#just sometimes my brain is set on man?? like the behavior and the words come out masculine??

[daze4all]

Honkai Star Rail Imagine: 7 days a week of Yandere! Sugar Daddy's x Darling! Reader

You never intended to be involved with 7 men. You were just trying to make a living doing odd jobs. Whatever you could take, and they just wanted to take whatever you could offer them. Even if it was just that day…although they often forgot you weren’t just theirs to hold…

Maid for Hire! Reader x Dr. Ratio, Aventurine, Blade,

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday

Next Set: Dan Heng, Sunday, Argenti, Jing Yuan TBA

Inspired by Seven Jung Kook) 'Seven (feat. Latto)' 

Part 1: 1st Meeting, Domestic , Doting and Dating Second Part on smut to come...

Sugar Daddy 1. Dr. Ratio

Monday – Teacher! Ratio x Housekeeper/ Student! Reader

Monday starts off the week with lessons from Dr Ratio in return for chores and reward for being such a good student …

Domestic Life with Ratio hired as Housekeeper

Dr. Ratio had hired you on as housekeeper to clean his house, lab, and his library. For such a scholar his house got surprisingly messy. hH was constantly poring over scroll and forgotten tomes.

Dr Ratio was so invested in his studies that sometimes he even forgot to eat. SO it was your job to cook and prepares meal balanced on tray while he evaluated your cooking “

 “Seven out ten. The taste is good, but the presentation is lacking. Try Harder next time” Ratio would say with barely a glance your way. Unknowing he was watching you over his book secretly.  

Even on days that Dr. Ratio proclaimed the food you prepared was “urgh disgusting. One out of ten.” He would eat it without another complaint. Simply saying “Add more salt next time” while studying his books intently. Or “ I suppose it will do “No effort should be wasted”

Under his critique, your food did get better as did your cleaning skills as he detailed precisely how he wanted his old books preserved and cleaned carefully. It was detailed work to but satisfying when praised by Dr. Ratio  for a “10 out 10”

2. Ratio Decides to Teach when he sees you Reading instead of Cleaning

You never had such an extensive education as the old novels in his library could provide. While cleaning the shelves you couldn’t help taking a peek. Soon you found yourself cross legged on floor drawn into the world of words before you knew it the duster forgotten.

Ratio stumbled upon you like this. The light hitting your face.  He traced your face an open book as you ohhed  and ahed at each twist and turn in the story.

He smiled wryly amused when you mouthed new words stumbling over the production. One word you messed up so badly he interrupted “It is stupendous?

Startled you snapped the book closer apologies spilling from you plushi lips “ I’ll get right back to work sir”

No Need in fact…how about you be my test subject student and Shall I teach you” Dr. Ratio had commanded and so your lessons with Dr. Ratio began.

3. Dr. Ratio Teaches You a Lesson in Attraction

Teaching was his joy and passion though he was so smart, and you could only marvel at his genius in silence when he rambled random theories  to you.

Often he just wanted you as a sounding board  “ A measure of what ignoramus, I may have to teach and pound sense into their brain.” he commented to you

After all, He firmly believed that  “No matter how ignorant a pupil can soon be a peer once  taught”

As embarrassment and desire burning through you as the very handsome man hovered over your shoulder to correct you.

“ No its like this let me show you” Dr Ratio without preamble would smoothly directed your shaking hands to write the right word.  “Why are you shaking?”

His genius mind immediately deduced your attraction to him when you started behavior oddly around him.

After all, he wasn’t unaware of your fervent glances at him. your gaze lingering on his chest hip and lips with flushed blush.

After all he wasn’t unaware your fervent glances at him. your gaze lingering on his chests hip and lips with flushed blush.

He too watched you.

At first simply to observe as he couldn’t help but admire the beauty of the human body similar to the bust, he wore.

It was inevitable that working in close quarters and learning each other habits that you crossed the line…as he took so much pleasure in teaching and punishing you .

Then idly while teaching or reading he would follow the lines of your face to the back of your neck sloped over your study book.

“Perhaps a carrot and stick method would be a better lesson plan” Dr. Ratio would muse as you struggled through the practice books as he settled you once on his lap. His breaths in your ear and you blushed conscious of his closeness.

Tuesday-  Escort! Reader x Sugar Daddy! Aventurine

 Tuesday – Aventurine

With Aventurine you were the most casual and comfortable. He was businessman and knew a steal of deal when he saw it and he had to have you for day.

A gamble for charity he raised the stakes so high and won you for a date as the highest winning bet for the night. Dates that continued every Tuesday from then on.

Flirty banter was common for you two and soon you had charmed each other.  His double hued hypnotic eyes and devil may care attitude and charisma easing as you stepped off the stage “Hello, friend happy to have such a lovely lady for the evening”

His false flirty lines promised this was just another business deal and a game to him. A friend you would fuck from time to time for fun. However he kept making than that.

His tasks ranged from keeping his penthouse tidy, to being his dress up doll, to keeping him entertained.

When he was tired. A domestic day of cooking dinner and fixing his bath. Other times there would be surprise present in the houses.

Often scandalous lingerie and slips for his eyes alone to greet him. Sometimes elegant costly gowns to wear out to a business party’s as his plus one. If not it was a party dress sparkly and skintight and showing skin only he could touch.

would be perched on his knee or crushed by his side at a casino or stately business dinner .

“My Lucky charm~” Aventurine would sing to his clients as he rolled the dice for yet another winning deal flashing a smile and pressing a kiss to the pulse of your neck.  

Despite his flippant and teasing nature, he promised when going to sleazy parties “Don’t worry I’ll protect you. No one will dare mess with me here”

 Aventurine was almost always a night owl keeping you up for partying or for pleasure in his bedroom. Despite intimately knowing your deal as a creditor he was the most possessive and took advantage of it the most.

Wednesday – Blade- Sex to Soothe the Mara & Memories

First Meeting with Blade: Kafka sets you guy’s Up

A good guy was too sweet for you it hurt but a bad boy was what you deserved and could turn the pain into pleasure.

It was simple with Blade. Lay back and let him break you. You did help clean up the base from time to time as a housekeeper. However, the role was simple to help Blade burn off some steam. Rough and possessive the most dangerous customer by far.

It had been like that since the first day  you met him but funny enough unlike the other men he didn’t seek you out.

The idea wasn’t his. A gorgeous lady with a spider like coat weaved a web to capture the flower and delivered you to the beast called Blade. Honesty from her initial description you though he was cat you were cat sitting at first or you might to have taken the job.

 “Help me, help take the edge off and distract him for bit will you dear?” She directed in a sweet tone. Sticky sweet and dangerous as honeyed poison.

 “What the hell is this” demanded Blade seeing you a stranger all dolled up like a a bright flower in his bedroom. Weak and fragile and sure to break if he touched it.

“A present, Blade. So you stop hurting yourself during practice and occupy yourself with more pleasurable activites, have fun. Live a little!~” Kafka cooed as she pushed you into Blade’s room and locked the door to trap you both

Meeting his burning eyes you gulped nervously. This was one customer perhaps you shouldn’t have accepted, but the web was to addicting to squirm free.

Once he had a taste, he’d hunt you down you were sure of it, if you ever stopped. It was hard enough keeping him from consuming you whole during his sessions.

Side note Poly!Reader Background  might be….:

-A maid for hire just looking to clean a house but get caught up with yandere men wanting her for more services that may or may not be implied on the site that she may or may not know about

Could also be Sugar Baby/Polymarous/Host/Rent a girlfriend/Housekeeper/Escort! Reader

- Seeking out the strongest men to renew your dying race as you were known to have very low birth rates

- Doing this to pay back a debt she has from her fallen planet.

- Possibly cursed by the Propagation or a Aeon of Lust Luxuria to constantly hunger for sex to live?

-Nymphomaniac or a person who just like sex with many men and that’s her lifestyle so why not make money off it lol

- Reader is a  Succubus maybe and craves and needs many men’s seed for their  male life Essence to live and cannot take from one too often or he dies from having too much

Inspired by the Genshin Version written by liljojo genshin sugar daddies

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail x reader #hsr blade #male yandere x reader #yandere imagines #hsr jing yuan #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #yandere hsr x reader #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #soft yandere #yandere #yandere aventurine #yandere ratio #genshin impact drabbles #hsr dr ratio #dr ratio #yandere boyfriend #yandere jing yuan #yandere dan heng #dan heng imbibitor lunae #dan heng x reader #imbibitor lunae #dan heng #dan heng il #dan feng #hsr dan heng

[wutheringcaterpillar]

18 years

Summary: After 18 years of marriage Thomas plans a special day just for you that he wants to be perfect even if that means keeping his kids out of trouble.

Warnings: Slight misogynistic Thomas, talk of termination.

Side Note: This is my first fic in awhile since I stopped writing two years ago on a different account, I hope it's okay! :)

The Shelby household was anything but perfect but for today Thomas was going out of his way to ensure that it was. Being a housewife and a mother was by far not an easy job.Thomas and you had been married for eighteen years. Did it get ugly sometimes? Absolutely. That didn’t change the adoration and love you shared for each other.

While you were out running some errands with Ada, Thomas has quite a few helping hands in cleaning up the house, and decorating it to the 10s. “Well brother, how’s it lookin’ eh?”

The silver chandelier presented the dining room with a warm glow that made the silver set table look ever so inviting. All the rooms were vacuumed and mopped, not a crumb in site. The floors glistened beautifully to his high standard. “Never did I think that my incompetent brothers would use their brains for a day and the outcome be satisfactory.” Arthur laughed in response, before giving Thomas a playful nudge. “Alright, that’s enough out of you.” Thomas rushed to the kitchen once he remembered he left the kids in there unattended. They were being not very helpful to say the least.

Annabeth, and Edward were now teenagers full of hormones and outbursts. It seemed like they would argue every day about the smallest things but today Thomas wasn’t allowing there behavior especially today.

“Does dad know about Jackson?” Annabeth scoffed at him with a disgusted face. Thomas did not allow her to date unless he appointed the young man to her. The same could not be said for Edward’s late night shenanigans that Thomas was aware of and Annabeth despised the double standard. “No, and I’d appreciate if you kept your fucking mouth sh-“

“Now, now. No need for bickering on a day that’s about your mother and all she has done for you.” Thomas entered the room dressed in a black and white suit and tie that fit him snuggly, giving off his normal professional sense. “I wanted to have a word with the both of you before your mother arrives which should be-“ He pulled his watch out of his suit to get a glimps of the time. “In ten minutes precisely.” Edward opened his mouth to speak but Thomas raised his hand to stop him. “I don’t want any interruptions I want you both to listen to the words that are about to come out of my mouth and I highly suggest you take them seriously or you will not enjoy the consequences. Eh?” He eyed them both with his eyebrows raised, both of them stayed quiet as they lightly cowered in there seats to there father’s stature. “Stand up. Both of you.” Without hesitations the teenagers stood up, not slouching but standing to s perfect straight line.

