tiki-was-here

[tiki-was-here]

I love your red apple theme! Apples are the fruit btw

THANK YOU VERY MUCCCCCHHHH!!!!!!

I honestly don’t know why I chose this theme but it’s cute so I’m satisfied

[tiki-was-here]

The Law Of Attraction

Aaron Hotchner x College Professor Reader (AMAB) Extra

Word Count: 800

P1 | P2

apparently the university of Maryland and Quantico are like an hour and a half drive to and from. That’s so short.

A knock came at the door of Hotch’s office in the mid-morning. Three steady raps followed by a pause.

"Come in," Hotch called, though his voice was still strained from the painkillers and general fatigue.

Rossi entered with the ease of a man who'd already decided he'd be welcomed, regardless of invitation. He carried a coffee in each hand, the good kind from that obscure café two blocks from Quantico, and he placed one on the side table before settling into the chair in front of Hotch’s desk.

“You look like hell,” Rossi remarked, leaning back with practiced casualness.

Hotch didn’t look over. “Feel about the same.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the kind born from years of knowing when not to fill the air with meaningless conversation. Rossi crossed one leg over the other, then, eyes narrowing slightly as he observed his friend.

“So,” he said eventually. “You and the professor.”

Hotch didn’t flinch — but he did blink. Once. Slowly. “What about me and the professor?”

Rossi arched a brow, smiling just enough to be infuriating. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you didn’t feel it. You could cut the tension between you two with a dull spoon.”

Hotch finally turned his head, giving Rossi a look that was blatantly ignored. “There’s nothing between us.”

“No?” Rossi asked, clearly unconvinced. “Because when he came to visit you in the hospital Morgan told me that he obviously has the hots for you. We’re all profilers Aaron, I find it hard to believe that you didn't notice that.”

Hotch looked up at the ceiling, jaw clenching subtly. “Even if there was something there–which there isn’t — it wouldn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t give anyone what they’d be hoping for. Not after Haley.Not after everything.”

Rossi’s gaze softened, his ribbing falling quiet.

“That’s the fear talking. Not you.”

Hotch shook his head. “No. That’s just the truth. I… I don’t even know if I’m capable anymore. I don’t think I remember what that kind of connection feels like. And dragging someone into that — someone good, someone who still believes in people… it feels selfish.”

Rossi tilted his head, nodding slowly. “So you’d rather push them away preemptively.”

“Better than wasting their time.”

A silence fell between them again. Rossi let it breathe, then took a sip of his own coffee.

“I think… that you deserve a chance to be happy. Even after everything that has happened to you. I mean, you got shot in the shoulder a few weeks ago and instead of resting here you are, burying yourself in paperwork. It’s almost as if you’re punishing yourself for something that you had no control over…

“But,” Rossi shrugged. “You probably don’t want to take romance advice from someone three ex wives. Just something to consider. For when — or if — you ever figure out how to feel again.”

Hotch didn’t respond right away. His eyes drifted back toward the window, watching as morning light crept in across the tile floor. 

Finally he  shrugged one shoulder — the uninjured one. “I don’t know. I’m tired.”

“Well,” Rossi said, standing with the grace of a man ten years younger. “You’ve got a few days of ‘mandated rest’ that you’ve somehow managed to sweet talk your way out of . Maybe try thinking about something besides a case for once.”

Hotch gave him a sidelong glance. “You offering to babysit?”

Rossi grinned. “Hell no. But I’m sure that Garcia would be more than willing.”

And with that, he was gone.

===

Your office was colder than usual. The building’s heat had been inconsistent all winter, and your little corner of campus was often the last to receive maintenance. You sat at your desk, nursing a cup of tea that had long since gone lukewarm, and tried not to dwell on the silence.

Your colleague had been buried with all the honors the university could provide. And you... well, you were pretending that your chest didn’t still ache every time your phone buzzed and it wasn’t him.

You hadn’t expected much — not really. You’d told yourself that from the beginning. Hotch had always been a fortress of a man and yet…in those brief moments something had flickered. Something subtle but real. You’d believed in it, however foolish that might have been.

You reached for the folder at the corner of your desk when your phone rang.

You frowned. Unknown number.

Cautiously, you answered. “Hello?”

A pause. Then: “It’s Aaron.”

Your heart stopped. “Hotch?”

A breath of amusement on the other end. “I’m sorry. I should have said that first.”

You sat up straighter, the chair creaking beneath you. “Is everything okay? Are you—?”

“I’m fine,” he said gently. “I’m back at work now. But a very stubborn colleague convinced me to take a few days off to rest.”

You smiled faintly. “Good. You definitely need it.”

There was a beat of silence before he spoke again “I remembered what you said. About calling if I needed anything while I was in town.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Yeah. I remember.”

“Well I'm obviously not in Maryland now,” he said with an awkward chuckle. “And this isn't exactly a need but… I’d like to take you out for dinner ? If the offer still stands of course .”

