#was this triggered by my never ending cough?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Fool's Game 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Loki Laufeyson

This AU is called Watcher Anonymous and will include different series for different characters. This is our introduction to Loki and Bugsy.

Summary: strangers on a train aren’t as strange as they seem.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

He doesn't see her on the platform. It's dismaying but not entirely unprecedented. She clearly wasn't faring well the day prior, perhaps she took some sick time. Funny, for so long as he's followed her, she's been there like clockwork. Just as he had. The few times he forwent the train for a ride with a colleague or instead clocked in late, he was still certain to see her home.

It unsettles Loki as the tracks scream with the arrival of his morning transport. She doesn't board. She simply isn't there.

He stares at the empty seat. Then he looks at his feet. Hers are usually there, sometimes even scuffing his toes as she squirms. It's quite unexciting without the mashing of buttons and the low hum of her headset. He is annoyed by the coughs and sighs of his fellow passengers. They are much more agitating than her addled grunts and groans as she fights her animated demons.

Hm. He can only hope she is taking time to recover from whatever had her so forlorn. He wonders if she discovered his little omen of comfort. Did she have it with tea?

Those thoughts only feed his restlessness. The commute drags on and he is want to shove past the rest of the passengers by the time he reaches his stop. The cramping of his long legs is more nagging that day as he disembarks. When he reaches his office, he finds his coworkers too loud and the lights too bright. He closes himself up behind his closed door and tuts.

He doesn't eat lunch. He has this bad feeling in his stomach. She's fine. He keeps telling himself so but it's hardly convincing.

The train ride home is just despairing. He keeps his leather bag in his lap, not even bothering to tuck it into the overhead. Her seat is filled by another. Not a regular. No, the man is squat and bald and keeps blowing his nose in his sleeve. Where is she?

It is only one day, good man. Settle. He girds himself as he nearly misses his stop.

He does not live far from the station. In the summers, he prefers the walk. The season is almost at an end, he should bask in it while he can. Besides, he needs to untie his nerves.

His condo waits for him in shadows. He flips on the entryway light and sets his bag on the side table. He unties his shoes and places them neatly on the rack. He slides his phone free of his jacket pocket and strides through the dark to his bedroom. He disposes of his blazer, tie, and belt. He undoes a button as he goes back down and enters the kitchen. The fixture above glows at the flick of his finger. He pours a glass of wine and his stomach growls monstrously. He should eat.

She will be back tomorrow. All will be as it should be. He takes out one of his prepped meals and lays it on a small metal tray. He heats it up in the toaster oven, it's always crisper that way. He eats between dry sips.

He doesn't sleep very much. Each time he closes his eyes, he thinks of her. When he opens them too. He rolls onto his side and runs his hand over the empty space. Foolish, he rebukes himself. How he imagines her there, beside him.

The morning rises and he stares at the corners of the room. Get up.

What is he doing? Spending all his time thinking about her? Doing nothing.

His brother might be a bit off with that group of his but they at least want to do something. They just haven't any good ideas. Well, what would he do?

Sweep her off her feet. Somehow. But he hasn't even told her his name. There was the time she caught his phone as he stood and she gave it back to him. He founds his tongue all tied up. Impotent! It is what he is. He cannot get over himself and for what? Look at her. She is so lost. She has only her games and her plushy sweaters and fuzzy bags. She needs guidance. She needs him.

He showers and readies to face the day. To see her. He dabs a bit of his favourite cologne behind his jaw. He doesn't know why. Ah, he is keen on this green tie.

He packs his lunch and shoulders his bag. He stops before he heads out. This place is big. Empty. He could make room. Her shoes would fit next to his. Her coats even. He'd make the space.

Go on, get out of here. Get out of your head.

He gets to the platform and twiddles his fingers. He searches for her. At his height, he can pick out most. His cheek twitches. She is not there. Again. Please, she must be late. Must be.

The train gets there before her. He hesitates. Perhaps he should wait and see if she is running behind. He could take the next, make it up by skipping lunch. Again.

No, he must be off. There is that rather important meeting. He sighs and climbs aboard.

He sits across from the empty seat. It stays that ray as the train lurches forward. Again, he is tormented. He cannot help but come back to that big question; where is she?

Another tedious day. Too many meetings, too much tea. He goes home. Alone. Once more. Like always. He tires of it. He is weary.

A glass of wine and no more sleep. She is not there again. He fidgets until he reaches his building. Then he paces in the privacy of his office.

He dials out to his brother. He does not pick up. No doubt distracted. By his own little hobby. Loki could laugh. The woman is sick, she has enough issues.

He wiles away his day with worry. His brother still will not answer. Hm. He does have that meeting today. He could seek him out there. Perhaps the others will have some advice, not that he would relish in sharing it all with them.

Damned too hell. He will take a half-day. He leaves and catches the train before it can barrel away. He's breathless. He hops off at his stop and nearly trips over himself. He's really doing this.

He is unfamiliar with the route. He knows her address but it is opposite his own. When he finds her building, he is not quite sure what to do with himself.

She's a few floors up. He supposes climbing onto the balcony is a bit much. He is as much a dolt as his brother. What is he doing?

Then he stops short. That bright purple cap assures him before he even sees her face. She crosses the street before she can spot him. He waits until a few cars pass before he follows.

She doesn't sense him. She shuffles along and finds a bench behind a large red building. Some community centre.

He feels ridiculous behind the tree as he leans and listens. She clears her throat. He peeks out as she puts her phone to her ear.

Her conversation is typical. 'Hi' and a few babbles here and there. He can hear the voice on the other end. Then she sniffles.

"I lost my job... dad, please--"

She huffs and he looks again. Her shoulders and head droop. Her phone is on the bench. The call is over.

That explains it. It isn't him at all. She only lost her job. Oh, my. How unfortunate.

Well, this could be an opportunity. For both of them. He just needs to figure how.

He checks his watch. The meeting...

[wes-laye]

Wake up babes it’s 9pm and it’s time for ANGST

[iwtv-theories]

Similarities between Daniel & Armand (analysis)

In the iconography: 20 y old Daniel is on his knees (and 20 y old Amadeo is on his knees in the painting). I also have to point out that young Daniel has a startling resemblance to the white-washed Amadeo painting as well. A visual cue that they’re more alike than meets the eye.

"Bartering with desire" vs "in kind". At 20, both were 'rent boys'. Daniel 'bartered' himself for dr*gs. While Armand was 'donated...in kind' to pay for art work . "In kind" = payment in goods or services as opposed to money. "Bartering"= trade by exchanging one commodity for another. 

At the end of Louis' interviews both get their heads shoved into walls.This could be visual symbolism : both their ‘minds are broken’ because both of them can’t recall a decade’s worth of memories. Ironically, Louis may know more of his own story , than Daniel or Armand .

"curiosity"

“An instinct to self efface" . Effacement :“to erase oneself from a situation (to keep oneself in the background ) ” . Cough Armand literally erasing himself from memories & his Rashid disguise. Interestingly, out of all the traits Armand lists about Daniel this is the one trait Daniel agrees is true about himself. Both of them use ‘self-effacement’ as a manipulation tactic to find connection with others. Armand does so to stay with Louis. Daniel uses it to "get angles” and get people to "open up" to him. Literally right after Daniel said this he almost got Armand to open up about his life story

Armand:" That warrants investigation" vs Daniel the "investigative journalist".

Daniel & Armand lounging on the couch and saying Louis is being overly dramatic XD

being turned while having terminal illnesses : Parkinson's (Daniel) & in the show an unknown illness (for Armand) . Similarly , in the books Daniel was turned due to alcohol poisoning and Armand due to being poisoned.

Armand says in ep 4 his memories as a human are “all fragments” vs Daniel saying his memories from the 70s-80s were a “all a blur” .

Both are called “boy” despite being old men. Santiago, the youngest coven member referring to the oldest : “I don’t know what the boy sees in him.” Louis: “he looked like a boy masquerading as a gentleman.” Daniel: “I’m not your f*cking boy! I’m an old man with all the triggers that come with it.” Daniel : “save it for the rent boy.” Armand looking visibly triggered by the comment then asking to leave the room . Armand to Marius (who often called him “boy”) : “I hate you! I’m a man and you deny it!”

As a human , book Amadeo had a drinking problem while book Daniel almost died of alcohol poisoning. Young Daniel (in the show) may also have drinking issues like his book counterpart /book Amadeo. Armand to Daniel in episode 5 : “a genteel drinking problem , like your father .” Armand’s dad : “Ivan the drunkard… Ivan was hopeless. Ivan would never see another sober night or day .Ivan would die soon poisoned by liquor./ a soft prayer for my father that he would not freeze to death tonight as he had almost done so many times, falling down drunk as he did in the snow. (*this echoes human amadeo getting so drunk he fell into the canal)”

Show Armand says Marius called him his "beloved Amadeo", which seems like foreshadowing/an easteregg of 70s dm since "beloved" was his nickname for Daniel in the books. Armand tries to emulate the Marius/Amadeo dynamic in his future relationships since he still equates it to love. Like how he tries to put himself in the Amadeo role with Louis as his 'Maitre (master) '. But for d.m he put Daniel in the Amadeo position (partially because it’s his first relationship with a human , since becoming a vampire and his relationship with Marius is the only vampire/human relationship he’s had) . So at least on some superficial level he recreates some aspects of the Marius/Amadeo dynamic, with Daniel .

In the books Marius feeds human Amadeo his blood, like Armand does to human Daniel. In the books amadeo says Marius’ blood tastes like “honey”.Cough- Louis describing Armand's blood as tasting like "honey" and Armand saying to Daniel in ep 5 "like honey on your tongue" (*this could be foreshadowing he will drink Armand's blood in the 70s/80s… or simply when he was turned).

Armand , during their first encounter, and while describing death says “it’s okay it’ll be like a bath ” . Before Amadeo died he was bathed first by his maker . Armand also uses a rag (to remove the dried blood from daniel’s neck). This reminds me of when Marius first met amadeo and used a rag to clean his face / give him a bath. “He bathed me slowly . He had a soft gathered cloth with which he wiped my face.”

Human Amadeo/daniel were incredibly sarcastic and snarky to their future vampire makers

In the books, when Armand reunited with Marius in Tva he mumbled annoyed “same old tricks”. In tqotd , when Daniel reunited with Armand he says “same old dance.”

And both of their makers abandoned them

The parallels between Armand/Daniel persist throughout ep 5 , Daniel says he’d be a good companion to Louis because he has traits similar to Lestat and Claudia . 

But the IRONY is throughout the whole episode we see Daniel has A LOT of similarities to Armand . Possibly laying the groundwork for devil's minion in the 70s-80s.

I think while Armand was reading Daniel’s mind -whether it was as subconscious or conscious - it irritated him even more that they had so much in common. Or at least how similar Daniel was to Amadeo. Especially because he was trying to discern why Louis found him “more fascinating” .

For Example , all the other traits Armand lists out about Daniel’s could also be attributed to himself

'Dirty'

'deceitful'

'Enterprising'

'A splinter of coldness ' .

“He wants you in pieces for the privilege of putting you back together “

There’s also other more superficial similarities like Daniel saying he’d do night swims if he was a vampire (similar to Armand who swims often). Or the fact they both read the newspaper often.

I feel one of the MANY reasons Daniel and Armand were probably constantly butting heads and being snarky to each other in the present timeline is because on some subconscious level they remind each other of themselves (and they don’t want to acknowledge that). Especially Armand who is constantly playing a new character to placate his lovers . Young Daniel definitely reminded him of Amadeo . Similar to how Claudia reminded Armand of his past self as well .  

If I missed anything feel free to add to the comments or in a reblog :P

[fluoneia]

“this is dumb.” jinx mumbled. you grin, taking her hand in yours.

“it’s not!” you exclaim, dragging her into the open space. classical music played through the speaker, although buffered and a little distorted, still able to make out it was a slow song.

“i’m not.. slow dancing!” jinx huffs, crossing her arms on her chest. “i don’t even know how!”

“this is a staple in date night. couples slow dance!”

“not this couple.” jinx makes a hmph! sound, tilting her head up. “i don’t dance.”

“come on, i’ve seen you dance when you’re creating your little gadgets.”

“they’re not gadgets, they’re bombs. that kill people?”

“gadgets, bombs, whatever.” you say with a tut of your tongue. “come on! it’s just us. i’m not gonna judge you.”

“but you’ll make fun of me!”

“teasing you is just what i do.” you’d shrug. jinx groans in annoyance, moving to stomp away, before you grab her wrist. “come. i’ll teach you.”

jinx narrows her eyes at you.

“come on.. for me?”

she is silent for a second. then she makes a dramatic groan of fake frustration and saunters back to you.

those stupid eyes of yours could make her do anything.

“this is not out of my own volition.”

“you’re here, aren’t you?”

jinx deadpans. “whatever.” she makes a tch sound with her lips. “how do i do this stupid dance?”

“there’s no right way,” you say simply. you guide her hands onto your waist, your arms sliding onto her shoulders, hooking them behind her neck.

“wha—!”

“just relax.” you say softly, soothingly. with an annoyed huff, she tightens her hands on your waist.

“follow what i do.” you say. without another word, you take a step to the side, hand grabbing onto her torso to guide her to do the same. “don’t overthink it.”

“well, i am. this is so stupid.”

“it’s romantic.” you tease, raising a brow. jinx frowns. “just follow me. alright?”

“yeah, yeah.” she says quietly.

slowly, but surely, she finds the rythm as you both take steps around the open space. and slowly, she begins to smile. enjoy it, as she figures out the steps as you and the music continue on.

she lets out a sigh of relief.

her arms slide over your waist, her arms wrapping around you.

“this is.. actually kind of nice.” jinx whispers.

“see?” you beam up at her. “told you.”