“No. Fucking. Fighting.” Thomas walked around them in a circle menacingly never taking his eyes off of them while they stared at the ground and listened to their fathers words. “I don’t care, if you don’t like the food. I don’t care if you don’t like sitting next to each other. More importantly I don’t care how either of you feel today. Today is about your mother. There will be no games, no arguments, no sports. More importantly-“ He stopped in his tracks now in front of them, hands on his knees as he leaned down so they had no choice but to look in his demeaning eyes. “No. Fucking. Fighting.”

There was a brief silence, as if to let the air settle and for what he said to soak into them. “We’re clear eh?” They both nodded and Thomas dismissed them. “Great now, go get formally dressed.” He watched as they both walked out of the kitchen. He greatly appreciated how much time and effort you spent in taking care of them and it’s time they return the favor for at the least one singular night.

Edward shoved his sister playfully into a wall, just around the corner to where they thought Thomas wouldn’t hear. Annabeth shoved him back and pointed up at him. “If you say one thing about-“

“Who your late night squeeze?” Edward began to laugh and Annabeth shoved him again.

Thomas heard from the kitchen and raised his hands in the air, disposing of his cigarette before he spoke to himself, annoyed. “What did I just say?” Thomas was going to let it go until he heard something break that sounded expensive.

In a quick pace to the hallway, he saw the both of you attempting to round the corner to the next room but they should know who their father is by now that nothing goes uncaught. “Eh! Over here now!” The siblings shamefully turned awaiting for all hell to break loose. Thomas was the strict parent, and that frightened them, which is what he wanted.

Glancing to the ground, an expensive, rare crystal dish was shattered on the floor, and he was going to be damned if Frances was going to clean it up. For Thomas’s sake he just hope you wouldn’t notice until after his surprise. “I said three, fucking words to you.”

“No. Fucking. Fighting.” He hit the both of them on the back of their heads. “Yes I’m aware of Jackson, I was hoping to avoid the subject today but I have ears so I suppose this will be addressed right fucking now to clear the fucking air. I pay close attention to anyone and anything around me and my family. You both should know that more than anyone. Seeing Jackson stops now. I don’t approve of him, my daughter will not be marrying some useless sack of shit like that. See him again. You will never leave this house again, got it?” Annabeth nodded with her heated cheeks. Edward began to quietly laugh to himself while his sister was being reprimanded.

That’s when Thomas was quick to call him out too. “I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re giggling at like I don’t know what you do with the little whores from school, sneaking them into my fucking house.” All grins from Edward diminished immediately.

“What you do is your business but in my fucking house. That’s my fucking business. Clearly your mother and I have given both of you too much privilege. I don’t care who you fuck but I’d be careful if I were you because the first girl you get pregnant, you’re marrying whether you love her or not. You know why? Because I say so. As for sneaking them in my house. Good luck with that from now on I’m sure you haven’t noticed but maybe you should take a look at the new people I hired if you could find them to watch the house whilst your mother and I are away for our anniversary.” Both of them were speechless and Thomas sent them up to their room. Thomas may be older than them but he wasn’t born yesterday. After all he spent plenty of those nights sneaking in and out of your house when you first started dating. He knows all the ins and outs of scheming.

The sound of car door closing grabbed his attention and panic mode slightly set in for him. Thomas Shelby didn’t panic but in the event of there being a chance that something may not be to your standard, he panicked. “Hurry on, your mother is here! Get dressed in proper clothes and not some skimpy, raggedy mess for once!” He yelled after his children.

The weather was chilly as winter was approaching in Birmingham. The snow was falling delicately from the sky once you pulled in with Ava and to say you were freezing was an understatement but the new brown wool blanket, she has gotten you should do more than help. “Ada you didn’t have to buy me anything. I have money.”

“Oh being married to my brother, believe me I know you have money, just wanted to treat you today is that so bad?” You shrugged, smiling at your sister. “C’mon let’s get inside.”

“Oh I hope Thomas was okay with the kids today, I know he’s hardly taking care of them alone without needing my help.” Ada set a comforting hand on your shoulder before reaching for the door handle. “Y/N if Thomas can’t handle them for a few hours, I don’t know how you’ve gotten this far.” You both laughed and once the door opened, you were met with a warm embrace there must’ve been a fire lit in the living room. Thomas came abruptly from around the corner after yelling something at Arthur that you weren’t able to make out. “Y/N! My dear loving wife!” Thomas pulled you to his side, and had Ada remove your jacket.

He was freshly shaven, and showered, smelling of mint and tobacco. His smile pierced your eyes, and he leaned down to kiss you softly. “How was your day out with Ada love?”

“Wonderful, was nice to get away from all the testosterone for a bit.” You giggled and then started noticing your surroundings. The floor was sparkling, not a sign of dirt or mud. The laundry basket was empty, the kitchen spotless, you went to turn into the dining room but Thomas quickly placed his hands over your eyes. “Thomas, what’s going on the house looks-“

“Happy anniversary sweetheart.” He removed his hands and the sight of the dining room was absolutely breathtaking. The curtains looked brand new, a dark cherry red colored that allowed the sun to poke through in a welcoming manner. The chairs were painted black and with gold patted seats to sit on. The food arrangements looked more than delicious and most importantly your whole family was there. Annabeth dressed in a a beautiful gold gown and Edward dressed in a suit and tie matching his father. Even the Shelby brothers looked showered and dressed to the tens. “Thomas I-“

He guided you to your seat, pulling out the chair for you. “Don’t say anything love, just enjoy dinner and don’t even think about doing dishes or cleaning up after this. We’ve got it.” Thomas winked at you as he took his seat beside you, the glowing of your smile and surprise leaving him just as happy as the day you said yes to marrying him.

18 years, and he still found time to manage to make it feel like the first day you fell in love with him. “I just want to take a moment to thank Frances who will also be joining us for this lovely meal. I couldn’t have put today together without any of you. Thank you for taking them time to assist me in doing this for Y/N, my beautiful wife whom I adore and admire more and more every day. Thank you for being such a wonderful mother to our kids and dealing with me. Not sure how you quite do it but I’m glad you’ve stayed and put up with me.” Thomas raised his glass of whiskey in honor of everyone.

Your eyes began to water to which he’d caught your tear of joy with his free finger. You mouthed a thank you to him and an I love you and dinner began. Once dinner was over Thomas made a final announcement. “Tonight Y/N and I will be leaving for Bali for our anniversary.” You gasped, hand covering your mouth in disbelief. You’d never gone and you had never found the time. Thomas wasn’t giving you an option to not have time. “We’ll return Wednesday afternoon and I’d just like to take a minute to thank Pol and Frances for watching the kids. Thank you all for coming, and I appreciate every one of you bastards.” Laughs filled the room while Thomas extended his hand for you to take and help you out of your seat.

Once upstairs you stared at your body in the mirror, just getting the feeling that something was off but putting it off your mind. “You didn’t have to do all this Thomas.” He came up behind you in the mirror, wrapping his arms around your waist, snuggling his head into the crook of your neck. “I did love. You do so much and never take time for yourself, always putting I and the children first. You need to be put first too.” Swinging around, you stared into your husband’s crystal blue eyes.

It has been a long, long ride for the two of you together, that will keep going. But this soft, sentiment man had taken awhile to appear and you’re not sure how you got him to come out but you were glad you did. “I love you Mr. Shelby.”

“And I love you Mrs. Shelby.” You giggled as he smiled down at you in awe, before placing his lips on yours, connecting them in a chaste, delicate kiss. “Mom, Dad the cab’s here!” Annabeth called.

“Would you shut up you idiot, dad probably already knew that.”

“Eh! No fighting, right?” There was a silence before they both responded in unison. “Sorry dad!”

“I don’t know how you managed to get them along for dinner but kahoots to you my dear husband because that’s something I could never do.” Thomas wrapped his arm around you, as you walked down the stairs together. “I’m Thomas Shelby. The name alone fucking scares anyone.”

“Well I guess I’m not anyone then am I?” Thomas shook his head smiling. “No, no you’re not. You weren’t even frightened of me when I screamed at some whore, for thinking she could seduce me.”

“Fuck no, if you hadn’t I wouldn’t be Mrs. Shelby now would I?” Thomas laughed once more before opening the car door for you. The snow covered ground glistened from the bright night sky as you scooted into the cab.

The ride was quiet whilst you rested in Thomas’s arms which he thought was rather odd, that usually meant something was on your mind. “Are you alright love?” Breaking a part from, you took his hand in yours. “There’s been something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” Worry etched over Thomas’s face but it didn’t compete with the level of anxiety you were feeling. “Whatever it is you can tell me Y/N, we’re celebrating eighteen years of marriage nothing is going to run me off now I can assure you that.” You stared down at the seat, eyebrows etched together in concern of his reaction. Patting his hand you looked up at him slowly, paying close attention to his eyes. “Thomas I think I might be pregnant. I know it's a big age gap for Edward and Annbeth to be close with them but I still want to have this baby." Thomas didn't hesitate to speak as he did not want to worry you. "Sweetheart, how long have you known?"

"I think I've known for about a week and I know it sounds silly that I was nervous to tell you but I didn't know if you'd want me to get rid of it because I know we didn't plan for this."

"Darling we didn't plan for the first two." You laughed and Thomas pulled you into his arms, resting his hands on your stomach. "I'd never ever want you to think I'd want you to get rid of our child besides, I love when you're pregnant, your swollen tits, your glowing smile and glowing tummy. I love every part of you Y/N nothing is going to change that. Okay?" You couldn't help the tears that began to stream down your cheeks, that Tommy once again wiped away, and he smiled lovingly at you. You nodded and leaned into his chest. You were going to be okay, and today was more than amazing. It was perfect.

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #ranaewrites

[sopheadraws]

When it comes to Brittany S. Pierce, people’s interpretations are all over the place. It ranges anywhere from <3 innocent babie <3, to severely cognitively impaired, to manipulative liar who pretends to be stupid so others obey their will (which I’ll later accuse her mother of, but that’s neither here nor there). Anyways, I’m adding my opinion into the cacophony because, despite the indecisive fanbase, thorough Brittany meta is lacking in quantity. Also, I tend to think my opinion is best, as is human nature.

