speed of your bouncing, taking him in harder with each strike of your hips coming down onto his.

“GOD- YES!” Kyle shouts, eyes shot open and back curling upward, his head snapping forward to look at you and watch the way your pussy swallows every inch of his veiny cock, before letting out a huff and falling back on the bed again, desperate for more.

His hands grab onto your thighs and hips, fingers digging in hard, as you ride him, sweat beginning to slide down your forehead, down your cheeks and neck. Your eyes flitter over to Simon in the corner.

The smug fucker is watching everything with a nasty little half-grin on his lips, brown eyes darkened with lust as he watches you play with Kyle, making him squirm and whimper below you.

“Play with your clit for me, da’lin’.” His voice rings out amidst the frequent and whiney moans coming from Kyle. One of your hands slips away from Kyle’s thigh behind you, finding your clit and rubbing it slowly as you keep bouncing atop of Kyle, hips stuttering lightly as the pleasure becomes more intense.

“That’s it…” Simon says with a chuckle from his armchair, fisting his cock leisurely, as if the sight in front of him wasn’t worth any more from him. “How’s his cock feel, da’lin’?” Your boyfriend asks you.

He’s playing with your head, much like you’re playing with Kyle’s… making you go back and forth between a submissive and dominant mind frame, deriving pleasure from the mind games he’s forcing you to take on.

“It’s big…” You whimper in reply. “So big…” You murmur, your eyes soft and needy as you look at your boyfriend, watching the wicked look in his face..

“Don’t look at me, look at him…” Simon tells you. “Fuck ‘im right, he deserves it.” Simon adds. “Poor lad, been so long without experiencing a pussy…” He teases. “ow’s it feel, Garrick?” He turns his attention, and yours, to the sergeant below you.

Kyle nods pathetically. “Y-Yeah… It’s- Ah-” He whimpers, eyes glazed over with pleasure, too far gone in it, too overwhelmed with the feeling of a warm, wet pussy sheathing his virgin cock.

He’s too fucked out to think… And you’re bound to join him soon enough, with the way he looks below you, your fingers playing with your clit, and his cock swiftly hitting a spot inside you that no man’s ever reached before…

Your hips stutter atop of Kyle’s, your legs straining and tired, sore from the rhythm and position. You shift positions, leaning forward, hands coming to rest on his hard pecs, your head hanging atop of Kyle’s, facing him better.

You grind back and forth, trying to regain strength to continue, feeling Kyle’s tip rubbing deep inside of you, so deep and hard… You can’t help but whine.

“She’s getting tired, Kyle. Go on, it’s your turn.” Your boyfriend quips, his voice dripping with power and command over the two of you.

Kyle didn’t need to be told twice, his arms wrapped around your lower back and he bucked up like a bull, tossing you both aside, the bed creaking with the movement. Whatever insecurity he had is gone.

He pushes your thighs apart with his hip and starts pistoning into you with barely any regard for rhythm or how deep he’s going, his face buried into your neck as he plows into you, grunting and whining like an animal in rut. Not that you mind.

You’re used to Simon (and sometimes a few other mutual ‘friends’ of yours), men who are experienced, who know what to do, how to do it, who aren’t sloppy or erratic, who’s hips don’t jerk with each plunge into your warm cunny… It’s completely different with a bloke like Kyle. Inexperienced, green, but eager and desperate and…

You’re moaning loud and often, nails clawing at his smooth scarless back, eyes rolling as each snap of his hips claps against you like a whip, his cock burying into you to the hilt and back out before plunging back in.

Once more, Simon’s quick to come to your side, quick to crouch by the side of the bed, eyes admiring the way you both act and move, to keep a keen eye on your reactions and his, ready to pull him off you like a mutt that’ll hurt his mate if the owner doesn’t make him dismount…

But he doesn’t intervene. Not when you’re moaning like a whore, with Kyle sweating and grunting atop you, his eyes screwed shut and looking like he’ll lose every and any ounce of restraint he has in the next 3 seconds, somehow pulling the will to go on from sheer fucking air.