You closed your eyes for half a second, heart thudding in your chest, every unspoken word finally finding its place.

“It stands,” you whispered. “It absolutely stands.”

[tiki-was-here]

Injured Athlete Homelander x Physical therapist reader

Most Valuable Possession Chapter Four

Word Count: 1.4k

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3

images by diana-foggy-master

filler chapter filler chapter. one piece who?

“Yes”

You didn’t expect the air between you to shift so quickly, but the moment the word left your mouth, you could feel it. Just one syllable, and his expression lit up in a way you’d never seen before. Not just pleased, but almost startled, as though he’d been bracing for you to say no. 

For a man who acted like the world bent to his will, he looked… giddy. It was unnerving to see someone like him come undone in such a subtle, almost boyish way. A flicker of something softer in his eyes before it was tucked neatly back under that self-assured smirk.

“You mean it?” he asked, voice dropping just a touch, as though the answer might disappear if he spoke too loud. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, watching your face like he was committing it to memory. You nodded, and his smirk widened into a grin that felt almost too big for the room.

The man leaned back in his chair, exhaling like he’d just scored a win. “Knew you’d come around,” he said, the words smooth, but there was something different about them this time. Less of the cocky edge and more of an almost… proud warmth. Like your agreement was proof of something he’d been trying to convince himself of for weeks.

You had to admit, it wasn’t as if the past few weeks hadn’t softened you to him. For all his arrogance, there were moments where he’d been easier to be around. When he wasn’t being combative or pushing your patience, he was surprisingly charming. You weren’t blind to his flaws, but you couldn’t deny that somewhere along the line, your guard had slipped. The wall you’d put up in the beginning wasn’t nearly as sturdy as it used to be.

He pulled out his phone “Alright, big moment. Gotta commemorate it,” he said, angling it toward the two of you. “You don’t mind if I post this, right?”

You blinked. “Post…?”

“Yeah,” he said, as if it were obvious. “To let the world know.” His thumb hovered over the camera app, already positioning himself beside you. “About us y’know…” His grin tilted. “

You hesitated. This felt fast—too fast. A public announcement wasn’t exactly how you’d pictured things going considering that you said yes not even two minutes ago. “I don’t know, that’s… a lot. People knowing already…”

“C’mon,” he pressed, leaning in closer. “What, you shy? You look great. We look great. This is good news—hell, it’s huge news. People are gonna eat it up.” His tone was light, but his gaze was sharper than it needed to be. “Unless you’re embarrassed or something.”

“That’s not it,” you said quickly, feeling cornered.

“Then what’s the problem?” His smile didn’t falter, but there was a pressure behind it. “It’s just a picture Trust me, it’ll be good for both of us.”

He had a way of making refusal feel like the wrong choice, like it would sour the entire moment. You didn’t want this to turn into a fight, not right after agreeing to something so big. So you relented, leaning slightly into him as he lifted the phone.

The shutter clicked. Once, twice. He scrolled through them with satisfaction, picking one without asking your input. When he posted it, the phone vibrated almost instantly with notifications.

And just like that, your whole world changed.

The first big change was moving in together. It happened so quickly it almost didn’t feel real—you barely had time to process the thought before his voice was in your ear, low and persuasive. He talked about how much easier it would be, how you wouldn’t have to worry about commuting or apartment security or paying rent anymore. You told yourself it made sense. His penthouse was bigger, more secure, closer to where you worked. It wasn’t like you were giving up much.

He framed it like generosity, a fresh start for the both of you, but it became clear within days that this wasn’t just about sharing a space.

Your old apartment was packed up before you’d even decided what to bring. In just a couple days a team of movers you’d never met before was in your space. They didn’t need your input. They didn’t ask what was important to you. They just boxed your life in neat, efficient motions while you stood there.

When you arrived at his— well… it was your  place too you supposed— you noticed something immediately; only a fraction of your things had actually made it there. A handful of clothes. A few books. Some photos, but not all. Your kitchenware, little trinkets from trips, the chipped mug you always used for tea—gone.

“Where’s the rest of my stuff?” you asked that afternoon, scanning the gleaming, modern lines of his penthouse for the pieces of yourself that were missing.

He barely looked up from the tablet in his hands. “Most of it was old. Worn out. I figured you wouldn’t want clutter in here.”

You blinked. “So you threw it away?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said smoothly, finally meeting your gaze. “I replaced it. Upgraded it. I just want you to have nice things you know... you deserve it”

The words were wrapped in flattery, delivered in that calm, self-assured tone that made everything he said sound reasonable. But the implication was there, simmering under the surface..Your space, your taste, your life…none of it really belonged here unless it fit his version of you.

===

That feeling solidified the day he handed you a black card. It slid across the marble kitchen counter like it weighed more than gold. “Your new credit card,” he said casually, like it was nothing. “Use this from now on.”