This analysis is rooted in autistic!Brittany, and while its unnecessary since I’ll go through many of her autistic characteristics, here’s a post detailing the headcanon and a medical article describing the diagnostic criteria in simple terms if you’re unfamiliar with the disorder. I understand that not everybody considers Britt neurodivergent, and that’s totally fine - I’m always up for a healthy conversation/debate! - but please give me a heads up if you plan to respond critically because a lot of this is based on my own experiences as an autistic teenage girl, so unmentioned critiques can feel personal fast. Now without further ado:

A Deep Dive Into Brittany S. Pierce <3

Auditory Processing Disorder “APD” is a subdivision of Sensory Processing Disorder “SPD” which is a quintessential element of an autism diagnosis. APD is pretty much exactly what it sounds (haha pun) like: despite somebody’s hearing abilities, the brain fails to process auditory input properly. The APD trait I hear discussed most in autism spaces is the inability to filter out background noises, but Britt seems to struggle most with interpreting meaning from words. Sometimes when people talk to me (“dolphins are just gay sharks”), even though they’re speaking clearly and I’m very literate in English, it sounds like jumbled nonsense (“dulfanz-our-goost-gae-shorcks”). This accounts for what I’m calling Brittany’s “so close you can taste it” lines. Think of her claim that Christopher Cross discovered America or that O is the capital of Ohio; a man named Christopher C. is indeed credited with discovering America and O is the only capital letter in Ohio. As a whole, they often misunderstand things told to them directly, and it seems a lot less foolish if she only understood half of what was being said via APD.

I’m calling the category of Brittany lines that can’t usually be rationalized as possible by anybody over seven (e.g. Rory the leprechaun, storks delivering babies, and anything with Lord Tubbington) the “stranger than fanfiction lines.” Now, I could take these at face value and say she’s tapping into a magical dimension, but I have my own set of autism driven realism issues, so, without a pre-existing fantasy world, I’m using my significant brainpower to twist Brittany into plausibility =D I ultimately think the best explanation for the stranger than fanfiction lines is echolalia. Echolalia is the repetition of words or phrases, and it’s usually associated with autism. Autistic people often reuse other people’s words, and since we usually think in pictures and have various social communication problems, it’s easier than formulating new sentences. Or we just like the tongue movements/sound a word makes. Personally, I quote songs a lot - if you say something loosely related to a Taylor Swift, musical, or Glee lyric, chances are I’ll sing it - and dipsomaniacal is a new fave to say randomly. There’s some evidence for Britt doing this in canon, unrelated to the stranger than fanfiction lines. While Brittany is known for calling him Blaine Warbler, it actually originated from Rachel and the infamous spin the bottle kiss. They also repeat ‘uber weird after Blaine in the That’s So Rachel reading, and the last line of that scene is them talking in time with Blaine, a behavior seen in S1 with Santana. However, it interests me most that she calls Artie a robot, as we see her dad call Stephen Hawkin, another wheelchair user, a robot in S6.

Basically, I blame the Pierces for how terribly adjusted their child is <3 (Mostly Whitney. Assuming Pierce actually has an IQ of 40, he’s disabled too and deserves some slack in terms of spreading misinformation.) In her admittedly limited screen time, Whitney manages to do two positive things: be an LGBTQ+ ally and let her younger daughter do soccer, I guess. Otherwise, she kept the truth about Stephen Hawking from Brittany for 20 years, cheated on her husband on their honeymoon for claiming infertility, crapped in random barns, insulted her husband’s intelligence, publicly insulted her husband’s appearance, and arguably restricted her daughter’s intellectual growth. To be honest, I realize Whitney isn’t that deep and I don’t actually hate her, but if people can hate Brittany for being a comedic character from the 2010s, I’ll do the same thing to their mother in defense of Brittany. Fight stop the violence with violence, baby! Anyways, I don’t think echolalia alone can explain the stranger than fanfiction lines. At least, not without a source. And that’s usually where upbringing comes in.

I’m ruling out nature automatically because there aren’t chromosomes telling people to believe in unicorns. Well, some people - including autistic people (hehe see what I’m doing here?) - are more inclined to believe falsehoods, but falsehoods have to be fed by someone else. With autism, the reckless believing tendencies come from literal thinking in part. Also, since SPD makes processing the outside world difficult, we often can’t recognize “obvious” truths in the first place. My extended family hated watching movies with me because I used to ask questions every five seconds lol. Setting Pierce aside because he seems to follow Whitney blindly; Brittany’s unnamed sister, Sue, and Whitney are the remaining suspects.

I assume Brittany’s sister is significantly younger than Britt because she played soccer with a seven-year-old in S1 (technically she could’ve been the coach, but that throws off my theory that the Klaine/Brittana wedding was child free), and children aren’t clever or mean enough to throw off anybody’s world view so badly :) Sue does seem the obvious answer, but she didn’t meet Brittany until they started high school, and she’s consistently baffled by Britt’s behavior despite encouraging her own eccentricities in the other Cheerios. And that leaves Whitney as the perpetrator, blaming her Scientology and gambling addiction on a cat.

Finally, I do think there’s a few times when Brittany intended for her jokes to be jokes. I don’t think it happens as much as you might expect, but there’s a scene in S3 when JBI is interviewing Brittany about her class president candidacy, and she tells him she’s voting for Rick “The Stick” Nelson before turning to Santana and laughing that clued me in. I think the mentality behind these lines (the “pun intended” category) is best explained with an anecdote from my own childhood.

When I was little - maybe six or seven - I really wanted to be funny. Well, I wanted to be liked, and since I didn’t understand social cues, my solution was humor because I knew my dad told jokes which made me laugh, which made him likable! Unfortunately, as a literal thinking child, I had no idea how to do this, which meant I parroted the only joke I knew (“What time is it when an elephant sits on the table?” “Time to get a new table!”) in hopes of chuckles. This went about as badly as you would expect. After a while, my parents got rightfully fed up with this joke and got me a joke book. I had no sense which of these jokes were funny, which wasn’t helped by most of the book being about taxes, bad marriages, and other stuff aimed at adults.

It wasn’t until a routine walk to the convenient store that my comedy dreams were fulfilled. My dad, little sister, and I used to walk to the “snack store” to buy a drink each and share a candy bar. While we had some routine favorites, we also tried out new candies together. However, there were a few bars my dad refused to buy because he’d disliked them prior to our snack store outings. Most infamous of these forbidden fruits was the Zero Bar. We tended to reference the Zero Bar when picking our next treat, and on this fateful day I said, “It’s called the Zero Bar because zero people like it.”

And my dad laughed. He laughed because of something I’d said. I was elated!

The only catch up was I hadn’t actually intended it as a joke. After all my attempts to be funny, the only thing that apparently worked was speaking my mind. This singular incident didn’t rewire my understanding of humor - I attempted the parroting tactic with the Zero Bar joke after all - but it’s the most pivotal moment in my mind. To this day, I play up my neurodivergent thought process to make others laugh. I reference Glee at seemly unrelated times with mock enthusiasm to callback times I’ve mentioned Glee with real enthusiasm or talk about my other interests in forced monotones.

There isn’t any actual evidence that Brittany has the same weird complex about humor, but some of their interactions regarding stupidity parallel it. In general, when they’re away from Santana, Brittany appears fairly insecure about her neurodivergence. I might even go as far as to say that she doesn’t joke without Santana around. Now, I don’t think Britt knows what her atypicalities are until they’re presumably diagnosed at M.I.T., but every neurodivergent person I know knew something was wrong before being diagnosed. (I want to talk about how Blaine’s diagnosed autism is a foil for Brittany’s undiagnosed autism at some point, but you didn’t sign up for autistic!Blaine, so now isn’t the time.)

Anddd, that’d pretty much it for now :) I intend to write more in depth Brittany meta in the future, but this is a decent overview for the time being. I hope this made you think, and I’d love to hear your thoughts if it did!

#just going ahead and reposting this because I'm sure the original is long gone #brittany s. pierce #brittany s pierce #brittany pierce #autistic brittany #glee #glee meta #meta #my writing #actually autistic #asd #autism #textpost #philosophie of mind #sophea 1.0

[oonajaeadira]

Stupid question but how do people who sleep with earplugs wake up the next day when they have to go to work or an appointment because how do you hear the alarm?

It'll be so stressful for me, fear of not hearing it.

Foam earplugs don't deafen you, they merely dampen the sound. My alarm is right beside me on my bedside table and I hear it every time.

Me rambling under the cut with TMI

I sleep with earplugs because I have a dog that sleeps in our bedroom and makes noise. She gets up and walks around and her nails click on the wood floors. She loudly laps at her water bowl and coughs and hacks like an old lady. She gets up every hour to make a fuss over her blanket and paw it up so it's just right for her to lay on. And she licks her paws...istg nothing will wake me out of a sleep faster and with more ire than mouth noises and that dog has the nastiest ones ever...

And before you come at me with dog crating and having the dog sleep somewhere else, believe me, I know. Let me tell you about my SO. The man is one of the most intelligent people I know. He is literally a walking encyclopedia and lives his life by the laws of logic. And he is on the spectrum, so he's not really great at reading human emotions (I was in love with Data from ST: TNG when I was younger and often joke that I've found my very own android).

But he has these pockets of irrationality that just astound me and one of them is dogs and dog behavior. He wouldn't put a human in a crate, so he wouldn't put a dog in one either; in his mind, it's cruel. He doesn't understand that dogs seek structure and habit and familiar ritual. He talks to ours as if she's a human--when she goes to the stairs and looks longingly at them he asks her, "What do you need? Do you need to go out?" As if she's going to answer him. YES. OBVIOUSLY THAT'S WHAT SHE WANTS. WHY ARE YOU MAKING HER WAIT. YOU ARE THE ALPHA, YOU TELL HER WHAT TO DO. When she just stands and stares, he gives this disappointed sigh and picks her up (she's 19 and can't do stairs any more) and takes her outside, like he can't understand why she just doesn't use her words.

Anyway. I could go on about how things are going to change with the next dog and I'm going to make him go through as much training as that one. The man loves learning. He can learn about dog psychology and the need for structure and guidance and safe feelings. Then maybe we can have a dog that behaves and isn't food aggressive and shits in one corner of the lawn instead of turning my yard into a minefield and doesn't keep us up at night.

For this reason--and this next one--he also wears earplugs. Because we have different sleep schedules. He goes to bed around 10:30 and gets up at about 6:30. I go to bed at 2am (sometimes 3 or 4) and get up at 9. Our house is tiny and our bedroom is actually a back addition on our house--it was built to be a living room and has a door out to the back yard. This is where he leaves in the morning. Since he works construction, he hauls tools and equipment out of the basement, through our bedroom, and out to his truck parked in the back. The kitchen is also right off the bedroom and he insists on having a glass cutting board and doing the dishes in the morning as he makes breakfast, so all the noise. He's usually pretty quiet and he kisses my forehead every day before he leaves....but most of the time I don't even hear him or register it. The alarm though, that cuts through, and probably because my brain is trained to know that's a wake-up sound and the others aren't.

As for him, I stay up late, but I'm generally silent. 10:30 - 2am is my main reading/writing time so I like it quiet. But it's also when the dog is most active, because she's wondering where I am, so she gets up and paces now and then. And I mumble in my sleep. Hence earplugs for him too.

And, android-like, he doesn't even set an alarm. That man has light sensitivity and even with heavy curtains, he wakes up with the sun.