“You gonna flood ‘er little cunt with your come, aren’t you, Kyle?” Simon coos as he rests his forearms on the mattress, a perch to watch better.

“Y-Yeah! Yeah!” Kyle replies with an eager nod, eyes opening for a moment to look at Simon who’s so close to him.

“Yeah? Are you?” Simon continues egging him on. “You gonna fill my girl with your load?” He adds, his voice dropping to a more authoritative tone.

“Y-YEAH!” Kyle raises his voice, a bit more determined, but still deep in his natural state… obedient, ready to die for his superior, for his lieutenant.

“Go on, then,” Simon demands. “I wanna see. I wanna see you fill ‘er up.” He adds. “Tell ‘er you’re gonna do it.”

Kyle’s head turns a bit to look at you, his warm brown eyes blown wide with lust and desperation, his skin slick with sweat, his plump lips parted to let in desperate gulps of air.

“‘m gonna…” Kyle grunts as he shifts his weight lightly, his nose leaning against yours. “Gonna put my come so… deep inside you…” He warns you.

The look in his eyes, the desperation in his tone, the warning tone of his that does not at all fit his personality… Somehow it all comes together to rip the filthiest orgasm out of you, your head rolling back, eyes squeezing shut and a loud whine slipping from your parted lips as you squeeze and contract around Kyle’s cock.

Kyle can’t last not even a second longer the moment you start to come around him. His eyes fall shut, his back arches and he digs his fingers into the bed, toes curling and legs shaking as he fucks his come inside of you, drool slipping down his parted mouth.

“Good job.” Simon’s voice remarks next to you, satisfied and almost… proud, while you’re both too lost in the high of pleasure to even recognize his existence in the room or that you’re… alive, really.

[yandere-kokeshi]

How would TF141+Konig,Nikolai react if their reader drunk and told them about how reader family used to sold reader at brotherel.

Warnings: yandere behavior, talks about prostitution, mention of trauma, and foreshadowing on murdering. 

A/N: Definitely took my time writing this, so I hope you enjoy it!

Captain “Price” John:

Whiplashes at you, nearly breaking his neck as he places his cold-glass down on the table. 

“Sorry, what?” 

He’s pissed. He cannot fathom why anyone could possibly do something so awful to his sweet darling, but he’s heartbroken, too. His heart shatters when you explain it, going into detail of what happened. And soon, John’s hands find themselves on yours within a heartbeat, thumbs grazing over your knuckles, and squeezes them occasionally. 

If you blow it off, saying it’s no biggie, John gets angrier. It’s not fine, and his tone is firm, and large hands that’s on top of yours aren’t letting go. And soon, he softens — bringing you into his lap, kissing the crown of your head. Hands running up and down your back, whispering to you of how special you are. 

And soon enough, later that night when you’re sleeping, his mind is wide-awake and angered. Wondering if your family is worthwhile to get a visit, teach ‘em a lesson or two.

From now on, John is so gentle with you; checking in with you first and won’t push you for anything. He even suggests therapy, or perhaps couple-therapy, to help you in some way. He wants you to know he’s here for you, as that’s all you have. 

Your parents are nowhere to be seen. The news has reported them missing, and it’s weird that John had come home after an hour when their bodies had been found, right? 

—

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

Whiplashes so hard, his neck popped as he looked at you. The cheap beer that you and him were drinking is set down, the loud clanking making the silence even louder, and his brown-doe eyes are staring at you. 

“You bein’ serious?”

Simon is fuming, absolutely seething with rage at how they used and hurt you. And he’s extremely tempted to find all of them and break every single bone in their miserable body. How on the earth could they hurt and betray you, you, the literal light in his life like that? 

“Love, you can’t jus’ drop a bomb like that and expect me to be all natural with it,” His tone seethed. He tries to soften it, he really does, but his rage with what you’ve just told him is starting to seep through the built-in cracks. And it’s clearly showing his not-so pretty side. 