You picked it up slowly. “I already have—”

“I know,” he interrupted. “But this one’s unlimited. No need to use your own anymore.”

You turned it over in your hand. “This is… a lot. I don’t really need—”

“Take it,You can do whatever you want with it. Hell, you could even use it as a coaster for all i care.But just know that you’re mine now. I take care of what’s mine.”

There was something in the way he said it that made your stomach twist—not the words themselves, but the ownership threaded through them. And the way he leaned on the counter, watching you with that faint, expectant smile until you finally slid the card into your wallet.

You tried to tell yourself it was fine. Generous, even. But a week later, when you decided to take your parents out for dinner and a shopping spree as a treat, he casually mentioned the exact amount you’d spent, the exact time you’d been there, the way you’d sat by the window for twenty minutes instead of coming straight home.

“I like knowing where you are,” he said when you asked about it, his tone calm, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “This city’s dangerous. People know who you are now. They know you’re with me. That makes you a target.”

You wanted to argue, but he wasn’t wrong about the last part. The moment he posted that picture the internet exploded. Overnight, you went from being just a normal person to The Homelander’s Partner. People speculated about you in headlines and comments, dissected your appearance, dug into whatever scraps of your past they could find.

And the paparazzi… you’d underestimated just how relentless they could be. You’d catch strangers lifting their phones when you passed, the screen angled just so, pretending they weren’t recording you. Sometimes you’d be halfway down a block and hear the snap of a camera from behind. Sometimes you’d be inside the grocery store, halfway through grabbing something off the shelf, and notice a blurry reflection in the freezer door glass—someone pointing a lens at you from the next aisle over. It started to feel like you couldn't even wipe your ass without fear of it being the topic of some gossip blog the next morning.

Homelander didn’t seem bothered. If anything, he seemed to enjoy it—the attention, the way people looked at him, the way they looked at you. He’d keep a hand at your back, steering you through the crowd with ease, smiling like he’d just won something.

And maybe he had.

[tiki-was-here]

The Law of Attraction

Aaron Hotchner x College Professor Reader (AMAB) P2

Word Count: 1.2k

P1 | Extra

You were supposed to be grading, or reading emails, or maybe even breathing , but you weren’t doing any of that. Instead, you stood by your office window, staring out across the half-frozen lawn of the quad. It was too still. Too quiet for everything you knew had happened only hours before.

The case came to a head when a surveillance camera captured a student slipping into an empty lecture hall after hours. One of the flagged students from your list — a gifted but emotionally unstable young man who had developed a fascination with Gothic literature and revenge narratives. The team moved quickly, and thanks to the psychological profile and your insight into his obsessions, they found him before he could stage another killing. 

But the arrest was not quiet. Two agents were injured in a shoot-out, before it ended in a perfectly timed shot to the head. A fitting Shakespearian end.

You were utterly devastated, because even with the horror of what he’d done, he was still one of your students. Still a young man who, in a different life, could have been an amazing writer.

You’d barely registered that you’d gotten your coat on. Your feet had moved before your mind caught up. You weren’t supposed to get involved, but some magnetic pull in your chest told you you’d never forgive yourself if you let him leave without at least saying goodbye. 

You stopped at a corner shop to grab something on your way to the hospital, it had felt like a ridiculous gesture at first: a small box of cookies and a slightly over-the-top bouquet of yellow freesias, tucked carefully into a neutral-toned gift bag. The kind of thing a caring colleague might bring. Perfectly neutral. Definately.

When you reached the third floor of the hospital, you weren’t surprised to find Agent Morgan standing guard. There was a calmness in his gaze when he recognized you approaching. You offered him a quiet smile, holding the gift bag a little tighter than necessary.

“Agent Morgan,” you greeted.

“Professor,” he nodded back. “Didn’t think we’d see you here.”

“I heard someone got hurt. When Aaron didn’t respond to my messages, I figured… I should check in.”

His lips quirked at the corner. “Hotch is inside. It looks worse than it is, but he lost a lot of blood. Surgery went well, though. He’s been bitching about the IV drip for the past hour.”

You exhaled through your nose, a bittersweet kind of relief washing over you. He was okay. 

“I brought cookies,” you said, lifting the bag slightly, awkward now that the adrenaline was fading.

Morgan took a step aside. “He could use a smile or two. Go ahead.”

You stepped inside quietly.

The room smelled like antiseptic and artificial linen — the standard scent of a hospital. Hotch was propped up in bed, his arm carefully bandaged. There was a subtle exhaustion in the way he sat and the lines around his eyes etched deeper than you remembered.

He looked up when he heard you.

“You came,” he said, a touch of surprise behind the neutral tone.

“I did,” you replied gently, approaching with cautious warmth. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

He gestured to the chair by the bed, and you took it, carefully placing the gift bag on the rolling table nearby. He glanced at it but didn’t say anything right away.

