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shalotttower · 4 months

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Pholcus phalangioides

Title: Pholcus phalangioides

Fandom: The Collector (2009). Can be read as an original inspired by the source, because I took some creative liberties.

Summary: There's a spider in your bathroom, it lives under the mirror cabinet and you a) don't want to kill it, and b) are too scared to touch it, so now you can either keep giving it one side eye after another, or ask your neighbour for help.

Word count: 4000+

Characters: Asa Emory x Reader

Notes: yandere Asa, spiders and insects descriptions, stalking, voyeurism of sort - Asa watches Reader without her realizing it, kidnapping, vague hinting on body horror, non-con touching, Reader is socially awkward. Asa is not 100% in-movie-character Asa (he actually talks lol), a huge chunk of him is based on my headcanons.

You have this problem - a spider problem, to be precise. Not that it's too big of a deal, but...it also is.

Spiders are generally okay.

They eat unwanted guests, like flies and mosquitos or even other spiders. Make cool webs, which is probably one of the most complicated forms of art, not to mention a mathematical pattern to it - a combination of radial and circular symmetry. The golden ratio in nature.

In general they're important for keeping a backyard ecosystem nice and intact.

But.

But there is a spider in your bathroom, right under the sink cabinet, with thin legs, a long body, and of course - eyes. Quiet, kept to itself, really chill spider who doesn't move much except to crawl around a little and sometimes look at you when it catches you looking.

It probably lived in hiding somewhere, before deciding that dark spaces weren't up to its standards anymore and making an appearance. You haven't swatted it away, caught it, struck it with a paper - mostly because you're not good at killing living creatures, and secondly because the spider isn't doing any harm, just observing your every step, and generally being present.

When you check your makeup bag, it watches. When you brush your teeth, it watches. When you close the cabinet door it wiggles and your heart goes "ee" as if someone shocked it with a static charge. This yellowish-brown witness of your everyday activities, silently approving and judging, lately makes you feel like a nuisance in your own bathroom. You desperately wish there was a way to make it move to another corner. A less centralized one, less straight in your face. Yet the thought of touching it makes you cringe inwardly; your mind conjures images of different scenarios involving spider-related unpleasantries - accidentally squashing it, or getting bitten and dying a slow, miserable death.

It's gotta go.

Because the more you see it, the more your brain tries to assign it human features. And the longer it stares, the bigger the chance it might grow a pair of lips to say "get out of my bathroom".

The thought comes to you in the morning while setting a breakfast plate on the kitchen counter. The house is quiet, all windows are open and you stare through one of them at your neighbour's fence. You rarely see him, though the parked car is always a giveaway of his presence. Emory, that's what the mailbox says, and he has a neat garden, not an extravagant type, but everything is carefully trimmed and arranged into simple patterns.

There's even a stone bench by a small tree. Does it actually get used on sunny days? Probably no. He seems like a loner, from what you've seen so far: tall and pale, with wire-rimmed glasses and still grey eyes. Very focused and put together, a turtleneck and dark trousers kind of Mister. Never waving when passing by, though he does glance sometimes - sharp and attentive.

Once you caught him leaning over a bush with back straight and head hanging low. Your stomach gave this funny, nervous twitch, like when a stranger tries to start a conversation in public. He looked your way and then resumed whatever he was doing.

"Whatever" appeared to be something small, sharp limbs and a shiny body. It looked like a beetle, stretched to an absurd degree, and the way he held that thing felt strangely intimate. The same way you'd cradle a baby animal in your hands, rubbing its forehead with a fingertip. Emory put it in a plastic box, sealed it, and went into his house, not sparing you another glance.

This particular memory - of long fingers and a careful grasp - is what makes you think that maybe, possibly, theoretically, he could handle one pesky spider for you. You've seen him with insects a couple of times after, no doubt Mr. Emory is one of those who glue bugs to display boards. The creepy friend in the bathroom must be right up his alley then.

Five minutes later the two of you are staring at each other in awkward silence. Bothering barely acquainted neighbours isn't usually high on your list of priorities, especially if said neighbours look like they prefer being alone. You know it's odd, you know it probably crosses some boundaries, yet here you are.

With a crease on his brow and a tight mouth, Emory isn't thrilled at this sudden visit. Maybe he was in the middle of something, or is just uncomfortable with people invading his space. In any case, you clear your throat.

"Good morning. I live in the house across the road. The white porch? With-"

"I know," it's a dry reply. Not rude, more matter-of-factly; his eyes are fixed on you with a hint of unsettling peculiarity which makes you shift from one foot to the other.

He's not pest control, you think. Or obligated to help in any way. Emory can tell you to kindly fuck off right now and close the door, why did you even come here? It's stupid and intrusive. You're almost ready to take it all back and go home, pretend like nothing happened and just deal with that spider yourself, when he speaks again.

"What do you need?"

He has a quiet voice, a very even direct tone that doesn't encourage small talk, but prompts answers. Now and without pointless filling.

"I know how it's going to sound," you start, cringing inside, "and apologize in advance for bothering you, but I had an impression you collect...bugs."

"Insects. Arachnids."

"Right. So I was thinking if you'd mind removing a spider from my bathroom. I don't want to kill it, but I can't- I can't touch it."

His gaze slowly shifts from your face to the house behind you. As if Emory has an x-ray vision, or a complete mental map of your household layout. Ha, this would be ridiculous. There's no apparent disapproval in his pale face, but something else, a different kind of assessment. Evaluation of how much it is worth spending time on someone with an overgrown lawn? His eyes return back and you feel pinned down.

The longer he stays silent, the more you wish for the ground to open and swallow you whole.

"If you can't I totally understand-"

"What kind of spider?"

It's your turn to stare. How are you supposed to know, you've never studied spider biology. It looks like any other common variety, except creepier because it refuses to leave its spot and stay in the sewer where it belongs. "I...light-brownish, with long legs. Thin? Slender," there's more you could add but any further description will probably make you sound like a total dunce who can't recognize basic arachnids. "Kind of big."

You expect a 'sure', maybe 'I'll be there shortly' or 'no'. What you get is Emory moving past you and walking up your front porch. The scent of laundry detergent and soap, very clean, hits your nose before you rush to open the door.

"Uhm. Second floor," you explain, awkwardly shuffling after him. For the first time since the day you moved in, you worry about what someone might see inside the house. As far as clutter goes, your place is acceptable, perhaps a few forgotten cups around and yesterday's sweater thrown on a couch. Surely, it's not too bad.

Emory, however, doesn't seem interested in the surroundings. The staircase doesn't even creak under his weight, despite the house being around a century old. He steps over the little border which always makes you trip if you walk too fast, like it's not there. Like the corner you often bump your hip into doesn't exist either. He navigates your home with effortless precision, an inward kind of certainty that makes your eyebrows rise. Maybe...the houses on your street have the same blueprint.

Either way, he walks into your bathroom without hesitation, turning on the light. You hover by the doorway, unsure: should you offer something to drink, ask him if he needs anything else or just step away and leave him to do his thing?

The spider is there, hiding under the cabinet, when Emory leans over to observe it. He's probably seen many different specimens, you think, and this isn't interesting at all compared to the ones who have an intricate design or unique behavior.

"She's a part of the Pholcidae family," Emory says suddenly. Just like that there's 'she', instead of 'it', and the spider twitches and shifts. "Daddy long-legs. Harmless."

He puts his palm up close to its back. At first, it seems startled, but after a moment slowly calms down, and moves a leg - left then right - getting familiar with his hand.

"Docile creatures," Emory continues, while the spider walks along the edge of his palm. No running around, no random leaps, stick-like limbs touch and probe him with curiosity, much like you'd study something new. "They stay in the dark, hide in the corners while feasting on smaller things. Your intruder is a useful tenant."

It makes you feel slightly nauseous, how nonchalant he is about holding something that prompts recoil on instinct.

"Do you want to hold her?" Emory turns to you and there's a faint, strange smile on his lips. It doesn't reach his eyes and makes him look like an alien who tries to mimic human expressions based only on observation. His pupils are so dark that you can barely tell the difference between the irises and the rest. They seem bottomless, absorbing all light, but reflecting none in return. You take one step backwards, shaking your head.

"I'll pass."

He keeps staring at you for what feels like forever before returning his attention to the spider crawling on his skin. Emory reaches into his back pocket for a small container.

"Are you not setting her outside?" You ask. "She...she doesn't look like, uh, a rare species."

Not that you're an expert.

"No," Emory closes the lid with a quiet click. "She isn't one. But I'm going to keep her."

And he does. The little captive spider rests at the very bottom of a plastic case when you send the man on his way and thank him for the help. Emory accepts it with a nod, no further words, and then there's only his back when he leaves. The morning air rushes in, crisp and fresh, smelling like grass, tree leaves and soil.

It feels like you blink, and three days go by. You still keep an eye on the bathroom cabinet by some sort of habit, however there's nothing out of the ordinary lurking there, no creepy critters and definitely no thin legs scattering in multiple directions. All is well, now you can brush your teeth, take care of business and even lean close without fear something might fall on your head.

It's just a spider. You googled it later, and how common it is around the continents should be a bit ridiculous. Keeping it might equal to going on a beach and picking the most unremarkable pebble you see; Emory certainly could find hundreds more Daddy long-legs wherever he pleased - parks, gardens or forests.

So...why?

The question gnaws at you, together with that smile and cold grey eyes hidden behind glasses' frames. The weirdest part wasn't the expression, it was how you couldn't read it. Despite the obvious display of human emotion, however misplaced and alien, it failed to reveal anything. The smile was there, and yet nothing broke through it, not amusement, nor politeness - or any kind of feeling whatsoever.

Your neighbour is odd.

Not necessarily scary, though there's a sense of mystery surrounding him, it makes you feel like standing next to an iceberg and only seeing its tip. Or you've just read far too many psychological thrillers and your imagination likes to conjure up the wildest scenarios, trying to turn each and every thing into something sinister.

Maybe you should just chill and get some tea, and stop being so dramatic about a guy who came over and politely removed a spider for you.

They're not a unique species. Not even remotely uncommon.

He taps the container gently with his index finger, making the spider move back and forth. She doesn't have venom, no poisonous chemicals to injure and kill. Hiding in abandoned corners she does, patient and careful, waiting to catch the wrong fly.

You're just like her. Nothing exciting. Not unique.

Your movement patterns are similar, concealed in a different package you're still predictable: getting home from work, cooking dinner, watching TV shows. Everyday routines.

Fear is a part of your nature. Awkwardness which comes with socializing: you shuffle when uncomfortable, avoid prolonged eye contact and don't like confrontation, he noticed this right away. A quiet type, keeping mostly to yourself unless you need something urgently; and then you rush, like a scared Daddy long legs. There's this shiftiness, an inner desire to be less visible, but also a yearning for recognition because the lack of it hurts. And he saw all those small things, catalogued them one by one, as you moved into his street and became a constant presence.

Asa has never thought about keeping something - someone - so mundane before. Never. He likes rare things, spectacular, and those collected in the basement, they all are, especially when he's finished with them. They're extraordinary, displayed under glass cases and preserved for eternity.

He doesn't collect common species. Daddy long-legs are abundant everywhere around him.

But.

There's the way you linger by the kitchen window during the morning routine, slowly sipping hot coffee. When your lips purse and eyes lose focus for a moment. Or how the corners of them wrinkle sometimes when you have a genuine, amused laugh. It's something like warmth. There's no label for the feeling - positive, negative or neutral, it just is, like one single, meaningless element in an ecosystem.

He shouldn't want someone so average.

And yet Asa watches from the corner of your living room, crouched on the floor by a plant.

You don't hear him, too invested in your personal bubble. Well, he had enough time to polish his craft and figure out how soundless he can be when moving through spaces, how much weight he needs to place onto soles to avoid creaking wood and floorboards.

It's interesting to see you interact with your environment, unaware of being watched. There's an invisible pattern behind each action, even if you think everything is randomized. The web you wove around yourself is cozy, and Asa follows its threads while you check the phone and frown at whatever notification pops up. He is considering. Contemplating this impulsive desire he has yet to identify.

Would it be worth it? Keeping you. Adding you to the collection and seeing what comes out of it, how far his usual approach might take him with you in the same conditions. You're just a face with features. So...ordinary. He wants to pick you apart and look inside to make sure it's not some strange sort of mimicry, camouflage of a different nature hiding something else entirely.

There's this vague idea how those features may feel when touched. He can recall them accurately, even when you've never stood too close. Asa watches quietly from his hiding place, memorizing a displeased mumble and then a frustrated gesture.

You seem so alive.

Those below who are frozen in time now were too, before Asa decided to give them a purpose and make something special and worthy of his attention. They were alive like you, but now they're something better.

What purpose you have remains to be seen.

Asa decides then.

A plain trunk is nestled in the corner behind a coat hanger, no fancy latch or keyhole needed, only an ordinary padlock. You'll fit in nicely, squeezed in the cramped space, it won't be the most comfortable experience, but it's not for long and then...then he can show you the room where others stayed before, and where you'll be next.

Asa looks around one last time: the front door is locked, blinds down, lights off - you get up from the couch and head upstairs, right on the dot. Your house is easy to navigate despite the darkness; Asa knows his way around it, having been here already more than once. A step after a step he follows the soft padding of your bare feet, and when the steps halt, he pulls out a cloth. It's a heavy kind of pleasure to be able to stand right behind and admire your nape, there's a strange sort of vulnerability to it.

Something raw and very exposed.

It takes only a few movements, he catches your yelp into one of his hands and holds it clasped tightly as you thrash. Your nails dig into the fabric of his turtleneck but fail to leave any marks. He's never tired of it, the initial fear of his specimens realizing that their secure habitats are ruined. He doesn't mind this fight for survival.

"Shh," Asa breathes into your ear. "Shh."

The struggle doesn't last long - you're not a fighter - and when your body goes limp, he picks you up. Your perfume is surprisingly light, a very sweet and pleasant aroma, not overwhelming at all like he'd expect it to be.

It's nice.

He puts you in the trunk, a boxy space barely big enough to fit you curled on the side, it's going to take around thirty minutes to reach the hotel and another three to put you in the right cell. You'll sleep the rest of the journey, which is fortunate for everyone. It's always easier to deal with a specimen if they're resting.

The lock clicks softly - it's time to go home.

Something runs down your cheek - a drop, a bead of sweat, a touch - and you blink, trying to make sense of it. The surroundings are unfamiliar, blurry shapes with undefined outlines that stretch and wobble before your eyes. Your jaw hurts, clenched so hard that teeth grind together, and it takes a conscious effort to relax.