But as soon as he sees your face, his heart re-breaks all over again. And within seconds, he pulls you into his arms, whispering sweet words of love and promises of safety; kissing every part he can reach until you tell him to stop.

If you haven’t already cut ties with your family, Simon immediately does it for you — anger shown and his tone sharp. He removes them from any way possible of how they could connect to you, even going as far to put a restraining order against them. But, if they decide to be snide, and try to take you back? Simon is more than happy to use his physical strength to scare them away. 

—

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick:

He laughs uncomfortably, before he really thinks and chews on the words a little more. His eyebrows crease against each other, fingers tightening around the beer bottle, as he looks at you very concerned. 

“Wait– what was that?” 

Kyle watches you go on, rambling about it as if it’s not a big deal, and he’s in pure shock. He’s not sure if you’re putting a brave face on, or if it’s the alcohol, but either way, it’s making him mad. His hands are shaking, his heart thundering in his chest, mind going a mile a minute, trying to understand the concept, but he can’t seem to get past the anger part. 

“Baby… when did this happen?” he generally questions, uncomfortably shifting in his seat as he looks for something in you. He’s worrying. Wonder what it’s done to you, someone he loves so deeply, and he can’t fathom the idea that something so horrific happened to you. 

Within seconds, he apologizes. Brown eyes looking at yours, barely forming tears. He’s pulling you into a tight hug, holding you deeply, and finding a way to blame himself. If he’d known you sooner, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. He could’ve protected you. 

But, that doesn’t help the situation — so he focuses on you, helping you through things and ensuring you’ll be safe. Because you’ll always be with him. 

Kyle tries to help you in every shape and form, making sure your boundaries are set and that he follows them knee-deep. And that, of course, your family doesn’t come near you. If they try to push through the cracks, he’s immediately acting viciously. And it’s not pretty.

 —

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish:

He chokes on his drink, coughing up a storm. Hitting him like a ton of bricks, and somehow, you look at him like he’s the one who said some type of sex joke at the wrong time. 

“I– beg your pardon?” 

He’s right in the same area with Ghost, furious in many aspects. His face shows it. His body language, and thick voice. When you’re describing the multiple incidents, it just makes him want to track down your family and rip them in two. 

Comfort is immediately given, Johnny’s arms find yours within seconds, and you’re brought into a cuddle session — one where he kisses every part, and promises that you’ll never have to face them again. He looks at you, blue eyes just admiring you before kissing your cheek, “Nobody will hurt ya’ again, swear on my and ma’s life, sweets.”

And he goes with it. Days pass, and he’s still thinking about it. He sees you so strongly, and how you’re able to go about your day and act as if it’s normal; his heart beats faster at your sewn thoughts of even crying. 

Without saying, Johnny despises your family. A bitter emotion that can be easily shown if you bring them up into a conversation. His hands crunch in remembrance of their scared face, and you won’t be seeing them anymore. You can’t. 

—

König:

He just looks at you, seemingly going deeper into your soul. Which, of course, creeps you out. König watches you explain, with a flushed look, and he’s tasting iron in his mouth from how hard he’s biting his cheek. 

“Hase, what’d you say?” 

He just keeps staring at you. And he doesn’t want you to think he’s angry at you, because he’s not — never in a million years, but it’s devastating to him. How could someone, a family that you’re supposed to trust, do that to you? 

“König?” your voice brings him out of his deep thoughts, bloody thoughts, and he just looks at you before bringing you into his chest; a man, so large and beefy, has a voice so little and fragile, that you could barely hear it. He sighs, “Why did you hide it? I’d much rather you talk to me, okay?” 

He’s obviously affected, but not as much as you are. He’s in a state of disbelief, and the fact you just blurted it out, whilst in a vulnerable state, makes him sick.

He’s unbelievably more clingy the next few days, ensuring you know your own worth and how strong you are. Everywhere you go, he’s touching you — smoothing the wrinkles in your clothes as his hands crawl underneath the fabric. Kissing you and nearly suffocating you with his weight. 