“you don’t have to ruin it by being a smartass.” she grumbled.

you both find silence after a while. you treasured moments like this with her— where she was truly herself, and not some made up persona zaun believes her to be.

she was soft in her heart. and she was yours. yours to hold, to dance to songs like this in eachothers solitude like nothing else mattered.

because nothing else did matter with her.

.. but, she was still jinx, after all.

she yelped as she stepped on the end of her own braid, stumbling to the side.

and, therefore, caused a series of events. she dragged you down with her as she fell, crashing into a box where her work-in-progress smoke bombs that still had a sensitive trigger.

your eyes widen.

“oh, shi—“

BOOM!

you coughed as smoke filled the room, the sounds of the smoke bombs exploding beside the both of you deafening out the music.

“i told you this was dumb!” jinx waves her hand in the air, coughing.

slowly, the smoke dissipated, and the music started to become louder once more.

you turn over, seeing jinx with powdered ash all over her face, exclaiming in frustration as she brushed off her clothes. her gaze turns to you with a huff.

“that’s it. we’re never dancing again.”

you’re silent for a second.

then, you laugh. and you keep laughing till your stomach hurts.

“what the hell are you laughing at, huh?!”

“oh..” you wipe your fake tears, “oh, just, i fucking love you so much.”

jinx feels her eyes widen. her breath catches in her throat.

“whatever, dumbass!” and her voice crack is just so damn cute as she pushes herself off the floor, stomping away from the scene. “this was dumb! i’m never doing any cheesy romantic stuff with you again!”

“hey, date night isn’t over!”

jinx pauses. she turns, blinking. “where the hell do you think i’m going right now? i’m getting our stupid damn food.”

and you laugh again.

“stop laughing! ugh!” she slaps her hands on her thighs as she storms back toward the kitchen. “stupid dancing! stupid music!”

she kicks the record player to stop.

oh, date night couldn’t have gone any better then you imagined.

for @16spades omg this request was so cute i couldn’t help myself

[tangerineastronaut]

heavy ♥ s.mingi

You're so very sorry.

Pairing: Mingi x Fem!Reader Genre: smut. just pure smut. slight fluff at the end, 99% smut. Requested: No w.c. 3.9k Warnings: Everything is consensual - rough sex, dirty talk and more dirty talk, choking/breathplay, deep throating, name calling, degradation, slight talk of somno, Mingi seems like an asshole, sort of noncon but not really, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, size kink, reader doesn't talk much during, established relationship If you notice other potentially triggering content please let me know so I can add it. A/N: I...I have no excuses. Requests: Open (link below)

Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

“Mingi, I-I‘m sorry—”

“You fucking will be.”

You struggled with the key to unlock the door; he was bearing down on you, already grinding against your ass, but that was your fault, wasn’t it?

You thought it’d be cute to tease him—

> Might’ve forgotten my panties…wish you were inside me.

—but the look he’d given you after opening his phone…the way his jaw ticked, how he’d tugged at the crotch of his jeans. You knew you’d fucked up. 

Finally, it opened, though you almost wished it hadn’t. Mingi grabbed your arm and slammed the door, throwing you against it. 

“Wanna say it again?” he asks, one hand moving to your throat. He towers over you, plump lips forming a half snarl. Fuck, you wanted to kiss him. You whimper, the sound dying into a squeak as he puts pressure on your trachea with his thumb. “Say it. I love when you do. It’s easier to fuck that pretty face when I’m mad at it.”

“I-I…” you begin with a choked sob. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I—”

Mingi curses, shoving you to your knees with his heavy grip. When he took his hand off your throat, you began taking deep breaths—it’d be a while before you weren’t gasping for air anymore. You glance up. 

His dark eyes were half lidded, never leaving you as he worked at his jeans. You swallowed, an instinctual response to the sound of the button popping and zipper going down. 

“Open that slutty fucking mouth, baby. Wanna see you drool,” he orders. You open your mouth and keep it open. It’s like muscle memory; you can already taste him. 

Mingi pushes the material down his thighs, stopping half way. His spandex boxers go next, the snap of elastic making you jump. When his cock is freed, it springs into your face, already swollen and ready to be sucked and fucked. 

That was your fault. 

“Don’t look so fucking surprised, y/n,” Mingi says, one large hand fisting your hair and the other gripping his cock. “Wanna send me filthy texts during dinner? Hm? Tell me you’re not wearing panties? Did you think I wouldn’t make you choke on this fucking dick?”

You whimper, feeling drool beginning to leak down your chin. Mingi smirks, rubbing the thick head into your spit.

“Say it, baby. Say it again.”

You sniffle, eyes burning. Mingi is unrelenting, gently bumping your head back against the door. 

“Say it for me, princess. Love that pretty mouth,” he coos in a deceptively smooth tone. You knew better; he was baiting you. You were nothing more than prey to him right now. “Please? One more time for me, be good just this fucking once.”

“I’m sor—”

The minute you try to speak, Mingi forces his cock inside. His hips thrust forward, pinning you against the door and stretching your lips open. He wants to fit it all in one go, to push the head into the back of your throat. When you gag, he grins. 

Your hands go to his hips, shoving, as if that’d do anything. He moved his hand to get a better grip on your hair, tilting your head back. 

“Mmn…hold still, pretty. Gonna use that mouth,” he growls. You dig your nails into his thighs, making him hiss, but that doesn’t stop him from beginning to fuck. In and out, in and out, his cock stretches your throat, giving you seconds to breathe between thrusts. 

Mingi fucks your face until your gagging becomes more violent, pulling out in time to watch you cough and drool on yourself. He still had a tight grip on your hair, and the other went to his cock, now slick with your saliva. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” he hums, stroking himself. It’s somehow menacing, the way his thumb rubs over the head. A threat. “You look scared.”

“I won’t do it again,” you whine softly, swallowing down a mix of spit and precum. “P-Promise.”

Mingi stares down at you until you squirm. He suddenly kneels down and you flinch, though he yanks you forward by your hair. 

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, kissing the wet corner of your mouth. “You have ten different ways, baby. Half of them don’t need words. Tell me to stop treating you like a whore.”

Fuck. 

You swallow, nails digging into your palms. Your cheeks flush red from shame and Mingi chuckles. He knew you wouldn't, that you know the signals, the ones you'd agreed on when someone decided it was too much, words and taps and gestures.

He was rubbing it in your face—just how much of a fuckdoll you turned into for him.

“No? Don’t tell me you like being treated like this,” he taunts you, a look of faux concern on his gorgeous face. “Nothing but a pretty collection of warm holes for me to choose from. I’ve got plans for you and this cock, baby. Gonna make you suck it some more, then it’s gonna go in that needy little hole between your legs. It’s not coming out of there until you’ve taken every drop of cum from me. Tell me not to do it, baby.”

When you don’t answer, refusing to look at him, Mingi yanks your face toward him with your hair. He forces his mouth over yours, groaning into you as his tongue slips inside. You feel hot tears rolling down your cheeks as he takes from you, rubbing his cock against your exposed thigh beneath your dress. He sucks and licks and nips the soft flesh of your mouth and tongue, holding you open by the jaw.

Mingi sucks your lower lip and bites it, making you squeak. He laughs and finally releases you, only for you to fall back against the door. 

Strings of drool stretch between you, and you shudder when he licks his lips. But the sensuality is dampened as he stands to his full height, gripping his fat cock and staring down at you. 

“Open wide, babygirl. That’s it…fuck yes. Stop moving, baby. Just take it. If I feel teeth, 'm gonna make it hurt, yeah?"

Your throat is numb. 

Your jaw aches, your fingers are curled into the carpet, but your eyes haven’t left him. He’s standing over you as he’s been doing for the past half hour, though now both of his hands hold your head in place for him. They’re so fucking big, gripping tight as he uses your mouth like a fleshlight. When you’re lucky, you see him bite his lip and whisper that he loves you; otherwise he’s got his head tilted back, chest heaving as he fucks into your mouth. 

“That’s it, so fucking dirty,” Mingi groans, hissing as your teeth catch on his massive cock. “I should make you choke on my cum, baby. Should hold that pretty head down until I pump it right down your throat. Feed you like a fucking whore.”

Your dress is soaked in spit and precum, as it’s been dripping down your chin. You consider pulling it off, but you don’t want to expedite his plans for you. So you sit there in your ruined dress, letting the love of your life abuse your throat over and over. 

Mingi looks down at you, thumb brushing over your lips where they’re stretched open, forced by his cock. He bites his lip, cursing under his breath. 

“Say it again, baby.”

“Nnh…” you choke around him. He licks his lips and nods, so you do your best to please him. “Nnhn…nnh…”

Your eyes are wet with tears; drool leaks out around his cock, and you helplessly swallow as you try to speak with the obstruction in your mouth. Mingi watches as though enthralled, nodding the more you choke on words.

“Nnh…”

You finally give up when you splutter with a sob. 

Mingi pauses and growls. He throws an arm against the door, taking the other hand off your face as he pulls out. You quickly gasp for air before he begins thrusting again. 

Without his hands keeping you steady, your head hits against the door repeatedly. Mingi slides his hand behind your head, fisting your hair once again, then leans forward until there’s no space left between him, you, and the surface behind you. Each thrust is less than a few centimeters as he grinds against your esophagus. You weakly cry until he decides he’s had enough, stuffing himself down your throat for a few seconds before yanking it out. You gasp and fall onto your hands and knees, heaving for air. 

Your throat feels raw, your cheeks are wet, your knees ache from sitting on them for so long, but Mingi pulls at you as though impatient. 

You expect him to carry you to the bedroom, probably throw you on the bed, but while you catch your breath you feel his hand on the back of your head. 

“M-Ming—”

“Stick that fucking ass up,” he grunts, shoving your face into the carpet. Your cries are muffled against the plush surface as he holds your head down. 

Where you expect to feel his cock, you instead feel his tongue lick between your sticky cunt lips. You jolt, only for him to chuckle. He says nothing else before burying his face in your pussy. 

You release a loud cry, your hips wriggling from the sensitivity as he sucks your clit into his mouth without waiting. You whine and gasp, fisting the carpet as you moan against it. 

Mingi lets go of your hair only to hug your ass against his face. He sucks and licks, mouthing at your labia and lapping at your slit like candy. He groans and rubs his face between your legs, plush lips feeling like heaven as he french kisses your cunt. 

When he suckles your clit again, you squeak, mouth falling open. He groans and teases the bundle of his nerves in his warm mouth, tongue sliding below the hood until you’re twitching from the overstimulation. He releases it only to lick up and down your vulva repeatedly, as though savoring a popsicle.

“Say something, baby. Tell me how it feels,” he says, slurping and smacking his lips. He moans before diving in again, throat working as he swallows your sweet juices. You shudder, licking your lips from where your front half is flopped against the carpet. 

“Mm. G-good,” you mumble. Mingi smacks your ass so hard you cry out. 

“Fuck, that’s right. Such a juicy cunt,” he murmurs, hands moving to your thighs. He grabs your ass and uses his thumbs to pull apart your pussy. You hear him suck a finger into his mouth before it prods at your hole, making you clench around nothing. 

“Don’t pretend like I haven’t seen this pussy swallow all eight inches of me, baby. Gonna fuck up this little hole until you can’t sit right.”

You whine and jump when he begins sliding his index finger inside, long and firm, though not enough. Your pussy flutters and Mingi moans, thrusting his cock against your thigh. 

“Got me rutting like a fucking dog after a bitch in heat,” he growls, roughly smacking your ass. “Put those legs together. Gonna use all of you.”

You do as he asks, a little dizzy as you shuffle to close your legs, ass still in the air. His finger begins steadily pumping into you, though you feel something slick and hard wedging itself between your thighs. 

“Mmn…fuck, love your thick fucking thighs baby, takes my cock almost as good as your filthy little cunt,” Mingi groans, hooking the finger inside you. You yelp, and he does it again, and again, roughly poking the inner bundle of nerves. Each time you move, you grind on his cock, your thighs giving him a tight squeeze to fuck into. 

You begin pushing back on his finger, so he adds another. The stretch is good, but nothing like what he’ll feel like when he’s inside you. 

“Look at you,” he groans, watching as you try to fuck yourself on his fingers. He squeezes in a third and you moan, ass lazily bouncing against his knuckles. “My nasty little girl. Always wants to act so sweet, you just want me to climb on top and pick a hole to use, right?”

“Mmnn…” you mumble, feeling the pad of his finger stroke your inner walls. You were getting desperate, and you hated that. Desperate you is exactly why Mingi gets like this—he knows you. 

“I love playing with this one, like how you scream and beg me to put something in that needy cunt at the same time,” he hums. His thumb rubs over your asshole, and you feel the tight ring of muscle respond to his touch. He chuckles quietly, leaning over you, fingers still fucking into you. “I think I’m gonna use my pretty girl’s pussy. See how she takes it when I fuck her like the horny bitch she is.”

“Mingi,” you whine, currently the only word in your sex-dumb vocabulary. He sighs, pulling his fingers out. You shiver at the cold emptiness, but then your boyfriend is suddenly getting ready to fuck you on the floor of your entryway.

“Bedroom?” you manage to ask, but a firm hand on the back of your neck silences you by smothering your face into the carpet.

“You think you deserve a soft bed right now?” Mingi asks darkly. You hear shuffling; he slips off his jeans and tosses them to the side. When you try to look back at him where he’s unbuttoning his shirt, he smacks your ass, nearly sending you rolling to your side. 

“The bed is where I fuck my good girl,” he says, pulling you back against his hips. He nudges his cock between your thighs again, thrusting once, hard, and you feel the tip of his cock poking your lower belly. “You’re my bad girl, my little whore who’s desperate for this cock. You’re gonna get fucked right here in the floor.”