Where...what?

The living room, a TV program, a soundless whisper that froze the hairs at your nape, then someone was behind you. You remember a sickly sweet smell, and after that nothing but a haze and the dark, and the sensation of being squeezed into a shape. Your legs feel numb, arms too, like you spent hours immobile in one position. Slowly the world sharpens back into focus, but instead of relief there's only dread.

You're in a room.

No bigger than a regular bathroom and void of any furniture beside a cot-like bed, a toilet in the corner and a sink. The walls are a bluish-gray with thin cracks, tiny fissures that create uneven lines from the ceiling all the way down to the floor.

And there's a man, observing you quietly through the thick glass.

You don't notice him immediately, too busy assessing your new location, and when you do the air feels heavier, difficult to move past your throat. He's wearing a mask. Black rubber or something, covering everything except his eyes. He presses two palms against the barrier separating you, the silence stretches into an eternity.

'Who are you? What do you want?' - these are kind of questions you should be asking, but they don't come out. You remain glued to the spot, counting the passing seconds by their painful tick-tock-tick-tocks. One minute turns into two, and he...just stares without moving a muscle in a beyond unnerving manner. Your gaze dips lower to check his clothes, perhaps find a pattern to identify this person later.

There's none. Everything is plain black, like a uniform made to be invisible - turtleneck, pants, even gloves and boots.

It seems that your silence somehow pleases him, because a few moments later he leaves without looking back.

You don't know how much time passes; there's not a window around, only a bare, stark bulb, yellowish in its brightness and casting unpleasant shadows all over the floor. Not a single sound. Traffic, voices of distant passersby or birds - all is absent and doesn't provide even a bit of understanding where the hell you are.

In the end, you...sit down on the bed and wait, because what else is there? Everything is eerily silent and very, very uncomfortable: this emptiness, the absence of noise, the endless ticking of an invisible clock. It's difficult not to cry, but you try your best, somehow it feels important to remain composed. There has to be a reason behind this. There must be one, and you repeat it over and over, like a mantra to soothe the nerves and present your mind with some semblance of logic: once you figure out what's going on, you'll figure out how to get out as well.

Pulling loose threads from your sleeve is poor entertainment, if anything, the strain of boredom and unease gradually grows into anxiety so sharp that you almost miss the sound of approaching footsteps.

He's back again, the masked stranger who stands in the doorway with hands clasped behind his back. A pair of light grey eyes is a splash of different color, but they are blank. They watch with distant curiosity of an animal trainer monitoring a newborn cub. The comparison makes something ugly squirm inside you. A part of you wants to make a run for it, the other keeps yelling that it would be immensely stupid.

One, two, three, four steps he takes into your cell. Your back meets the wall, the chill coming from its solid surface cuts right through the layers of clothing. Five, six. He stops only when there's less than arm's reach between you, then leans to brush away loose strands of hair sticking to your temples. Your stomach goes taut. This scent. Laundry detergent mixed with soap. The turtleneck, grey eyes, very collected kind of Mister.

A sickly shiver of revulsion shoots down your spine, making you curl tighter into a ball. Emory cups your jaw with both hands - they're cold even through the gloves material. This is too close, an unwanted and unpleasant violation of boundaries, and yet he continues to examine your face, like you're some sort of an object he can handle however he pleases.

Your cheek gets a light pat. Any theories about his identity stay unvoiced, mostly because you fear the reaction they might prompt. Something tells you that screaming is a bad idea too. 'Be quiet,' an insistent whisper says deep inside your skull, 'be still.'

His thumbs press to the corners of your mouth. "Open," he orders, and you can't not, even though the whole thing sounds and feels bizarre. "Wider."

There's a quiet click. A flashlight, of those small ones you can easily hold in one hand, shines right into your eyes, making them water from the unexpected brightness. "Don't bite or I'll remove all of your teeth."

It's a simple threat, delivered with such a calm tone, there's no need for yelling when words are that clear and straightforward.

He inspects your mouth, the edges of teeth and gums, your inner cheeks, and you let him, clenching your fists. There's not much you can do, at least that's what you keep telling yourself to ease the heavy, sinking feeling of powerlessness. Your mind chants 'too close' on a loop, urging to wiggle away; you stay. It's unclear what exactly he's looking for - dental or oral diseases, a sore throat, cavities, or the lack of them?

It lasts forever until he straightens back up and puts the light away.

"Good," Emory states. There's another pat to your head before he turns around to leave. "No biting."

The door panel slides with a soft hum, locking shut. And the silence, and the waiting, and the mind numbing monotony is back again.

#shalott fanfiction #yandere #the collector #the collector (2009)#asa emory #asa emory x reader #slasher fanfiction #slashers

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shoccolat · 2 years

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autistic hcs bc it's all i can think about atm

❤️OSOMATSU:

• not one to mask much and is often very blunt, has been told he's rude way too many times but he doesn't really care tbh, he's just being honest

• has a VERY hard time expressing his emotions, either turns it into anger and lashes out or just goes nonverbal

• doesn't like to be alone with his thoughts so he finds lots of ways to distract himself (though he has bad coping methods and often turns to addictive pastimes like gambling and drinking)

• stims: a lot of hand stims including flapping, rubbing under his nose, that lil mini naruto run he does, putting his hands in his pockets to secretly play with whatever garbage is in there, & fidgeting with his hoodie strings. also randomly dabbing (projecting bc i do this too lmao) and VOCAL STIMS!! echolalia, palilalia, random sounds, etc. he's very vocal when he's happy!!

• special interests: horses, whatever manga/anime he's into atm. he infodumps sometimes even though nobody really wants to listen to him, he just talks at them, also bc he's not into the same manga/anime as choromatsu so there's a lack of common interest

💙KARAMATSU:

• a lot of masking but he's not very good at it tbh

• has a good amount of scripts but fumbles through them or goes nonverbal before even approaching someone and ends up missing out on a potential conversation

• socially anxious but tries desperately to pretend he's not ✨

• wears sunglasses to avoid eye contact and also bc he doesn't want people reading him too deeply, he's sensitive so his emotions are often on full display even when he tries to hide them

• PEOPLE PLEASER, will definitely mold his personality/manner of speech to match the person he's with

• stims: putting on and taking off his sunglasses, he also likes sequined clothing bc he likes to run his fingers and nails along them

• special interests: fashion & making clothes, music

💚CHOROMATSU:

• takes his diagnosis/discovery hard at first, doesn't like having something "wrong" with him

• he feels better about it once he realizes "oh THAT'S why i do that/feel that way" and can learn better ways to cope and accommodate (for both himself and his brothers)

• likes to be prepared and has a LOT of scripts but often stutters through them

• socially anxious and gets stressed easily

• often indulges in escapism as a coping method, with a hyperfocus on idols and anime

• probably has like a repertoire of safe foods bc textures 🤢

• stims: FLAPPY HANDS, a lot of hand fidgets like playing with his zipper/hoodie strings when nervous, dermatillomania, also vocal stims like humming & echolalia, and wiggling/rocking

• special interests: nyaa-chan, idols in general, whatever anime/manga he's into, technology, space

💜ICHIMATSU:

• has hardcore social burnout as well as mask burnout from doing it so damn much in high school

• semi-verbal like 80% of the time, goes nonverbal a lot

• monotone speech (i mean that's not a hc but it's worth noting)

• only really talks a lot when he's infodumping or has either a physically written or mentally planned script he can follow

• another socially anxious brother, doesn't really focus on making scripts bc he's not one to approach people so the conversations he does have are often awkward

• cares a LOT about how other people perceive him even though he doesn't show it

• also another brother who has a hard time expressing emotions, he often bottles things up until he hits a breaking point

• gets overwhelmed very easily by crowds and confrontation or meeting new people

• VERY METICULOUS about cleanliness, rules, and manners

• stims: PRESSURE, holding or petting soft things like cats and plushies, kneading, rocking

• special interests: cats, horror movies/slasher films

💛JYUSHIMATSU:

• probably the first one to find out or be diagnosed tbh

• has trouble with social cues and norms, is very much one to just do and say what he likes without much care for what others think (mostly; he's been shown to be much more aware than he seems)

• prone to meltdowns and often takes a while to calm down and recover

• doesn't use scripts much either, just talks about whatever, sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't

• used to mask in high school but stopped, his happy face might be a mask too but he seems a lot more comfortable like that so maybe not

• stims: omg SO many happy stims, flappy hands (loves long sleeves bc he likes how they feel when he flaps), waving his baseball bat around, rocking, and VOCAL STIMS!! another very vocal brother, echolalia, palilalia and random sounds just like his big bro :) they get a bit noisy when they're both like this together and are often told by choro, ichi, or totty to go somewhere else

• special interests: BASEBALL, dogs

💗TODOMATSU:

• his tiktok fyp gradually filled up with enough "relatable" #neurodivergent #autism videos that he was like "huh okay maybe i should actually look into this"

• not at first, though: like choro, the discovery is also hard on him and he avoids coming to terms with it for a while before finally giving in and going on an online research binge

• he has a LOT of scripts, both for irl and texting

• his texting often comes off as "dry" bc he's really not good at going off-script and holds himself back from infodumping bc he doesn't want to be overwhelming. he can hold a conversation decently but secretly hates small talk, although he's not very good at furthering a conversation past that if he doesn't know what the other person is interested in

• MASKINGMASKINGMASKING

• he masks SO MUCH OH MY GOD even with his brothers he's gonna burn himself out so bad 💔

• he's also very much another one to mold his personality and speech to match the person he's talking to

• stims: fidgeting with his phone, his phone is a crutch and he feels very anxious when he doesn't have it with him, he likes phone charms bc extra thing to fidget with ❤️, also randomly does peace signs (projecting again with literally all of these but ✨)

• special interests: fashion, cute things like hello kitty etc., probably secretly stuff like true crime or serial killers tbh but nobody will ever know about that ✌️

#osomatsu san headcanons #ososan hcs #osomatsu san x reader #osomatsu #karamatsu #choromatsu #ichimatsu #jyushimatsu #todomatsu #osomatsu san #i ended up projecting with quite a bit of this but ✌️✨#esp oso & totty #mewwrites

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phantomram-b00 · 2 months

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Been wanting to do this for sometime so here are some of my headcanon for Autistic Aziraphale.

Please note that Autism is a spectrum and that everyone’s have a different experience because some of these are hc are based on experiences I have as an autistic person or maybe other might’ve too. So please be mindful, but hope you guys enjoy and feel free to ask any questions. (I love this gif)

Headcanon 1:

Aziraphale isn’t comfortable with crowds or at the very least crowds that might be noisy or isn’t his usually spaces or familiar with (I.e his bookshop, Give me coffee or give me death, etc) so he usually just wouldn’t want to go or if he does try it, he’ll bring his yellow Walkman Crowley got him so he can listen to music since music calm him down.

Headcanon 2:

He’s the type to want to listen to any other songs to not get out the comfort zone so if he does, he would have to listen to them twice or three times in order to decide if he like the song or not. (Idk if this one odd let me explain, it something I do since I don’t like to listen to different songs that isn’t in my comfort zone let alone song that aren’t my usual so if I did listen to it I would have to listen to them fully two or three times to see if I like the lyric, rhyme and beat. Just to make sure it not too loud, repetitive, or fits in my comfort zone for me. But also the lyric the factor since I like interpreting songs, probably why I like The Crane’s wives for example or even Laufey sm.)

Headcanon 3:

Hardcover > Paperback because he likes the feeling of the hardcover then he does with paperbacks. But also he feels the texture is better. Hence why most of the books in his bookshop are hardcovers.

Headcanon 4:

He does have specific food textures he doesn’t typically like. Like bananas, if the bread is too flakey, rice is too hard, some sandwiches or eggs. So he stays away from it and stick to his safe foods like sushi, pears, cakes.

Headcanon 5:

Crowley love it when Aziraphale hyperfixates and talk about his favorite book he reading because it fill him with love to see that Aziraphale find something he loves. It actually took Aziraphale some time since heaven would often interrupts, ignore or blatantly brush him off to cut it out leaving Aziraphale to feel insecure about his special interest. Ofc it also toke meeting mortals like him to get him to open up so when Crowley first heard him hyperfixate it made him happy. Because that how Aziraphale in a sense show trust in him and himself to open up.

Headcanon 6:

Aziraphale likes to stim! I think I kinda dip my toes in it in some post from before but I do believe that he stims. Whether he hums a tone, wiggles or etc. he also started doing this after time passed because again heaven and also some mortal look down on this. But with the comfort of his bookshop, Crowley and also meeting understanding mortal he start to feel more comfortable. Granted he still try to hide it due to masking and to this day still mask but once he with Crowley or in the comfort of his home he stims.

And that really about it for hc today

Me rambling in 3…..2…….1 (tw: ableism)

And that’s pretty much concludes it, I might do this again as it fun. Headcanon is my favorite thing as well as when it comes to autistic headcanon. Autistic rep has been… not the best, granted I haven’t watch much tv shows other than ofmd, good omens, and more so I’m not sure if they got better, I don’t know if I’ll talk about that aspect of negative reps but all say, they have harmful impact as I have a family member that will joke “when will I see numbers” which…sure it a joke but…. I can’t help but feel bad. So doing this and seeing positive rep or seeing autistic/adhd coded characters make me happy!

This is fun in so many ways, mostly because as shown in my past post I relate to aziraphale. Still don’t know how I feel about that but regardless I love his character, his flaws, everything! And I see how he autistic coded in my eyes so it makes me almost relate to him even more. And I’ve been wanting to show my personal headcanon for a while just I thought now would be the best day. Especially as this Good Omens brainrot is alive and well among my other brainrot. I do hope you guys enjoy this let me know if you wanna hear more or if you have your own personal hc that you want to share. And hope you guys are having a good day with how bizarre 2024 is and hope you’re also having fun ghostly pals.

Here a Aziracrow/ineffable husbands/spouse/wives gif:

#autistic aziraphale #good omens #autistic headcanon #aziraphale #aziraphale good omens #good omens aziraphale #I do believe Crowley also autistic or adhd or both #good omens headcanon #good omens rambles #phantomramble #phantom rambles #tw: ableism #good omens is my permanent roommate #good omens fandom

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dangerouslyknown · 1 year

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Sakazuki Relationship headcanons (SFW & NSFW)

Anonymous asked:

Hi!! I'm so glad to find this blog!! Admirals need more love! Could I ask for sfw and nsfw hcs for Sakazuki in a relationship with a female s/o who he really loves?