[babyjakes]

forever and a day | 43. where she belongs.

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summary | a story in which america’s favorite captain gives a new life and family to a five-year-old girl who has suffered well beyond her years at the hands of hydra.

characters | dad!steve rogers, girl/willa rogers (original character)

warnings | AU similar enough to OU to include spoilers to many Marvel movies (Age of Ultron and beyond). action and fight scenes with violence and killing. injuries/mild gore. mature themes related to and semi-graphic depictions of child abuse/neglect, past CSA and CSM, and their aftermath (emaciation, wounds, scarring, etc). medical abuse and experimentation. ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). medical treatment of CSM and other aftermath of abuse.trauma-informed therapeutic treatment of ECT. minor mentions of disordered eating. themes relating to abuse of power/authority and immoral interrogation tactics including SA (with brief depictions.) evil!Tony Stark.

[Steve]

The screen that flashes in front of me is blurrier than usual, images appearing and fading in and out every few moments. Light is distorted through a skewed lens, beams and shadows dragging across my vision. I can feel the fear and confusion coursing through Willa’s veins as our collective sense of sight tries to focus on what’s in front of her, and to my utter horror and disbelief, when the picture finally becomes stable enough to identify who it is, I find Tony Stark’s deep brown eyes staring back at me.

“Now- remember what we said, kiddo? Cap can’t hear a word about this,” he warns in an unsettlingly sweet voice, a serious threat clearly lurking just below the surface. As more of Willa’s surroundings come into focus, I realize that she’s tied down to some sort of padded seat, in some ways similar to a car-seat- only this seat is set up in Tony’s familiar laboratory in the tower, a place the little girl was never supposed to see again. “This is probably the last chance I’ll have at figuring out what you’ve got going on inside you, so we don’t have any time to waste,” the scientist continues, stepping away from Willa and beginning to prepare things at his station that I can’t identify.

“D-Daddy,” the tiny girl whimpers, struggling weakly against the restraints. Tears fall freely from her eyes as the man snorts darkly at her plea, shaking his head in disappointment and frustration.

“‘Daddy,’” he mocks sickly, “how pathetic. That son of a bitch doesn’t know the first thing about being a father. And yet here you are, begging for him, just like you’d beg for anyone who showed the slightest interest in you. It’s amazing to me how much of an animal you are. Just a sick, kicked puppy, waiting for someone to finally come along and pull you out of the mud.” Tony’s words spark anger deep within me as Willa continues to sob, trapped in the strange contraption of a chair.

“Please, don’t h-hurt me, please- Daddy, I-I want my d-daddy,” she pleads fearfully.

“Sorry kiddo. I don’t want to hurt you, but sometimes we gotta do things we don’t like for the sake of science. And would you quit calling for Steve already? He can’t hear you; he’s fast asleep. Plus, I’m doing him a favor. Walking out with some mutant kid is a pretty risky move, and I’m sure he’s well aware of that fact. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was planning on bringing you into some third-party lab company in the morning, just to get an overview of what he’s really working with. That would be moronic, of course, since he has access to the country’s best equipment and brains right in this very tower, but I’ll give him a break. He is like- what? A hundred years old?” Waves of panic begin to flow through Willa at Tony’s rambling, and anger builds up within me at the worries he’s planting in the child’s fragile mind. How dare he say these things to her? He knows exactly what he’s doing: scaring the life out of her.

“P-please, please!” my poor Willa begs desperately, her breathing beginning to falter as her levels of anxiety rise higher and higher.

“You know what? I was originally against the idea of gagging you- just for, you know, ethical reasons- but with what you’re about to go through, it might not be a bad idea. Wouldn’t want anyone to hear what’s going on if you decide to get too vocal,” Tony speaks casually, rummaging through a drawer and pulling out a rag. He walks over in front of Willa and rips her mouth open, ramming the wadded up fabric in before she can do anything to protest. She lets out a muffled sob into the gag as he ties it around her head securely, her airflow being partially compromised due to the blockage. “There you go, nice and quiet,” he says happily, patting her on the head.

“Alright kiddo, I think we’re all set to get started on the trials. Feel free to scream into the gag. No one’s gonna hear you,” he laughs as he begins starting up a set of machines positioned beside the chair, gathering various wires in his hands. Securing them onto various places across Willa’s skin, he taps more at his monitors as the gadgets roar to life. “We better get you shifted into equilibrium, too. Could you do that for me? Or am I gonna have to do it manually like last time?” he questions. Willa only whimpers into her gag in response, but I can tell that internally, her mind has been made: she’ll shift for Tony. Her thought process is that hopefully, he might show her some mercy this way. Seeing the changes he’s looking for on the monitors, he smiles. “Good choice,” he nods. “I was able to create a set of compatible simulations to observe your healing capabilities, so this time I won’t have to hurt myself,” Tony explains further as he keeps working at one of the screens. “This first one is a set of broken ribs. No idea what that feels like, but it probably isn’t good. Here we go,” he says, tapping at a few more buttons before turning back to face the little girl, and suddenly, an overwhelming burst of pain ruptures from within her torso.

Before I can experience anything more through Willa’s mind channel, my contact with her is abruptly cut off as she pushes my hand away from her face, throwing me back into the present moment. The small child is convulsing in the car-seat, an acute expression of agony drawn onto her face, and yet, through the pain, she was somehow able to break herself away from me. “N-no!” she exclaims, her skin still glowing a deep shade of red. Eyes clamped shut, tears roll down her cheeks as she holds her hands out in front of her to keep me away. “Stay-… aw-way-” she sputters. “N-not s…” she struggles, barely able to force her words out. “Not s-s'pposed to t-tell.” My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach as I realize she’s trying to keep me from seeing what Tony put her through.

“Sweetheart,” I murmur, my hand still held out in front of her, inches away from her scarlet skin. “Willa, baby,” my voice cracks as I watch the little girl choke and heave through her flashback, trying to process everything I’ve just witnessed. The fact that Tony once again went behind my back and abused Willa, my daughter, in an experimental setting sets an angry fire ablaze within me. Learning this only confirms that my decision to move us out was much needed; she clearly isn’t safe anywhere near Tony Stark. Another part of me is furious with myself for allowing this to happen again. He hurt her, and I had no idea. Even after it happened, I was too stupid and blind to see that she had been once again put through such an incredibly traumatizing experience.

Willa’s pain-stricken body spasms violently against the straps of the car-seat as she sobs pitifully; out of pure heartbreak, my hands find their way to the black buckles holding her into the seat, releasing them swiftly. She crumples forward with the sudden lack of restraint, her writhing body folding in on itself as she collapses onto the floor of the car in front of me. “Oh sweetheart,” I breathe out, tears building in my eyes. Still glowing strong, the child lifts her head slightly, seeming to be able to somewhat glance around and take in her position while simultaneously reliving her experience. With as much strength as she can muster, she throws herself forward, to my surprise, and stumbles out of the car, landing painfully in a ball at my feet. In an instant, I’m bent down beside her, cooing, “Willa, hey- it’s alright, you’re alright…” My hands reach out once more to try to help her, but she lurches back instantly, holding her own arms up again in front of her.

“N-no! N-no, please,” she whimpers as she scurries backward fearfully, her body beginning to duck under the car.

“Willa, baby, please,” I try, “it’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay; you can let me see. Please let me see, doll. I need to know what he did to you.” My hand draws near her cheek and she flinches back, a terrified whimper escaping her lips.

“C-can’t see, can’t,” she cries in reply, her mangled body curling further into itself as the pain of her memories seems to intensify even more. Her hands fly up and grab onto her hair, pulling down hard in distress.

“Sweetie, sweetie, hey,” I coo sadly, hating to see her so distraught. “Please Willa, come here- let me hold you. Let Daddy hold you, sweetheart. I’ll make it all better, I promise.” But she just continues to cry and cower away from me, and in the end I don’t have the heart to go against her wishes, so I keep my hands off of her, even though my strongest instinct is to wrap her up as tightly as I can and never let her go.

After several more minutes of agony, Willa’s cries eventually begin to die down, and to my relief, the bright red glow surrounding her slowly starts to fade away, leaving her a tearful mess on the parking garage floor. Once all the flush has left her skin, she lifts her tired body up slightly, her head rising up to look at me warily as I kneel down in front of her, concern and heartbreak still written all over my face.

“Sweetheart, hi,” I breathe. “Come here, baby,” I murmur gently, opening up my arms for her. The child drags herself slowly over to me, her shaking form resting gingerly against my chest at last. As carefully as I can, I wrap her up in my embrace, shifting so that I’m sitting cross-legged on the ground, cradling the little girl in my arms. Though her flashback is over, Willa still continues to cry, big warm tears rolling down her cheeks steadily, not showing any signs of slowing. “Shh-shh shh, it’s okay,” I hum, stroking her messy hair back from her face. “You’re safe now; I’ve got you. I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

Through the commotion, I can see that her light green shift has lifted slightly up on her tummy. And though no part of me wants to see just how hurt my sweet baby girl has become, the need to know wins out in the end, and my hand trails down to the hem of the shirt, lifting it up to get a better view. “Oh my god,” I let out, sucking in a breath. Dark, angry marks litter her entire abdomen, spanning all the way up through her shoulders. Without thinking, I lift up one of her sleeves as well, devastated to find similar marks covering her arm. Reaching down to the ankle of her leggings, I pull back the fabric, and am met with a similar sight. Tony’s set of simulations didn’t seem to miss a single part of her body that would be covered by clothes. More anger burns within me, but I’m quickly shaken out of my thoughts by a soft, terrified voice.

“P-please,” she begs, sounding weakened to the point of absolute exhaustion. “D-don’t hurt me; I’m sorry. N-no more. C-can’t take it.” Pulling her clothes back down to cover her damaged skin, my hand finds its way back up to her cheek; whimpering, she flinches, clearly anticipating a blow.

“Hey, you’re okay, Willa-bug. I’m not gonna hurt you; Daddy won’t hurt you, baby,” I croon, rubbing my thumb gently over her tear-stained cheek. “Willa, I- I don’t know how I could ever show you how sorry I am, but today is the day, sweetheart… I’m finally taking you home. And no one will be able to hurt you there, not Tony, or Hydra, or anybody else. This ends now, Willa. No more hurt for you. No more experiments or labs or anything like that.”

“No lab, p-please no lab,” she sobs quietly, and for some reason, as she says this, I’m thrown back to the very first day that we met back in Korea. As I was carrying her out of the base and onto the ship, she feared the exact same thing. And it just destroys me, to know that I still haven’t been able to ease her fears about my intentions with her.

“No lab,” I promise, continuing to stroke her cheek softly, and in the process, her own little thumb trails up and finds its way into her quivering mouth. “You’re my sweetheart, my baby, my doll. You don’t belong in a lab; you belong in a home. With me, in my arms. Just like this.” And as gently as I can, I begin rocking the small girl back and forth, a hint of relief settling in my chest as her sobs begin to die down.