You moan softly, and Mingi peels you open again. He squeezes the flesh of your ass, toying with the way your pussy lips stretch open. 

“So fucking wet, look how sloppy you are, baby. Your needy little cunt wants it,” he hums. Mingi flicks your clit, making you shudder violently; he moans in approval before sucking his fingers into his mouth. 

He apparently can’t wait any longer, as he begins to mount you, pulling you beneath him with large hands gripping your waist. You try to lift your upper half, though he shoves you down again. 

“Keep your fucking head down,” he growls, licking his palm and roughly jerking his cock a few times. “Don’t worry about this little cunt, baby. Just focus on staying conscious, yeah? Hate it when I have to hold you up.”

You whimper and wiggle your ass, earning another slap, though it’s not as hard as the last few. This is for a good reason, as he’s tugging you back to him. 

Mingi uses one hand to grip your ass cheek, opening you up to him. He groans, gripping his cock and rubbing it up and down your lips, following the path of his tongue minutes ago. He uses two fingers to hold you open, revealing your hole—he slots his cock against it and begins to push.

You moan and arch your back, gritting your teeth at the sensation of being opened. Mingi’s cock is so fucking thick, it stretches you open deliciously. You can feel every vein, every dip in the swollen member as it slides inside of you, inch by inch. No part of your insides are left untouched. 

You wince when the head nudges your cervix, though Mingi only laughs. 

“You’re not done yet, baby. Open up that cunt for me,” he growls, thrusting once. You whimper as you’re thrown forward. 

“H-Hurts,” you mumble, reaching back to push at his waist. Mingi grabs your arm and twists it around your back, putting pressure on you as he works himself deeper. 

“I know it can fit,” he says, pushing harder. “I’ve been balls to pussy inside of you and had you begging for more. Now let me in before I make it fit. You don’t like it when I do that, remember?”

You shudder at the memories of being pinned down, Mingi’s fingers keeping your hole stretched as he wedges his cock inside, all the while telling you it’s gonna look so pretty, you being wrapped around him.

He was wrong. You loved that. 

He begins rutting against you, ignoring your whines of pain as his cock somehow manages to slip further inside. It takes one last thrust before he breaks you open, and his balls are pressed tightly to your clit. You moan, able to feel him deep inside you. 

“Fuuuuck,” Mingi groans, and you remember why you’re so willing to be used by him—that sound, the sound of him being buried inside his girl, caught between wanting to love her sweetly and fuck her like a whore. 

“Feel it?” he asks, grabbing your hips and leaning over you. “Feel it inside, baby? Gonna split you open on this fucking cock.”

“I-I said I was sorry,” you whine. Mingi smacks your ass, this time grabbing the plump flesh and squeezing. 

“You’re not sorry,” he chuckles, adjusting himself on his knees. “Not one fucking bit, y/n. You can fool every other bastard you’ve ever been with, but I know you, baby. I love you. That’s why I’m gonna fuck you up.”

Mingi saws into you relentlessly. 

Your upper half is pinned to the floor as he drags you onto his cock like a broken doll. He leans over you, using his weight on your body as he grabs both of your arms, pinning them to the floor. 

“So fucking gorgeous,” he whispers, hips working steadily to penetrate you. “You like to look dumb, baby. Like people to think you’re so fucking helpless. If someone saw this, saw what I’m doing to you…fuck, I’d be crucified. They’d say I’m taking advantage of a sweet girl, using her to feel good, like a pretty little cocksleeve.”

Mingi leans down, biting your shoulder until you yelp. His lips go to your ear as he grinds against your ass, his cock painfully knocking at your cervix. 

“Little do they know, huh? I’d have to beg you to stop instead, beg you to let me pull out of this sopping pussy before you milk me for my fucking cum.”

You moan softly, and Mingi fists your hair. He painfully yanks you off the floor, bending you at an odd angle to lean over and kiss you. It’s wet and desperate, more tongue than lips on both ends, but he doesn’t pull away. He leaves his mouth against yours and fucks you harder, deeper, free hand gripping your waist and nailing you to the floor. 

“Can I, baby?” he groans. “Can I pull out? ‘m gonna pull out unless you beg. Beg me to stay inside this little pussy and make it hurt, let me pump my cum so deep it makes you nervous.”

You whine at his words, unwilling to say much thanks to your pride. But then you feel him begin to slip out, throwing a hand back to grab his hip. Mingi laughs until you dig your nails into his ass, throwing yourself back against him until he fucking whimpers. 

“Jesus fuck—”

“Don’t stop,” you plead breathlessly. “P-please, Mingi…keep going. Want you so bad.”

Mingi curses, using his knee to kick yours apart. You lose your balance and fall flat on the floor, though he curls an arm around your hips to keep you propped for him. 

“Yeah?” he asks, nosing the back of your neck. “Want it that bad? Need me to keep stuffing that needy little cunt?”

“Yes,” you moan shamelessly. Mingi lies on your back, now pressing all of his weight on top of you. It’s hard to breathe, though you can tell he’s close. 

“What if I fuck my load in your pretty pussy? Hm? Might put a baby or two in there,” he groans. You squeak and tilt your head back, surprised to find him right there. Your head rests against his shoulder and you bury your face against his throat. 

“D-Don’t care,” you mumble. “Want it. Want you.”

“I’m gonna go deep, babygirl. Gonna make sure your slutty little body can’t stop it.”

“Yes, fuck, y-yes, Mingi…” you whimper. He curses, his chest against your back. 

“G-Gonna cum, baby. Gonna put one inside you,” Mingi gasps. “You gonna take it? Make me pretty babies?”

You don’t have a chance to answer, as he suddenly groans, gripping your thighs and forcing them apart beneath him. He clumsily thrusts until he manages to snugly fit himself inside your body, head dropping against yours as he begins to cum. You feel his fat cock pulsing, pumping his sperm into you, raising a hand to his cheek. 

Mingi tilts his head and kisses you, the softest kiss all night. His plump lips are gentle against yours, and you forget for a few moments that you’re pinned down in an awkward position with his cock stuffed in you. 

A large hand slides beneath your bodies; before you can ask, Mingi’s thumb and index finger find your clit. He gently pinches, rolling the sensitive bud. 

“F-Fuck, Mingi—”

“Want you to cum. Want that cunt to squeeze my cock ‘till there’s nothing left,” he groans against your ear. You moan as he rubs at your clit, though it’s not until he begins gently thrusting again that you feel yourself coming undone. 

The minute your orgasm hits, it draws a sinful moan from Mingi as your muscles squeeze and work at his cock. You feel him try to pull out with a hiss of pain, though he’s unable to, forced to endure his sensitive cock being milked.

Serves him right, you think, wearily collapsing onto the floor. Mingi follows with a groan until you squirm, reminding him that he’s not a lapdog. 

For a few minutes, the apartment is quiet aside from the heavy breathing. Mingi finally pushes himself up, nearly falling again on unsteady arms. He grabs your waist with one hand and the base of his cock with the other, gently easing out of your sore cunt. You still wince, though it’s not too bad, but he mumbles an apology anyway. He keeps his hands on your ass once he’s successfully pulled out and gently squeezes.

“Shit,” Mingi breathes. You ‘hmm’ curiously, unwilling to lift your head, but he crawls above you to lean down and kiss your cheek. “Nothing. Just like watching my cum drip out like that.”

“Gross.” You crinkle your nose. 

“You okay?”

You glance up at Mingi, resisting the urge to smile. Only this boy could pin you to the floor one moment, and then look lost the next, like he’s not sure if he’s hurt you or not. The other Mingi wouldn’t care, the one who threatens to choke you and calls you a slut, that one was fun. But this one was yours, you loved this one.

“I think I’ve got carpet burn—”

“Me too,” he mumbles, looking at the redness on his forearms. 

“—but I’m okay.”

“Good,” he says with a sigh. He kisses your cheek until you turn your head, letting him kiss you properly. He's careful, soft lips molding against yours and looking at you in between kisses to make sure you’re satisfied. 

“I really am sorry,” you mumble against his lips. He hums softly, still kissing you. “For sending that text. I…I don’t know why I did that.”

“Please. Do not ever stop doing that,” he laughs, pinching your cheek. “That was hot as fuck.”

“Then why did you—did you have to throw me against the damn door?!” you huff, pulling back. Mingi sheepishly smiles, nosing at your cheek. You roll your eyes. 

“You liked it,” he sings. You pout. 

You liked it. 

[marvelwitchergilmore]

First Name Basis

Summary: Aaron Hotchner x Fe!Reader -> You and Hotch have never been on First Name Basis, but as the years go on, thing begin to change.

Disclaimer: Mentions and descriptions of blood, bombs, life being in danger, slight spoilers for S4-Ep3 (Minimal Loss - Reader takes Emily's place) (But that isn't the whole fic). BAU found-family fluff, romantic fluff, soft fluff, happy ending. Not Proof Read.

You were on a first name basis with everyone. Everyone save from Hotch. 

Of course, he would introduce you with your first name when it came to meeting police departments or official personnel but to anyone else, specifically yourself, he always used your last name. 

And you did the same with him. Like the rest of them. 

It was always “Sir,” or “Hotch,”. 

Never Aaron. 

However, this all changed after a case in Colorado. 

Yourself and Reid had gone undercover as Child Protection Agents. And it wasn’t long until things went wrong. An unknown police raid meant everyone was taken underground. And a media segment revealed that someone was FBI. 

Between yourself and Spencer, you took the rapt. You weren’t willing to watch him get shot and die. 

On the other side of the planted bug, the team could hear everything. 

And it was killing Hotch.

And Rossi could see it. 

They all could. 

His own mind was fighting against listening because he had to, and not because you were being beaten. 

A small grunt left you as you were thrown into something, and then a crash came. A mirror most likely. More grunts and one scream before…nothing. 

It was the first time in a long time his emotions had started pushing to the surface. 

Every day, he had to become an emotionless yet empathetic profiler. But at that moment…he didn’t know what he was. He was a profiler, a friend, a…he didn’t know what he was. 

“Y/n…”

His voice was barely audible. A hair above a whisper. 

But Rossi saw it. 

Even if Aaron didn’t know it yet, Rossi knew. 

Then you spoke. 

“I can take it.”

There were more sounds of fighting before another. 

“I can take it.”

“She’s antagonising him!” Derek shouted. 

“No, she’s not.”

“She’s talking to us.” Hotch told them both. “She’s telling us not to come in.”

And he didn’t. 

It was killing him not to do so, but he didn’t. 

But the moment he got a chance, writing the time of “3 am” on the takeaway box, he wouldn’t be turning back. 

When he finally saw you, a wave of relief washed over him. And the same happened for you, too. 

Once you both caught clear sight of one another, you ran towards him. 

He could see the dried blood on your face, partly washed away. And your eye was bruised. And your arms were cut up, most likely from the mirror that had broken. 

But you were alive. 

Finally reaching him, you hugged him. And he hugged you. 

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, “I will be. Where’s Morgan and Reid?”

“They’re inside-”

The place blew up. 

Hotch covered you a little, both of you feeling the aftershock of the bomb. The hand you kept on his shoulder pulled him down a little with you. But after you made sure the other was alive, you both turned back to the building. And you started walking closer to it. 

“Morgan! Reid!”

They stood up. 

“Oh, thank god.”

Making your way up the stairs, you met a coughing Morgan and Reid before Reid finally stood tall and you hugged him. 

After that case, everything seemingly went back to normal. 

Until another case came, only a few months later. 

A bomb had been planted in a building. And, when tracking the Unsub into another one, yourself and Hotch had found yourselves stuck. 

The Unsub held a trigger, and by the looks of it, he was wearing one. 

But you couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in your stomach. 

Something wasn’t right. 

“So, what happens next? You blow yourself up? What happened to “getting all the glory”? That’s what you said, isn’t it? In your message. It was all about the glory.”

Yourself and Hotch took another step forward, but then he unzipped his jacket. 

“Another step and I take my finger off the trigger.” He warned. 

Neither of you moved, but your gaze did switch. 

The bomb the Unsub was wearing wasn’t one you recognised. It wasn’t his type. 

By the time SWAT and Bomb Disposal met you at the top of the building, it wasn’t long before he just…gave up. 

“He took hostages from the last site.”

“But we found them all.” 

Hotch nodded in agreement. “I still want to do a sweep just in case.”

“I’ll come with you.”

By the time you both reached the fourth floor, you still couldn’t shake the feeling. 

And just as Hotch reached a small storage unit, it clicked. 

“It was a fake.”

“What?”

“The bomb, around his chest. It’s a fake.”

“Why fake a bomb and then give yourself up?”

Then it clicked with the both of you. 

“How many agents are in this building?”

“Enough to keep this case in the news for the next fifty years.”

“We need to clear the building now.”

By the time you both reached the floor, calling for every agent to clear the building, someone came and found Hotch. 

“We found his briefcase. You’re gonna want to see this.”

Walking over, both yourself and Aaron peered inside. There were plans, memos, and enough cash to give him a whole new life in any country he could possibly want. 

“Get all of this processed as soon as you can.”

And Hotch walked away. 

But you stayed. 

However, the longer you stayed, the bigger that gnawing feeling in your stomach grew again. 

And once you finally lifted a pile of cash, you saw it. 

A watch with a timer. 

“Morgan! Clear the area, now!”

People started running but when you did so, Hotch was still in his place. 

“Aaron!”

Grabbing his arm on your way past, you both started running. And whether it was luck, or fate or…whatever it was. Yourself and Aaron managed to clear the site fast enough so as to not die from the explosion. 

You both were propelled forward, and landed, rolling onto the ground. And for a few moments, were stunned from the blast. 

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, managing to catch your breath. “I’m fine. Are you?”

“I think so.”