I´m glad my blog has reached so many fellow admiral fans! And I somehow lost the original ask, I am sorry about that. These hcs were fun to write :)

Warnings: NSFW below SFW

SFW:

He is a private person and he likes being alone. He greatly appreciates his own personal space, but he loves you and spending time with you so much he allows you to be around him 94% of the time. He still wants moments to himself, especially if he is going through something, but your company makes him feel good. Your presence makes him feel calmer, too.

He’s usually busy, so unfortunately it’s not often you get to do something together. He enjoys every moment he gets to spend with you, though.

I have a feeling that his love language would be either physical touch or acts of service. Probably more the latter, because acts of service make him feel there’s someone who cares about him.

Imagine him leaving for work early and as he’s about to leave, he sees that you’ve packed him a lunchbox full of nutritious food. His heart would literally melt.

Physical touch is not far from the first spot either. Most of the time he loves being close to you, but there are just some days he isn’t feeling like cuddling or touching.

He is not a huge fan of PDA, but if you are going out together, he wants everyone to know you are his.

He isn’t huge on showing emotions nor speaking about them. Surprisingly though, he has learned to show his emotions more with you. He also finds it easier to speak to you about his feelings. He only shows his true self to you.

He doesn’t have much time to return the acts of service, but he tries to. On his days off he likes to wake up earlier and prepare breakfast for you and clean the house a bit.

He likes to buy gifts on big occasions, but he is not spoiling you. Little gifts every now and then when you deserve them and on bigger anniversaries and birthdays he goes all out.

He might have a tiiiny soft spot for your smile. Every time he sees you smile, you could notice his gaze softening. There’s no way he ever admits this though!

He appreciates you as a person so so so much. He feels like you bring out the best version of him and he’s grateful for that.

NSFW:

When he is in the mood, he IS in the mood. He lets you know he wants to fuck and immediately after getting consent, he takes you rough right on the spot. He wants privacy during intimacy, but when he is horny, nothing is stopping him from going a little risky.

He is not the most experienced person with sex, but he knows what he’s doing. He is curious about learning more and he listens to you during sex. He might be rough, but he doesn’t want to hurt you. Your pleasure is important to him too.

Because he isn’t super experienced, he sometimes gets a little flustered when talking dirty. This mostly happens at the beginning of your act and he gets comfortable and confident quickly after.

He adores your whole body, but he’s weak for your ass/hips area. He loves the feeling when he grabs your ass and explores your thighs and hips with his hands.

He prefers to see you fully naked instead of playing with some kind of lingerie.

He doesn’t have any favorite positions, but which matters to him is to be in charge. He wants to set the pace.

He is mostly a top, but he is willing to try out being a bottom. One time you tried and he actually liked it! To his surprise, it turned him on when let you lead and be on top. He still prefers to be on top himself.

Sometimes in innocent everyday situations, just a small wiggle of your butt could turn him on unexpectedly. Sometimes you tease him with this on purpose and he hates to get a boner. If you tease him too much, you better watch out though. He might take it further! He claims to hate teasing, but that is only partly true.

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littlestsnicket · 4 months

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witcher wip amnesty 2023

(it's still january, i'm still allowed to do that right?

summary: jaskier's never had anal sex. obviously he asks geralt. (i gave up on this before i got to the sex part, but i really really enjoyed writing the dialogue setup.)

word count: ~.8K

[also on ao3]

They are sitting around the campfire, Geralt working through his endless equipment repair and maintenance, Jaskier humming and tapping his fingers against his palm (it’s too dark for him to do much of anything else). Jaskier goes quiet for just long enough for Geralt to become suspicious and look up at him before he asks, “Geralt, have you ever been fucked?”

“What?”

Jaskier huffs—a momentary flash of annoyance that Geralt hasn’t divined enough of his train of thought for this question to seem reasonable. “Yes, surely a worldly person such as yourself is familiar with the male body’s capacity to be penetrated for sexual pleasure.”

“Yes. Why are you asking me this?”

“I haven’t been, and I’m curious.”

“And your first thought was to ask me?” Geralt’s voice is flat with incredulity.

“My first thought was to—“ Jaskier pauses to wiggle his fingers, “self experiment. But it wasn’t… it wasn’t bad but I’m not sure I’m doing it right.”

“So you want me to teach you how to make anal sex feel good?”

Jaskier’s face lights up. “Yes, that’s the idea!”

His face crumples into a frown just as quickly, “I suppose it’s presumptuous. I’ve never even known you to seek out the company of men. If I was of your advanced age, I’d have tried everything, but not everyone is like that…”

A small part of Geralt is curious of what else Jaskier might say it was allowed to keep rambling. He’s seen and learned a lot of the world for someone so young, it’s interesting sometimes to see what he has and hasn’t pieced together. But Geralt speaks when Jaskier pauses to draw breath, “I don’t usually, but I have often enough. Most of my experience is with women.”

“Well, yes, in general, I know you well enough to have observed that.”

“Not just in general.”

“How does that work?” Jaskier sounds alarmingly excited.

Geralt wiggles his fingers the same way Jaskier had earlier and adds, “or with a harness.”

Jaskier’s expression goes a bit glassy and Geralt can smell his arousal spike. Maybe this will distract Jaskier enough that they won’t have to finish this conversation. Geralt’s not sure if he’s disappointed or relieved.

It doesn’t matter. It only takes Jaskier a few moments to return his attention to Geralt. “The mechanics on the receiving end must be basically the same regardless.”

“Yes,” Geralt confirms. He pauses with a frown. “Are you propositioning me?”

“Oh, no. I was not expecting a practical demonstration. But, hm, you’re not usually one for words, so that’s not an unreasonable assumption and if you’re offering I am in no way opposed.” Jaskier gives Geralt a deliberately obvious once over.

That, in Geralt’s opinion, is the worst answer Jaskier could have given, putting this decision on Geralt, but Geralt studies him. He’s comfortable and relaxed, pleased to have Geralt’s attention, but mostly endlessly curious.

“Okay,” Geralt says, allowing Jaskier to study him in return.

“Lovely!” Jaskier exclaims before shifting suddenly into awkwardness. Geralt has had the time to grow accustomed to how quickly Jaskier’s expressions can shift, but it’s still disconcerting sometimes. “So, do we kiss or…”

“Thought you were supposed to be good at this.”

Jaskier hrumpfs with exaggerated offense. “I’m practiced in how to seduce, be seduced, and exchange quick favors, but I don’t know which of those things I’m supposed to be doing? I’ve never done… whatever this is?”

“Hm,” Geralt says in genuine surprise. But Geralt thinks about it a bit more and it makes sense. It was the last thing Geralt would have expected them to share upon meeting each other, but they both exist in a liminal space (very different ones but the results are very much the same) that makes it difficult to see where one stands with other men. Geralt has only done this sort of experimenting with other Witchers.

Geralt’s been quiet too long and nervousness is starting to creep into Jaskier’s scent. It jars him out of his thoughts.

He nods decisively. “We should kiss first. Not sure how to make this good for you unless you’re…”

Geralt trails off, but Jaskier seems to understand, does a pleased wriggle and moves to kneel next to Geralt, posture open, inviting, and eager. Jaskier does know how to be seduced.

Geralt sighs again, aiming for annoyance but it comes out fond instead. It’s embarrassing, especially when Jaskier smiles at him knowingly. Geralt quickly tidies away the bits of Roach’s tack he’d been mending and comes back with a vial of oil.

“Oh,” Jaskier says, looking at the vial. “That does make sense.”

Geralt laughs.

“I would have asked more questions before I did this to someone else! And I did think it through enough not to just stick completely dry fingers in my arse!”

“No, it’s not that. If you thought this was fine with just spit—not that experienced people don’t enjoy that—my job will be easy.”

#the witcher #geraskier #mayo writes fic #wip amnesty 2023

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babybearcookie · 2 years

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Stray Kids Age Regression/Caregiver HC

this was requested

this is an age regression headcanon; if you don't like that, don't read it. age regression is a sfw coping mechanism, so i will be blocking anyone who might sexualize it

Chan

as a caregiver

first of all,,

chan is probably one of the most patient caregivers you'd ever have

if not THE MOST patient

he never wants to hurry you or push you further than what you need and are comfortable with

he'll help you of course

but with things like figuring out your emotions

or maybe smaller things like wanting to pick a snack to have

or building or colouring something

those things he'd never hurry along

time is precious in his eyes, and so is giving you space to figure things out on your own

and THEN if you ask for help, he'll come and help

or if you're in a situation that he can feel you wanting to step away from

then he's there too, showing that you can always rely on him when you want to

he's also the type take pics of you on his phone every time you do something cute

you're playing with a kitchen set he bought you?

*click*

you're into something playing on the tv?

*click*

you're pouting while sleeping?

*click*

and if you're okay with it, he'll want to show his friends the pictures

boasting about "look how cute my baby is"

the two of you also take walks in the park

he loves the times where you'd find a little bug or creature or just nature that you're intrigued by

he'll sit down on the ground, pull you into his lap and tell you about the thing, rly dad-like

maybe even pick it up if you're hesitant to, showing you that there's nothing to be scared of

when regressed

when regressed, chan has a lot of trouble articulating

which is why his words comes out slurred when he's speaking

he'll most likely mix english words into his korean sentences

unless he can talk only in english

and then there might be korean words mixed into his sentences there as well

he's most likely to regress when he's sleepy, head already fuzzy

he's mostly pretty quiet when he's small

unless he has a lot of energy heheh

he likes sitting back and look at people being silly

always with a biiiig smile and clapping while laughing

but even though he's a calm soul, he loveslovesloves play fighting!!!

when he has to climb over someone to get something or try to grab it from their hand as they're keeping it from him

idk,, he loves doing that, he finds it so much fun!!

if it goes on for long enough and he starts to get frustrated he might,,,

stomp his tiny foot and cross his arms, exaggerated pout on his lips :(((

he also just likes playing pretend

sometimes he's someone from a movie (most likely a superhero)

but sometimes he'll just be anything that he can think of

a dog, a bull, maybe even a dragon

he's been a bull a few times, loving the reactions he gets when he runs head-first into someone's legs hehh

also,, if he's going somewhere with someone

holding hands is a requirement!!

he will not go if one of his hands aren't being held

if you want a happy cutie chan, feed him

he'll most likely show you his adorable lil happy dance

wiggling his body

beware though, because he has a habit of playing with his food

so,, either contain him to an area where he can't do much damage or,,, be ready to clean up after him

Minho

as a caregiver

i already wrote how i think he'd be like as a cg here

but i'll expand a bit more on some ideas ^^

being homeschooled by cg minho>>>>>>

tiny words of encouragement

you're working on a korean language book for kids

tracing over the characters in the book

spelling out some animals and simple words

like 안녕하세요 and 감사합니다

he sits behind you and runs his hand over your hair while he watches as you fill out the pages

so! much!! praise!!!

he'd probably smile and fluff your hair when you look to him to see if an answer you wrote down was correct

maybe even kiss your temple when you are working

just because you look SO CUTE while being concentrated

after you're finished and he has checked your worksheet for mistakes he says that it's time to go to the playground

as soon as he says the word 'playground' you're up and running after your jacket and shoes

you're always so excited to go to the playground

there's mostly empty when you go

minho somehow always knowing when there'll be no kids

so you get to go on the swings and the slide without having to wait, and there's no parents looking at you weird

you even get to play in the sandbox with minho :D

when regressed

he absolutely LOVES being called baby

his favourite thing to be called ever!!

better if it's in korean

"minho aegi~~"

gone is minho, melted away

right under 'being called baby' on his list of what he loves most in the world is being cuddled

every chance he gets, he WILL cuddle someone

he will pull you to him and lock around you, koala style

he loooves when he's the one being the little spoon

held so dearly

warmth all around him

then he really feels cared for

like nothing in this world can hurt him

small and soft and just tiny

he comes with small sound effects

barely audible but they're there

he mostly doesn't mean to let out the small sounds, it's just something he does when he's doing something while small

loves when you play with his hair,,

like make tiny ponytails or pigtails

he looks adorable and he knows it!!

will poke you at random

he just loves the weird look he gets when he pokes you and doesn't say anything

will be like :o or laugh at most things

very curious baby

will giggle randomly after saying something

you have no idea why he does this, but it's pretty cute hearing it

Changbin

as a caregiver

i think he's not very outspoken about the care he shows as a caregiver

he'd rather be silent about any good deeds

like he'd do something for you without you realizing it and he'll just sit back and watch everything go smoothly with a smile

but with other caregivers he might share his concerns

he always thinks he can be a better caregiver, even if he's trying his best

he'd be the type to carry you in from the car if you've fallen asleep instead of waking you up

that's the best way to describe it

suddenly you wake up in your bed, last thing you remember is sitting in the car with binnie

and he won't acknowledge it if you don't do it first

he'd gladly lend his body to you if it makes you comfortable

you need a lap to sleep in? he's sitting down for you to use his immediately

you feel a bit cold? he's hugging you tight from behind to share his body heat

you're in need of something to hug? well, his arm is free and there for you to use for all your hugging needs

the second you're left alone for some reason, he'd have an itch to constantly check up on you to make sure you're alright

other caregivers might look at him and think that he's a bad caregiver because he doesn't coddle you and interact with you all the time

but the more they see him in action, the more they see that he always puts his baby's needs first, before anything else

he'd let you use his body as a tree to climb if you got too much energy

he'd also never get mad at you

if he can feel himself get irritated, he takes a breather bc he knows he can look really scary when he's mad and he never wants you to be scared, especially when you're regressed

when regressed

okay but little binnie is a jokester

he likes pulling his hyungs or caregiver(s) along with his little shenanigans without telling them anything

he's also LOUD

like very very loud

and hyper, but mostly loud

like, you'll never doubt that he's feeling small, just bc of the sheer volume this boy has

he likes hugs and skinship but gets easily flustered when that happens in front of other people he may consider his friends in headspace or people he looks up to

but he's also a little silly about it

like, as soon as someone cuddles him in any way, he'd run off, acting like it's the most outrageous thing ever

but when he turns around and sees he isn't being followed with the "threat" of more cuddles, he seeks the person who tried to cuddle him again, looking for more, secretly loving the closeness

but if he's sad or hurt you better give him hugs and cuddles STAT

he needs the tight hugs and the patting on his back with small shushes, or else he will NEVER feel good again (that's how he feels anyway)

his voice is DEFINITELY lighter when he feels small

like, he sounds so cute, no matter if he baby talks or not, just bc his voice is so light and he giggles loads :(((

he's also talking about himself in third person a lot

"can binnie have-" "changbinnie baby"

also, cute noises galore

those cute noises are mostly "da"

and he'll say them randomly and sometimes when he doesn't wanna say actual words

then it's his caregiver(s)' job to find out what the meaning behind "da!" is this time

and he's a v v scared baby, so remember to choose cartoons and movies and such carefully bc you might end up with a crying binnie or a binnie with nightmares

also, please give this boy a fidget toy

Hyunjin

as a caregiver

hyunjin,,, he's the type to baby you so much that you become very much dependent on him

changbin was the type to only fix problems when they presented themselves too much of a challenge for you?