“Y-your sweetheart,” she mumbles quietly, her head tucking in beside my chest as I lean down to plant a kiss in her hair. “Your baby, your doll. Y-yours. Daddy’s. Belong w-with you.”

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#faad #faad: where she belongs #eun's writing #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers series #steve rogers au #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #hurt/comfort #steve rogers x child!oc #dad!steve rogers #the avengers #avengers fanfiction #mcu #mcu fanfiction #captain america #captain america fanfiction

[scuttling]

Lovers' Spat

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 2,738 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Teasing, Daddy kink, Soft dom/sub, Cockwarming (+ unsafe driving practices), Oral fixation, Unprotected sex, Choking, Spit kink, Come marking Summary: You piss off Aaron at work, he's harsh about it, and you're both upset on the flight back. At home, you're desperate to connect and give each other what you need. *Requested by @ssahotchie :) Link to A03 or read below! “I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal out of this,” you say when you and Aaron are back at the hotel packing up your stuff. “It was innocent.”

“It was not innocent, and you know it. There’s nothing innocent about nibbling on my ear and rubbing my thigh in a fucking police precinct.”

Well he’s got you there. Your intentions were most certainly to tease him and make him hard, so he would be praying for the flight to end quickly so he could drag you to your bedroom and do dirty things to you. Admittedly, sometimes your libido gets the best of you.

“Okay, so it wasn’t innocent, but no harm was done. When that detective caught me, she laughed.” Aaron is very much not laughing.

“No harm was done to you, but apparently you forget that I have a reputation to uphold. I’m known in a lot of these law enforcement offices, if not by face than by name, and I don’t need you teasing me, undermining my authority, and being inappropriate.”

You feel that like a slap to the face; you set your jaw, exhale through your nose, and shove your shit into your go bag, and when you’re packed you throw it onto the floor, walk into the bathroom, and slam the door behind you.

You’re looking in the mirror and willing yourself not to cry. Yes, teasing him is fun, being a little shit is fun, but disappointing him is not fun, and you feel like a huge fucking disappointment right now. You feel like a pain in the ass, like a dumb slut who has no regard for what he wants or needs, who only wants to get fucked. It’s humiliating.

After a couple minutes, Aaron knocks on the door. “Time to go, baby.” You take a deep breath and open the door, walk over to your bag and throw it over your shoulder, not making eye contact. You wait for him to catch up, and he puts his hand on the small of your back, turns you to face him. “I’m sorry. I was a little harsh.” You frown and shake your head, holding it high in hopes you’ll trick your stupid brain into thinking you’re not some huge fuck up, a huge mistake.

“No, you were right. You don’t need me ruining your reputation.” He closes his eyes, sighs, and you open the door, gather with the rest of the team in the lobby. They don’t know what happened, but you’re sure it’s obvious that you and Aaron are not in a good place right now. No one tries to talk to you or joke with you, and you sit by yourself on the plane, earbuds in with nothing playing. You stare out the window and wonder what this means for the rest of your day, your week. Your life. When you land, Aaron grabs both of your bags and throws them in the back of the car. You slink into the passenger’s seat, move to buckle in, but he stops you with a gentle hand on yours.

“Are you angry, or sad?” You smile, just a little, because of the fact that’s a question he even knows to ask. He knows you so well, it hurts sometimes.

“Sad. I hate disappointing you,” you say, and your voice cracks a little. It’s easier to hold back your emotions when you don’t speak. He lifts his hand, runs it over your cheek, pulls you close for a soft kiss.

“You didn’t disappoint me. You’re my good girl, you’re perfect.” You close your eyes and lean into his palm.

“I’m not.”

“Do you want to be?” You open your eyes, swallow, make eye contact; his gaze is soft, but serious, and beautiful as always.

“Yes, daddy. More than anything.” He nods, opens his belt and unzips his pants. You lick your lips, second nature at this point, and your eyes move from his face to his cock—now exposed, half hard—and then back to his face. You must look uncertain, because he brushes a thumb over your lips.

“I just want you to put your mouth on me and stay there, until we get home, okay? First step to being daddy’s good girl is just keeping me warm and wet with your sweet little mouth.” You say a silent thanks to the FBI for its heavily tinted windows and lean over the center console, hold him still, and wrap your lips around him.

He knows how it makes you feel to have your mouth full—be it full of his cock or his fingers or your fingers or a toy—how your mouth is like a direct line to both your heart and your pussy that is unlike any other erogenous zone on your entire body. It makes you feel happy, and good, and useful, and cared for, so much more than just an oral fixation; you’re sure that’s why this is step one, because you will be soft and fuzzy and pleased with yourself by the time you make it home, no longer embarrassed by your behavior or wounded by his words.

He pets your head when he can, murmurs, perfect and good girl and so good for daddy, and you moan softly, occasionally, sounds of contentment more than pleasure. Once or twice, he moves his hand to your ass, squeezes, and you moan louder, wanting to bob on his cock, but he reminds you to stay still with a hand on the back of your neck; you want to please him more than anything, so you do.

After he pulls into his parking spot and turns off the car, he tilts your head so your cheek is pressed to his thigh, and you look up at him, your eyes unfocused but full of gratitude and love. He brushes your hair back, takes his cock in his hand and slides it out of your mouth, and you groan softly at the loss.

“Good girl. So incredible for daddy. I need you, you know that? Need my perfect girl.”

“I need you, daddy,” you rasp, and you sit up, and he takes your face in his hands and kisses your soft, wet lips.

“I know you do, and I’m going to give you what you want. Let’s get inside, okay, angel?” Again, he grabs both of your bags, and he puts his arm around your waist, helps you get inside, since you’re a little hazy from keeping your mouth on him for so long.

He gets you a drink of water, then guides you to the bedroom, sits you back on the bed and slowly, lovingly removes your clothes. You brush your fingers through his hair, just stare at him, happy and horny and very in love.

“Do you want to undress me, or do you just want to watch?” he asks, and you slide off the bed, sink to your knees, and take off his shoes and socks and pants while he works on his tie and the buttons of his shirt. When you’re both naked, he pulls the comforter down and lays you back against the sheets, leans in to kiss your throat, your cheeks, and then he puts his fingers inside you, to make sure you’re ready for more than that.

“I’m ready, daddy, ready,” you whisper, but he moves them inside you to decide for himself, because sometimes you’re so horny you say you’re ready when you really aren’t, and then it hurts. You don’t mind when it hurts, but Aaron likes you to be prepared, so you try to be patient.

When he decides you’re ready, he spreads your thighs wide, gets on his knees, and pulls you closer, lines the head of his cock up at your entrance and presses in. You moan, because you’ve been wanting to feel this all damn day, and then he slips his wet fingers into your mouth, gets his other hand on your hip, and starts to thrust.

“Beautiful, baby, so good and sweet for daddy. Perfect angel.” His voice is tense with arousal, his face a gorgeous combination of concentration and pleasure; you move your hips, pressing your thighs against his, taking his deep, slow thrusts to the next level, and he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, holds your waist tightly, moves a little quicker.

“Oh, yes daddy,” you breathe, your hands on his forearms, your tits bouncing and your body sliding back and forth across the bed. “Feels so good, so good. Fuck me, fuck my body, daddy.” He groans, and his grip on your waist gets tighter; he’s really pounding you now, and you’re breathing heavily, but you want something more, something you can’t reach yet but that’s at the edge of your mind, on the tip of your tongue.

“That’s right, good girl, daddy’s fucking your soft little body. Filling you up with his hard cock. You love that, angel; this is what you wanted earlier, isn’t it? When you were teasing daddy? You just wanted to be fucked, filled up with cock like the good girl you are, and daddy wasn’t nice. I’m sorry, baby, I love you.”

“It’s okay, daddy, love you, daddy. I shouldn’t have been inappropriate but I wanted you to get hard and think of me.” He hums, moves a hand to your thigh and the other to your throat, squeezes tightly. You arch off the bed, up into his hand, whimper and move your hips faster, more desperately. “Oh, god, oh, yeah.” You groan, tense, and come, digging your nails into his forearms, and he grunts as you quake around him, letting up on your throat just a little.

“There’s daddy’s girl, coming so hard. Good girl. So wet for me now.” You absolutely are, you can hear the sounds of his cock moving in and out of you very clearly, and it makes you feel hot and dirty and eager for more: but more what?

Your question is answered when he leans forward, sucks on one of your nipples, then pulls back and dribbles some spit on it, rubs his hand roughly over it when it’s damp.

Jesus Mary and Joseph. New challenge unlocked: get this sexy fucking man to soak you in his spit.

“Oh, oh, please, please,” you babble, and he spreads his spit to your other nipple, lets a little more drip off of his tongue. “Oh god, oh, please.” He sucks it, then looks up at you, because you’re clearly losing your fucking mind.

“What is it, angel? What do you want from daddy?” He squeezes your neck again, and you whine high in your throat, can feel your wetness soaking your ass and the sheets beneath you; you want to be wet all over, a mess all over, you want him to fill your pussy and your mouth, you want him inside you in every way. You whine again.

“Spit on me daddy. My tummy and my tits,” you plead, and his eyes get dark and he swirls his tongue around a nipple, spits on it, moves to the other side and does the same. Your chest is heaving, drenched, filthy, and he changes the angle so he can drip some into your belly button, too. He’s higher up for that, and you can see a string of spit falling from his mouth as he does it, and you move a hand to your throbbing pussy and rub it, moaning like an absolute whore.

“You like that, baby? You like when daddy spits on you? You like being a dirty slut, covered in daddy, filled by daddy?” You nod as best as you can with his hand on your throat, your mouth open, panting, and he gets a glimmer in his eye that makes you even fucking wetter. He slides his hand up from your throat to your jaw, squeezes, and leans over your body, presses his lips to your slack mouth for a kiss. “Open wide, good girl.”

You shiver, whimper, and open your mouth, and you can see him rolling his tongue, collecting spit; you moan on repeat like a broken record, your fingers beating your clit, his cock pounding your pussy, and you start to come again just as he presents you with a tongue coated in spit, as he pours it into your mouth, stringy and slick and thick and everything you didn’t know you needed.

You tip your head back, swallow, and your eyes roll a little as your orgasm only continues to build. He leans in for a wet, sloppy kiss, groans against your mouth, and then pulls back and spits again, this time onto your closed lips, so it rolls down your chin, your throat. You swipe your tongue over your bottom lip, sigh happily, and Aaron comes, pumping inside you a few times and then pulling out to let the rest coat your thighs.

You have never been so thoroughly debauched, your body trembling, sticky and shiny and covered in a multitude of fluids, and Aaron climbs off the bed, making you whimper at the loss.