Once you were able to open your eyes, you sat back on your heels and took a look at Hotch. He was sitting in a similar position to you, except he was bleeding. 

You pushed yourself closer to him, “Jesus, Hotch. You’re bleeding.”

Once you touched it, he seemed to feel it and tried to move his head away from your hand, but you pulled him back. 

“Don’t move.”

Through your wire, you called for a medic. 

“Y/l/n, I’m fine.”

“Hotch, you’re bleeding. You’re not fine.”

“So are you.”

You shook your head and turned away for a moment, pulling out your pocket knife and cutting the torn piece of your t-shirt. 

“Wait.”

Hotch took the cloth from your hands before tearing it into two and handing you a piece back, but keeping one for himself. 

Just as you pressed the cloth to his head, he did the same for your cut. There wasn’t much blood coming from your head, so once he knew that had slowed at least, he dabbed at the wound on your arm before tying the piece tight around your arm. 

Once the medics finally reached you both, you told them what injuries Hotch had and might have. 

“Check her over, too. She’s got a cut on her head. She could have a concussion.”

“I don’t have a concussion.”

The medic had helped you up from the floor and when they did so, you felt a little dizzy. 

Hotch didn’t even have to say anything. 

“Shut up.”

Thankfully, the next time either of you talked on a first name basis was when on a short vacation. 

Considering the fact that no-one of the team was due to go on holiday or drive out of state for at least three more days, Penelope Garcia took it upon herself to plan a small getaway for the entire team that meant even if they got called back (as you all usually would), you would have, at least, a break away. 

So, on a random Friday morning, you all drove to the beach. 

And it was fun, to say the least. 

By the time you arrived, you parked next to Will’s car. Both himself and JJ were getting Henry ready along with the beach bags and diaper bags. From what you could tell, everyone else was already on the beach. 

“Need some help?”

JJ nodded. “That would be great.”

“Hi, Henry. Is this his first trip to the beach?”

JJ smiled and nodded. “It is.”

“We did try and take him a few weeks ago but then he got a fever.” Will told you. 

“Well, it’ll all be worth it.”

Will handed you a couple of the bags whilst he carried the rest and JJ carried Henry, along with her beach bag, onto the beach. 

The minute you spotted Morgan flirting with a group of women a few feet from the water, you spotted Jack playing in the sand with Emily and Penelope. Spencer was trying to avoid the sun and Hotch was finishing setting up the area with a couple of windbreakers and chairs, with Rossi. 

And once you, JJ and Will arrived; the two dads continued setting up with the addition of sun parasols. 

It wasn’t long before Jack had come running up to get his dad and yourself to join him. JJ handed you Henry for a moment whilst she dug through the diaper bag to find the fruit pouches she had brought with her. 

From behind you, Aaron set up another parasol giving both yourself and Henry shade.

“I’ve put Henry’s fruit pouches in the cooler. Ready to go?”

Lifting her son from your arms, JJ carried Henry down to the water whilst Will grabbed his camera. And yourself and Aaron joined Jack, Emily and Penelope. 

By the end of the day, you had all swam in the water, built sandcastles, sunbathed, read and even been chased by Morgan when he realised yourself. Reid and Hotch had been hustling him in a game of football. 

And at some point after all of that, you must have fallen asleep because you woke up to someone lightly shaking your shoulder. 

“Y/n, hey, y/n…”

As you slowly came around, you realised it was Hotch. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine.” 

It was odd. 

His voice was soft. It was rare, if slightly unbelievable, that Hotch showed this side of him. The one he had for Jack. The one he had for those he held close to his heart. 

“The others went for some food, they should be back soon. Garcia said she knew your order. Pizza with fries and a side of pickles.”

“That’s my girl.” You said with a sleepy smile. 

“Pickles? With Pizza? Really?”

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it.”

Then he laughed. “Okay, I won’t.”

You smiled at his laughter. And then you thought. In all the years you knew him, you couldn’t think of a time where you had heard him laugh. Sure, you’d seen him smile a little over the years. But before The Beach…you had never heard him laugh. 

And it was like music to your ears. 

Unknown, at first, but then very quickly became your favourite song. 

By the time the others got back, Jack was excited you were awake and ran over to you, jumping towards you and you fell back with him in your arms. 

Aaron laughed again, “Jack, let Y/n breathe.”

“Penelope got you pickles.”

“Extra pickles.” She said as she handed you the pizza box and takeaway tub with fries and pickles. 

“Have I ever told you you’re a saint?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “But I don’t mind hearing it again.”

“Well you are a Saint, Penelope Garcia.”

“She has to be, for buying you pickles with pizza.” Morgan added. 

The rest of the evening passed with stories, smiles and even more laughter. 

It was also after that day you noticed when Hotch called you by your name. It hadn’t clicked with you right away, when he woke you up. But when you fell asleep in the round table room after more than 30 hours of work, you noticed it more. 

Usually, whenever you fell asleep when case hours ran over, you would be jolted awake by someone (typically Hotch) calling your last name. 

But since The Beach, you were woken up with a soft touch to your arm, shaking you lightly, before he said your first name. 

“Go home, get some rest.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.”

You grumbled, sitting up. “By the time I get home, I’ll be on my way back.”

Hotch sighed. “Fine. But you can use the sofa in my office. It’s better than your desk.”

“Thanks, Hotch.”

However, a few months later, something else changed. 

A case had been brought into the roundtable room, and everyone was there. Except for you. 

“Not like Y/l/n to be late.” Rossi said, pulling out his chair. 

“Try her again.” Hotch told Garcia. 

“Yes, Sir.”

“Maybe she’s just catching up on sleep.” JJ offered. 

“Why would she be catching up on sleep? We all landed back here two nights ago.”

“Is she dating?” Morgan asked. 

Hotch looked up. 

“No, but her neighbours are.” JJ told them. 

“Ooh, that’s gotta be tough.” Prentiss said. “Back in college, I had a roommate the same. Many sleepless nights. That was when I bought my first pair of noise cancelling headphones.”

Garcia called you three more times. 

“We’ll continue with the case,” Hotch told everyone. “We can catch her up when she wakes up.”

Except two hours later, you still hadn’t picked up. 

And then Hotch got a phone call.

“Is everything okay?”

“I’m going to find Y/n,” Hotch told Rossi as he passed him. 

“Do you know where she is?”

“A good idea.”

“I’ll come with you.”

After thirty minutes, and eventually passing the turn for your apartment complex, Rossi spoke up. 

“Her apartment-”

“I know, but she won’t be there.”

“Then where is she?”

“She has a second home.”

Rossi didn’t say anything but he couldn’t help but notice that Aaron knew the way, without having to put anything into the GPS. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Hotch sighed a little. Part of him didn’t want to, because he didn’t know if you would want anyone to know. But he’d gone this long without telling Rossi. 

“There was a crash this morning. Don’t worry, she wasn’t hurt. But one of her friends was. They’re okay, too. They’re being kept in the hospital for a few days but were more worried about Y/n’s reaction.” 

“How did she react?”

“She didn’t.”

“Well, that’s not good.”

Pulling up outside of your home, Aaron stepped out and rushed towards the door, finding the spare key and letting himself in. The doorbell camera would have let you know they were there. 

And then he called your name.

Rossi took in the structure and the decoration of your home. He didn’t know you owned a property outside of your apartment, but by the looks of it, you spent more time outside of work here than you did at your apartment. 

There were photos of yourself with your friends, as well as the team. It was tidy, and the place smelt of blueberries and cinnamon. 

Turning around the bottom of the stairs, Aaron took them two at a time before reaching the top and when he did, Rossi could see him standing on the landing, as well as stall when you called back. 

“Aaron?”

Coming from out of your room, you walked down the hall and Rossi watched as Aaron’s demeanour changed. In the car, he had been tense. In fact, he had been tense since you hadn’t walked into the office. 

But standing at the top of the stairs, hearing your voice as well as seeing you, he relaxed. 

And his voice became softer. 

“Hey,”

You walked towards him and he hugged you instantly. 

“How did you find me?”

“The hospital called. The nurse said Abby was worried about you. Are you okay?”

Aaron moved back a little to examine your face. You had been crying. Your eyes were a little puffy and your cheeks were tear-stained. 

With his thumb, he wiped away the streaks and you melted into his touch for a second. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you?” 

You nodded, “I just…it scared me, you know?”

Aaron nodded. “What do you need?”

“A hug?”

A light smile graced his lips for a moment. “I can do that.”

And he embraced you, tightly. Securely. 

Rossi smiled for a moment before quietly walking away to snoop through your house. And by the time you both walked downstairs, you hand in Aaron’s, Rossi was in the kitchen. 

“Next time Penelope tries to arrange a dinner party, we’re holding it here.”

“So long as you cook.”

“But I don’t see any-”

You and Aaron gave each other a knowing look before you moved and opened up two cabinet doors. It contained three different spice racks, a selection of dry herbs and all standard ingredients to make any one of Rossi’s signature sauces. 

He’d given you enough recipes over the years (not that you didn’t have to work to get them – there had been so many coffee runs) that you made sure you always had the main ingredients needed, and you could always pick up fresh ones on your way home. 

“You’re not the best snooper.”

“I’m a profiler. Not a detective.”

“You’re still an FBI Agent.” Aaron added, backing you up. 

“So, sue me.”

After that case, nothing else changed. 

Both yourself and Aaron remained on a first name basis. Especially considering that two years later, you and Aaron started to share the same last name. 

[danibeanie]

astronotes❤️‍🔥

underdeveloped virgo moons are HIGHLY critical when it has anything to do with themselves, others and environments. It can be exhausting having to work with these people cause they’re never satisfied.

cancer placements always have endearing nick names for their friends or their loved ones. especially if cancer resides in the 3rd house.

many people like to associate mysteriousness with pluto and while I do agree SOOOO many people ignore cancer placements/prominent moon aspects when it comes to that topic.there’s a reason why many iconic women have cancer placements and it’s because of that allure🌙 ALSO the moon card in tarot literally represents secrets/hidden.

-Angelina joline

-Margot Robbie

-Pamela Anderson

libra venus men will give you the world and are such romantics. my dad has this placement and he’s one of the reasons why I have such high standards in men😭

taurus placements are very much in tune with their 5 senses and THEY WILL make you feel as comfortable as possible when your with them. can’t tell you how many times people come to my house and say how cozy it is. I think that’s the biggest compliment when you make someone feel safe❤️‍🔥

I feel like earth placements are the most intimidating when it comes to 1st impression wether it be sun,moon, or rising. there’s always a no bs energy to them and are always searching for goals/stability. which can make people think that your not here to waste time.

scorpio risings are always studying people and if they’re comfortable with you they’ll tell you!! small details they notice about you ,changes in your movements when your uncomfortable, certain shirts you like to wear or body parts you like to show off. which I think is super attractive coming from a mercury dominant that’s always looking at details.

mars dominant/mars 1st house people always look good in active wear. it doesn’t even matter the occasion they will wear it and it will always look good.

working with someone that has the opposite mars from you is literally hell. your gonna have to find a common ground with them if not these people are gonna irk the living shi outta you. *cough* *cough* cancerxcap *cough*

chiron synastry is so funny because you end up finding their chart and your like “oh that’s why they triggered me so much” my ex manger had her chiron in my 1st house and yeah no. it also conjuncted my venus and she would say some things that weren’t too nice to say the least😭 it was a double whammy though because my chiron conjuncted her mars which triggered me the most because you use your mars placement a lot in the work field.

virgo risings are the easiest for me to spot. There’s this simplicity to their beauty but so detailed. very much clean girl aesthetic.

most leo risings I know have blonde highlights or just always CHANGING their hair. Its true what they say their hair is very prominent in their appearance.

anya taylor joy being a taurus rising is not surprising literally just look at her cupids bow😭 and her facial structure. she is so gorgeous

[httpseungmxn]

Plushies

Quackity X Streamer!Female Reader

🍬 - fluffy

Authors Note: Hi there Angels, welcome back to another Quackity fic! I had some very sudden inspiration to write this fic and hardly any plans for it aside for that it continues off from the last one, so I’m just going for it! Hopefully it isn’t too bad and you guys can enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3

Warnings: slight bit of cussing because its Q and he is brushing off onto reader:p, reader is called “hermosa” again!

Triggers: None as far as I am aware!

Since your birthday stream last month, your streams have been constant and exciting. You figured when the birthday stream ended, everyone would unfollow and disappear, but they didn’t. People actually enjoyed the content you did, and thought the streams were fun to watch. It was the same way with Alex. You assumed he would just unfriend and move on with his life, but instead he was constantly inviting you to calls to stream with him.

You two were now known as the chaotic duo on twitch. You both were constantly causing chaos everywhere. Streams, calls, games, etc. How were you causing chaos? In minecraft, tnt and mobs were constantly being dropped by the both of you. It was just little things that erupted into big messy things.

Speak of the devil. Interrupting yet another one of your streams was Q who had a very specific ringtone that the fans knew. Declining the call to focus on the timed obby your doing, just to get another call from the boy.  

“ Yes chat, that’s Q calling. This is like the fourth time since I started streaming. “

The chat was blowing up making comments about Alex being clingy and shipping the two of you together.

Finally deciding to answer the call when he called one las time.

“ Alex Quackity, if you cause me to lose this record, I will be coming for you next in the minecraft event. “

“ Its so rude to ignore me, ___, I’m your bestfriend! “

Letting out a snort at the slight whine in his words, knowing it was just a teasing thing. You focused back on your task while waiting for the man to speak up about what he called you for. He never did though. Instead he stayed eerily silent which was definitely not like him at all.

Letting out a yelp when he suddenly let out a scream.

“ alex, what the hell! “. Not getting a response but instead a notification that he had begun streaming as well to which you pulled it up on your phone. As soon as you caught sight of him, you busted out into laughter. 