well, hyunjin is the complete opposite

how dare there be anything in your way?

he'll fix all of your problems and then coo at you like you'd just experienced something bad

hyunjin with 1000% babytalk to you

i don't care that you may not regress young, he will babytalk you regardless

like,, the cringe way that you see those overly attached parents do to their spawn

he's also the type to have his entire focus on you

the building he's in could be burning and he wouldn't care bc you're there

...that's an exaggeration bc he'd save you from said burning building

bottom line is that he's not ever taking his eyes off you by his own free will

and if he can get away with it, he's definitely carrying you everywhere

he's also the first/only one i see being cool with being a caregiver for multiple littles

and he'll still try to give each one the same amount of attention, but he figures out at some point that it's just not possible

he'll still try though

he's the type to yell

but in fake/silly anger

"Yah!! why is my baby so adorable when asking for ice cream for dinner?! how can i say no to that when they're so cute??!! aaaahhh!!!"

he just loves his baby a lot (maybe too much) and he's not afraid to show and/or yell it to the world

when regressed

i don't know what it is about small hyunjin or why he's like this, but a big thing for him when he's little is saying small things in english

maybe it's the praise that goes along with it when he does it

maybe it's bc it's a language he's not the best at, so he feels smaller

but sometimes he'd just say some small english sentence, looking around at the people around him when he's done

he loves oversized clothing when he's small

he wants to be able to pitch his sweatshirts like a tent, that's how big he wants them

sometimes he wants them so much that if there aren't any oversized clothes for him to wear, he threatens you with not wearing clothes at all until he gets to wear a huge hoodie or something like that

he's a brat and loves teasing people but as soon as there's a chance of there being some sort of consequence for his actions, he's apologizing profusely and backtracking

either that or he's doubling down

it can be either in any given situation, you can never predict how he'll react

he's cute and he knows it, but if anybody else calls him cute he finds somewhere to hide

mostly under blankets but sometimes you'll also find him under the couch

completely flustered

he's almost always giggling

hiiiiigh giggles

cute n light

and he keeps jumping around, like a little bunny, mostly when he doesn't know what to do with himself

i feel like someone who'd be well equipped to handle him when he's small, would be minho

whether he's hyunjin's caregiver or just an uncle type, he's the one who can read hyunjin the best and deals with his antics effortlessly

Jisung

as a caregiver

physically reassuring !!!!!!

as a caregiver, he loves making sure his baby is okay by holding their hand,, placing a hand on their shoulder or back, or maybe even just hugging them

it's all to get their attention and feel him there

he does so much for his baby's sake, even if he doesn't really care for it

like, if you like a particular tv show but he doesn't, he'll go out of his way to watch it with you, just because he knows you enjoy it

he's also really good at giving praise

if he wants you to know that you did something that made him happy he'll say that ofc, but also the small things, like putting one of your toys away

"good job, baby!"

but if he's praised as a caregiver, make sure to keep an eye out for red ears, bc he's so easily flustered when the praise is for him

he may act like he's receiving it well and he's most likely like "of course, i'm the greatest caregiver of all time!" but his ears don't lie

he's silly but not in a very obvious way when he's in caregiver mode

he likes to make little jokes, inside jokes mainly, things he knows will get a laugh, to get his baby to giggle a bit and then he goes back for more cuddles

he tries to be so brave for his baby when it comes to animals, but when you're not looking, he lets out his scared expressions

he complains a bit if his baby wants to look at or touch creepy crawlers, but he will never limit your curiosity

he will usually just keep a good distance, himself

he may forget the small details sometimes

like, if you don't like peas or if you prefer your drink a special way

but he always knows things like how to make you happy, how to comfort you when you're sad

and when you know stuff like that, the little things don't matter all that much

when regressed

clumsy clumsy baby

like, if you go out with him, parks are probably the best bc then he has something soft to fall on when he stumbles

flappy hands when he's excited

now, because of his social anxiety, jisung needs extra special care when he's regressed

he needs personal grounding methods, an emergency plan for panic attacks and a list of comfort items

he also does better if he has one primary caregiver

then he knows who to go to and they'd know how to handle bad moments

a grounding method of his is probably the 54321 method

yk, list 5 things you can see around you, 4 things you can touch around you, 3 things you hear, 2 things you can smell and 1 thing you can taste

though, he does need to be guided through that, which is why a caregiver for him is a little essential

at least a babysitter

his caregiver/babysitter also has to make sure he has mobile games available or a hand console for video games

while he may not regress very young, he still needs a lot of care, equivalent to the care someone regressed younger would need

i imagine him being non-verbal if he's not somewhere he's comfortable and with people he trusts completely

so, a lot of tugging on clothes when he needs attention or tapping his cg's shoulder

very very easy to tears

bc when he's regressed, he doesn't hold anything back

it's his safe space to do so

also, pls pls pls bring his stuffie wherever you go

one he can hug when he's overwhelmed or feeling the need to self-soothe

overall happy baby unless he's in an uncomfortable environment with people he doesn't know

Felix

as a caregiver

felix is such a sensitive person

like, we all know he's a big sunshine but he's also blames himself a lot and feels guilty easily

so, he might need to be reassured a lot that he's doing a good job

otherwise he might start thinking that he's a bad caregiver and isolate himself

he'd have some idea of what to do when caring for someone younger, as he does have a little sister, but he's also the middle child, so he would probably need a bit of help

i'm thinking that, yes, he'd take care of things like making you snacks, helping you with clothes, and all the other essential things, but as more of an older brother type of caregiver than as a parental figure

his go-to thing to do with you is cuddle

cuddle while watching tv, cuddle while reading books, cuddle while getting you to sleep/waking you up, it's just his favourite way to do anything

he's also rly possessive over you, so it just works out rly well if you're constantly in his arms

if his members were to talk to you when you're regressed or baby you, even if you weren't regressed, he'd quickly bring is arms around you, pouting that you're his

one of his other fave things to do with you is 'beauty salon'

you get all kinds of creative freedom with putting nail polish and makeup on him

when you're done, sitting in anticipation, waiting for him to pick up the mirror and tell you what he thinks, he always makes sure to be 'pleasantly surprised'

he knows, of course, that it wouldn't be anywhere near the professional looks he gets in comebacks and such, but he always loves what you do

(and even if it looks absolutely terrible, he always finds at least one thing to praise)

when regressed

so, have we all seen him patting himself to self-soothe? bc i have

anxious little bean

he just wants to be comforted more than anything

he will cling onto his caregiver at any given chance, but sometimes doubt gets the best of him and he thinks that people around him hate that he's this clingy

and then he tries his best to self-soothe with touch he remembers being comforting

like wrapping his arms around himself

or, in situations where he's trying to be lowkey or feels a bit worse about himself, he pats or strokes his hair

be on the lookout for these !!!!!! bc that means that he needs a prescription of ALL THE HUGS!!!!

cuddle piles are the best

he might also try to lighten his voice bc it doesn't sound right in his ears to have such a deep voice when being 4 or so years old

just making sure that he knows he doesn't have to do it and that's he's a tiny kid regardless should do the trick

oh yeah, and remember those animal onesies that were rly popular some years ago? the rly soft and snuggly ones? (ahem i have 3 ahem)

he will practically live in one if he had the chance

even better if the one he got is of a kangaroo

bc he miss home and then he got extra pockets heheh

he's the kind to silently tuck himself into his caregiver's side

like, under the cg's arm and head tucked into a crevice, most likely the chest or neck

and, for some reason, that mostly happens in the kitchen, when the cg is cooking something

speaking of kitchen!! he loooves baking cake with his cg

it's a time where he can have a dance party while baking and maybe even have a flour fight and then end up with delicious baked goodness

and if his cg tells him he can't have cake as a snack all the time, that's okay!!

he likes fruit too when he's regressed, so give him the job of rinsing the fruit while an 'adult' cuts it, and he'll be very content with that

also, be patient with him when he's just woken up bc he's pretty dazed

Seungmin

as a caregiver

very very soft-spoken

could look like he's just a pushover bc he lets his baby get away with a lot of things

but he does have a limit

people just aren't quick to notice bc he's very soft about it

when he says "no more" he says it quietly

he doesn't need it to be broadcasted to anybody who isn't the one he's saying it to

and that's partly why his baby listens to him so well

he doesn't make a big scene about when his boundaries have been met, nor does he put you on the spot

he handles things privately and quietly

doesn't mean he isn't filled with sass that is ready to be unleashed at any moment

i don't think he'd sass his baby too much, but he'd sass his members a bit extra when you're around bc you always giggle and clap your hands at it

and maybe once in a while you'd also sass his members

the reaction from him is a bit of pride but most of all he thinks it's funny, when you haven't crossed a line

the other members can't believe how much his sassy nature has rubbed off on you though

the look at you and him in shock, mouths wide open while seungmin just smiles and shrugs

always has his camera ready for shooting some pictures of his baby

probably has a whole photo album just of his baby when they're regressed

his favourite thing is to take you to the aquarium or to the zoo

just somewhere you don't normally go

and then he gets to take pics of you being fascinated by all the things around you

when regressed

i feel like seungmin is the most independent when regressed

most times he's just in his own little world

he doesn't need a whole lot

of course, it'd be nice to not have to do things like cook for yourself, but when snacks exist and when you can buy entire meals, finished

he's old enough to work a microwave when he's regressed

so really, he doesn't need a cg

wouldn't complain if one fell into his lap though

that doesn't mean he doesn't thoroughly enjoy it when there are people around him

he loves being a little menace to his hyungs

so so so giggly!!

like, he giggles almost all the time when he's small

when he's watching tv, when he's eating, when he's running around, etc.

he doesn't treat stuffed animals all that nicely...

maybe it's because he's a little older than most of the group when they're regressed

he might, once in a while, like to cuddle with a soft stuffed animal when he's going to sleep but other than that, nah

he just pokes them in their eyes, pulls on their ears, just doing something that would make other littles gasp in horror

he's the only one where i'm pretty certain he also pet regresses

or at least likes to pretend that he's a puppy when he's regressed, i don't know but he's a tiny puppy sometimes

which means being even rougher with the stuffed animals, because if he can fit even an arm or ear of the plushie into his mouth, it's getting chewed on and roughed up

you know the way that dogs swing a toy around when they're playing?

yeah....

Jeongin

as a caregiver

if you don't care about if your stuff gets dropped or maybe ruined, go ahead and give them to jeongin

but um,, don't give him stuff that breaks easily

he's broken a few of his baby's figurines and it's rly a wonder that it happens sometimes

there's a shortage of bowls that aren't made out of plastic

so, he may be the caregiver, but you really look out for each other, since he needs a hand too

he loves singing songs to have his baby dance to them

(it's mostly gonna be trot songs, and if you complain enough; trot versions of skz's songs)

as he's not in a position to take care of anybody usually, yk with being the youngest in the group, he's not too sure in a caregiving role

he'd probably be more at ease being called a baby sitter, instead of a caregiver, as he usually just feels like he's making sure no fatal accidents happen on his watch

and that the house is relatively clean in the process

you'd think he may not be one for a lot of hugs and cuddles, but i'd say almost the opposite

idk, there's just something about being the one to take care of another person instead of being the youngest that makes him wanna cuddle his baby

not a lot but enough

like, for movies or when you ask for cuddles on nights you can't sleep

and ofc he'll hug you if you asked for it (of if you're too adorable for him to stop himself but shhh)

i think one part of being a caregiver that he rly excels at is brushing teeth

he'll be so careful when brushing his baby's teeth

he knows how to angle the toothbrush to get all the crevices from years of figuring out how to effectively brush his teeth with braces

and he knows how it can hurt if people are not careful when dealing with teeth and gums so he's super gentle

when regressed

now, not to be harsh

but he's a little shit

and he knows he's safe when he's regressed bc no one would dare hurt him when he's small

so he won't even get the usual shoulder punch he'd get when he isn't regressed

and he's about to make that fact everyone's problem

and when he knows he's on the verge of a punishment, he runs to hyunjin to save him

and he does. every. single. time

baby jeongin eats a lot and he does it quickly

you've made him a snack and turn around for a second to get some for yourself?

he's already finished and asking for more

you fear that one day he'll get an upset stomach bc of the speed of which he's eating but that day never comes

fortunately for you

if you want a little baby innie who's just cute and sweet and adorable, then you have to be there when he's just woken up

he's just soft and fuzzy there, just a tiny baby

when it's time for bed, he's also a bit quieter and lowkey

you tend to be that way after a whole day of annoying everyone around you

it's draining

but it's one of his cg's favourite time of the day

he's still a silly little boy, but he's more prone to doing what's asked of him

like, he'll be all silly, making jokes and talking back but when you ask him to raise his arms to get him in pajamas, he'll do it

the same with going to sleep

he's not a difficult one to get to go to sleep

he just needs a night light and sweet words beforehand and then he's good to go to dreamland

A/N: this took me sooo long to finish, i'm so so sorry for the wait. i love doing headcanons bc i put a lot of thought and research into it, but it's also a lot of work, especially when it's an entire group and for both the caregiving and age regressing side PHEW i hope you enjoy it though!!

also, pls don't come for me, these were just some small thoughts on how i think they might be. i'd say i don't know them well enough to come to these conclusions easily, so yeah

feedback would be awesome if you could spare a second <3

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monstersinthecosmos · 3 months

Note

this is such a silly question but... how old do you envision keith to be in ttsr!? i think about this fic all day every day to the point where i'm like filling in the gaps in my head and reconstructing his entire life before meeting shiro and whatnot so yeah just. wondering how old he actually is? (((also please know you are my favorite fic writer ever. and i'm the pickiest of picky readers, so it's like you've been inside my brain! IT'S EERIE! and i'm so grateful <3 <3 <3)))

sdgads oh my gosh thank you so much

look at this fucked up little baby i love him SO LIKE INSOFAR AS THEIR AGES IN CANON ARE A LITTLE FUZZY I think he's 19 in TTSR. I think I'm using the idea that in S1 Keith is 19ish and Shiro is 25ish, and I go with the idea that they met when Keith was 15ish and Shiro is 21ish. And maybe by the end of canon, with Keith's time skip, Shiro is 27ish and Keith is 23ish? I sometimes adjust that number in my mind, it's not a hill I'm gonna die on in general, but for this fic I think those are abouts the ages I'm working with. It makes the most sense to me to imagine that Shiro would be recruiting from high schools, and I was comparing to like ROTC and stuff and they typically don't accept kids under 17, but it seems like the Garrison has younger students and since it's a space exploration program and not strictly a military institution that we have some wiggle room to make up rules haha. So maybe they meet, he finishes 10th grade or whatever, then joins the Garrison? Even though they use very obvious visual language on the show in the flashbacks to tell us KEITH IS SMOL BBY, he's gotta at least be a high school student. I also want to leave him a little time to get to know Shiro. In chapter 4 I wrote like a lil bit of exposition just to like keep everyone on their toes and I thought it would be a fun pacing shift to just start talking about his childhood out of nowhere which is why I sketched out that overview of like his JOURNEY REALIZING HE'S GAY LOL, but in that chapter I mentioned that Shiro leaves for Kerberos when Keith is 17 and he gets kicked out of the Garrison at 18/19. It says this RE:Keith's sexual history lol: But at seventeen with an NCO and eighteen on Iverson’s desk and nineteen with some grad student from the bar, all he knows is that he doesn’t want to give up control.