“You really didn’t have to come all this way, ” he murmured, almost absently.

“I know,” you said, and you meant it. “I wanted to.”

There was a long beat between you. You weren’t sure if it was silence or just him filtering the moment through his ever-working mind. He finally reached for the water bottle on his tray but winced when his left arm shifted the wrong way.

You stood before you even thought about it. “Here,” you said, uncapping it and handing it to him. He accepted it with a nod of thanks, fingers brushing yours for the briefest second.

You glanced at the files strewn across his tray and frowned slightly. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know... resting?”

“I’m fine,” he said flatly, which of course meant he wasn’t. You’d known him long enough — academically, professionally, personally — to understand the difference between his functional mask and the man beneath it. You just wished he’d let someone else carry the weight for once.

“Well, I brought cookies. I figure the least you can do is pretend to enjoy one.”

A faint smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “That’s fair.”

You stayed for a little while longer, chatting quietly — about the case, the aftermath, the student and who he was before everything turned upside down. Hotch seemed more focused on the crime scene than his own condition though, his eyes darting from file to file through your conversation as if he hadn’t nearly bled out on a classroom floor.

You studied him while he talked, trying not to look like you were studying him. His voice was hoarse, likely from stress or medication, and he shifted gingerly in bed, always mindful of the injury. He seemed tired in a way that sleep alone wouldn’t fix.

But it was clear that there was nothing more than a platonic, barely there fondness behind his eyes.

Maybe you’d only imagined the flickers of something more.

You stood to leave, smoothing your coat where it clung to your sides. “I should let you rest,” you said, even though your heart wanted to stay.

“You don’t have to go,” he offered, but the words were obviously just a courtesy.

“I think I do,” you replied gently. “You need time. And space. And quiet. All of which I am currently invading.”

He said nothing, but the lack of protest was louder than anything else could’ve been.

You hesitated at the door. “There’s a card in the bag,” you told him. “With my number. In case you need anything while you’re still in town.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,”.

You nodded, swallowing the quiet sting in your chest, then slipped out into the hallway. Morgan was still there, his arms folded and eyes sharp. He gave you a once-over as you stepped out.

“Didn’t go how you hoped?” he asked gently.

You gave him a tired smile. “He’s… in work mode. I don’t think he sees much else right now.”

Morgan tilted his head thoughtfully. “That’s Hotch for you I guess. I’m sure you’re used to it. I was told that he came out of the womb wearing a suit and tie.”

You chuckled softly, appreciating the joke even if it didn’t make the ache in your heart any smaller.

The night air was freezing as you stepped outside, wind biting through the wool of your coat. The sky was an inky slate, heavy with clouds that threatened snow, and the streetlights cast faint halos on the sidewalk ahead of you. You walked slowly, dragging your feet a little, each step landing heavier than the last.

By the time you reached your apartment, your hands were stiff. You peeled off your coat, dropped your bag onto the entryway bench, and stared at your phone for a full minute before setting it, screen-down, on the kitchen counter.

You didn’t expect him to call. Not really.

But you still hoped.

And that hope — quiet, persistent, impossible — was the part that hurt the most.

[tiki-was-here]

In the Cold Light of Day

Alex Mullner x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

this is just me wriitng about the version of alex that i make up for my playthroughs. i lowkey dont really talk to him once we're married and just run off as soon as i wake up lol. not my best work i'd give it a solid 5/10.

Winter settled over Pelican Town like a thick woolen blanket. The once-vibrant fields that had buzzed with energy through spring, summer, and fall were now coated in white. The barns and coops were sealed tight against the chill, and the animals huddled indoors with nothing to do but eat and sleep. For the first time in almost a year, the farm was still.

Too still.

Alex sat at the dining table, broad arms folded tightly across his chest as he stared at the cold eggs on the plate in front of him. The chair across from him was empty—again.

You’d kissed his cheek absentmindedly before rushing out the door with your pickaxe slung over your shoulder, barely muttering a “Love you” before vanishing into the snow. Just like yesterday. And the day before that.

He walked back into the bedroom, something gnawing at the pit of his stomach. He’d told himself a hundred times that this was fine, that you were just busy, that farm life in the winter was weird for everyone and you were just adjusting. But when his eyes landed on the nightstand, his stomach dropped.

Your marriage pendant was just… sitting there. As if it had never meant anything.

He reached out, hand hovering over it like it might burn him. He remembered the exact moment you’d given it to him. Remembered how nervous he’d been, how sweaty his palms were, how fast his heart had pounded.

“I know I’m not the fanciest guy around,” you’d said, “but you make me want to be better. Every day. I want to grow with you. Can I?”

He thought of how you’d smiled. How you’d both cried. How he’d said yes without hesitation.

Now it felt like it was all a lie.

You hadn’t worn it yesterday, he realized. Or the day before. Or—had it been a week? His mind reeled. His heartbeat quickened. He tried to breathe through it, but his chest was tight, like someone had wrapped a fist around his lungs.