There he sat in his chair with a box in his right hand, staring at the camera with a deadpan, covered in little stuffed cats and bunnies. The look on his face would surely be later turned into a meme by one of his fans.

“ ___, care to explain ? “ , waiting for your giggles to calm down. Looking down at the toys covering his lap, before looking back up to the camera.

“ happy birthday? “ ,was all you could muster before you were laughing again.

“ my birthday isn’t till December! What am I gonna do with all of these! “, regretting the question as soon as he said it, because of what chat began saying next.

“ no chat! I am not using it as a personal body pillow! Don’t bring ___ into this! Shes in big trouble, chat! “.

Your laughing suddenly came to a stop at his words. Glad the chat can’t see you because you know they’d all be freaking out over how red your cheeks were. Letting out a soft cough and focusing back on the obby until you made it to the end. “ we did it chat! “.

“ ___, chat is wondering when you’ll do a face reveal “,

“ I’ll do a face reveal when you do a hair reveal “,  “ so never? “. Letting out a soft laugh and shaking your head. 

“ No, I’ll do one. I want to, just hadn’t really put two thoughts in it to be honest. I have a facecam attached to my computer. “, the dramatic gasp Alex let out had you giggling again. 

“ you’ve been denying us from seeing your face, hermosa? Are you crazy? Let us see you! “, his nickname had you red all over again. 

“ you guys really want to see? “, you knew you really didn’t have to ask that question because you already knew the answer both from chat and Alex, you just wanted to see the reactions. Feeling satisfied when both chats blew up, and Alex began to frantically nod his head.

“ well, okay, here we go. “, feeling nervous as you turned on the Facecam and looked to it, waving shyly at it as a greeting to them. Rubbing your hands gently on your thighs as you looked to the chat to read over reactions. Smiling brightly at all the compliments you were getting. You looked to alex’s stream to see his reaction and held yourself back from blushing when you noticed him just staring at you.

“ Earth to Alex, are you there? “

“ ____, why did you deny all of us this sight? You are absolutely stunning, hermosa!  “, that brought out the blush. Thus forth causing chat to go wild over the interaction between you two. “ thank you, weirdo, now do you want to play a game with me? “.

“ yes! Lets play baddies “.

Somehow you knew that he was going to want to play that, but truthfully you didn’t mind. You would play anything right now if it turned the conversation to something else. You didn’t think you’d be able to live if Alex tried to have a whole conversation with chat over how pretty you were. 

The both of you streamed together for about another hour and played together on facetime for another four hours. More than half of the time spent with him making comments denying him the sight and the other percentage was spent kicking his ass in Baddies. He didn’t seem to mind much and took the time to admire your beauty while you beat his avatar to his demise.

When you both were tired of gaming it was late. You both were exhausted but wanted to talk a while more. You didn’t mind staying on facetime so late, Alex made you feel comfortable. Comfortable enough to listen to his voice talking to you about streaming as you fell asleep. The facetime staying on the whole night with both of you sleeping peacefully.

This was the day you learned your feelings for Alex.

Authors ending note; Soo how was that? This one was definitely more lengthy than the last one and I didn’t really know how to format the talking so I just kind of made it work! Hopefully you guys enjoyed this one because it was really fun to write! Also this gif is going to be at the end of every q fic because its like hes cheering at me for finishing! Please let me know if you want more Quackity fics and send me in some asks! Until next time, My Angels 🫶

[ephemerensis]

I Don’t Smoke // Jason Todd x GN!Reader

this is the last song my band covered before we disbanded so i was feeling sentimental 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ but i do not encourage smoking to be clear!! jason is a coin flip and a brick wall, a brick wall you are unfortunately attached to. this was supposed to be done alot earlier but turbulent times! ended up cat sitting for my cheater ex bc his house burnt down 😨👍

—

You remember the first time you took a drag out of a cigarette. It hit the back of your throat before you knew you were breathing it, and burned the whole way through. Bitter and brute. As you coughed your worth out of your body, expelling smoke and air and tears, you were convinced then that your lungs were blackened and would be forever. Your friends laughed and you told them you’d never smoke again.

That was ages ago. You were ashamed of it, the pack of Winston’s you always kept tucked away in your nightstand and the matchbox that accompanied it. But on nights that were long and extra quiet, like this one, you’d slip one to remember the taste.

Winston was Jason’s brand. He liked them because they were smooth, sweeter than your average while still strong enough to bite in the aftertaste. Balanced. Metaphoric in a way, for the way he acted.

He didn’t always smell of tobacco, only when he suddenly appeared to you during later hours, a visage of smoke and sweat, or when he wore that one leather jacket that the smell couldn’t be washed from. You’d get a whiff of it when he leaned over to drape an arm over your shoulder; you learned to hate it less.

But he always tasted like them, unmistakable and permanent. It lingered on his lips every time you kissed, and then it became synonymous. You learned to miss him, the sweetness and the bite.

It was hard to say you and Jason were ever going steady. There was an awkward push and pull game both of you played, and neither of you had the courage to question it; at least, you didn’t.

When things were good they were almost domestic. You went out together fairly often. He’d make you soup if you were sick, pat the sweat off your brow. You’d hold him through lightning storms, when the clash of thunder sounded too much like clanging metal and triggered a childlike fear in him.

But he’d never move in with you, he’d get defensive at the notion, and that hurt more than it needed to. You’d hinted at it before, after he’d known you long enough, but you only asked once. You knew it was a mistake when he tensed up, but at first you couldn’t tell if it was nerves or anger talking.

“What for?” Whatever playful tone he had before had a coldness injected into it now. You should’ve known it was anger, he didn’t react on nerves.

“You always stay the night,”despite the pit forming in your stomach, you tried to be lighthearted about it. You could smile like it wasn’t a big deal. “You know my kitchen, and I do your laundry. The guest room is your room.”

“So what? I leave a couple shirts and that means I live with you? That doesn’t mean anything.” There were times that felt like an unscalable wall divided the two of you, and this was one of them. It meant less than you thought it did. He couldn’t be blamed for it. You couldn’t have helped it.

“Okay. Sorry I brought it up.”

Jason had a habit of turning into smoke sometimes, very quickly out of sight and undeniably out of reach. Going no contact with the whim of the wind, it was like you weren’t a priority. You probably weren’t. He never breathed a word about where he would disappear to, and you knew better than to prod too much.

And when he was back sometimes you’d feel the wall again. Bruised and brooding, untouchable by your hands or your mind. He felt violent, the way he was rougher when he grabbed things and avoided touching you. Jason wasn’t the type to hurt you or actively lash out, but you felt the anger anyway in the glass shards you found in the trash or the tinkling sounds of trinkets against walls in his room.

It didn’t make you mad, or even scared. It just hurt to know he wouldn’t trust you with it. To know that his temper wasn’t going anywhere, and you weren’t adequate to touch it. The anger had to leave him somehow, and surely hiding it behind broken vases wasn’t enough. But you didn’t have the gall to say much about it, he was deeply distrusting and you were deeply complacent.

You weren’t yourself when you met him. That was your excuse. In a way, it set the tone for everything. After a particularly bad break up, you found yourself on the messy end of one too many mimosas and a handsome, tall stranger that was willing to listen to you slur about the cheater this and that asshole that.

The same stranger took you to his cozy apartment after you couldn’t hold your head up and decreed you’d forgotten your address.

Despite being a greek god of a man, he was awkward when you couldn’t help but cry, overwhelmed with emotion and alcohol. He didn’t touch you the whole night, just watched like a cornered dog. And he didn’t bring it up in the morning when you threw up on his carpet before passing out.

Anyone else would’ve left you at the bar, and if you were anyone else he would’ve done the same. But supposedly you were special, he said. Captivating and sincere, in a kicked puppy sort of way, and it was enough to wipe your vomit off the floor without a fuss.

It was hard not to like him after all that. And his chiseled jaw didn’t hurt either.

But sometimes you wish weren’t so casual about things when you’d met. If you explained that waking up in someone else’s apartment with no recollection was something alien to you, instead of playing it off, things might be different.

You thought he liked you because you were casual— cool, easygoing. He knew you as someone who didn’t overreact or get flustered easily or clutch caution. That’s who you were from the morning you woke up, asked who he was, and apologized for inconveniencing him. And it was the desire for consistency, fear of hurting what you built, that you remained complicit.

Your lungs were black now; jet black, like his hair and his favorite pair of boots. You were as casual as you were a smoker when you’d met, but when the smell lingers it doesn’t leave and the desperate desire to remember taste creeps in again. And sometimes you missed yourself, but not as much as you missed him in his increasing absence. The way the smoke seeped in, it clung to your walls and your favorite sleeping shirts and it was impossible now not to miss him.

You could always kick the habit, but not the taste of his lips. All of this, for him to hold you at arm’s length. After clinging to your walls and clothes and bed spreads, he had the nerve to say nothing. Sometimes the smoke was enough to kill fear for frustration, you had to deserve more than that. It had to hurt more to stay silent. He meant too much for you to be nothing.

So you ran it over again, your worth and your hurt, flicking the ashes off the half burnt roll. It wasn’t so disgusting anymore.

“Hey,” a familiar voice called out behind you. You didn’t hear him slip in, silent as ever. “It’s late.”

“It is,” you affirmed. Pressing the charred end of the cigarette against your banister put it out cleanly.

“You’re not sleeping?” A strong pair of arms caged your waist as you stared out at the pitch black skyline. Jason felt warm, as he usually did, a welcome contrast to the cold of the outside air.

“Well, you’re talking to me.” He hummed in response while you flicked what was left of the cigarette into the dustbin you kept on your balcony. Then, you asked a question you knew he wouldn’t like. “Where were you?”

“Business.” The answer was immediate and final. And vague.

“Why won’t you tell me?” you probed.

Jason stiffened, you could feel his arms tense around you, a warning. “Don’t start.“

His tone was callous, like all the affection and warmth he had dried up all at once. This was a different person.

“Do you hate me? Sometimes I get the sense that you do.” He let go of you and it was cold again, you didn’t have to turn around to know he was walking away.

“Go to bed. You’re not thinking straight.”

“No. I need you to give me something.” Before he could get too far, you caught him by his hand. He had rough hands, capable of violence, you knew, but you were never scared of that from him. “I’m what you want until you disappear again and you tell me nothing. And you come back and do it all over again, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to be to you.”

“Goodnight.” But he was stronger, you knew, and had no trouble ripping out of your grip to stalk off. If it ended like this you’d be at square one again. He’d lock his jaw and you’d bear the bite.

“Can’t you just yell at me!” You weren’t a beggar, but you’d never known desperation like this. That you could give someone else so much power over you. “I know you’re mad, just yell at me. It won’t hurt my feelings if you yell. Be mean. I can take it. But don’t sit with it and hate me, you can’t hate me—“

“Would you shut up?” At the very least he stopped, you were on the brink now, of your limit and his patience. You’d never seen him scowl like that, not at you, but it went as quickly as it came when he turned around. He’d never seen you cry like that, not over him.

“I don’t know where you go when you’re angry, but you can yell at me and stay. You always leave and if it’s because you’re mad at me then say so, I can listen.” You weren’t thinking, just spitting whatever bubbled up, “but I can’t be nothing to you, I have to matter enough for you to yell at me at least or tell me anything, I don’t have anything of yours and you are in everything I own.”

He paced over as you babbled, wiping off the forming tears with his thumbs. But Jason wasn’t an apologist or an open book, and once the smoke cleared from your lungs, you’d remember that. He held your heart in his volatile hands, and he’d decide how to break it. So he kissed your head and left anyway.

“We’ll talk in the morning.”

[reixtsu]

Lantern In The Shadows

Multi character x gn reader! Gender of reader is not specified.

Characters listed in the end!

Genre: Angst (comfort in the end)

Warnings: hints is self harm, mentions blood, darkness, self hate

He was the light within your darkness, a comforting lantern that stood upon your domain of blood. He was such a breath of fresh air, someone that you could tolerate in the cursed world you resided in.

However there was one thing that bothered you about him-out of all of the people he could have been with, why did he choose you?

In your opinion, you felt that there were plenty of better partners that he could have been with, and definitely have a healthier relationship with. You felt bad because it seemed like you were a burden to him, as you were always feeling down in the dumps.

Besides, you as the darkness did not want to dull the light that you loved so dearly.

The thought hurt so much, that 'he was making a sacrifice for the world by being with you'. You wanted him to be happy, to not deal with you since you were convinced you were a problem, something that should be wiped from this world. The aching in your chest only felt deeper day by day as you found yourself growing more and more distant from him.

Until one day, the medications were not seeming to work anymore. The emotions ran to its climax, and the feelings of negativity deep inside became shadows that blurred your vision.

The pain, it was too much to handle.

It was suffocating, as though you were drowning a cold sea of your own blood. You reached for the knife, hoping to dull out the agoney, only to be stopped.

"My love, what are you doing?" His voice was god-sent, a comforting tone that brought you back to your senses ever so slightly.

He looked at you with such softness, gently holding your wrist to prevent you from hurting yourself. 

Hot tears trickled down your face slowly, leaving traces of saltiness behind as you stared at the ground, ashamed to even look at his radiant gaze. "Don't look at me. I'm...so terrible."

His heart crumbled at your words, a wave of concern and protection washed over him as he took a step closer to you. "Don't say that. You're not terrible."

"But I am!" You cried out, tears falling nonstop as your throat felt dry from distress. "I don't deserve you. I'm such a terrible person, I made so many mistakes, and I never seem to do better!"

You coughed out the words that have been stabbing at your core every single day, but all you could see is blood everywhere, and your demons laughing at you, saying how much of a failure you were.

"I'm... a failure."