I also really wanted to give weight to how different he would've looked to Shiro when Shiro comes back, especially leaving Earth off a breakup. And the breaking up is relevant because like, Keith has always just been this kid that he mentors and Shiro is in a committed relationship up until the very end right before his mission, so there's no reason why he'd ever see Keith as desirable. Not just that Shiro is too much of a cinnamon roll and I think he's so faithful & committed to Adam, but Keith is also so fucking immature and messy as a kid right?

When he leaves, Keith is his lil buddy that thirdwheels him & his boyfriend and sleeps on their couch sometimes, and when he comes back Keith is like this angry shell that regressed on all the lessons Shiro taught him. But he's grown and strong and violent !!!! And Shiro sees him as a grown man now! And it's surreal to him! And he feels weird about it sometimes! And when Keith is ready Shiro wants to be topped & dommed because he's so burnt out from making decisions and being in charge and being responsible for everyone's lives and it would be so nice if this violent alien-man would dick him down please!

Sorry I got off topic lol I mean, I think 19 is a nice age where like, there would be a visible difference, he'd be taller, broader shoulders, (if he were fully human maybe he'd be fully grown but I think his Galra genes are gonna keep going lol but Shiro doesnt know that)!

I don't always stick to these ages because canon is so fuzzy so I think like for all writers, readers, & enjoyers we have some space to adjust as needed when it fits the story we're trying to tell. But I think this mostly is the story I'm telling this time and like, if I haven't nailed it down explicitly in the text already you never know if I'll wiggle later or even retcon it LOL. So anyway, the basic TTSR timeline

They meet when Keith is 15

He joins the Garrison at 16

Shiro leaves when Keith is 17

Pilot error etc happens when Keith is 18

He gets kicked out of the Garrison at some point! Do I know when in this following year? idk I didn't decide. Bonus question: Does Keith even know? Does he know what month it is? Does he know how old he is? Pilot error happens and time stops existing for him.

Shiro comes back/canon S1/TTSR begins when he's 19. I also didn't nail a number down yet but I think he was 6 or 7 when his dad died in this. In the upcoming chapter that I haven't finished, there's an extended scene about him and his dad from when he's 5!!!!!!!!!! You didn't ask but, in general if this helps you imagine the TTSR timeline lol. :) :) BOY. I'm upset lol.

#sheith #stuff i wrote #ttsr

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wrenreid · 2 years

Text

Conflict of Interest

mature content discussed in this story. all chapters in series masterlist. smut included in this chapter. disclaimer: this chapter is longer than usual!!

Chapter Twenty-Five: All’s Well That Ends Well

After a month longer of school work, training, and preparing for your future career, Spring Break finally finds its way to you.

You’re excited to have a week off of everything. No classes. No homework. No training. And no dorm room.

Spencer was gracious enough to offer that you spend the week with him in his apartment. And who are you to turn down an opportunity to be away from the Quantico dorms for a while?

“I can’t believe you’re ditching me!” Nina stands in front of you, hovering above your body as you pack your bag, her arms crossed.

“Oh c’mon, it’s just a week. And we’ll have lunch together,” you offer them a smile.

“Fine,” she rolls her eyes. “I guess it won’t be too bad to have the room all to myself.”

“See; bright side.”

“Mhm.”

“And there’s no curfew for the week. I’m sure Spencer would be more than welcoming if you wanted to spend the night sometime,” you tell them.

“Spend the night at my professor’s place? Isn’t that wei-? Oh right,” Nina let’s out an awkward chuckle.

You ignore the comment. You know it’s weird. It’s more than weird to be dating your professor. But in a month he won’t be your professor anymore. In a month you won’t have to hide away. Of course, there will be people who still think it’s weird, but it won’t be as frowned upon. You just have to get through this month.

“Suit yourself,” you shrug, zipping up the bag packed full of things you’ll need for the week.

“I thought you were only staying here a week,” Spencer says, eyeing your bloated bag before taking it off your hands and carrying it to his bedroom for you.

“No commenting on my overpacking problem,” you point your finger at him. “It’s better to have things you don’t need then need things you don’t have.”

“I can’t argue with that logic,” he chuckles softly, setting your bag down on his neatly made bed.

He pulls you closer to him, hands on your hips. Yours rest behind his neck, twirling his soft curls in your fingers.

“I’m so relieved to have this week off,” you say with an exaggerated sigh.

“Me too. It’ll allow me to focus on my favorite student,” he winks playfully.

“Ew. Don’t call me your student outside of the classroom. Feels icky.”

“Right,” Spencer says with a soft laugh, it’s tainted with the same mixed feelings you have about your situation.

“Plus you’ll probably be stolen away from me by some needy serial killer.” A pout finds its way to your lips.

“Probably,” he nods, “But it won’t be the whole week.”

“Good,” you say with a soft grin.

“What do you say we break in this week together?” Spencer’s eyebrows wiggle up and down, making you laugh.

“I say you better feed me and let me unpack before we do anything, Doctor.”

“Understandable,” he grins softly.

Spencer orders takeout while you unpack your clothes. He has an empty drawer in his dresser, so you decide to make it yours for the week. You organize your skincare and beauty products neatly the bathroom as to not take up too much space, not that he takes it up either.

“God, I love you.”

“Are you talking to me or the orange chicken?” Spencer laughs, taking a sip of his drink.

“Can a woman not love two things?” You tease, placing down your mostly empty container.

“I’m not sure how someone can be sexy with sauce on their face, but you’ve accomplished that somehow,” he says, leaning in to wipe your bottom lip with a napkin.

A soft blush creeps up on your face as you chuckle at his words.

The honeymoon phase of the relationship is fading, but you still find each other as attractive as ever. The best part about it is that you don’t feel the need to dress up for each other in order to feel sexy. He makes you feel sexy when you’re in sweatpants and one of his t shirts from his days at Caltech. Or when you’re a mess from having just woken up. And you think he’s sexy when he has unruly curls sticking up from his head and a shirt with coffee stains on his body. It’s refreshing in a kind of intimating way.

“I think I may take you up on that offer from earlier.” A smirk lays on your features.

“I don’t recall an offer. Remind me what it was again?”

“Words like that don’t make sense coming from you, Dr. Eidetic memory,” you chuckle softly. “But nice try.”

He rolls his eyes, pulling you onto his lap. The smile stays on your face as you look down into his charming hazel eyes. The color reminds you of a pool of honey. You wouldn’t mind drowning it it.

Spencer’s hands rest on you waist, holding you close to him. Yours claim their spot on his chest as you lean down and press your lips to his.

The kiss is slow and gentle, the two of you taking your time. As your mouths begin to work on each other’s more passionately, your fingers find their way back to his curls.

“Arms up,” Spencer says as he tugs on your top.

You oblige, lifting your arms so he can rid you of your shirt. The sloppy kisses proceed quickly after the shirt is over your head and onto the floor of his living room. His hands trail up your bare skin, sending shivers throughout your body as they make a their way to your chest. They claim the swell of your breasts, squeezing them and massaging them as he continues to kiss you. Soft moans release from your lips into his, and you’re sure you feel him smile at the sounds.

Soon enough, the both of you are stripped down to your underwear. Hickeys are left all over his neck and yours.

You pull away from him, lips kiss- swollen. “I need you to touch me.”

“I have been touching you, darling,” he smiles, his pretty pink lips just as swollen.

“I need you to touch me touch me,” you whine.

“Show me where.”

You take one of the hands that’s on your thighs and move it up until he’s touching the cotton material of your blue underwear. The little bow on it looks all too innocent for this situation.

“Please.” The doe eyes are prominent on your face now, begging him.

“How can I say no to you, my princess?” He smiles, pressing his forehead to yours.

His hand grips your center, fingers brushing against your covered clit.

“Baby, these are soaked,” he says, rubbing his fingers over the material.

You make a soft whimpering noise, moving your hips with desperate need for friction.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” Spencer assures you, his voice soft.

You love this side of him. The gentle, caring Spencer who just wants to please. It’s one of your favorites.

His slips the blue clothing down your legs and onto to floor before his hand returns to the place you need it to be.

With your forehead pressed against his, you have the perfect view of your laps. You see the bulge in his boxers grow as his fingers slip into the wetness between your thighs.

His pace is antagonizingly slow, but you know he just wants to take his time and enjoy this moment with you.

After a while of your noises filling the little bit of space between you two and his fingers slowly pumping inside of you as his thumb works your clit, you can’t take the slow speed any more. You take matters into your own hands, not literally since it’s still his hand, and you roll your hips against him.

Spencer doesn’t argue, he just chuckles teasingly as you ride his fingers. Your whines grow louder until the knot bundled up in your stomach finally releases.

Pants release from your lips as you close your eyes. When you finally open them, you’re greeted with the sight of Spencer’s fingers in his mouth, tongue cleaning off his hand. The sight evokes a low noise from you.

Spencer grins at you as he takes his two fingers from his mouth. He then leans in, kissing you deeply so you can taste the same substance he was enjoying.

“Every day,” he says against your lips. “I want to hear those noises every day.”

A smile creeps up on your face. “I’m not complaining.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, hand going behind your neck to pull you in for another kiss.

Some time, sweat, and moans later, the two of you are reaching your climax together. You’re bouncing on him at a quick pace, and he’s meeting your effort, his hips bucking up each time yours come down.

Heavy pants and groans of each other’s names fill the entire apartment. His hand that’s tangled in your hair tugs somewhat hard, eliciting another loud moan from your tongue. Your nails scratch down his shoulders, leaving red lines on his skin.

When the both of you come down from the high, you stay there for a moment, enjoying the sound of each other’s staggered breathing.

“I love you,” he whispers, his voice raspy.

“I love you too,” you smile against his chest. Your head lingers on his bare skin for a while longer, listening to his heartbeat.

Too soon, you get up off of him and head to the bathroom to clean yourself up.

“Let me help,” Spencer’s soft voice appears behind you as you wipe the insides of your legs.

“You’re always the one to clean up, let me do it,” you say then after you’re done with yourself, you sit him down on the bed and use a damp cloth to clean him as well.

The two of you get dressed in a fresh pair of cozy clothes, and soon you’re wrapped in his arms as the two of you watch some silly sitcom that comes on the tv.

“How much longer will you be gone?” You ask with a pitiful voice.

You’re laying in Spencer’s bed, wearing his t shirt as you watch the ceiling fan spin in circles.

“Should be back tomorrow night. No later than Thursday,” he answers from his side of the phone.

Spencer left yesterday morning for a case, and you’ve been dying of boredom in his apartment alone. You went out with Nina and even watched some movies in Spencer’s living room, but when you weren’t with her or on the phone with Spencer, you’ve been annoyingly bored. And it’s only been 36 hours.

“Okay,” you sigh softly.

“Miss me?”

“You don’t even know.”

“You’re adorable,” he says, and you can practically see his charmingly beautiful smile from a thousand miles away.

“Don’t flatter me, I’m sad.”

“I promise, you’ll be okay.”

“I know, I know,” you groan. “Just be safe, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.”

You’re in his bed, taking a nap to escape the boredom. It’s 3pm on Thursday.

A hand touches your face gently, moving the hair out of your eyes. You shoot up from your spot on his bed, ready to kick whoever that hand belonged to in the balls.

“Oh you’re home,” you smile when you see who it is.

“I am. Thank you for not killing me,” he laughs softly.

“You scared the shit out of me, Spence!”

“I’m sorry! You just looked so pretty all sleepy and snoring.”

“I was not snoring!” You fold your arms in front of your chest.

“A little bit.” He held his pointer finger and thumb close together.

“Shut up.”

He smiles, huffing out a laugh. Spencer crawls next to you in his bed, planting kisses on your face.

“I missed you,” he says against your neck, laying his head on your shoulder.

“I missed you more,” you tell him, smoothing his hair back from his face and planting a kiss on his head.

Spencer, tired from the case, decides to join you in your nap. He lays on your chest, arms wrapped around your torso.

For the last 3 days and 9 hours of Spring break, the two of you spend time together. You go out to eat for fun little dates, watch movies, and of course, have quite a lot of sex.

Monday shows up way too soon, and you’re back to training. The training consists of endurance running, obstacles, shooting, and self defense. Training has been getting more difficult and longer since you’re all getting closer to actually being agents.

By the time training is over, the braids in your hair are practically soaked in sweat and your body aches.

“Just one more month,” Logan, one of yours and Nina’s friends says as he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand.

“We’ve got this,” you say, trying to sound enthusiastic, but just sounding tired.

Once you get back to the dorms, you rush to the shower so you don’t have to be one of the girls who wait in your sweatiness. The cold water that washes off the dirt and stickiness feels amazing on your already sore muscles.

“Miss Y/l/n,” the secretary calls your name, gesturing you to come toward her.

Your hair is still damn from the shower and you’re dressed in the light blue FBI academy t shirt and black jeans.

“Yes ma’am?”

“Mr. Wray would like to see you. Do you know where his office is?”

“Yes, I do,” you nod.