His father used to come home late, always saying that he was working, always leaving his wedding ring on his nightstand before kissing his mom on the cheek without meeting her eyes.

And then the truth came out. His dad had been with someone else. Lots of someone else's actually.

Alex had been a kid, but he’d never forgotten the way his mom had sobbed, the way she stopped smiling for months. The way the light never quite returned to her eyes.

Alex clenched his fists. No. No. You weren’t like his dad. You weren’t.

But now here he was again, a man in his twenties with arms like boulders and a heart like cracked glass, standing in front of a dresser holding a tiny pendant that suddenly felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.

He felt sick. He needed to ask you. To know. To confront you before he took the worst possible outcome and ran with it. But the day passed slowly, the sun went down and you didn’t come back until the stars were high.

Your coat was soaked through with saltwater, and your pockets jingled faintly with the clink of walnuts and bone fragments. You stumbled in through the door, teeth chattering, body sore and bruised from a hard day. All you wanted was a hot shower and the warmth of your husband, who was sitting at the table with his arms crossed.

“Hey,” you said, offering a tired smile. “Sorry I’m late. I tried to catch the earlier boat, but—”

“Where’s your pendant?” You blinked, caught off guard by the sharpness in his voice. “What?” “Your pendant.” He stood up, and suddenly the room felt ten times smaller. You opened your mouth, confused. “It’s on the—” “I know where it is,” Alex snapped. “It’s on the damn nightstand. Has been for days. You haven’t worn it in weeks.”

You frowned. “Alex, I—”

“Who is it?” he asked, voice low, wounded. “Who is it that your always running off to everyday? That must be why you’re always coming back so late. You don’t even talk to me anymore—”

“Alex, what the hell are you talking about?” you barked, your exhaustion cracking into frustration.

“I’m talking about you leaving me every day without a word! I’m talking about waking up to an empty bed and eating breakfast alone and pretending it’s fine because maybe you’re just tired. But then I see your pendant just sitting there like it doesn’t matter to you and—God, do you know what that looks like?!”

He wasn’t yelling anymore. His voice broke, pain rippling through every word.

You looked at the dresser and then back at him. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just—Alex, I didn’t want to lose it. You know I drop my stuff all the time when I go out, and—”

“So what?” he barked, “You just decided to stop wearing it and didn’t think to tell me?” His voice was louder now, almost booming off the walls.

You instinctively took a step back. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

He looked like you’d slapped him.

“You didn’t think it mattered?” His face twisted, eyes red-rimmed with disbelief. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“I’ve been busy, Alex! I’m trying to finish as much as I can done before spring—I’m doing this for us!”

“But you didn’t even talk to me!” he shot back. “You’ve been gone every day, coming back after midnight, not saying a word about what’s going on—just disappearing!”

“I'm sorry…” you said, voice quiet. “I’ve been so stressed about Ginger Island and getting everything done and…and I thought if I just worked through it, you’d be proud of me. I didn’t know you felt… like this.”

Alex sat down again, burying his face in his hands.

“It’s not about me being proud, I'm always proud of you” he mumbled. “It’s about communication. I need to be able to wake up and not feel like some sort of sad housewife. My dad used to come home late, and well… we both know how that went.”

You pulled out the chair beside him and sat, reaching for his hand. “I’m not your dad, Alex.”

“I know that” he said quickly. “I know you’re not. But it doesn’t stop me from feeling insecure I guess… I just feel like I have to be fighting for even just a little bit of your time.” You squeezed his fingers, grounding him.

“I love you,” you said. “I chose you. I still choose you. Every single day. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything about the pendant. I didn’t realize how much it would remind you of that kind of past.”

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “And I know I shouldn’t compare the two, I know you’re not him, but every time you leave and I don’t know where you are, and you don’t wear that pendant—it feels the same. It feels like I’m waiting for something awful to happen.”

Your throat tightened and guilt pooled hot in your chest. You closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your face into his chest.

“I meant it,” you said. “Every word. I’m so sorry I made you feel like I didn’t.” His arms came around you, holding you like the world might fall apart otherwise. “I was so scared,” he whispered. “I thought I lost you.”

You leaned back just enough to look him in the eye. “You never will. You’re stuck with me forever, Alex.”

He kissed you—softly at first, then deeper, like he needed to feel your promise in every part of him.

You broke the kiss with a breathless laugh. “Tomorrow, I’ll stay in.” His brow raised. “Seriously?” “I’ll cook breakfast. We can decorate the tree and maybe go visit your grandparents if youre feeling up to it.” “You’re gonna go a full day without smashing rocks and digging through the trash?” “I’ll try my best.” Alex rested his forehead against yours. “That’s all I ask.”

The snow fell silently outside, blanketing the farm in soft white stillness. Inside, the fireplace crackled. And for the first time in weeks, snuggled up together in thick wool blankets, you were reminded that That even in winter, love can still be warm.