As for your family, he ignores and diverts the questions of them into a different conversation. He doesn’t want to scare you, but with the things he’s done, König is certain you’d be smart to connect the dots. 

—

Nikolai: 

Not a single laugh, or fun look comes from Nikolai. He’s immediately concerned, the shot glass being put down as he really looks at you, biting his lip. 

“Think that’s enough alcohol, Lyubimyy. Why don’t we head to bed, hm?”

He doesn’t necessarily react — but more so tries to make you sidetrack so you two can focus on something else. Until, the next morning, is where he re-brings it up and asks. He’s concerned, dark eyes showing sadness that’s covered by anger. But your feelings matter. They will always come first. And when he sees your reaction, Nikolai quickly understands, “We can talk whenever you’re ready, mkay lovey?” 

Nikolai comforts you with the best of his abilities, ensuring that you’re not a burden. You’re the complete opposite, and you’re so strong. His hugs become deeper, kisses become longer and more intimate. 

And the gifts he brings home, even to the grocery store, are enormous. His sly smile as he carries them in definitely takes your head off some things, no? 

Your parents are immediately cut out of your life. Nikolai has secrets of his own, and once in a while, he has to take out the dirty trash, right? Before he leaves for the day, a mission needed for Laswell, he promises to be back before 5 PM; and he does, arriving all giddy and flirty. But his hands seem a bit too warm, a bit odd. 

[lazycats-stuff]

I'd like to request batfam x male reader, who crotchets a lot. He has some medical issues, so he doesn't go on patrol, he helps out with information gathering though.

When Damian got added to the strays, the reader tried being a good older brother, and he crochets him a little stuffed animal for him as a welcome gift. Everyone in the family has one, even Alfred. Let's say, Damian had a bad day, and coincidentally the reader just finished the crochet animal and goes to his room to give it to Damian. Damian snaps and destroys the stuffed animal in front of the reader, also saying some pretty hurtful stuff. The reader cries because it took a lot of time to male it. You can end it however you want

Take your time <3

Sure. Oh Damian is so dead. Nobody messes with (Y/N).

Summary: Damian messes with the wrong brother.

Warnings: angst, fluff, reader is a sweetheart, everyone loves the reader, unspecified medical problems...

(Y/N) sometimes envied his brothers. If it weren't for his medical problems, he would have been out and running, fighting crimes. But he was still happy with his position as Oracle number two, helping Alfred out when it came to patrol and information gathering.

" Can I get you some more tea, master (Y/N)? " Alfred asked him, standing up.

" Please do. " (Y/N) said, giving Alfred his favorite mug.

(Y/N) turned his head back to the computer, rubbing his eyes. He yawned, putting his hand over his mouth.

" Tired? " Alfred asked as he poured some tea.

" A little bit. " (Y/N) answered.

" Guys, we need access to GCPD data base. " Bruce said through the comms.

" You have an access to it, why do we have to? " (Y/N) asked, confused. Alfred came back with tea, also confused.

" Something is jamming the access. " Bruce explained further. (Y/N) put the tea aside, trying to get into the said database.

" Hmm. Something is happening with the network. It's down... " (Y/N) said, confused.

" I would go to GCPD and check it out. " (Y/N) said, taking his tea.

" Alright, will do. "

With that, it was quiet and they knew that this was in one way or another it for the night. (Y/N) glanced at the crocheted bat he made for Bruce.

(Y/N) had a little bit of tradition for everybody. He makes little stuffed animals. Every single member has one, even Alfred. He would make it for everyone who would come into the family, just to feel welcome.

And it did work. It made all of them feel nice and welcoming. And it made them like (Y/N) and it made everyone more protective of (Y/N). Jason took the number one spot at the amount of protectiveness he had for (Y/N).

Everything changed when Bruce announced he had a biological son. With Talia al Ghul. (Y/N) didn't know what to think about it. Bruce was always saying to use protection, so how did it happen? As a playboy, you are supposed to be a careful person when it comes to sex.