“Alright, thank you,” she says.

“Thank you,” you say back and make your way to the director of the academy’s office.

You’re nervous as shit. What could he want? Maybe he was going to talk to you about being one of the top students. In grades, training, and shooting all averaged up, you come in number two. Technically the salutatorian if they did a special thing like that.

You knock on the door and are welcomed in. “Mr. Wray? You wanted to see me.”

“Yes, take a seat.”

What happens in the next 10 minutes makes you feel like you’re in an alternate reality. And alternate reality where things go horribly wrong, and life absolutely sucks.

“It’s come to my attention that you and one of our professors have been having an inappropriate relationship,” he says, his face stone hard.

Your stomach drops to the floor. This cannot be real.

“Would you care to deny this?”

You shake your head, barely hearing him. There’s no use in defending yourself when it would be lying.

“Miss Y/l/n. You know this is not acceptable. We cannot let this go. It has to be dealt with.”

Dealt with? What the fuck does that mean?

You nod your head, still hanging it low.

“We’re going to have to ask you to drop out.”

Those words do evoke a verbal reaction from you. You look up, eyes wide. “Drop out? What?”

“You’re a bright young lady, and you’d make a great agent, but this is just unacceptable. You can’t continue to be Dr. Reid’s student. It’s a conflict of interest,” he says.

“I- I can’t drop out. I’m so close to graduation!”

“I’m sorry, Miss Y/l/n. I’m not saying I believe this, but if you continue in the academy, people will think your grades reflect the relationship between you and your professor.”

“Oh my God,” you say softly, feeling like you’re going to throw up all over the director’s desk.

“If we kicked you out, it would look bad on your reputation, but if you take our deal and drop out, we’ll make sure to give the best recommendations on your behalf,” he tells you.

You want to punch his stupid, grey bearded face, but you know this isn’t your fault. It’s yours.

“And we’re going to be talking to Dr. Reid as well. He will not be let go, but I assure you, he will facing consequences too,” he says. “Thank you for your time.”

And just like that, the rug containing your entire future is swept out beneath you. All your dreams, all your hard work, all your plans, out the window.

The tears spill over before you can even get to the elevator.

Nina’s in class, where you would be if you hadn’t made such stupid decisions, so you rush to your room, plop on the bed, and let the sobs stream down.

After two hours of pure crying and screaming into your pillow, there’s a knock on your door. “Y/n,” the soft voice says from the other side of the door. “Y/n, can I come in?”

He’s the last person you want to see right now, but he comes in anyway after a while of silence from your end.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He sits down beside you on the bed. “Why weren’t you in class?”

He doesn’t know. They haven’t talked to him yet. Of course they haven’t, he was in class.

“I was pulled into the director’s office today,” you tell him, not getting up from your spot.

“What? Why?”

You sit up, revealing your red, tear stained face. “He told me I have to drop out of the academy. He said it’s a conflict of interest- you being my professor. He said my grades could be a reflect of our relationship and not my brain.”

“That’s ridiculous! You’re super smart!” Spencer said, reaching his hand to touch your knee, but you move your leg away from him.

“Well, apparently I’m not as smart as I thought I was because I got tangled up in some fairytale. I got tangled up in you.”

“Y/n..”

“No. Spencer you don’t get it. All you’re getting is a slap on the wrist. Because you’re well respected, and you’re a man, and you’re you. I’m getting my career taken from me,” you say with a shaky voice.

“You’re right… it’s not fair,” Spencer’s voice is soft, he looks down.

“No. No it’s really fucking not.” You run your hands down your face.

“i can’t ask you to let us make this work- make us work- because I know how much this field means to you,” he says softly.

Exactly. You know how much this means to me, and because of you it’s all being thrown away. You want to say this to him, but you can’t. You had just as much part in it as he did.

“I think this is it, Dr. Reid,” you say instead.

The look on his face tells you he wants to say to hell with that. He wants to march up to the people who are kicking you out and rip them a new one. More importantly, he wants to keep you. “I understand,” is what he decides on.

You can’t even watch him walk away. Instead, your eyes stay on the carpet of your dorm room, well the dorm room you’ve spent the past few months in that isn’t yours anymore. The feeling that courses through your veins is one of total heart wrenching pain.

You want to scream. You want to throw things at the wall. But you don’t do either of those things. Instead, you call the one person who may be able to make this somewhat better. You call your dad.

Four years later:

The Academy people made a special deal with you and with the LAPD: your grades and scores would transfer over, and all you had to do was the final tests in order to become a cop. They told the LAPD that you were released because of a conflict of interest and not anything too discrediting on your part.

You were only a uniformed cop for 20 months, and now you’re a detective. It’s not exactly what you’d dreamed of almost your entire life, but it’s not too many steps down from it.

Your training with case work has made you become a respectful detective, but occasionally you run into cops and detectives who have heard rumors about why the FBI didn’t work out for you. It’s a little awkward and annoying for you because you know some of these men think you fucked your way to get here. But really, you got fucked. Fucked over.

Of course, you know this is your fault. You shouldn’t have been in a relationship with your professor. It was stupid and unprofessional.

But a part of you doesn’t entirely regret it. You loved him. He was an important part of your life. You don’t regret him, but you regret letting the relationship ruin your career plans.

At least you have this job. The cases aren’t as hard or interesting as they were during training or how they would be if you were in the FBI, but they’re still stimulating enough for the brain.

And there is a plus side to being in Los Angeles; you’re only 6 hours from your family instead of across the whole damn country. And on a detective’s salary, you can afford to book a flight to San Francisco every month to see your dad and brothers.

“You called in the FBI without my permission? This is my case.” You said, crossing your arms around your chest.

“It’s our case, Detective Y/l/n,” your coworker, Detective Liam Taylor, says from his seat on the desk.

“It’s my case. I asked you for an opinion.”

“And my opinion was to call in reinforcements, but no someone’s too stubborn.”

“I can do this case.”

“Y/n,” he sighs. “I know you can do this. But some cases need fresh eyes. And cases like this need the extra professionalism of the FBI.”

You sit down on the edge of his desk. “Fine. You’re probably right.”

“I’m always right.”

“Don’t push it, Taylor,” you point your finger at him.

Detective Taylor and you did not get along at first. You’re both stubborn, opinionated, and smart. And he’s flirty. And you’re kind of a hard ass, but you’ll never admit that out loud.

“What group did you call in?”

“The BAU.”

“What?” Your eyes widen.

“The Behavioral Analysis Unit. You know the fancy one that uses more psychology than-”

“I know what the BAU is, Taylor,” you roll your eyes.

“Then what’s the confusion?”

“Nothing,” you say with a shake of your head. “Give them my number. It’s still my case.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Detective,” you correct as you hop off his desk and sit down at yours.

Shit. The BAU is coming to help with your case. The same unit your ex is most likely still a part of. But perhaps you’re lucky enough for him to have retired early or become a full time professor.

After you moved back to California, you cut off all ties with Dr. Reid. You even refrained from googling him and the BAU. So you have no idea how his work life has been going these past few years.

You find out the next morning that you’re not as lucky as you hoped. The very same Spencer Reid you loved years ago walks down the jet stairs behind the rest of the team. Most of these guys you met when you and Reid were dating, but some are new faces.

“Agent Y/l/n,” you introduce yourself. “I’m so sorry to ask this, but who’s the Unit Chief? My fellow detective called in for back up, so he’s the one you talked to.”

“I am.”

Those two words made you want to throw the fuck up. It wasn’t the two syllables that made that feeling bubble up in your stomach. It was the person who said it.

Unit Chief Dr. Spencer Reid.

Another part of you would be incredibly happy for him, but since it’s your case he’s joining, you’re not.

“Great,” you force a smile on your face. “It’s nice to meet all of you. If you’ll follow me, we can head to the precinct.”

Tara Lewis, Luke Alvez, and Jennifer Jareau are the only agents you met other than Spencer that are still a part of the BAU.

You just hope they forgot about you. It has been four years. But too bad for you, Dr. Reid has an eidetic memory, and you know he hasn’t forgotten a single thing.

Surprisingly, you get through the few days of the case with professionalism and hard work. The BAU was extremely helpful in finding key details you and Detective Taylor couldn’t. They also didn’t entirely take the case away from you. You still got to be a part of everything.

“I’m still waiting for my thank you for calling in the BAU,” Liam says as you sit on his desk again, sighing.

“Thanks,” you glare at him.

“What’s your deal? You’ve been weird all week,” he eyes you.

“I have not been weird.”

“Denial is not a cute look on you, Y/l/n.”

“I have history with the BAU,” you tell him with another sigh. “Well, sort of.”

“What the hell does that mean?” He laughs softly.

“The Unit Chief. We uh…”

“Please don’t tell me you hooked up with the head of the BAU.”

“Worse. I dated him,” you plop your head into your hands.

“Holy shit, Y/l/n!”

“Don’t tell anyone. Please. I’m trusting you.”

He tosses his hands up. “I won’t.”

“Detective, can we speak with you?” Dr. Reid says calmly.

You stand up, smoothing down your dark purple button up. Dreadfully, you follow him to one of the rooms on this floor of the precinct.

“Did something happen?” You question.

“No,” he says, turning around to face you.

“Then what are we doing, Dr?”

He furrows his eyebrows a bit with that comment. “I need to talk to you.”

“No,” you say immediately. “I’m not talking to you about anything non-work related.” You turn to leave and he grabs your hand gently.

“It is work related.”

“Okay?” You raise your eyebrows.

“The truth is, I knew this was your case,” he tells you. Before you can respond, he starts talking again. “And the section chief wanted me to take it not just because it was interesting, but because he’s interested in you.”

“What?” You give him a weird look.

He looks different than he did four years ago. He’s older, of course, but he’s aging like fine wine. At almost 40 years old, Spencer is just as beautiful and hot as ever. The hair on his face is neat and scruffy at the same time. His hair’s a little longer. He’s- shit. You cannot be thinking of him like that right now. Or ever again.

“He wants to interview you. An agent just retired and they’re looking for someone with experience and and a fresh, young mind,” Dr. Reid tells you.

“And they want the woman they forced to drop out?”

“They want an interview. They want to give you another chance. It’s another unit in Quantico. It’s two floors down from the BAU.”

You bounce your leg, thinking. “I’ll think about it.”

Spencer nods. “Okay. But if it’s worth anything, I think you should do it. This is what you’ve wanted for forever. You deserve it.”

“Thank you for your support, Dr. Reid, but I don’t need it. I can make decisions on my own.”

“I know you can,” he says softly. “Good work on the case. I wish you well.”

Spencer turns away, leaving the room.

The BAU is leaving tomorrow morning, and you’re extremely relieved for things to go back to normal.

Laying in bed after taking a much need warm shower, you can’t help but think of him. For four years, you’ve been building your reputation in the LAPD and trying to erase the lingering kisses and effect Dr. Reid had on you.

Just as you were finally being successful in that, he flies in and ruins everything. And you’re pissed about it.

If he would’ve just stayed out of your life since that horrid day you were told to drop out of the FBI Academy, you could’ve moved on completely and left him behind. But now all you can think about is how there’s a man in Quantico wanting to interview you for a job that you’ve dreamed of for half your life. And the annoying thoughts of Spencer Reid are crammed in there along with the interview.

Sleep is not something that‘s coming easy for you tonight. You’re used to it though. The tough cases you get can haunt you at times, the poor victims and evil faces keeping up up longer than you’d like. But it’s different now.

Your life has been shaped nicely during the past four years, and it’s taken hard work on your part. You can’t just pack up and leave.

You finally fell asleep convincing yourself of this, but in the morning, you make a possibly idiotic decision.

You get ready quickly and rush to the airport where the BAU will be boarding soon.

“Dr. Reid!” You yell. “Dr. Reid! Spencer!” Running and yelling is something you’ve gotten pretty good at since starting at the LAPD.

He turns around and you finally catch up to him. He nods for the rest of the team to go ahead and board the jet and wait on him.

“Y/n? What-?”

“Can you give me his email? I’ll take the interview,” you breathe out.

“Really?“ He says with a slight smile.

“Yeah,” you nod. “You were right. I’ve wanted this for forever.”

“I’m proud of you,” he says as you draft an email to the section chief so his address will be saved.

“Thank you,” you shoot him a small smile. “You know, um, if I happen to get the job we’ll only be two floors away.”

“That’s true,” he says.

“Maybe if you see me around, you’ll want to ask me for a date.” You can’t believe the words are coming out of your mouth, but you’ve become more confident and a go getter since you’ve grown. You’re 29 years old now. You know what you want. “That is if you aren’t with anyone.”

“I think you can expect a date offer from me,” he smiles, the beautiful dimples showing on his face.

“Good,” you smile back, biting your lip gently.

“I-I’ve got to go,” he points his thumb to the jet. “But I hope to see you soon.”

“Have a safe flight,” you tell him.

Maybe things don’t always work out like people plan, but you know now that it’s true when people say ‘when one door closes, another door opens’ now matter how corny it sounds.

A door slammed in your face four years ago, and a slightly smaller one opened just after. And now a huge gate is letting you in, giving you the life you’ve worked for.

and that’s all guys:) if there’s a request, I will write up a little epilogue. i hope you guys enjoyed this story! i’m sorry if this last chapter is rushed and super long, i just wanted to cover everything. love you guys!

tags: @reidsprettygirl @reidsmilf @reidslovely @awhoreforspencerreid @sexualityisajoke @nomajdetective @kenreadsfanfics @calicocatty @hotchandspencearedilfs @kodiakwhiskey @rory-cakes @444verse @kbakery @crynroom <3

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terriblesportsimagines · 2 years

Note

Can i get a dry humping scenario with agon, clifford, yamato, kakei pls? Thnk you!😘

This ask was sent in between the last two openings and I debated on whether to answer it since it was sent what the ask box was closed. However, I decided to in the end, so here it is.

Headcanons instead of scenarios as per the rules. Though it's probably a weird mix of both like so many of this round are...

Agon Kongo

Not above manipulating your body to get what he wants, even if you are in public.

Would much rather touch and bite than have you fully clothed and grinding against him, but sometimes… sometimes he demands it.

It depends on his mood, but he rarely helps you. He’ll give you an appendage to press against, but he mostly just watches. He’d never thought he’d be turned on so much just by being used for your pleasure.

Watch out for the later cost, however.

Mostly he wants to hear your whine and cry as you work yourself up into a frenzy against him. Enjoys the feeling of you pressed against him, but he likes it even more if you beg.

Beg him to help you, occasionally he’s generous.