Warm arms wrapped around you and shielded you from the blood, demons, and darkness, suddenly making your cold, numb limbs feel lifelike again. Your lover kissed your forehead, a reminder that you were a treasure to worship.

"You are not a failure, or a terrible person," He whispered into your ear as he rubbed soothing shapes along your back. "You are such a great person with many great talents, values, and potencial. You might not see it yet, but everyone around you appreciates you. Take me as an example, I am so lucky to be with someone like you, who cares and takes care of me like no one else does. If you ever harm yourself, I will be devastated."

One sniff, then two sniffles. You tried your best to understand his words as he stared at you with love. You didn't really believe his words, but you knew that you could trust that he was being honest. The blood sea of darkness slowly seemed to fade away as the gentle light gave you a warm embrace.

In that moment, you knew you were loved, and you were worth his love.

    - KAVEH, kazuha, Tignari, Aether, lyney, THOMA, neuvillette, JING YUAN, Gepard, dan heng, SIGMA, Atsushi, Odasaku (BSD), your faves

Author’s note: This story is meant to be comforting, so I know that I may give some people triggers, it sure gave me a small trigger as I wrote this, but I want everyone to know that people are willing to help those in need, no matter the form.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sum of All 16

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You hate that feeling. The world moves around you as you wade up from the depths, a dizziness spirals behind your eyes, and you twitch as your come to. You’re head hangs back as Steve carries your limp body through the halls, footsteps steady and set to course. 

You grunt and spasm as you lift your head, further disoriented by the motion. You grab onto his shoulder as you feel as if you’ll fall. His cheek dimples as he smirks and lets out an amused snort. 

“Morning--” 

You don’t let him finish as you flick his throat and wriggle around in his arms. He coughs and drops your legs as he cradles his neck. You spin away from his other arm and barrel away from him. You don’t know what you’re doing, or why, it’s a really stupid thing, but you’re not really in a place where you can stop and think right now. 

You pump your arms as your footsteps echo around you down the airy halls. Oh no, oh no, oh no. You’ve seen what Steve can do and you know he won’t hesitate, especially after you’ve given him a reason. 

Why did you do that? Really? Why? You can’t outrun him. Your lungs are already burning. 

You need to hide. Somewhere... 

You skid to a halt and grab onto the closest door handle. You lean into it and fall through, crashing into the floor. You crawl away and kick the door, breathless as you splay on the carpet. 

You push yourself up and listen for him. You move carefully to the wall beside the door, keeping the light off so as not to give away your hiding spot. You close your eyes and focus. 

He’s coming. You hear him. You don’t like that. His steps are calm and even. Your heart pounds in your chest. You cover your mouth to smother any squeaks that might slip out. 

As he passes the door, you lean into the wall, hoping to disappear into it. His sole scuffs and he stops a few feet away. You wait until you’re sure he’s at the end of the hall. You deflate and place your palms on the floor. 

Shit. What the heck are you going to do now? You shake your head as another spell threatens to override your consciousness. You blink and try to figure out where to go from here. He’s your ride. You don’t even really know where you are. 

You reach for your phone but it’s not tucked into your waistband. Shoot. You must have dropped it in the gazebo. You’re a chump! 

You stand by the door, listening, rapt for a single pin drop. You push down the handle and gently urge it inward. If you go in the opposite direction-- 

Before you can take one step out, you’re thrown back into the darkness. You hit something and it scrapes over the floor. The door slams as you roll onto your stomach and push yourself up on your elbows. Your ribs rack as you fight to get a breath. 

“You think I’m that stupid?” Steve snarls as he comes toward you. 

You feel around and crawl around the piece of furniture beside you. He follows you, calmly. He knows you have nowhere to go. Just like he said, he’s playing with you. 

“Pl-ease,” you gulp as you put a hand down only for it to be crushed. You squeal as he grounds his heel into your hand then steps over you. “Ow, Steve—I didn’t-- I---” 

“Shhhh,” he falls down to his knees and straddles you, knocking you back to your stomach. “Look, I don’t wanna be mean, sweetheart.” He runs his hands around your jaw and along your cheeks. He bunches your hair in his hands and bends over you. “I really wanna be nice with you.” He yanks on his fistful.  

You put your hand on his and whine, “I’m sorry I hurt--” 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he quiets you. “Sweetheart, don’t make me be the bad guy.” 

You whimper as he drags his hands from your hair and down your back. He retreats along your body, his hands grazing your sides and hips. He grips you and lifts your ass high. You slap your hands on the floor as he puts you on your knees. 

“You can speak when you’re ready to beg,” he snarls as he tickles along your skirt and tugs up the hem. 

You wince and your eyes round as the darkness speckles around you. What is he doing? He pushes the fabric above your ass and hums. He covers your ass with his hands and spreads it. You squeak as you feel his warm breath on your thighs. 

He pushes his face against you, nuzzling into your panties as you gasp. Your legs quiver and your arms shake. You lean on your elbows as you try to pull away from him. He squeezes your hips and moves his head back and forth as if to burrow into you. He growls and it unfurls through your body. 

You squeal and reach back to push on his head. Hello! He can’t just do that. 

“Steve!” You squall. 

He hushes you and it sends a ripple down your thighs. You whimper as your fingers weave into his hair. Oh, oh, that shouldn’t feel good. 

He pushes his tongue against your panties and you feel the moisture seeping through. You squeeze your legs together as you try to deter him and blink at floor. Stay awake! For just this one time! 

He flutters his fingers up your leg and traces the trim of your panties. He pulls them aside and without meaning to, you pull him closer. He purrs and flicks his tongue down your cunt as he tilts his head. His beard tickles you and sends another shiver through you. 

He rocks you as he laps you up, sucking and groaning, the noises stirring in your core. You gasp and gulp as he hooks his hand under your stomach and keeps you close. He shifts his hand down to your skirt and slides under the top of your panties. He rolls his pinky over your clit as he pokes his tongue along your entrance. 

“I-- I---” you sputter, no longer foggy but fully awake and aware of every nerves storming inside of you. 

He lifts you off your knees and you whine, your hand slipping from his hair. You slam it down on the floor as he angles your hips above your head, pushing your legs over his shoulders as he continues to drink you in. As you hang upside down, keeping yourself aloft on bent arms, you warble with the brewing delight of his tending. 

He glides down to your clit and toys with it between his teeth. He sucks until the pressure swells and you grasp onto one of his thighs. You quake as you chuff out your orgasm, legs clamped around his head as you spasm. 

“St-e-eve,” you exclaim. 

He growls and chuckles before he draws away, the cool air grazing your hot cunt. He drags his hand up your back and taps your ass. 

“You still with me, sweetheart?” He rasps. 

[ponderingmoonlight]

How JJK men react to different insecurities part 1

Pairings: Nanami x reader with facial scars (reqested by @ynackerman9499) Megumi x fem! reader with small breasts (requested by anon) Sukuna x reader with acne (requested by @sanicsmut)

Word Count: 2,9k

Warnings: if you feel triggered by any of those insecurities please don't read it, I'm writing this out of an insecure pov - there's nothing wrong with having scars, acne or small breasts okay 🤍 Hope y'all enjoy 🤍

Kento Nanami - facial scars

You look at yourself in the mirror, eyes already starting to sting in tears. Why? Why did it have to end like this? You were never a pity person, never worried too much about looks. But this, this is something completely different.

“Hey darling, are you okay?”

“Yeah…”, you mumble in response, shaky hand mindlessly dropping your toothbrush into the sink.

You hate the way you look, the way those ugly scars are now a part of your face that will never fade away. Even though you are lucky you even survived, even though all that counts for you is that your precious boyfriend is still around, you’ve been avoiding looking at your own self ever since, covering yourself with makeup and masks even around him.

Him. Kento Nanami. The light of your life, the best boyfriend you could ask for. He told you over and over how much he loves you, that he couldn’t care less about a few scars decorating your face. But ever since that fateful day, you hid yourself very well from him – so well that he hasn’t seen your face ever since.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”, a gentle voice behind you mumbles.

Before you are able to react, he wraps his arms around you from behind and presses your body against his large frame. Frantically, you cover your face with your hands, your mask laying on top of the shelf on the other side of the room. Fuck, why didn’t you lock the door as usual? How could you be so careless? If he gets to see you like this, a jaw-dropping gorgeous man like Kento…

Would he still love you after seeing you like this when you aren’t even able to accept yourself?

“Please stop hiding from me, (y/n). I know the last weeks were rough, that you are insecure about the scars the fight left on your face. But please, just let me look at you without makeup or that mask, let me finally see the love of my life again. You are too precious to not be looked at.”

“I’m not”, you cough out.

Don’t cry, don’t make it more embarrassing than it already is. You have always been so strong, so independent. Crying over something ridiculous like this doesn’t suit you at all. You know yourself that it’s stupid, hiding from the love of your life because of a few scars. But every time you look into the mirror, you see nothing but a crippled version of what you used to be, a shadow of the person Kento fell in love with.

You couldn’t take it. Over and over, you imagined how he’d stare at you with disgust creeping up his face, turning away from you and never coming back. No wonder, Kento is a very attractive man after all, women hitting on him every time both of you go out. But you…One single glimpse in the mirror is enough to make you shiver, to let a single tear fall down your eye.

You are far away from being attractive by now.

“I hate seeing you like this and it truly breaks my heart that I’m not able to see your gorgeous face anymore-“

“Because it’s not”, you scream so suddenly that he flinches.

“I look nothing like the person you fell in love with years ago! I-I’m nothing but a shadow of myself, Kento! If you see me like this, you…”

You can’t put it into words, the thought alone cutting through your heart like a knife through warm butter. He’s better off without you and you know it, he’d definitely be able to pull a nice partner for himself, one that doesn’t look as worn down as yourself. But your heart simply can’t take it, just thinking about him with someone else feels like dying from inside.

You can’t lose him. Even if it’s selfish.

“(y/n).”

Gently, he positions himself in front of you and grabs your face. You want to run away, want to hide your ugly scars from his gaze. But instead, you just stare at him blankly, tears rolling down your cheeks like a waterfall by now. Is this the moment, the moment he realizes that he doesn’t want to be with you anymore?

“Just like I expected. You look as breath-taking as you did back then. These scars show nothing but how strong you are, that you are able to survive everything. Why would you ever suggest that I’d leave you because of something like this? You are my treasure, my everything, (y/n). Wouldn’t you love me if I had scars all over my face?”

“Of course I would”, you sniff immediately.

Kento smiles down at you softy, placing a kiss on every little scar on your face while you cry your eyes out.

How? How do you even deserve a caring man like him, how is he still able to look at you with nothing but affection in his eyes?

“See? Now, put away those masks and your makeup and be proud of what you did, okay? You saved the lives of our first years. Never forget how strong you are.”

“I love you more than anything else, Kento”, you mumble before pressing your face against his firm chest and getting lost in his scent.

“I love you too, darling. Maybe even more with those scars.”

Megumi Fushiguro - small breasts

You watch in sheer disinterest as a random girl from another Jujutsu sorcerer school positions herself in front of you, her cheeky grin almost eating you up alive.

“And who are you?”

“I’m (y/n) and a student here at Jujutsu High”, you remark dryly, not interested the slightest in her cheeky tone.

From the outside, she definitely looks like a dream girl. Tall but not too tall, blonde but not too blonde, doe eyes but not too innocent. And not to mention, the big pair of cherries that seems to stare right through your soul.

Even though you know that you are a decent looking girl, this one thing about your body always made you feel insecure. Every damn day of puberty, you hoped for a miracle overnight, that your breast might eventually start growing. But of course, that never happened.

Instead, you seem to be stuck with small boobs until the end of time. And while it definitely has its advantages here and there, it always makes you feel bad about yourself when you see girls like her, girls who are blessed with those natural curves.

“What kind of woman is your type?”, you suddenly hear from afar, ears perking up just the slightest.

“I don’t know.”

You swallow. That voice you know all to well, the voice of bored Megumi Fushiguro. Who is he talking to? And why on earth does your heart start racing, waiting desperately for his response?

“Are you more like an ass or a boob guy?”

“As long as they have an unshakable character, I won’t ask for more.”

“I saw the way you blinked when I said boobs.”

“There’s nothing wrong with admitting the truth”, Yuji interjects.

“Even if I do, what’s the purpose of all these stupid questions!?”

Your heart sinks. Ever since you’ve joined Jujutsu High, you always had both eyes set on that gorgeous boy. And even though it always seemed a little ridiculous, you thought he even liked you back from time to time. How stupid it was to think that a boy like him would want a girl like you, how stupid to even consider you are his type. Aren’t all boys nowadays into big boobs or big butts?

To be honest, you have neither.

“Why are you looking at me so sad now? Oh, are you jealous? Don’t worry, not everyone has the right to be blessed by mother nature. You’ll find someone who loves you the way you are, though – looking like a stick.”

Her words. Her venomous words shouldn’t hit you with full force, her words shouldn’t make tears sting in the corners of your eyes.

But oh they do.

With a swift motion, you get up from the stairs you were sitting on, running up as fast as you can to avoid curious looks. Damn, how was a bitch like her able to make you feel this miserable, why does it even bother you this much that you have a smaller chest?

Because everyone around you doesn’t have this issue. Because it seems like you’re the only one who isn’t blessed. Even Nobara and Maki have bigger boobs than you, even though Maki is well-trained. Why do you have to look this way? And why…

Why isn’t this what Megumi wants?

“Have you seen her? That looked like (y/n) running into that room”, Megumi mutters, looking after you in confusion.

Why would you run into a storage room so rapidly? You almost looked sad, as if something hurt you. He clenches his fist, not even caring about Yuji’s answer anymore. Out of all people, you are the one who shouldn’t feel bad a single moment, whoever did this to you will-“

“(y/n)”, he breathes out.