[tiki-was-here]

I cant call myself a writer if I haven’t done a kinktober yet. So even if this blog explodes on November 1st I still would have achieved something.

ANYWAYS. I have plenty of characters to thirst over but if anyone has anything they’d like to see then I would love to hear it.

Also I’m trying to finish literally everything I have in my drafts so I can do one mass posting session so i must return to my cave quickly

[tiki-was-here]

Almost finished with this summer job and it’s literally the lowest I’ve ever felt. Im trying to decide which character I’m gonna torture on account of me feeling like a piece of shit

[tiki-was-here]

Hello my name is Tiki and I like bending over men that are twice my size!!!

I mainly write for male and gn readers but I will do fem readers if I feel like it.

I do not write for female characters. Though most of my works are SFW I do post random horny blurbs so MDNI!!!

I WILL write for: NSFW, yandere readers and characters, mpreg, angst, omegaverse, any other kink or weird topic that I think is fun or funny, non-nsfw for underaged characters

I WILL NOT write for: non-con, scat, incest and stepcest, pedophilia, overly "soft" or innocent reader, self harm, female characters

FANDOMS I WRITE FOR: The Boys Baki The Grappler

One Piece Breaking Bad Better Call Saul Squid Game Criminal Minds Saw Scream [Only the first movie] Leatherface American Psycho Most Mainstream Marvel Characters Most Mainstream DC Characters

You can request characters outside of this list but I may not know enough to write about them.

[tiki-was-here]

I have to make 1500 USD by Christmas and I want to die.

[tiki-was-here]

I just want a blonde woman to step on me siiiiigh. Just choke me out until my vision goes hazy siiiiiiigh. I’d do LITERALLY ANYTHINGGGGGG PUH LEEEEEEZ IM BEGGGGGGINGGGGGGG

[tiki-was-here]

he's a marshal, not a farmer but i watched justified (total masterpiece btw) a couple years ago and now i'm constantly plagued by the tragedy that i'll never get to bend raylan givens over

I could have sworn that I answered this but TRUST ME this has been added to my watchlist.

I was watching some clips and realized that I can’t stop repeating everything they say in my chopped accent 😭

[tiki-was-here]

To the person that requested the Thanos w the baby fic please be patient with me 🙏. I got carried away and wrote a Thangyu fic instead so now I have to heavily edit it lol

[tiki-was-here]

All That You Are

The Deep x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

We are pretending that this takes place in some alternate universe cus i cant really remember if ryan goes public before they find out about compound v. Anyways if i have to be insecure then the deep has to be insecure too.

also i kinda insinuate that someone is gonna get preggo so this is for all my afabs i suppose

The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, curling upward in thin tendrils as the two of you sat across from each other at the small kitchen table. Morning light filtered through the blinds in narrow stripes, catching on the rim of your mug as you wrapped your hands around it, savoring the heat.

Kevin was quiet this morning, unusually so. His hair was still damp from his shower, dark strands curling faintly at the nape of his neck. He sat with his head slightly bowed, stirring sugar into his coffee though he hadn’t taken a sip yet.

This had become routine between you—breakfast together when his schedule allowed, the two of you tucked away in your little bubble. 

The TV murmured faintly in the background, the volume low enough to be ignored if not for the familiar voice that cut through the kitchen.

“Here at Vought, we value family above all else…”

You glanced up at the screen just in time to see Homelander’s face fill the frame, the American flag draped artfully behind him. Ryan sat beside him, small hands folded stiffly in his lap, his shoulders drawn tight as Homelander rested a hand on them in a gesture that was meant to seem caring.

Your heart softened at the boy’s nervous expression.

“He’s grown so much,” you murmured, nodding faintly toward the TV. “Ryan.”

Kevin followed your gaze, his brow furrowing slightly. “Yeah… he has.”

You studied his face for a moment, catching the faint crease between his brows. “Do you ever think about it?”

He blinked, startled. “Think about what?”

“Having kids.” The words came out softly, but they seemed to fill the small kitchen all the same. “You and me. Starting a family someday.”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. His stirring slowed, then stopped entirely as he set the spoon down on the saucer with a faint clink.

“That’s… that’s a big question for breakfast,” he said with an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I know.” You smiled faintly, trying to keep the tone light. “It’s just… seeing Ryan like that made me think about it. What it would be like to have a little one running around. Someone who’s ours.”

Kevin let out a slow breath, leaning back slightly in his chair. His fingers drummed against the side of his mug as his gaze dropped to the table.

“Kids are great, yeah. Don’t get me wrong.” He hesitated, his lips pressing together before continuing. “But now’s probably… not the right time.”

“Why not?” you asked softly, tilting your head.