There are other times when he’s irritated and impatient, these are the times he’s most likely to help you, mostly because you aren’t going fast or hard enough. This time, you’ll be pressed against a wall, hip to hip and he’s doing the humping and grinding.

The submission in your climax is what he’s after in these particular moments. Come against him, and make him come, and you’re in for a treat later.

Clifford D. Lewis

He likes control too, but he’s not unwilling to let you do what you will with his person.

Mostly he just likes watching you wiggle and writhe against him. The way you flush and pant is a turn on he can’t ignore. Good thing this man has patience.

It’s almost always his thigh he lets you use, it’s puts him in a good position to see the most of you he can.

Can be a little bit of an exhibitionist, and he prefers to consume when in bed, so this kind of sexual contact generally plays out in semi-public or public spaces, like bars, casinos, parties, etc.

It’s so easy to put you in his lap and slip his leg between yours and press just right to get you started and let you know what he wants. Can be facing forwards or backwards, it just depends on where you are exactly.

Closes his eyes and feels you rock slowly against his thigh, and a smirk curls in the corner of his lips, knowing that you were just getting more frustrated by doing this here.

Can feel every twitch and moment of tension so knows exactly where you are in your journey, but he also knows you will never get to the end at your pace and any quicker would alert those around you to what you were doing.

In the end, he’s not too masochistic, so when you are at the point where you’re suffering the most, he makes his excuses (or doesn’t, which is more common) and drags you away by the wrist.

Wherever the closest bit of privacy is, is where he takes you. Murmurs praises and filth in your ear as his hand works you. Even if it’s not the most private of places, he uses his big body and loose jacket to shield you so that no one can see you or what he’s doing to you.

Not happy unless you come all over his fingers, covers your noise with his mouth and rumbles approval.

Prepare to be ridden hard the moment he gets you to bed.

Yamato Takeru

Definitely the one doing the humping. Though he likes to see you like that sometimes, he’s generally too impatient.

It’s a bad habit of his, full body pressing you from behind. If there’s nothing in front of you to hold onto, his hands on your hips are enough to get what he wants. Just as bad a habit of nudging your ass with his pelvis and pushing. He’s seeking, but he’s not necessarily pushing you.

His cock just likes your ass, at least, that’s what he whispers into your ear on occasion.

Isn’t much for public romps, except for the small flirt of something more. He’s impatient, but he’s aware of your needs and would never embarrass you or ask too much.

Generally means that by the time he actually gets you alone, he’s tense and filled with the need to fuck you. Its in these moments that he’s the most likely to ‘assault’ your person lol

Sees it as teasing if you don’t focus on him the moment you’re alone, you know how hard he is, and you aren’t paying attention –it’s your fault.

This is where his teasing nature comes out. Will absolutely bend you over the nearest flat surface and rock his cock against your ass, using the friction of his clothes to take what he wants. However, most of the time, you find yourself on your back somewhere – he’s not picky – and he’s wrapped your legs around his hips.

The hold on your hips is tight in his big hands and he yanks you against him and grinds over and over again until he’s on the brink and you’re panting and whining beneath him. Feels accomplished if you beg him to fuck you properly.

Never comes this way though – he could, but he’d so much rather be wrapped in you. It’s just more satisfying that way.

Kakei Shun

It’s accidental and more a product of aggressive cuddling than anything.

It starts with you on top of him, your cheek on his shoulder as he reads around you. He’s a big guy, tall and well-muscled, these are his favorite moments. Loves the feeling of you pressed completely against him without him having to move or do anything special.

It’s innocent… at first. You’re stretched out and your legs are tangled with his, but then one of them shifts just right and drags against his cock. In an instant he can feel every single inch of you and he’s aware of even more.

He’s annoyed by his response to something so small, but it doesn’t stop him from escalating. Soon he’s trapping your leg between his and pushing his hips into it at an increasing pace.

Doesn’t take long for you to take notice.

He’s beyond caring if you tease him by that point. No matter what you say, he pushes you up, and shoves you into the position he wants you – straddling his hips with you fit tightly against him.

It becomes a race now, since he’s induced you into it. Takes a sharp breath if you run your hands over his chest. You catch the rhythm quickly and create a special kind of rocking, lifting twist motion that has his mind blanking. He can’t feel you directly, but he can imagine it, he can even taste it, and it’s enough to send him hurtling towards his end.

If you really want to destroy him, take his cock out of his pants and stroke with your hand while you rock against it. He’s a man with a decent amount of pride, but in that moment, he’s completely yours to play with.

#eyeshield 21 #agon kongo #clifford d lewis #yamato takeru #kakei shun #lemony headcanons

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clownsuu · 2 years

Note

Can we get some sun and or maybe some djmm hcs? 👀 (awesome art btw!! Ur designs r so cool)

Thank you for the praise my guy!! I'm really glad a lot of you guys enjoy my designs!

Since sun has been talked about in mass by others, I think ill use this ask to finally give long awaited DJMM headcanons I have been asked countless of times- (plus I rarely see stuff for him) (note some of these details might go against canon)

This is be a master character post per say-? Put any details that my human DJ has

(Normal lighting) (Two old photos and two new lmao)

Finally colored DJ- reminds me of cotton candy hdhJDHD

(Long post)

(Black Light)

-Dj music man typically goes by DJ or (the) Music Man (DJ just so happens to be his initials)

-His height is AROUND 12 feet

-Excellent memory

-He is blind and used to have eyes, til vanny decided to give him the ol’ one two into the sockets (didn’t see it coming smh was distracted by a panicked child)

-His hearing? Absolutely incredible- he can distinguish people solely by the way they walk

-His hearing? A little too good- can get extremely overstimulated by noises if his headphones are off for too long (his headphones mute 50% of the noise he can hear) (can still hear incredibly well with them on)

-His eye sockets are empty and basically filled with void space (don’t stick your grubby fingers in them though it feels REALLY weird)

-He’s a bouncer! And ever since the incident happened, he has taken his job a lot more seriously and never takes a case half hazardously-

-The black circle and lines on his chest are speakers! If he feels he’s not loud enough he will turn them on (even tho he’s large as shit)

-The scars on his hands and partially on his arms are mishaps that has happened during the first few months of his blindness- really hard to feel around-

-A major sense he uses is (also) touching, since he can’t see things, he has to touch stuff. Due to his mishaps, he has learned to be gentle with his hands (get ur head outta the gutter)

-The parts of his body that glows under black light is not paint

-A huge fucking tease- like damn what the f u c k- will say and do anything to make anyone wiggle in embarrassment

-Just because I can do this- he has 5 kids just named the music men (yes, (un)officially making him a himbo AND dilf) he loves them all

-He doesn’t like talking about his ex wife (they signed off before he went blind)

-His stage set is covered in stickers and such by Sun who wanted to make it easier for him to navigate through the buttons and switches by texture

-Goes on twice weekly exercises with Chica, sometimes Roxy and Monty as well

-His personality ranges from chaotic, sly, and teasing, to wholesome caring, and even fatherly, thankfully, he mostly knows when’s the best time to be which

-He’s fast as fuck boi

-Yes- his area does still have tunnels and he can easily access them by merely pulling himself up into them lmAO (it makes it a lot easier to hear around the area for any suspicious sounds

-His favorite composer comes from the classical musical genius, cupcakke jdhdJDHDHDHD

-He fucking loves shrimp cocktails (and any party foods really)

-Someone said he looked like he'd have a voice similar to corpse- I personally do not know what to do with that info hddhJDHDHDJ-

More will probably be added later if I can think of anything else hddhJDHDH- but for now, do with this info whatever you want- as long as it’s nOT

I L L E G A L.

#Seriously don't do illegal shit that's crusty #That's literally all I ask hfhHDHD #Fnaf #Fnaf sb #Fnaf djmm #dj music man #fnaf music man #djmm #fnaf dj music man #music man #fnaf djmm

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stray-tickles · 2 years

Text

Childish

Read on AO3

Jon had never been any good with people.

Sometimes he tried. Sometimes he didn’t. Regardless, the result was almost always the same. Him stammering and stuttering and walking away. Friends were few and far between, mostly classmates who he had spent enough time with that they must have reached that milestone, but Jon didn’t feel like he knew very well.

He did know Tim and Sasha. They were often in his space and sometimes loud, and they never seemed to want to leave him alone. Even if they weren’t talking at him, they were always near, hanging around research after hours when Jon was trying to catch up on work, buying far too much food and then all but forcing Jon to help finish it, dragging him away from his work when he was almost done.

For as annoying as they could be, Jon found that he… enjoyed the time they spent together. He felt awkward at times, not sure how to be in the face of Tim’s bold personality and Sasha’s knowing nature, and even still, he liked being around them.

That was why he’d accepted when Tim had invited him over for a movie night with him and Sasha. There were so many social engagements that sounded so draining that Jon could barely think about them without feeling overwhelmed, but… a movie night with two other people? That would be okay. Maybe even fun.

Maybe Tim and Sasha would want to be his friends.

“So!” Tim said enthusiastically. “Jason Bourne?”

Sasha scoffed. “No.”

“Aww, Jon come on, back me up here!”

Jon startled. “Oh- um, I don’t really watch many films. Mostly documentaries, really.”

Sasha gasped. “Ooh, you might like the Martian!”

“No!” Tim groaned. “Not the Martian again Sasha, we’ve watched it like five times!”

“It’s good!”

“It’s not good five times.”

She grinned. “Well maybe it’ll be good six times!”

“No. I refuse to watch the Martian ever again in my life. You can’t make me.”

Sasha’s grin turned wicked. “Oh, can’t I?”

Tim must have caught something in her eye that Jon didn’t, because he shot off the couch, out of her reach. “Not if you can’t catch me!”

Jon watched bemusedly as Sasha caught him with ease, playfully tackling him to the floor, and the next thing he knew Tim was shrieking with laughter, stirring an odd, sour feeling in Jon’s stomach.

Sasha laughed evilly. “Say we’ll watch the Martian! Say it!”

Tim batted at her, snorting. “N-never!!”

She tutted. “So be it.” And slid one hand up his shirt to tickle at his stomach.

Jon rolled his eyes half-heartedly. “Must you always be so childish?” He grumbled, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the odd emotion stirring inside him.

Sasha released Tim with one last pinch of his stomach. “Yep, more fun.” She countered.

Tim crawled onto the sofa beside Jon, still grinning widely. “I take it you’re not ticklish then?” He asked, and before Jon had the chance to reply with ‘of course not’, reached over and gave his side a quick squeeze.

The touch sent an odd sensation shooting up Jon’s spine, eliciting a yelp he couldn’t contain and… oh. It seemed he was suddenly on the floor.

And Tim and Sasha were both grinning at him.

Oh.

“Ah. U-um…”

Tim’s smile grew. “Oh, I have never been happier to be wrong in my life.”

Jon felt like he had become prey. “Wait- wait, Tim!”

Tim pounced with no preamble, hands immediately latching onto Jon’s sides and wiggling, and how did it feel like that? Admittedly Jon wasn’t someone well versed on physical contact, but Tim’s fingers felt like lightning, he had no chance to resist, no hope of doing anything but… laughing?

God, it was so strange! Tim was just poking at him, really, and it- it tickled, Jon accepted, curled up into a ball on the living room floor, squeaky giggles that he was certain he had never produced in his life bubbling forth from his mouth.

Well, this is new.

All of a sudden, Tim stopped. “Okay, okay, I won’t be too cruel.” He chuckled, ruffling Jon’s hair.

Jon looked up at him with wide eyes. Cruel? That wasn’t cruel, it was… fun. New and surprising and- nice. “Wait!” He blurted impulsively. “Try that again?”

They both snorted. “No chance you’re convincing us you’re not ticklish now.” Tim joked, poking him in the ribs and sending another bolt of sensation through Jon’s form, which was endlessly fascinating.

Jon’s hand wrapped around the spot as if to savour the lingering feeling. He poked experimentally, but felt nothing.

Sasha’s smiled softened when she realised what had happened. “Jon.” She said. “Did you know that you’re ticklish?”

Jon looked up at her in surprise, his expression closing in more to being defensive when he caught the amusement. “I- no one ever told me!” He blustered. “I-I thought it was some odd personality quirk or something!”

Tim snorted into his hand, trying not to find this too funny. “Personality quirk?”

“Well how was I supposed to know it was a-an actual sensation?”

Sasha smirked, leaning forwards on the arm of the sofa, ready to attack. “I bet you’ve got other spots too.”

Tim snorted. “Don’t kill him, Sasha.”

“I’m just curious!” She countered, lowering herself to their level on the carpeted floor but keeping her hands to herself for now. “Besides, you did say to try that again, right Jon?”

“Run.” Tim joked. “While you still can.”

Sasha glared playfully and, because she could, pounced towards Tim, digging her fingers into his stomach, and making him burst into silly cackles. “Didn’t take your own advice, hmm?”

“Sash!” Tim shrieked, half curling into a ball and clinging to her wrists, but clearly not pushing her away very hard.

Jon watched their playful tussle curiously. They both looked so happy, smiling and laughing like that. Knowing that Tim’s squealing laughter was utterly beyond his control did make it feel that bit less obnoxious. Perhaps he’d just been jealous of their closeness.

Oh.

Yes, he’d definitely been jealous.

A hand closed around Jon’s ankle, making him yelp loudly even as he realised he was being dragged into the fray. Tim wheezed a laugh. “Bad move, not paying attention!”

Jon probably could have fought back if he’d wanted to, kicked, or squirmed free, but… he couldn’t find a good reason to resist. He wanted this, even past his own curiosity. Tim and Sasha were his friends, that was certain now, and they were just playing. They were dragging him over there because they wanted him to do the same, wanted to make him laugh and smile like they were, and Jon didn’t want to fight against that.

That said, he couldn’t exactly stop himself from twisting away from the grabby hand squeezing at his side, making him squeak loudly. Unfortunately, moving away from one hand sent him right into another, this one gently spidering over his stomach, and the next thing Jon knew he’d curled up into a ball and clamped his hands over his face, squealing at every new touch.

Tim laughed, holding Jon’s elbow with one hand and poking at his side with the other. “Aw, you’re like a squeaky toy.” He teased.

Sasha was grinning too; Jon could just about see her through his fingers and his twitching. “So, sides and stomach, not a bad start.”

“I dunno, we haven’t confirmed it yet.” Tim said. “Hey Jon, for research purposes, does this tickle?”

His hand switched from poking to grabbing Jon’s side in some kind of vibrating claw that made him shriek and burst out into bright laughter, his arm finally pushing back to try to defend the spot.