There you sit, back against the wall and your face in your hands, tears visibly running down your face. His heart almost stops. Megumi has never seen you cry, you were always the cool and composed one. What made you sit there, crying your eyes out?

“Don’t look at me”, you spit at him, turning away in an instant while hugging your knees.

Your words hit him with full force. Why did you sound so furious, did he do something wrong?

“But (y/n), I want to know what-“

“You’re not interested in my anyway, aren’t you?”

You know all too well how ridiculous and childish your words sound, but you can’t keep yourself together. All these months you roamed after him, thought you’d really stand a chance. And now…

And now Megumi Fushiguro isn’t into girls with small breasts?

“Why would you think that?”, he replies in an instant.

Instinctively, he rushes to your side, his mind racing. When did he ever give you the idea that he isn’t interested in you? Of course, he wasn’t exactly clear about it. After all, he himself was scared that you might not be interested in him and everything would turn out awkward after his confession. But did he really treat you this badly?

“Didn’t you say it yourself?”

The venomous tone of your voice makes him flinch. Even with your face puffy from all the tears and twisted in agony, you still look absolutely breath-taking. God, when did he mess up so bad? He can’t lose you like this, not when he doesn’t even know what happened-

“If you’re not attracted to girls with small breasts, I’m certainly not the one for you.”

Megumi has to blink a few times, mind trying to understand the words that just left your mouth. He, into girls with big breast? He, not into you? It doesn’t make any sense. You, the most wonderful girl walking on this earth? You with a body that makes his knees go weak in an instant? You, the girl he’s hopelessly in love with?

“What are you talking about? You are the only one I care about”, he clarifies before thinking twice.

Your heart skips a beat, eyes darting towards him in an instant. One look into his innocent orbs tells you that he isn’t just lying into your face, that he actually means what he just said. Does that mean…?

“B-but…Just a few moments ago, you said it yourself!”, you demand weakly.

“You mean my conversation with that guy from Kyoto? (y/n), I couldn’t care less about things like that. The only think that’s important for me is your character made of pure gold, okay? And also, I love your body the way it is. You look absolutely stunning. And your breast do too.”

In an instant, your cheeks turn bright red. Oh god, did he really just say that? Megumi wants to punch himself for his unfiltered words, for the fact that he clearly made you uncomfortable. Is there a way out of this misery?

“I-I mean…I think they look really good. You look really good. You don’t need big breasts for that. And I imagine small breast have their-“

“Please”, you interrupt him.

“I get it, but can we please stop talking about my boobs like that?”

Ryomen Sukuna - acne

“A pretty bad position you put yourself him, huh?”, the king of curses in front of you sneers.

Your hands fight desperately against the invisible chains, eyes searching for the tiniest possibility of a way out. But it’s impossible. After all, you aren’t held hostage by anyone. No, the man who’s sitting in front of you with his head resting in his hand is none other than Sukuna himself.

“Rather a position you put me in, idiot”, you bite back.

He chuckles unpromising, hand grabbing your chin before you’re even able to fight back. His eyes let your blood freeze in your veins, heart pumping so loudly that you bet he can hear it from afar.

“I don’t need to remind you that you’re here because you’re fighting for the wrong side, right?”

“The wrong side? Whose side is right, then?”

“Mine, of course.”

You snort disdainfully, yanking your chin out of his firm grasp. This guy has some nerves, talking down at you when you were out there enjoying yourself.

“I bet you’d fit well right by my side. You’re strong, you’re hot-“

“Don’t call me hot”, you interrupt immediately.

Out of instinct, you turn your face away from him. The face that makes you feel uncomfortable every time someone looks at it, the face that is responsible for multiple dumb comments you received when you were still at school. You know it’s a quite common thing. Many people fight against acne, some worse than you. But god, how much you hate to look at yourself, to see a new red spot on your face each and every day. No one at Jujutsu High ever pointed it out or looked at you in disgust. Yes, the times were people picked on you because of your acne are long gone.

But oh, their comments still haunt you, they still make you believe that you will never be able to be fully beautiful with those things covering your damn face.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

May the ground swallow you whole and get you out of this uncomfortable position. Why on earth does it have to be Sukuna who gets curious about you rejecting his compliment? Why can’t Yuji just regain the control over his body and put an end to your suffering?

“Because it’s a lie”, you press out.

Again, Sukuna gets a hold of your chin, his face now so near that you aren’t able to escape his stinging gaze anymore.

“Why are you saying that, brat?”

“Are you blind or something?”, you bark at him.

It feels like back then when your classmates used to pick on you. But this time, it isn’t a dumb kid that just wants to make fun of you. No, this time it’s actually the king of curses who toys with your insecurity, the only sore point you have about yourself.

“You may be. Because I don’t get why you’re talking down yourself like that.”

“Don’t you see that stuff covering my whole face?”

You can’t take it anymore, his intense staring paired with your own embarrassment. Within the last months, you really thought you got over the fact that your acne won’t go away that fast, that you’ll have to fight for it to disappear. And since no one ever mentioned it at Jujutsu High, you began to tolerate the red marks covering your skin. But at this moment, your sensitive confidence seems to shatter.

“And what about it? I don’t get what you’re talking about, brat”, Sukuna remarks dryly.

You blink a few times. The bored expression on his face tells you more than clearly that he isn’t making fun of you at all. Is it really possible that Ryomen Sukuna meant what he said, that he isn’t bothered about your face?

“I have acne all over my face”, you breathe out.

He rolls his eyes and shrugs his shoulders, hand moving your chin right and left.

“I don’t give zero fucks about that.”

It’s a simple answer, an answer spat in your face with disinterest. But oh does it make sparks fly around you and your heart almost beat out of your chest. The king of curses doesn’t care about acne.

The fucking king of curses called you hot despite your face is covered in red spots.

“I don’t know why anyone would care about shit like that. You’re strong and you’re hot, what about those spots?”, he continues while rolling his eyes.

“You really mean it”, you mutter more to yourself than him, a smile creeping up your face.

You feel like a little girl, the urge to giggle and jump up and down almost becoming unbearable. He really finds you hot. He really saw your face and lost not a single thought about your acne.

And he’s the king of curses.

“Why are you looking at me like that, brat? Did you forget that I kidnapped you?”

“Oh, you can kidnap me anytime”, you answer almost euphoric.

Sukuna tilts his head, eyes scanning you up and down.

“Humans really are strange.”

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez

[naomihatake]

LaDs' Rafayel rambling — "Oceanic Nightfall" tender moments

!!!!!slight poilers ahead. I also made a comparison with Caleb after his return (*cough*, coming back from the dead - it's written in a small font if you wanna avoid reading it)

This man is so special to me, to be honest. Last night I watched one of his limited Tender Moments card, Oceanic Nightfall — and when I tell you that I was absolutely flabbergasted with how angsty it was. I saw the card's image and thought "oh, this is gonna be spicy". I was so mistaken, oh Gods 🥲

That card is anything but spicy; sure, there's a lot of tension between them in the second half of the card, my heart was doing gymnastics when she entered on him being ass naked in the bathtub with a paintbrush in his hand. I hadn't expected him to be so shameless, considering I don't think at that point they were exactly lovers (or probably just at the delicate line between friends and lovers). Not that surprising, because it's Rafayel, after all; he does act strange a lot of the time if we take into account the usual standards.

I adore the fact that MC didn't walk away and the fact that she didn't give in easily. She told him square in the face that his manipulation tactics don't go unnoticed by her and I absolutely adore that, lol. Yes, gurl, say it out loud for everyone to hear.

Also, she calls him annoying and he seems to be pleased by that. Rafayel is so pleased with the fact that she does view him differently than others.

I have to admit that his tantrum with the glass had my jaw drop to the floor because I absolutely despise such behavior — I am hater through and through of that gesture, especially since she hadn't done something deserving of such a reaction.

Let's take another scenario as a comparison: when MC throws a glass at Caleb for what he's done to her, for locking her in his apartment and being an ass with his overprotective, obsessive tendencies. I completely understand her point of view and I think he deserved it, to be frank (as someone that appreciates and loves him as a character overall). I think she should've done worse, if you ask me, but that's another story (I am a hater of controlling behavior, sorry not sorry)

Actually, Rafayel's gesture triggered me. It took me several seconds to process what happened because I couldn't believe it — to the point I'm not even sure if the glass just slipped from his hand or if he really threw it on the floor (I'll do a rerun of that card just to be sure, but I don't think I misinterpreted it).

Despite it all, that made me fall for his character even more. This is a card from the beginning of their relationship, since before they even got a chance to kiss, so I think that makes it even more interesting. In later cards and events, it is shown how complex Rafayel is; he is deeply in love with her and stops his manipulative tendencies. The only people he's cruel with have nothing to do with her. Their begining seems very abrupt and he does act like an absolute menace, like a pitiful crybaby sometimes.

Later on, these moments just end up being part of who he is as a person. I know I kind of bullied him in this post until now. Truth be told, he's very mature and he's shown as being a very wise person, regardless of his childish tantrums — and they're not even exactly childish, they're just part of a very troubled personality. He's shown taking care of MC, protecting her, giving her wise advice in a way someone very old would. His soul is, indeed, old, especially since he remembers his past lives. He's watched the world change and crumble before his eyes and he's still there, in Linkon.

Rafayel can be a child in a good way, like the time when they ran in the rain together because he never did that (he's a Lemurian, it doesn't rain underwater); in several tender moments, he encourages MC to be kinder with herself, to find herself in the small things of life, to pursue her little dreams and the bigger ones. His devotion to her is undeniable, and as time passes by, there are less and less tantrums from him. It's almost as if he's found his own emotional security and stability once she appeared in his life.

Even in this card, Oceanic Nightfall, Rafayel tells her that he's changed since she appeared in his life. She questions his strange behavior and it seems like he's a bit self destructive — that makes him such a relatable and real character.

Rafayel is full of flaws and insecurities and they make him so much more beautiful; he's perfect because of his own imperfections and I love him that way. He shows that he tries to change for the better, even if it's shown as a slow process. Also, he does that for her alone. He doesn't care about other people and I think that's very interesting. I like him a little cruel, a little heartless; he has all the rights to be, considering his life (or lives) as a Lemurian.

Also, if anyone has some thoughts about this, you can share them <3 I'd be happy to hear some more opinions on this (I know that the Rafayel girlies are down bad for him exactly because he's got a twisted personality and I wholeheartedly agree 😫)

[tipsynight0]

Ghosts in the code

Paring - ben drowned x female reader

Synopsis - reader dies on a mission, in ben's grief he makes her in the digtal realm to cope.

Trigger warnings: death, shooting, guns, blood, grief, i think that's all but its super sad so be warned??

Word count - 2.1K

Author’s note - so I woke up at 7:45am and decided to finally write this damn story, I had made it in the draft but never completed it. I thought, huh they’ve had too much fluff and to much Jeff the killer. Soo I hope you guys like being emotionally traumatized this early in the morning <3

It was supposed to be an easy mission. Jack was off to find his next meal, and (Y/N) just had to make a target disappear—another loose end tied up. She could’ve handled it alone, but Jack insisted on tagging along. And Ben, always the overprotective one, had been unusually tense, practically forcing her to let him come. That last mission had shaken him. He hadn’t been able to let go of how close she’d come to dying.

"Jesus Christ, Ben, I’ll be fine," (Y/N) snapped, stuffing long sleeves into her bag, her irritation spilling over.

Ben hovered near her, eyes clouded with worry that he couldn’t hide, no matter how hard he tried. He wasn’t his usual laid-back self—not this time. "You almost got yourself killed last time, (Y/N). This isn't something to brush off," he muttered, his voice low and laced with concern.

She rolled her eyes, zipping up her bag. "I know. But I can handle this. I don’t need you breathing down my neck." She sighed, softening a bit as she saw the tension in his face. "I’ll be back in no time. I love you, okay?"

But Ben didn’t respond. He just stared at her for a long moment, his face hard, jaw clenched. Without a word, he turned and walked out of the room. The door shut softly behind him, but it felt like a wall slamming down between them.

(Y/N) exhaled, the weight of his silence settling on her. She hadn’t meant to fight with him before leaving, but it always seemed to end like this when it came to her missions. Shrugging it off, she grabbed her bag and headed out with Jack.

The house was old, creaky, the kind that seemed to breathe with the wind. The floorboards groaned beneath her boots as she crept down the dimly lit hallway, gripping her knife tightly. The air was thick with tension, heavy with the kind of silence that made every noise echo louder than it should. She was looking for a blue door. Inside, a scared twenty-year-old kid was hiding, a witness who’d seen too much—a fleeting glimpse of the mansion’s dark secrets.

It was routine. She’d done this a thousand times before, but something felt off. Her skin prickled with unease as she approached the door, the silence pressing down on her like a weight. Then, a scream—low, guttural—pierced the air. The door flew open with a crash, and she froze.

The kid stood there, trembling, his wild eyes locked onto hers. In his hands was a shotgun, shaking as violently as he was. Fear twisted his features, but before she could react, he pulled the trigger.

The blast was deafening. In that moment, time seemed to slow, her world narrowing to the sound of the explosion and the searing pain that followed. It hit her square in the chest, a force so strong it knocked her off her feet, her body crashing into the floor.

Her back slammed against the hardwood with a sickening thud, but it was the burning that consumed her. The heat spread through her chest like wildfire, every nerve screaming in agony. She gasped, choking on the blood that filled her lungs, her breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts. The room spun, her vision blurring as the pain became unbearable.

All she could think about was Ben. His stupid, overprotective warnings. He had been right. He had been fucking right, and she never told him. He didn’t even say “I love you” back.