His shoulders lifted in a small, uneasy shrug. “I mean… everything’s still kind of up in the air with work. I barely know what my schedule looks like week to week, and we’re still keeping us quiet. You know how unpredictable things can get with Vought. It just… doesn’t seem fair to bring a kid into all that chaos.”

You nodded slowly, though something inside you sank at his words.

“I get that,” you said carefully. “But things will always be complicated, Kevin. There’s never going to be a perfect time.”

He shifted in his chair, his jaw tightening faintly. “I just… I don’t want to mess it up. I mean, look at the world we live in. Look at how Vought handles people like me. I don’t even know if I’d make a good father.”

Your chest ached at the vulnerability in his voice, the quiet fear tucked beneath the surface.

“You’d be better than you think,” you said gently. “You’re kind, Kevin. And patient. And you care so much—about the ocean, about people, about me. That’s what matters.”

He gave a faint, wry smile but didn’t meet your eyes. “Yeah… maybe.”

The silence stretched between you, filled only by the soft murmur of the TV. You wanted to reach across the table, to take his hand and press the question again, but something about the stiffness in his shoulders made you pause.

You got the sense that if you pushed, he’d retreat even further.

So you forced a small smile instead and said, “Okay. We’ll leave it for now.”

His shoulders eased slightly. “I just… I want to make sure we’re solid before we even think about adding anyone else to the mix,” he said softly. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you echoed, because what else could you say?

But as you sipped your coffee and tried to focus on the sound of birds outside the window, you couldn’t shake the quiet ache in your chest.

If not now, then when? And deep down, would he ever really be ready?

The bathroom was still thick with steam, the air heavy and damp like the belly of a ship. Kevin stood barefoot on the cold tiles, water dripping from his hair and running down the curve of his shoulders. The towel wrapped loosely around his waist clung wetly to his skin, but he barely felt it

His eyes were fixed on the mirror, on the ridges along his sides that pulsed faintly with each ragged breath.

The look in his eyes wasn't sadness. It wasn’t even pity.

It was raw, unfiltered disgust.

They flinched under his own touch, pulsing faintly like they were alive, alien and strange even to him. His jaw tightened as he pressed a hand against them, as if he could will them away, flatten them into nothing.

God, he thought bitterly. What kind of freak am I?

Every time he saw them, he felt the same wave of revulsion—like his body was playing a cruel joke.God had engineered him to survive underwater, to be a savior of the seas. But he hadn’t cared what it meant for him to look in the mirror every day and see something that wasn’t fully human staring back.

What kind of man can’t even stand to look at himself in the mirror?

Kevin’s fingers curled into fists at his sides, nails biting into his palms.

And what kind of father would he be?

If you had a child together—if somehow, some miracle or tragedy of genetics passed his abilities on to them—what then?

What if they got his gills? What if they were born even more deformed, even more alien than him?

He couldn’t bear the thought of a little pair of hands clutching at their sides in confusion, crying because they couldn’t breathe right, because other kids were staring, pointing, laughing.

Freak.

The word rang in his head, sharp and cutting. He didn’t need to imagine strangers saying it. He’d been telling himself that his whole life.

Kevin gripped the edge of the sink so tightly that the porcelain creaked under his hands. He closed his eyes and let his forehead drop against the mirror, the glass fogging where his breath touched it.

“Kevin?”

His head shot up at the sound of your voice. His eyes darted toward the door, where a faint line of light had spilled into the hallway. You stood there, framed in the crack, your hand resting on the edge like you’d been debating whether to knock.

“Hey,” he said quickly, his voice tight. “I’m fine. Just… need a second.”

But you didn’t look convinced. Your gaze flicked from his face to the mirror, catching the faint sheen of tears in his eyes before he turned away.

“Kevin…” you said softly, stepping inside.

“Please, don’t.” His shoulders tensed as he gripped the counter again. “Don’t look at me right now.”

You ignored him, crossing the bathroom until you were close enough to feel the heat radiating off his damp skin. “Why?” you asked gently. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because I’m disgusting.” The words came out sharp, bitter. He shook his head, jaw tightening as he stared at the sink. “I can’t even stand to look at myself, and you… you shouldn’t have to see this either.”

“Kevin—”

“Do you know what I was thinking in here?” His voice cracked as he let out a humorless laugh. “I was thinking about how I could never have kids. Not with you. Not with anyone. Because if they turned out like me—”

He stopped, his breath hitching.

You reached out and touched his arm, feeling the tension coil tight beneath your fingers.

“Like you?” you echoed softly.

“A monster,” he whispered.

The word hit you like a stone.

Your hand slid from his arm to his cheek, gently turning his face toward you. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, and the raw pain there made your chest ache.

“You are not a monster, Kevin,” you said firmly.

“Yes, I am.” His voice was barely audible. “You don’t see what I see every time I look in the mirror. It’s all wrong. I feel wrong. And if we had a kid, if they got any of this—I couldn’t do that to them.”