" I'm sorry, how did Damian happen? You are usually the one telling us to watch ourselves, you know, use protection amongst other things. " (Y/N) asked, taking a sip of his tea.

" Talia spiked my drink. " Bruce said, making Jason snort. (Y/N) smacked him on the arm.

" I'm sorry, but how didn't you notice it? " Jason questioned, trying not to lose control again.

" Jason not now. Damian is in the cave, Alfred is going to bring him up. Please be nice. " Bruce said, sighing as he heard Alfred coming.

Everyone turned their heads to see Alfred walking in with a small boy with green eyes and who eerily looked like Bruce at that age. (Y/N) knew because he saw the pictures once. Alfred showed him the photos.

" Everyone, this is master Damian. Master Damian these are master Jason, master (Y/N), master Tim and master Dick. " Alfred introduced Damian to everyone.

Damian didn't say anything, instead he turned back to Alfred to ask him to show him his room.

" I don't know about you, but this is going to be interesting. " Jason said to (Y/N).

" I think he just needs to adjust. It's never easy to come somewhere new. " (Y/N) replied, taking another sip of his tea.

" Will he get a stuffed animal too? " Jason asked, standing up.

" Yup. It's a tradition here so... " (Y/N) said, trailing off.

" If you say so. " Jason said, watching as (Y/N) took last sips of his tea before putting the mug into the sink.

" Any chance I can ask you to help me with a case? " Jason tried as they were going to their rooms.

" Nope. I need my sleep. " (Y/N) said, opening his bedroom door.

" You are mean. " Jason said, chuckling. " Good night. "

" Good night Jay. "

It has been a couple of weeks and (Y/N) finally finished up his stuffed animal for Damian. He made a Robin stuffed animal in his colors. Well, the suits color. Green and red with a R to symbolize the Robin. He was happy with his creation and was now actively looking for Damian.

What (Y/N) didn't know however, was the fact that Damian had a very bad day. To put it bluntly, everything went to shit. Absolutely everything that Damian had planned went to shit. Absolutely everything and there was nothing he could have done to prevent it.

Coincidently, (Y/N) decided to gift the stuffed animal to Damian. He knocked on Damian's door, entering after hearing a harsh what. (Y/N) entered the room, holding his bird in his hands.

" So, we have a tradition here where I make newcomers stuffed animals. So here is yours. "

" I don't need that right now! And I don't need something from someone so worthless to the family! " He yelled grabbing the stuffed bird, ripping it apart.

(Y/N) was heartbroken. He slowly stepped out, closing the door before he started crying in the hall.

" (Y/N), what's wrong?! " Jason asked, confused. He just came from the dining room and seeing his favorite brother sad was something that should be illegal. (Y/N) shook his head, running to his room and slamming the door shut.

Jason scowled, wondering what made (Y/N) upset. Well, who made him upset... He looked at Damian's door and went there. He opened the door and his eyes feel down onto the remains of (Y/N)'s stuffed animal. He looked up at Damian before he jumped at him.

The two started fighting. Jason was blinded with anger and rage, punching wherever he could. Bruce heard the commotion and when he saw what was happening, he had to tear Jason off of Damian.

It was difficult to separate them, but once he did, he was pissed. Beyond angry.

" WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING?! " Bruce yelled, mad now.

" He took (Y/N)'s animal and tore it apart! He is heartbroken! You didn't saw him when he started crying! " Jason yelled back, face bloody. The kid can definitely punch.

" Out. I will talk to Damian. " Bruce said calmly. Jason wiped his nose, going straight to the bathroom in his room to clean it up.

He can't allow his brother to see him bloody. He really can't. He washed his face and once he made sure that he has stopped the bleeding, he went to (Y/N)'s room. He opened the door and his heart broke.

(Y/N) was still crying on the bed, curled into a fetal position.

" Oh (Y/N)... Come here. " Jason said softly. (Y/N) sniffed and turned to face Jason. Jason sat down on the edge. (Y/N) moved closer and put his head in Jason's lap.