Tears welled in her eyes as she coughed, blood sputtering from her lips. The taste of iron coated her mouth as her hands clawed at the floor, trying to grasp onto something—anything. But she was slipping, fast. Her vision grew darker, the ringing in her ears louder, drowning out everything else. Ben’s face flickered in her mind, that crooked smile, the way he laughed when he beat her at video games, the warmth in his touch when he wasn’t being so damn stubborn.

A final breath rattled in her chest, and everything went black.

Jack pushed through the wet forest, his steps heavy and labored, (Y/N)'s limp body cradled in his arms. His hands were slick with blood, her blood, the smell thick in the cold air. He moved as quickly as he could, but her weight, combined with the dread gnawing at his gut, slowed him down. He knew—he could feel it—that this wasn’t just another injury. This was different. Worse. The kind of wound you didn’t walk away from.

Her pulse was barely there, faint and fluttering, like it was already halfway to giving up. Her skin had turned ghostly pale, and the blood, it just wouldn’t stop. It soaked into his clothes, warm and sticky, every step leaving a trail of red behind them. The mansion wasn’t far, but it felt like miles, and with every step, Jack’s fear grew.

He burst through the mansion doors, frantic, his voice hoarse as he shouted for help.

Jeff and Ben were on the couch, immersed in a game of Mario Kart. Ben, still brooding from their earlier fight, didn’t even look up. His anger kept him rooted to his seat, eyes fixed on the screen.

But Jeff’s gaze drifted to the hallway, to the trail of blood that smeared the floorboards. The sight made him drop his controller, his face twisting in confusion and horror as he followed the crimson path to where Jack stood, soaked in it.

"Ben…" Jeff’s voice was tight, like he already knew what was coming. Ben ignored him at first, too wrapped up in his frustration to care. But when he finally turned, his blood ran cold.

(Y/N) lay cradled in Jack’s arms, her shirt torn open, exposing the gruesome mess of her chest. Buckshot wounds peppered her torso, blood oozing from every gash. Her chest barely rose, barely fell, and her face—oh god, her face. She was so pale. Too pale.

Ben stumbled forward, his legs weak beneath him, until he collapsed at her side. "No. No, no, no, no, no!" His voice cracked, raw with panic and disbelief. He reached for her hand—her hand that had once been so warm, so full of life. Now, it was cold, stiffening with every passing second. His fingers curled around hers, squeezing, as if he could force life back into her with sheer will.

"Jack, what the fuck happened?! You had one job, one fucking job! You were supposed to keep her safe!" His voice rose, laced with fury and heartbreak. But there was no answer. Jack stood frozen, guilt etched in every line of his face.

Ben’s anger melted into desperation as he cupped her face, brushing her blood-matted hair back, pressing frantic kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, her lips—anywhere he could. "Please, don’t do this," he whispered, his voice shaking. "I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I love you, just—please. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me, (Y/N)."

But her chest had stopped moving. Her pulse had gone. (Y/N) was gone.

She died wrapped in Ben’s arms that night, her body slack against him as the life drained from her. He held her tighter than he ever had, as if he could somehow hold her soul in his embrace, keep her from slipping away. But there was nothing left to hold onto. Jeff and Toby had to pull him off her, restrain him as he screamed her name, his voice raw and broken. He fought against them, desperate to stay with her, but they carried her body out. The Operator spoke of capturing her soul, of preserving her somehow, but the words were meaningless to Ben. Ben had spent countless days and sleepless nights locked away in his dimly lit room, the walls closing in around him as the weight of his grief pressed heavily on his chest. The world outside felt like a distant memory, a place where laughter echoed and sunlight broke through the darkness—a world that no longer existed for him. Instead, he found himself drowning in a sea of despair, surrounded by his computer screens, each one a window to a digital realm that was both a refuge and a prison.

He scoured the internet obsessively, combing through files, piecing together fragments of code like a mad scientist trying to resurrect the dead. Hours turned into days as he meticulously recorded long sessions of every proxy’s voice—voices that had once brought him comfort now echoed with haunting reminders of what he had lost. He captured every laugh, every snarky remark, every heartfelt confession, determined to weave them into the fabric of his creation. It had to be perfect. It had to feel real.

The others in the mansion watched him with a mix of concern and resignation. They agreed to his demands, knowing he was lost in his pain, hoping that his obsession might bring him some semblance of peace. But Ben wasn’t looking for peace; he was searching for a way to bring (Y/N) back. He wanted to trap her essence in this digital world, to create a sanctuary where she would never leave him again.

The night finally came when he felt ready. With trembling hands, he slipped the cartridge into the console, his heart racing as the screen flickered to life, illuminating the room with a soft glow. The title appeared, its letters swirling in hues of blue and green, memories end. He pressed play, and the familiar loading screen unfolded before him, sending him spiraling into the depths of his creation.

As he traversed the digital halls of the mansion, a sense of anticipation mixed with dread washed over him. Every pixel, every shadow had been crafted with care, echoing the real place they had shared so many moments. It was both exhilarating and gut-wrenching to see her face again—her features rendered flawlessly, as if she were just a breath away.

Then, he entered his bedroom, and there she was, standing in the center of the room, bathed in the soft glow of the digital light. His heart raced, a wild mixture of hope and anguish surging through him as her voice filled the air. “Ben, I have to go on my mission today. Don’t be mad, please.”

The sound of her voice pierced through the haze of his grief, and he felt a fresh wave of tears stinging his eyes. It was her—his (Y/N)—and yet, she wasn’t really there. This was a simulacrum, a mere imitation of the vibrant person he loved. He plastered on a smile, forcing himself to believe in the illusion, even as his heart ached with the reality of her absence.

“Of course, I could never be angry with you,” he said, his voice catching in his throat as he stepped closer. He reached out, gently brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear, the familiar motion bringing a warmth to his chest that he had thought lost forever. But as his fingers met her cool, pixelated skin, a rush of sorrow flooded him.

This wasn’t real. She wasn’t real. She was just a ghost, a whisper of what had once been. The weight of his actions crashed over him like a tidal wave; he had trapped her in a prison of his making, and for all his effort, he was still utterly alone.

“Ben, are you okay?” she asked, her eyes wide with concern—so genuine, so achingly familiar. But he could only nod, fighting to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. “I’ll be back soon,” she continued, that same playful smile he had loved so much lighting up her face.

And yet, the more she spoke, the more he felt the chasm of loss stretching between them. Each word was a reminder that no matter how perfect this world was, it could never replace the warmth of her laughter, the touch of her hand, the way she had always known how to pull him out of the darkness.

“Just be careful,” he whispered, his voice breaking, a crack in the facade he had built. She smiled at him, and for a fleeting moment, the ache of his heart softened. But as he gazed into her eyes, he realized the painful truth no matter how many times he played this game, no matter how much he crafted her voice and presence, it would never fill the void left by her absence.

[pixie-felix]

Who do you think is the switchiest? Preferably going from dom to sub in a single moment. Actually give me the other way around too because I’m so curious.

- 🥝

I have other asks to answer (including one of yours I think) but this question has been stuck in my head since I read it and I wasn’t been able to concentrate on anything else until I figured out my answer. So here it is:

Dom -> Sub: Hyunjin & Changbin

There’s a certain little gasp they’ll do, so slight most people wouldn’t notice. But you know it. You also know if you strike while the iron’s hot you can have them on their knees in moments, begging to please and worship you. 

When it’s Hyunjin, not only can he switch from dom to sub in 0.7 seconds, he can also get super kinky with it. He might’ve been edging you for the last twenty minutes, whispering sweet things in your ears as he praises you (you’re doing so good for me, baby), but you give him the right look and he’s running to the toybox and coming back with a ball gag, a whip, and an ambitiously sized buttplug.

Changbin is more hesitant and a little more vanilla, but he is the goodest good boy sub. Will never, ever get bratty with you. Sulky? Maybe a little. But he just wants to please, so be gentle with him and reap the rewards. Oh, and he definitely has a praise kink.

Sub -> Dom: Lino & I.N

I think that these two are the biggest switches anyway- you never know which way they’re going to swing until someone is pinning someone else against a wall and hands are going places.

With both of them it’s a lightning quick switch, often triggered by a rookie mistake on your part, such as using the wrong word or pushing them too far. But it will also happen when they’re feeling bratty and feel like you’re not giving them enough attention.

So make sure to lock the door and don’t you dare get distracted by your phone for even a second, or you’re going to end up flipped onto your back and pinned against the mattress/floor/wall/nearest hard surface.

Lino can be a mean dom, and he will edge you to tears. Especially edging him too far is what made him switch in the first place.

I.N is a wild card. But definitely takes a lot of pride in making you cum, so much more likely to overstim you than edge you. 

...those are my thoughts for now, I think. Usually I try and keep my explanations even: I don’t like how I wrote more kink details for Hyunjin and Changbin and less for Lino and I.N, and I also don’t approve of how I wrote more about what triggers Lino & I.N’s switches then I did for Jinnie and Binnie. Please tell me yours!

I feel like this topic deserves a poll of it's own, but the queue is already full until Saturday 22nd... maybe it can cut the line. Everybody loves polls, right?

btw, I'm desperately trying to finish the one fic request I got ages ago before I start anything new *cough* Lino and you and Han *cough* so I'll probably answer the other asks waiting in my inbox tomorrow.

[probablyspooky]

Strength p. 2 (Feral Predator x Fem!Reader)

Previous

Trigger warning : Abuse, swearing, nsfw, white men

As days turn to weeks, and weeks to month, you've settled into your new life fairly well. You're never hungry, and he'd never raise a hand to you, and he makes sure that no harm comes your way. As the warm summer air grows colder, and the snow begins to fall, your new lover stays inside more with you.

"Does this always happen?", he asks, holding you to his lap

"What does? The snow?" you turn to him

"It doesn't happen where I'm from." he replies, clicking softly

"It happens at the end of the year, and the beginning of the new year, it gives plants a rest..." you reply softly, leaning into his chest

"I should hunt to get pelts...warmth is important in these times?"

"They are, but are you sure you wanna go out? Could I perhaps come with you?"

"You have no warm clothing, I don't want you to work too hard, conserve your heat. I will return shortly."

With that, he slid you off of his lap, and walked out of the den, cloaking into the winter air and disappearing.

Leaving you to your lonesome, you curled up in a thin fur and laid down, trying to hold as much heat in as you could, the heat radiating off the small fire Feral had left behind was not sufficient enough for you to keep as warm as you'd had hoped.

Closing your eyes you remind yourself of an easier time, in the dark stone bowels of a building, it was dark and leaky, but at least the coals in the fireplace kept you warm.

However the price of warmth is not worth the comfort of the fire, as you were often mistreated and harshly punished by those above you.

Yet here you are, safe, in cave with your love, not the love you expected but it didn't matter.

As your thoughts flooded your head, your throat became parched, peaking over to the bowl that usually contains water, you noticed it was sadly empty (just like your brain, no valley or bumps)

Taking initiative, you decided to slide on your boots and head out into the cold world to retrieve water. The cold was bearable, as the fur was tightly held against your body as you traveled down hill towards the stream.

Once you arrived you knelt down to slide the bucket into the chilling water. Your mind was elsewhere as the familiar smell of cigar smoke filled your lungs, as you turned in panic, your world went dark.

Waking up and feeling an aching pain on your head, your head lifts to see the horrifying realization that you were in a camp, his camp. Struggling against your restraints, you alerted him that you were awake.

With a rough hand, your former master lifted your head up, that disgusting beard of his littered with bits of meat, and that stinking cigar in his mouth.

"Well well, I thought you dead, but call me surprised when I saw your little head when we was hunting," he chuckled, blowing a cloud of sickening smoke into your face

Coughing, your eyes began to water, fear replaced the comfort in your heart at your new situation.

"P-please...let me go" you asked quietly, tears beginning to fall down your cheeks

"Well... you see I would, but you're still technically my property as you didn't die during our game last season. Since I am a humble man, I'm willing to let bygones be bygones if you tell me where you got a fur this nice." he asked, holding up the fur Feral had gotten for you.

"I-I can't, please, let me go"

A harsh slap stung against your cheek as you let out a loud cry of pain. A being, who was currently about a mile away, perked out at the sound

"I won't ask again, I could make a lot of money from these furs, they seem to be cleaned so finely, I doubt these are your work, so did you meet up with a native?" he sneers at you, taking the cigar out of his mouth, turning the searing red hot end towards your cheek

"Speak darling," he whispered as it moved closer to your sensitive flesh

You began to pull back, but where could you go, you had nothing, you were going to go through it all over again, feeling the heat radiate off the cigar, you braced yourself for the painful burn that was coming.

But it never did, off at the edge of camp, one of the men fired off into the distance, everyone's attention was turned, as everyone began to shout, and then the screams, the screams of agony, as they faced a being that could not be seen, your former master turned and dropped his cigar.

"What the hell..." he mumbled, drawing his pistol.

A man flew through the air, as he fell to the ground in agony and fear, he tried to crawl away, but it seemed all the air had been pressed out of his lungs, and with a sickening crack, whatever the force was broke his spine, and his eyes glazed over as his body gave out.

Your former master (who will now just be called master because I'm lazy), stepped forward, looking around at the group of men that now littered the ground in bloody heaps.

"Who goes there?" he shouted, pointing his pistol into the air, unsure of where the enemy would be.

You felt the rope holding you back loosen, as you felt a warm presence on your side, safety now covering you, you stepped back as the presence stepped forward, sparkling as his cloak slowly turned off, showing his form, his height and his menacing self, he stood behind your master, and clicked, tilting his head.

Master turned, and let out a scream of horror as Feral grabbed his face, and lifted him up into the air, masters screams filled the forest, you covered your eyes, and heard a sickening crunch. After a bit, two large hands pulled your hands down, and with a playful lick, Feral assured you of your safety.

Climbing onto his back, you nuzzled your face into his shoulder, finally being rid of your greatest enemy at last.