“Stop,” you whispered, stepping even closer. Your other hand came up to cradle his jaw, forcing him to look at you. “You’re not wrong. You’re not broken. You’re human—flawed and messy and trying your best, just like everyone else. And I love you.”

He shook his head, but you didn’t let him pull away.

“I love you,” you repeated fiercely. “All of you. The man who cares about the ocean so deeply it hurts. The man who shows up for people even when he’s tired, even when he thinks no one notices. The man who’s been through hell and still hasn’t let it turn him cold.”

His lips trembled. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” You pressed your forehead to his, your thumbs brushing away the tears that had finally started to fall. “If we ever had a child, they’d be lucky to have you as their father. Because you’d understand them. You’d fight for them. You’d love them no matter what.”

His hands came up hesitantly, gripping your waist like he was scared you might slip through his fingers.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” you whispered. “You just have to be you.”

And then you kissed him—slow, deliberate, pouring every ounce of love you felt for him into the press of your lips. He froze for a moment before melting into you, his hands tightening on your hips as if he was trying to hold the pieces of himself together.

When you pulled back, you rested your hands on either side of his face and smiled softly. “I see you, Kevin. All of you. And I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

For the first time all night, some of the tension in his shoulders eased. His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into your touch, and in the quiet hum of the bathroom, you felt his walls finally begin to crack.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered hoarsely.

“You deserve the world,” you said, kissing the corner of his mouth. “But for now, you’ll have to settle for me.”

He let out a faint, shaky laugh, pulling you into his arms.

And as you stood there holding him, you hoped—fiercely, desperately—that someday he’d see himself the way you did: not as a monster, but as a man worthy of love.

[tiki-was-here]

Finally decided to learn more about these dudes. Let’s hope it doesn’t awaken anything inside of me

[tiki-was-here]

Y’all I’m so tired of this shit like honestly. Why the hell am I feeling bad cus I don’t like writing smut. Like hello??????

Why can’t we have fics for male or gn readers that are not just about sucking and fucking. And even fem readers too why can’t we all just skip around with our loved characters and be happy.

The funniest thing is that absolutely nobody has ever pressured me or even commented negatively on my writing but I think that when I look at what everyone else is doing I feel sorta lame.

Like yes I occasionally want to fuck a man’s brains out but I can find a fic about that in two seconds. Why aren’t there more stupid little fluff or slice of life type fics.

So yeah idk what the point of writing this is but remember that you can literally do whatever you want and you can create whatever content you feel like seeing. And anyone who has a problem w that then I respect your opinion but also suck ma pussy and my balls.

[tiki-was-here]

Guys I have a confession to make…. I’m not a dominant person at all…. I literally don’t know how or why I’m writing about bending all these men over when I’m the one that does the bending 😢

Thots and prayers my way please 🙏

[tiki-was-here]

i feel as if my two wolves wrote this and it’s barely coherent mwah mwah.

====

If you don’t think that Thanos would have an exhibition kink then i fearrrr that you may watched the wrong version of squidgame.

This man is just constantly waiting for ANY opportunity to be on top of you and to show you off.

At first it’s cute to watch how he parades you around, always giving you the same deep, passionate kisses no matter who’s around and bringing you to all of his shows and announcing that you’re his but it escalates into something else entirely VERY quickly.

Like I’m being serious. It goes from “i don’t care who’s watching I’m gonna kiss you if I want” to “why can’t we fuck right here in the club these people don’t matter anyways” in a heartbeat.

Every where you go, he insists on having you sit in his lap as he spends the night slowly kneading and moving your hips so that he can grind into you. Hands slowly but surely trailing their way up you shirt to fondle with your chest.

Don’t be surprised if after a few minutes of this you feel him fiddling to fish his cock out of his pants so that he can “fuck you properly” ugh this man is so infuriating.

And i just know that he’s hard headed and he’s not gonna stop pushing you until you get fed up and slam him down on a table, grabbing his hair and lifting his head to see all your friends shocked faces.

He’s immediately grinding back on you with a stupid little grin cus he’s getting exactly what he wanted, making a show of arching his back and putting on the sluttiest expression he can muster.

You really do just want to fuck him until he can’t walk and be done with it, leave him so spent and full of cum that he can barely form two full sentences. Maybe even have the people around you take turns with him since he’s obviously so eager to show off for them.

But you know that if you make this the first time it’ll just happen again and again. And he’ll never stop trying to outdo himself. So very painfully, you make the decision to deal with him when you get home, muttering a half asses apology to your friends as you drag him out the door.

The man just needs a good spanking that’s all. A punishment that he can feel for days ya know, weeks if you decide to really give it to him.

I’m not saying that he wouldn’t be grinding into the mattress as he writhes underneath you. And I’m not saying that he wouldn’t come so hard that he’s seeing spots as he’s arching up into your hits either. I’m just saying that at the end of it you’ll get at least a week of peace before he’s ready tk become your favorite nuisance once again