“Be right back, baby,” he assures, so you just raise your arms over your head, sigh, so content; when he comes back, he kneels on the bed, holds his phone over you, and takes a picture. You laugh softly, surprised.

“Okay, and what’s that all about?” you ask as he crowds in next to you, rubs his fingers gently over your jaw, your throat, where he’d been rough.

“This is an image I won’t let myself soon forget, but just in case my imagination is failing me one day, I need to have a backup.” You huff a laugh, pull him close for a kiss, and he tosses his phone toward the end of the bed, holds you closer. “I’m sorry about earlier. I could stand to be a little less uptight. I wasn’t thinking about how my words could affect you, and I didn't mean them anyway. I do need you, inappropriate and teasing me, or any other way you chose to be. I love you.”

“I love you too, but I’m also sorry. There’s a time and a place for what I did, and the precinct wasn’t it. I wasn’t thinking of how my actions could affect you, or your reputation.” You brush a hand through his hair, look into his perfect, gorgeous eyes, and sigh. “Besides, the only place I want you to have a bad reputation is here in this bed with me. I like that you’re a gentleman in the streets and a nasty, choking, spitting, fucking machine in the sheets. Really gets me going, when you’re standing there all pressed and proper in your expensive suits and I know you’re probably thinking about pulling my hair and railing me on the nearest surface.” He hums, nods like you’re a little silly, but you know deep down he loves it.

“I am thinking about that most of the time,” he says with a smile, and you kiss and get cleaned up and change the sheets, and then you curl up on your stomach, his heavy body on top of you, all around you, and fall blissfully asleep. A little less than a week later, you’re on a case, and Aaron thinks the unsub would open up to you, if you’re up for it. He gives everyone directions, but asks you to hang back a moment, which is not unusual; he’ll do that to everyone before an interrogation, to go over his expectations, warnings.

The two of you are in the conference room, your makeshift workspace, alone, when he steps up to you, towering over you, and wraps his fingers around your chin. He presses one soft, gentle kiss to your lips, and then says, “open up for daddy.”

Your eyes get wide, but you do as instructed, and he spits on your tongue, then gives you an open-mouthed, filthy kiss.

“For luck,” he says, humor in his eyes, because he can see how all of that delicious nonsense has affected you. He smacks you on the ass and tells you he’ll be watching, lets you go.

You make that unsub your bitch and get a confession in five minutes flat. Everyone asks what’s gotten into you to make you such a... spitfire, but you’ll never tell.

Except Garcia. You’re definitely telling Garcia. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #prompt #ssahotchie #request #spit kink

[lilith-jean-stark]

Secrets

Warnings: none!

Summary: You and Peter find out each other’s secrets by accident.

A/n: I’ll be setting up a blurb night soon! So stay tuned 😎

You got off the train and made your way to school. Another boring day at mid-town high. Being the sister of Tony Stark had its perks, but it also had its downsides. No one knew that you were Tony’s sister, but you had to admit that being the secret sister was nice because you didn't have people up in your face all the time, except Peter Parker. Peter Parker was the only one who knew your secret. You and Peter had been friends for years and up until a couple weeks ago he had no idea about your secret. You stupidly were doing work for Tony in your notebook while having lunch at school one day, when Peter happened to sit next to you.

*flashback*

"Ugh this formula isn't working." You thought to yourself. Maybe it was just this noisy cafeteria that was making it difficult to think.

"Hey whatcha doing?" Peter said sliding beside you on the bench. Peters eyes widened "Stark industries?" He said a bit too loudly.

"Peter shush!" You snapped and scurried to get your notes into your book bag.

"What are you doing with formulas from Stark industries?" Peter whispered.

"That's not what it is." You rolled your eyes, "silly Peter." You booped his nose with your index finger.

Peter blushed, "uhm yes y/n it is, uh," he stuttered then shook his head to break his gaze with you, "Yes it is, I have an internship, I've seen them."

"I can't say." You groaned, annoyed he didn't take the nose boop as bait to change the subject.

"Come on, it's not like I'd tell anyone." He whined.

"Okay fine, but you have to swear that you won't tell anyone." You said sticking your pinky out for the two of you to pinky swear.

"I swear." Peter said locking his pinky with yours.

You leaned in and whispered "Tony Stark is my older brother and I kinda own part of Stark industries."

"No way!" Peter looked at me in shock.

"Yes way, but it's not a big deal." You laughed and showed him a picture of you and Tony with your parents before they died.

"Wow, he's pretty cool, isn't he?" Peter said in awe.

"Maybe to you because of your internship, but as a brother he's kinda lame." You smirked and nudged Peter with your elbow, to let him know you were only joking.

*end flashback*

You smiled to yourself at how understanding Peter had been about keeping your identity from him. You stood at your locker and sorted the books you needed for class into your bag.

"Y/n!" You heard Peter shout from the other end of the hall.

You waved to him and he jogged down the hallway to you.

"How's it hanging Parker?" You asked as he leaned against the locker next to yours.

"You ready for that Chem test tomorrow?" He asked.

You rolled your eyes, you and Peter had known each other for years and he still forgets that you’re pretty much a genius.

"Sorry forgot we have a prodigy here." Peter put his hands up in defense. "Actually May has been asking about you, she wants you to come over for dinner tonight." He said, crossing his arms.

"Peter you didn't tell her did you?" You said in a hushed voice.

"What? No! She asked what you've been up to, because you know she hasn't seen you around in awhile. So I lied..." Peter trailed off and looked at you with hopeful eyes. "I said you had an internship at Stark industries too."

You laughed slightly, "I'll send Tony a text and let him know I won't be home for dinner.

"Sweet, you're not mad?" He asked.

"No peter I'm not mad. You're actually a genius for telling her that." You smiled at him for being so sweet and for protecting your secret. Even though you knew he was dying to tell Ned and pretty much anyone who would listen.

"Oh and Ned might be by later too. He's got this lego Death Star he wants to build." Peter said staring to get all giddy.

"Wait, didn't you two build that a couple months ago?" You raised an eyebrow curiously at him.

Peters face went red, "oh yea i meant he needed help with his homework." He said quickly and started off down the hall, "gotta go gonna be late for class."

You sighed and headed to class. You didn't think anything of Peters weird behavior, due to the fact that Peter was sometimes scatter brained.

Peter got to math class and sat next to Ned.

"You can't come over tonight." Peter whispered to him.

"Why not , the Death Star isn't going to build itself Peter."

"Y/n is coming over for supper and she thinks we already put it together. She'll get suspicious." Peter whisper yelled.

"Fine, but it wouldn't have to be rebuilt if someone didn't make me drop it." Ned rolled his eyes at him "And you haven't told her about you know what yet?"

"No I can't Ned." He mumbled.

Later after school peter went and did his usual spider man stuff. He was just about done and was heading home and then realized that he had forgot about you. He raced home and climbed into his room through the window. His bedroom door was already shut, so he dropped to the floor and took his mask off.

The door opened, "hey Peter, May said to make myself at home..." you started to say, your eyes focused on your phone.

Peter quickly pressed his suits release button and let it fall to the floor, then kicked it under his bed.

"She said I'd find you in..." You stopped short of yourself when you looked up from your phone, to see Peter standing there in front of you in his boxers. It was just like Ned all over again, Peter had thought to himself.

"Woah Sorry Parker." You put your hands up in defense and smirked, holding back laughter. You stood there staring at him and laughed, "I guess I should have knocked."

Peter blushed, "Aunt May, can you please stop letting people in my room without knocking!" He shouted.

"I'll go check out what May is up too and come back when your dressed." You said.

"No, its fine!" Peter said, grabbing a sweatshirt and pulling on pants.

"Why were you in your underwear anyway?" You asked.

"I was warm." He lied.

You shut the door and glared at Peter. "You better not be lying to me. You realize that I have access to the worlds largest data pool, if I want to know something, I’ll find out."

"Look Y/n, i am not lying." Peter almost couldn't get the words out. You frightened him sometimes, you were very confident and fierce, never caring what others thought of you.That and you were smarter than him and you were pretty much one of the most powerful people in America with being a stark. Even if Peter was a good liar, you could still tell whether he was lying or not and if looks could kill, you would be shooting daggers from your eyes.

Peter watched you as you tilted your head to look behind him. "So what's that?" You pointed to the underneath of his bed.

"Nothing, just stuff."

"Peter?" You pushed past him and grabbed his Spider-Man suit and pulled it out from under the bed.

"You just happen to have a bright red leotard?" You questioned and then spread it out before he could rip it out of her hands. "Peter!!!!" You gasped and dropped the suit, "That's spider mans suit, I built that!" You shot him a look, "wait are you Spider-Man?" You asked as your eyes grew wide with realization.

"Yes." Peter said annoyed and grabbed the suit, hiding it in his bookbag. Then he realized what you had said, his eyes widened "you built that?!"

You grabbed the bookbag and pulled the suit from it. "Yes I did, Tony asked me to do a suit for some spider guy. I didn't think he was talking about you!" You exclaimed and examined the suit. "What did he tell you about the suit?” You asked.

"Mr. Stark said he made it." Peter said nervously.

"God of course he did.” You rolled your eyes. “Anyway that's besides the point, you're Spider-Man and you've been using my tech to help you fight crime? Did Tony tell you about the formulas too!? Is that why you caught me in the cafeteria." You looked anxious and kept looking at the suit.

 "No, the formula I noticed was mine..." Peter looked down at his hands.

"Wait, the spider web goo, you made that?" You looked at him in disbelief.

"Yes I did, I gave the formula to Mr. Stark because he wanted to see if he could improve it. Then he told me to leave it how it was. I was confused when I saw you with it because Mr. Stark was the only person I told. So I figured you had to be working on Stark industries stuff if you had my web formula." Peter explained.

"Peter that's the coolest chemical reaction I've ever seen! I love playing with that stuff!" You said excitedly.

Peter blushed and you pulled him into a hug. “Let’s get out there before May starts getting suspicious.” You said almost as a hum, you were as happy as could be and even happier now that you and Peters secrets were out.