" Why did he do that? I just tried to be nice... " (Y/N) asked and Jason gently scratched (Y/N)'s scalp.

" I know that. Damian is just Damian... " Jason said, knowing that (Y/N) doesn't like when they are talking negatively about Damian. Or any of them.

Jason stayed like that for a couple of hours and (Y/N) fell asleep during that. Jason didn't mind, but he had to move. He gently put (Y/N)'s head on a pillow. He covered him and left the room.

He didn't expect to see Damian in the hall.

" What do you want? " Jason asked quietly, not to disturb (Y/N).

" I wanted to... Apologize. "

" Did Bruce make you do that? " Jason said, not believing a single word that came out of Damian's mouth.

" No. I just had a bad day and I let it out on the wrong person. " Damian said, meaning every word of it.

" Well, don't wake him up now. You know, everyone has a stuffed animal made by (Y/N). Even Alfred. " Jason said. " Bruce has one near the Batcomputer and sometimes takes it with him somewhere important. He took it to outer space once. " Jason wasn't sure why he was telling that to Damian, but it felt important that he knows. " Again, don't wake him up. " Jason said, leaving Damian.

Damian had no plans on doing it.

[ilovedilfsandleonkennedy]

you find yourself staring at your husband...

as you wordlessly take in his appearance.

you remember the last time you kissed him very well. it was little peck to his right cheek.

yet you don´t remember giving him the hickeys on his neck you´re currently staring at.

könig knows what he´s done. of course he does.

he keeps his gaze lowered, clearly avoiding your gaze and silently revelling in remorse making you wonder if these guilty feelings of his are even real or if they´re just a hoax like his love towards you.

"i can explain, love, i was drunk…. i-" he halts as he breathes heavily, trying to take a step closer to you, but stops when he notices you backing away from him.

he was drunk. you almost laugh to yourself.

"no." you say, trying to get the hell away from him.

all those sleepless, exhausting nights wondering if your husband would come home to you again, or if he´d spend the night with some woman he picked up from the bar, have finally brought you to this breaking point.

you aren´t even sad or shocked anymore, just tired and fed up with his bullshit, knowing this numbness has been clouding your mind for a while now.

you stare at the ring on your left hand, your head racing with doubts and thoughts.

"love-"

"stop calling me that." you whisper. he frowns at that.

könig watches you leave the room, reaches out a hand, but then quickly withdraws it, well aware that he´s lost the right to touch you a long, long time ago.

"i know i´ve messed up, i know that. but please, please," he begs but it doesn´t faze you, "don´t give up on us. don´t do this."

"there is no 'us'", you mutter, "there never was an 'us' and there never will be an 'us' ever again."

you grab a bag to pack your belongings, as you'd rather burn alive than spend another minute in this hell.

"please wait, please.. i can´t imagine my life without you, without your warmth."

'then why did you sneak out and seek the warmth of another woman?'

his heart is racing as he finally realizes the magnitude of his mistakes, "let me explain. i was just trying to escape my problems for a moment-"

"your problems?" you scoff, "'for better or worse', remember?" you scream.

könig doesn't say anything, he just stares at you while tears well up in your eyes.

"if you´re dealing with problems, you´re supposed to talk to me about them and not go and fuck someone!"

"love, i´m so sorry-"

"i´m leaving." you say, ignoring his attempts, "i´ll stay at john´s until we got this figured out. until you fucking learn how to respect a marriage," you shout, angrily poking your finger in his chest.

he´s silent again, the only reaction are his eyes widening at your outburst.

it makes your blood boil that he doesn't show any kind of reaction. he doesn't even try to get you to stay. he´s not trying to convince or pressure you into staying either.

and you realize he never really fought for you. he never did.

"i understand." no he doesn´t.

"you will also give me your signature because i want a divorce," you finally say, "i can´t do this anymore and i´m afraid forgiving you over and over again for your mistakes is gonna kill me eventually."

"a divorce?", he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper.

—

this is so bad aaaaa, anyway should i make a part 2?