The claw quickly froze, though Sasha’s nails scratching and tapping over his stomach was more than enough to keep Jon giggling, much as he tried to stop.

Tim put a hand over his heart. “Sasha, look.” He said, only half teasing. “Jon can smile.”

Sasha snickered, “I don’t know.” She poked at Jon’s upper ribs, trying to worm a finger under his arm. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Jon’s hands stayed firmly clamped over his increasingly flushed face. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this hard. Could barely remember the last time he’d laughed at all. And now he was here, lying on the floor between his mischievous friends as they tickled all that laughter out of him, and he- he loved it.

Sasha’s nails shifted from wiggling at his ribs to gently scratching about his neck and ears. Jon was fairly certain his voice couldn’t actually go that high, but apparently not. “C’mon, let me see that smile.” She teased.

Having a fight to win only made Jon more stubborn, even when she found a spot just behind his right ear that made him honest-to-god snort. Part of him wanted to fight back, wanted to push at them and try to tickle them just because he could, because he wanted to play like that and see them smile and laugh like this, but his limbs felt like they were made of lead and he felt more than a little giddy from… everything.

Sasha giggled. “Oh, I think I can see it there!” She teased, fingers moving to trace over the parts of his jaw and cheeks not covered by his hands.

Jon squeaked, melting into the ground, trying to will his hands to cover more of his still widening grin. This was ridiculous, he knew, they’d definitely seen him smile before and anyway, it was hardly a secret or something to hide, but that somehow only made it worse. The knowledge that he shouldn’t feel embarrassed or flustered only made him feel more embarrassed and flustered, especially when all he wanted was for this to continue.

A hand started squeezing at his kneecap and Jon shrieked, kicking and rolling from side to side in an attempt to shake Tim loose, his giggles giving way to pitchy laughter.

Sasha fluttered her fingers behind his ears, catching Tim’s eye and grinning. This was too much fun. “Such a cute little smile!” She cooed, the edges of it now quite visible around Jon’s twitchy hands.

“N-no!” He protested, not even sure why.

“Sorry, evidence says I’m right,” Sasha laughed. “Very cute smile.”

In a last-ditch effort to retain some modicum of dignity, Jon swung hard and rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in the carpet, his now free hands batting at Sasha’s, still trying to kick away Tim to no avail.

Tim and Sasha laughed at his meagre defence, the sound making Jon want to curl up into a smiley melted ball. His thoughts had been reduced to giggly mush.

Those wicked nails wiggled into a particularly bad spot behind his ear, and Jon snorted and turned his head to block them on impulse. Then he opened his eyes and saw Sasha smiling back at him, alerting him too late to her trap.

“There, see?” She teased, wiggling her fingers until his chin. “Such a cute smile.”

Jon squeaked and buried his chin in his chest, but didn’t otherwise hide his face. He wasn’t sure he even had the energy to, as drunk on laughter as he was. He did squeeze his eyes shut, if only because he couldn’t stand the gentle affection in Sasha’s eyes.

Sasha couldn’t stop smiling if she wanted to. Jon was honestly too cute. “Had enough?”

Jon didn’t answer, giggling and jerking from Tim’s fingers dancing in the spots behind his knees.

She laughed. “I think you’re done, hmm? Last thing anyone wants is for you to die laughing.”

Privately, Jon didn’t think that was a bad way to go. Once Tim had stopped, he curled up into a ball, shaking with residual giggles. Sasha pressed a somewhat hesitant kiss to his cheek, which only made him feel even more melted.

Tim chuckled, ruffling Jon’s hair. “Documentary then?”

Sasha nodded. “As if anyone could say no to that face.”

Jon said nothing. In honesty he was a little confused about how he was supposed to exist now, all bubbly and giddy. Tim seized the remote from the sofa, Sasha dragged the throw pillows down, tugging Jon into a sitting position and shoving a pillow behind his back. The familiar sounds of the BBC filled his ears, replacing the jumpy happiness with something softer and more peaceful.

It was easy to melt, when Tim flung an arm over his shoulders to hold Sasha’s hand. They were friends, after all.

#JonTimSasha #tickle fic #my fic #ticklish!Jon #Fluff #Could be pre-polychives #tma tickles

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

Text

Summary: Y/N's feeling icky about her body, but Harry loves her to bits and pieces, through thick and thin, in health and sick — and he always waits for her to come back to him.

TW: Body dysmorphia.

Y/N's healthy.

All she sucks in is having a sane sleeping schedule due to her UNI otherwise she eats natural goodies, cook and bake home because it comforts her more that way and she works out every evening to stay fit.

Sometimes though, she’s lazy and lacks behind which’s proper humane but deep down it effects her and her mental health more than she admits and she isn’t able to start over again – it mostly happens after her periods.

Harry loves her the way she’s.

Even if she’s clumsy, bumbling, procrastinating, overly enthusiastic to mend her life at 3 am, snotty and sloth-y in her periods, confident and positive around people, kind and loving whenever she comes to meet him, whiny and cuddly when she’s sick, jealous and grumpy with his attention not on her —- he loves her in every way possible, to rivers and to sea his love could never stutter for her ever.

He loves how she’s not overly toned, having soft squishy spots which Harry undeniably wants to admire and kiss shamelessly amount of times -- like -- her plummy pretty thighs that Harry likes to nestle his head in-between making her wriggle and squirm under his grasp, her overly cute tummy that Harry dies to pepper sweet adoring kisses and petal his lips round her belly button, everytime they’re cuddled up his bicep’s always looped her around her tummy to feel it rising up and down in calm rhythm, and oh! her tender titties, they’re actually his favourite babies and he loves to fondle them in his big calloused palms brushing his thumb over the sensitive perky nub and basks in the glittery whimpery mewls of hers.

He loves that she’s curvy and gives zero fucks if she’s skinny or not.

He thinks his baby’s perfect.

So perfect he actually feels the bubbling of devotion and affection filling to the brim of his heart’s chambers and leaking out and upon his ribs tickling him.

Y/N's his person and he worships her with his whole heart.

From some days though, she’s feeling devastatingly insecure about all her things Harry’s in love with and she has no-control over it how much she tries.

Harry’s observing that all with optimism (one of his great quality's that like a lion sly about his prey, he keeps an eye on everything but pretends otherwise). He has his intense gaze fixed on her when she’s taking a look of herself in the mirror for rather too long, running her hands down her body and practically shuddering.

He glances from over his laptop and drops everything he's doing watching her go monkies, sweating buckets and over exercising than her usual time.

He brings her closer and infront of him, pressing her to his chest and coiling his forearm around her shoulders whining a, “Baby..!” when they were brushing their teeth and despite of standing beside him and teasing him occasionally like she usually does she stuffs her face into the crest of his back and hides herself there to have minimal contact with her reflection in the mirror.

Her body dysmorphia spiking dangerously high.

“Deprived me of your cuddles. woke me up so early, granny.” She huffs lying through her teeth and how much his embrace was strong enough to keep her in place she still managed to wiggle out taking her previous cosy position, but he could feel her muscles tensing and an awkward silence falling over them.

He didn’t pry much. He wants to give her as much space as she requires to come back to him hale and hearty, as she always does and whatever happens he never forgets to remind her how much he loves her every night.

They were watching rom-coms on Netflix back to back with her curled up into his side with a spongy white wool knitted blanket thrown over them and his cheek was smashed atop her head popping in peanuts every now and then when out of certain she spoke pointing at the actress, “You know she got her ribs removed to get that shrinky waist.” Harry frowned at that. His face itching into disbelief and concern under the bouncing glow of telly.

He affixes his gaze down at her trying to read what’s cooking up in that genius brain of her's which isn’t being very rational and genius right now, they immediately turns soft and caring when she blinks up at him purely.

She squeaks, nose crashing against his collarbones when he scooches her up in his lap grabbing onto her knees to make her straddle his torso and he grumbles cutely when she tries not put all of her weight on him and doesn’t melts into him as his sweet lovie would used to do receiving a smack on her bum on his end.

He’s afraid that an evil version of her chomped onto his dear baby alive.

“Nothing else matters if all ye’ organs are packed safely and healthily inside you,” He tells her brushing loose frays of her hair behind her earlobe and rubs his thumb in gentle strokes over her treacly pulsing point, “Was just telling you ...” She mumbles, dotting touches on his knuckles and playing with his bare cold fingers.

It’s true, she was rambling out facts about the movie and cast out of habit because no-way she’d ever go through any surgeries to change herself to become someone she isn’t.

“Swear!” She yawps out in convincing high pitch when Harry squints down at her with his lips scrunched, one eye twitching in doing so.

“Alrighty. I believe you.” He cradles her cheeks in his palms and brings her mighty close to him to peck her cupid bow, then her bottom lip and the corners of her smiling mouth to suckle generous amount of whines from her and then kisses her lovingly – hands streaming down her spine and then resting atop her dip.

He thought she was ready to come back to him, to share her problem with him and Harry really wanted to bug in, to not let her fight her battle alone and take half of her hardships from her fretting self but guess not.

They were about to have sex when panic seeped in Y/N's eyes and her cheeks blazed up in that of embarrassment as she rushed to switch off the lamps that were the only source of light in their room.

“Moppet.” Harry sighed, knowing exactly what’s happening and she isn’t as foxy in covering it up as she’s thinking herself to be.

“Why wouldn’t y'want me t'see gorgeous self of yours?” His tone punctured and hurt, feeling useless for not knowing how to cheer her up and break her worries down. He smoothens his hands behind her to lock his arm around her waist, fingertips making grape sized indents into the flesh of her hip-bone as she streaks the tip of her nose up and down the crook of his neck, murmuring meekly against his salty skin while he hugs her warmly.

“’M just feelin’ shy.” He giggles at her response puckering his lips against her hairline to pet tiny, tiny kisses there as she fists her hands against his taught chest.

“Not somethin’ I haven’t seen before, love bug.” He blows raspberries against the underside of her jaw and their mouths meet into a messy, giggling, teeth clanking kiss when she sinks into pillows allowing him to cocoon her in his heat.

“I love you, Y/N. No matter what.”

The last dam breaker for them was this little get together at Sarah and Mitch's baby shower.

She matched her outfit with Harry. Cute lavender coloured little sweater blouse that was familiar to the baggy baby yarn cardigan Harry was wearing, it accentuated her curves and her bosom so prettily -- her midriff peeking from where the buttons weren’t closed and their jeans were painted (they did it themselves one Sunday when it was extra boring and inactive).

Y/N felt uncomfortable in her own clothes. A bitterness spreading inside her for herself and all she wanted was to escape away from her own skin.

She knows she’s loved and welcomed and cherished by her friends and family and the love of her life, most importantly. Then why was she feeling so icky about herself? Why everything's draining her and exhausting her?

Harry obviously could see through the gloomy tenebrous energy overshadowing her as he stood in the corner of the room grabbing the sorbet he poured in two glasses for them.

A sour guzzle of tears choking his throat and his limbs weakening letting the painful heartbreak seep into him when he watches her being fidgety and fiddling with the loops of her jeans, tugging her blouse every passing second and he’s sniffling a hiccup deep in his lungs when she shrinks into herself in dejection staring out of the window without any purpose.

Harry feels awful to startle her when he plops down beside her, coodling her closer to himself and tucks her head beneath his chin subtly and cups his palm under her jaw to make her look in eyes his eyes.

“Hi beautiful,” His tone had a saddening waver in it and his irises mossed bleak when Y/N remains unresponsive, zoning in and out of her own head feeling herself prisoned into her own invasive thoughts.

“You w'na go home darling?” He gives her a wet smile clearing his throat and blinking the stubborn moisture in his eyes away when Y/N nodded without any vivid expression.

All the way back home he denounced himself of not making her feel loved enough, to not to pest her soon about what she’s feeling and letting her slide deeper into the dark hole.

He thinks he’s a piece of shit.

Y/N wanted to dig the earth with her own nails and hide into it and never show her face again, she was overly ashamed of herself.

His hand was holding onto hers tightly, never letting it go as he led them through the hallway and his head perked up in confusion when she stopped them abruptly and lunged to wrap herself around him like he’s the last silver of her hope and the reason to live.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry.” There comes the first sob after ages of suffering and bottling it all in, not shocked at all he was expecting it to happen. Gently he picks her up and wraps her legs around him, keeping his support firm under her bum as she cried into his soft white t-shirt.

Carefully he sits them on the edge of the bed and tries to pry her soaky flushed face in his cradle but she refuses to show him, clutching onto his cardigan and whimpering brokenly.

“I just feel so disgusting,” Her sob scratches out of her throat and for a second he thought he heard her wrong, that her feeble crying’s playing some kind of a sick game with his heart.

“Harry do something I don’t want to feel disgusting.” But, when she pleaded helplessly a cold shiver settled in his bone marrow spreading an agonising burn in his stomach.

Gently he stirs her away from his chest to look at her, meeting their foreheads together while his thumb wiped her tears away and smoothed over her wabbly lips in profound tenderness.

“My beloved,” He whispers fondling his nose against hers and her eyes flutters into realm of calms, shaky breath falling over his lips as he brings her trembling fingertips towards them and pecks them feverishly.

“The love of me life, me heart.” He continues, “Shhh. Shh baby ‘s okay to cry but don’t tire y'self.” He hushes her when she whimpers loudly at his coy affirmation.

“I’m here with you, waiting f'you, watching y’goin’ through a stony path so I could be there to hold you whenever you trip –-,” He pets her hair, cupping the back of her neck to plant his lips bitten red from worry to her puffy damp eyelids and Y/N becomes a gooey lax of candle that’s been burning for tiring amount and finally her lover came to blew the agonising flame away putting her to peace as he coos snuggling her in his cordial embrace, “You’ve been so strong to yourself and ‘m so proud of me baby.”

“I’m always here. Never away from you, always right by y'side.” His palms bending around her ribs to smush her as intimately close as possible.

“How d'ya want your huggies babylove?” He simpers down at her darlingly, huffing out in relief seeing her relaxing -- her shoulders sinking from him massaging the knots in them.

“Tight.” She mumbles timidly. The gleam in her glossy eyes returning when Harry hugs her as she wished, squishing her in right places and not suffocating her at all – their breaths in sync chests flushed against eachother.

“I love you cuddly, and care f’you.” He kisses her on lips then goes to hug her right back.

“I love you too, Har. Thank you.” She sniffs in his woodsy scent grazing her touch up and down his back, smooching a soft kiss at his cheek.

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