#peter parker oneshot #tom holland x female reader #mcu imagine #mcu x reader #mcu fanfiction #spiderman #peter parker x reader fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker x y/n #tony stark #iron man #iron fam #anthony edward stark #tom holland x y/n

[mythiccheroacademia]

What You Fight About

part 2

A/N: just something I thought about

Headcanon: what you two would fight about the most

Warnings: toxic behaviors, yelling, cursing, angst

Midoriya Izuku:

his absence

being the number one hero is demanding

it’s also been his dream since he could remember

you understood that, but that didn’t mean it didn’t frustrate you when he’d disappear for days at a time

izuku tries to balance his job and home life

but it isn't enough

~~~

You and Izuku don’t fight much. In fact, you never really do. You’re both so compromising that disagreements rarely happen.

But when your kid is involved, that complacency slips away. Even when it comes to one another.

“I’m done talking about this.”

“Honey, why won’t you just listen to me?” he begged, but the irritation in his tone gave it more sharpness than he intended. “[S/N] doesn’t need the tutor. It’s just the teacher.”

You began to pick up the leftover toys from floor more so to expel pent up energy rather than to simply clean. You scoffed, shaking your head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Excuse me?” Midoriya snipped. His eyes followed you as you discarded the toys and crossed your arms beside the couch, finally giving him your attention. “I think I know my own son, Y/N.”

Izuku cared so much for your child and you knew that. But that underlying message your brain processed within his words pissed you off.

“And you think I don’t?”

“I just don’t think you’re giving him enough credit.”

An incredulous laugh left your lips before they moved into a frown. “He’s failing 4th grade, Izuku. We can’t move him to a different classroom every time he gets a bad grade. At some point, we have to take responsibility! He needs the extra help!”

“You just don’t understand,” the hero muttered, running a hand through his hair.

What he said shouldn’t have set you off, but it did. Everything suddenly flooded your head. All the stress you had to deal with alone bubbled up your throat and exploded.

“No, you don’t understand!”

“Yes I do!”

“How!? You’re barely in his fucking life anyways!”

It went silent shortly after that.

The outburst felt good, but the aftermath made your squeeze with guilt. Izuku’s frown softened into shock before melting into something deeper than pain.

Once your words finally processed through your head, you immediately tried to take it back.

“Izuku, I didn’t mean that—”

“Yes you did.”

You thickly swallowed and averted your eyes to the floor. He was right. You did. You’d been wanting to say it for so long, but this wasn’t the way you planned to deliver those thoughts.

Your gaze moved back to your husband once he gathered his duffle bag and slid on his shoes.

“Baby,” you sighed, your voice much softer than before. It was almost insane how easily the anger left you. “Where are you going?”

You wilted with his next words. “I’ll stay over at the agency. To give you some space. We’ll talk more after we’ve both cooled down,” he sadly smiled.

Despite the hurt silver-lining his green eyes, Midoriya softly held your chin and kissed your forehead. Something he always did when your disagreements didn’t end on a good note. As if to reassure you that, even though he was upset, he still loved you all the same.

And that just made you feel worse.

“’Zuku—”

“Don’t worry about [S/N]. I’ll take him to school tomorrow.” He paused to look you in your eyes. “I love you, always.”

“I love you too,” you quietly resigned and watched him disappear behind the front door leaving you to let your head fall into your hands.

Bakugo Katsuki

his jealousy

bakugo is confident in many areas of his life

it’s one of his qualities that won you over

but he still had those tiny insecurities that showed up in large ways

aka losing you

and he had no idea how to handle it

~~~

The alcohol probably wasn’t a good idea considering Bakugo was already noticeably pissed on the way to the house party. But everyone assumed it was just another one of his moods he’d get over sooner or later. He wasn’t a drinker, but a beer or two usually loosened him up.

However, your friends looked at each other with worry behind the door to the room you two were in. Despite the party lights and booming stereo, they could hear the angry muffled yelling you two were doing.

You were 100% drunk, but you were 110% sure this man was telling you to stay away from your friend. Your best friend.

“If it’s one thing you have, it’s the audacity,” you sassily quipped.

“I’m not fucking playing around with you, Y/N,” Bakugo snapped with too much bite than you cared to hear. “I want you to stay away from that two-bagged eyed bastard!”

“You always do this! Shinsou’s my friend!”

The redness in his ears wasn’t only from the drinks as his nostrils flared with barely contained irritation. “Friend my ass. You didn’t see the way he was looking at you, and that fucker had the nerve to grab you in front of me!”

“He was moving me out of the way!”

“He fucking felt you up is what he did!”

You smacked your teeth, entirely done with the argument. You weren’t getting anywhere. “Now you’re just being delusional.”

Bakugo pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out in a desperate attempt to calm himself. A feat even he was surprised about considering the situation. He tried so hard to not be as explosive, to reign in his emotions, for you. But his jealousy burned hot within his veins.

“Y/N. I’m asking you, as your man, to put some distance between you and Shinsou,” he lowly warned.

Maybe it was the wrong thing to say, but the words flew out of your mouth before you could stop them. “Like hell I will. Hitoshi’s been here longer than you have by years. I’m not gonna drop him just because you feel insecure.”

That withered away any form of self-restraint Katsuki had left. He felt exposed and hurt. And dealt with that the best way he knew how.

His hazy brain clouded over with anger and he went on the defensive.

“I bet you want him.”

“What? No I don’t?”

“You’re probably sleeping with him behind my fucking back,” he dryly laughed. “Am I not good enough anymore? Is that it?”

You were quickly sobering up. “What the fuck is wrong with you!? Of course not! I’m not a cheater!”

“Then why won’t cut him off, damn it!?”

Your voices rose in volumes too high for comfort. The crackle in his palms didn’t scare you one bit, but it was enough for Kirishima and Mina to come in and try to separate you two.

You ignored their pleading and the two of your found each other in the other’s face.

“Why are you so jealous!?”

“BECAUSE HE’S TAKING YOU AWAY FROM ME!!”

“NO HE’S NOT!

“IT’S SO EASY FOR YOU TO DEFEND HIM AND PROBABLY JUST AS EASY FOR YOU TO SPREAD YOUR FUCKING LEGS—"

A resounding slap cut him short. That seemed to snap him out of whatever alcohol induced rage he was in. However, Bakugo only had a moment to register your expression of disgust before Kirishima pulled him away.

“Fuck you, asshole” was the last thing you said before Mina lead into the hallway.

Kirishima watched his friend’s breathing turn ragged with each puff.

“Come on, man. Let’s just—”

“FUCK!” Katsuki roared before throwing a nearby water bottle to the floor. He fisted his hair and clenched his teeth.

He messed up. Big time.

And as upset as he was with himself, he couldn’t help but be even angrier at the thought of who you’d run to first.

Todoroki Shouto:

how blunt he is

he was a bit socially inept and you loved him for that

but sometimes, you get frustrated

todoroki does too because 9 times out of 10 he doesn’t understand why

when you get angry, he completely shuts down bc he doesn’t know how to handle it any other way

and it didn’t help that he was petty asf

~~~

“Okay.”

You looked up and folded your lips in a tight line. It was the same monotone answer he’d been giving you all day and it was getting on your nerves.

“Sho, baby, can you at least try and act like you somewhat care about this vacation we’re planning,” you said as sweetly as possible.

Although you were annoyed, you understood that things flew over your boyfriend’s head sometimes and, hopefully, a little nudge would point him in the right direction.

“I’m listening, prince(ss),” he dimly responded.

He didn’t bother to look up from the papers he was reading at the table and it made you huff. Folding up the magazine, you just stalked your way out of the kitchen.

“You know what? Don’t even bother. I’ll do it myself.”

That made Shouto look up. His brows furrowed in confusion and he caught your hand before you could completely pass by him. Why were you suddenly upset? He told you he was listening.  

“Hey, wait. What’s wrong? Did I do something?” he asked.

You let him pull you in between his legs. He looked genuinely lost and it was enough to soften your exterior.

“I just feel like you don’t care sometimes,” you said, deciding to just be blunt.

“Huh?” he hummed. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know…it just seems like you don’t have an interest in anything I have to say if it doesn’t involve hero work, your family, or something like that.”

Todoroki took offense to that. Of course he cared about what you had to say. He loved you. Just because he wasn’t gripping on to every word you spoke in mundane life didn’t mean he didn’t care.

There were ways to express his thoughts, but Shouto wasn’t always the best at gently doing it.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t agree,” he said.

You looked off to the side for a second before looking down at him. “Well that’s how I feel,” you retorted.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but you’re wrong.”

You watched him for a moment, waiting for him to explain himself. However, he just stared back at you as if there was nothing else left to say. The silence was sickening.

You snatched your hand out his grip. “Okay, Shouto,” you bit and left.

He hadn’t heard his first name in a while.

Your boyfriend dumbly blinked already feeling more lost. He didn’t understand why you were so angry.

He called Midoriya about it and was told he was being intolerant. The entire conversation honestly made him feel like an asshole and Todoroki didn’t like that at all. So he gave you some space before finding you in the kitchen again, this time equipped to right his wrongs—even though he still wasn’t entirely sure what he did.

He called your name once and instead of responding, you just kept going about your task. That sort of miffed him, but he tried again. This time, you hummed back but the tension behind it made him feel defensive for some odd reason.

“Can we talk about this morning?”

“What? Are my feelings suddenly valid to you now?” you sarcastically replied.

Todoroki raised a sharp brow at your attitude and decided he was over it already. Here he was trying to apologize, and you were being difficult. He wouldn’t fight with you over something so insignificant.

“Fine. When you’re done with your little tantrum, we can talk about this like adults.”

You’d never spun around so quickly. “Really, Todoroki?”

Last name basis. Petty.

But he was even pettier.

“Yes, really, [L/N].”

His half-lidded bored stare made your scalp prickle.

“Fine. Me and my little tantrum are gonna go somewhere and you can plan the vacation all by yourself like the adult you are.”

“Fine. I’d probably get it done faster anyways.”

You let out an offended gasp. “Fine!”

“Fine!” he tsked, crossing his arms.

You two looked away from one another and stomped out of the room in childish anger.

#bnha headcanons #mha scenarios #bnha x reader #mha x reader #izuku x reader #todoroki x reader #midoriya izuku #katsuki bakugou #todoroki shouto #bnha #mha #bnha bakugo x reader

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Come Now, Little Prince

Prompts: Hey uh... *brushed off dust from crashing in through the roof* Could you write something about Roman or Remus having Agoraphobia and them getting trapped somewhere? My brain just wants to relate. If not that’s fine! Love your writing! - anon

Might I suggest,,,, writing trope where the severely hurt person goes to their nemesis and says “sorry, I just didn’t have anywhere else to go” but it’s with Roman and Janus - 1namelessalien1

Ahh, yes, the inevitable. Honestly a lil surprised I haven't done this sooner but here we go! Finally...

Read on Ao3

Pairings: roceit, dukeceit, creativitwins. can be platonic or romantic you choose save for creativitwins. they brothers

Warnings: roman gets stabbed and has to get stitches, agoraphobia

Word Count: 7611

Cities are full of bright lights and shadows alike. Those that live in the light, the heroes, the 'good guys.' Those that live in the shadows, their grisly work only illuminated when the sun deigns to show its face again. Sometimes the shadows are too deep. Sometimes the spotlights are too much.

The Prince, Roman Prince, is the Golden Boy of the city. The newsreels, the cameras, the public adore him. But they don't see the winces when the bulbs go off right in his face, or whispers to be better, do better, perform better from the people that pull him aside after every daring adventure.

No one knows the name Janus, but they know his work. They don't shout, they whisper. They huddle together in the dark, searching for the light so as not to get caught in his coils.

But sometimes, when spotlights are too bright and shadows too flat, a little prince will make its way into the snake's den.

He didn’t mean to.

He didn’t mean to.

It just—his hand slipped and they fell and they—they—

He didn’t mean to drop them. They weren’t—they weren’t supposed to fall but the knife hurt too much and he flinched and he—he—

The choppers roar around the roof, battering his head with their noise, noise, noise. The wind whips up around the concrete railing, whistling, whining, wailing as the body falls down, down, down. The searchlights glint off the knife as they pull it down with them.

And then he is alone, in a crowd, on the top of a roof, king of the clouds.

The lights glare in his face as their body disappears. Then…then…

Then fear.

———————————

One of the best things about being seen as a ‘super villain,’ and how gauche is that term, is that no one wants to ask too many questions when you rent an apartment. There are really far too many landlords that want to get to know you, want to be your friend, while knowing full well that they participate in a system where there is no ethical consumption or behavior. Really, if he ever starts renting his own property, there will be no illusions on his end.

But hey, at least these ones know not to put their noses where they’ll get bitten off if they poke too far.

Janus sighs, opening the cupboard and taking the teacup down. The kettle whistles merrily on the stove as he reaches for the tea boxes.

Black, green, white, herbal…really, there are so many options. What to have for tonight, then? It is awfully late in the evening, there’s no real justification for consuming caffeine. Then again, he’ll do what he likes.

His phone buzzes. His real phone, not the one everyone sees him carry when he’s out and about. He rolls his eyes and takes the kettle off the heat as he spots the name on the text notification.

R. Sanders: 1 new notification

“What’ve you done now, Remus,” he mutters as he slides the message open, “and which one of your messes am I cleaning up now?”

The message opens to a report. Brief, as is the style of all the reports Janus demands, but the thing that gives him pause is just how brief.

Remus, as one can very well imagine, is…not exactly compliant when it comes to following the rules. And while that can be useful in its own special way, it does mean that Janus occasionally has to factor emojis out of Remus’s reports.

Well, more than occasionally.

But this time the report is two sentences. Janus pours the water into the teapot as he glances over the words.

R. Sanders: Slaughter down at 85th and Marilyn. The head of the beast is cut off.

Well, on paper, that should be a fantastic report. The rival infringing on Janus’s turf has been, ah, taken down a few notches.

That’s undermined considerably by the fact that this report lacks any of Remus’s enthusiasm.

Janus sighs as he settles on the loose-leaf blueberry mint tea, placing the cup aside to brew as he wanders toward the window. Perhaps Remus is simply tired from all this work today. It wouldn’t be the first time the man’s manic energy had been tempered by a good amount of strenuous activity. And cutting off the head of the beast was never going to be a simple job to begin with. True, it was always an issue with causing more collateral damage than Janus was personally comfortable with, but what’s done is done.

The city starts to slumber, the last of the pleasant natural light fading from the sky, giving way to the horrid stained brown of the light pollution. The skyscrapers barely flinch in the oncoming night, instead choosing to stand firm as the workers inside slave away. The smaller shops close their doors, the nighttime crowds vanishing into subway tunnels and bus stations. Janus leans against the window, the glass reflecting the elegant lines of his suit alongside the angles of the buildings.

If he were slightly less himself, he’d say it looks like he belongs here.

When the light fades further, he sighs, turning away and fetching his tea. He drops into his favorite chair next to the window and raises the cup to his mouth.

The head of the beast has been cut off. He has no appointments, no reports, no debriefings to attend. He has his cup of tea, Remus will handle anything that blows up on the networks. It is the perfect evening to be alone, secure in his apartment.

So of course, there has to be something that sends a prickle up the back of his neck.

Why is Remus’s report sitting with him like this? This should be fantastic news, he should be willing to open the bottle of champagne that’s sat in preparation for this moment. And yet, as he raises the cup to his mouth again, his teeth hit the rim and he jolts, spilling a little more than he meant to into his mouth. He swallows, thankful that there’s no one else here to see it, and sets the cup and saucer aside.

He folds his gloved hands behind his back and goes to the window again.

If there were something wrong, someone would tell him. He has eyes all over the city, ears everywhere, and those under his employ know better than to try and cross him. Remus is alive and well—clearly, given by the way the evening’s progressed so far—and wouldn’t hesitate to gleefully drag anyone he suspected into his rooms or an abandoned warehouse.

He spares a glance over his shoulder. The phone stays silent.

Fingers tap against his hand as he looks down. Not for the first time, he wonders what it must be like, down there, scurrying about, without the faintest idea of what it looks like from up here. Oh, he’s walked on the sidewalk outside his building, who hasn’t, that’s how he gets into the building in the first place, but…not like that.

The outside world is so…temperamental. So many people, so many things. There is no better place to be alone than a crowded city street, but there is no more dangerous a place to be yourself.

When he’s finished his cup of tea, and the prickle has not left the back of his neck alone, he stifles a curse and turns. Remus will listen to him. Or, more precisely, Remus will ramble and scheme and reassure him that nothing is wrong. He might get a strange look—because while everyone else can underestimate how much Remus sees at their own peril, Janus never has—but he will do it.

Janus opens the door, idly wondering if he needs to bring his coat, and abruptly stops walking.

There is someone on their knees right outside his door.

Well.

That would explain the feeling he’s had of something being wrong, how on earth his security system didn’t alert him to their presence is beyond him. He doesn’t bother to hide his sigh as he pulls his cane from the holder and tilts their chin up.

“I’m certain that you must be…”

Janus trails off as he tilts up a chin to reveal a bloodstained, agonized expression of someone who should not be here.

“I’m sorry,” Roman Prince says in the voice of a lost child, “I didn’t—I didn’t know where else to go.”

Janus’s fingers twitch on the cane as he watches the roll of Roman’s throat.

“Y-you said if I—if I—ever needed help one day to know better than to—to try and go back to th-them.”

Remus’s report is beginning to make more sense.

Janus remembers. Janus remembers this upstart pain in his ass getting in the way of many operations, from transports to exchanges to hostage negotiations. He remembers the crooked smile straight out of a movie as this little shit got in the way of everything, including his resolve to not get involved with any of the so-called heroes that ran around in this city in their spandex and naiveté.

He remembers shaking his head at this shiny new one and saying that when he realized the world was much, much grayer than he wanted to believe, Janus would be there to watch. He remembers a softer offer, after a rescue had resulted in a building—abandoned, but a building—blowing up and the poor thing looking like someone had kicked his puppy.

He remembers watching the rival’s henchmen carted off to jail as the hero of the hour was reprimanded for causing too much collateral damage by the people who supposedly adored him.

“You were right,” Roman continues in that lost, lost voice, “I’m—I’m sorry.”

It takes Roman reaching for him for Janus to remember what is going on and the cane jerks his head up higher, forcing him to stop. Janus narrows his eyes at the hero kneeling on the floor, takes in the blood on his face, his neck, his hands.

“Why are you here,” he asks, wrenching that chin just a little higher, “why did you come to me?”

“You said you would help,” comes the reply, “if I—if I didn’t want to do this anymore.”

Has the perfect prince killed someone for the first time? Is that what’s brought on this little display?

His eyes trail lower, looking for the weapon.

The light from his apartment shines on a tunic stained with blood, cut and torn, and a dark, ugly stain that is not getting any smaller.

Roman’s head lolls forward, almost nuzzling Janus’s thigh as it slips off the cane. His hair sticks to his face, too soaked with blood.

Janus’s eyes go wide.

Roman Prince is here, on his knees, bleeding out because he has nowhere else to go. He came to Janus, the person he should trust the least out of everyone in this city, and he’s here on his knees, pleading.

The hand not on the cane twitches, then slowly reaches forward to find the least bloody spot on Roman’s head. It runs gently through his hair and finds its way to his chin, lifting it up once more. Roman’s eyes, full of tears, stare back at him.

“Come inside, little prince,” Janus says, his voice far softer than he would normally allow, “you’re bleeding all over my carpet.”

There aren’t many places to go that aren’t carpeted inside Janus’s apartment, but they make it over the threshold before Roman’s state begins to truly worry him.

How did he even get here? By how much blood there is, surely he would’ve passed out by now? Roman seems oblivious to his inside questions, simply looks around for wherever Janus is leading him before he notices how much blood he’s leaving behind him.

“It’s alright,” Janus says, surprising the both of them, “I can have the floor cleaned.”

Roman just blinks at him. And oh, if it doesn’t hurt to see that innocence still in the eyes of the little lamb, even as the wolf goes to take his arm.

“The bathroom is through this way,” he says softly, “come now…”

It is an odd experience, surely, to have one’s own nemesis bloody, wounded, completely at his mercy, as he strips off his suit jacket and rolls up his sleeves, and want to do nothing but hunt down the people that made him this way.

Roman sits like a broken doll, he realizes as he watches the man ease himself down and wait as Janus pulls on a pair of plastic gloves. He is not uncooperative when Janus pushes his limbs to the side, snipping away at the fabric, trying to figure out what precisely is going on. He does not protest when Janus finds the stab wound and presses a cloth harshly on top, nor when Janus grabs his hand and bids him to hold it there, hard. He is not unfeeling, just very, very quiet as Janus begins to douse the pads in antiseptic.

He doesn’t flinch when Janus cleans the wound as best he can—he’s no doctor, after all—before muttering that it’s going to need stitches.

“Oh,” he mumbles instead, “okay.”

“Yes, so—hold still,” he barks, forcing Roman to sit back down, “where do you think you’re going?”

Roman blinks. “You said it needs stitches.”

“Yes, which is why you shouldn’t be moving.”

“I was going to go get the stitches.”

Now it’s Janus’s turn to blink. “I will stitch you up, Roman, now stay.”

And there’s that lamb-like innocence again as Roman tilts his head. “You will?”

“I may not be a doctor,” Janus mutters, twisting to grab the first aid kit, “but I do know how to suture a wound.”

He takes a few more wipes and cleans the blood he can, pointedly ignoring Roman’s attentive look.

“You could be a doctor,” comes the mumble, “you seem…good at it.”

Janus huffs. “Less a doctor, more a medic.”

Roman’s brows furrow. “What’s the difference?”

“A doctor fixes you, a medic makes dying more comfortable.”

There’s a moment of silence. Janus half-expects the poor thing to seize up in fear, tremble before him, or—god forbid—try and fight him, but he does none of that. Because that would make sense.

Instead, Roman just closes his eyes and lets his head fall to the side against the tiled wall.

“You don’t have to make it comfortable then.”

Janus’s hands falter for a moment. His eyes flick to Roman’s bloodstained face before refocusing on the wound in front of him.

“You’re not going to die here,” he says firmly, and if he starts to work a little more quickly, that’s his business, not yours.

“Oh.”

“I imagine you wouldn’t’ve come here with the intent to die on my doorstep, that’s quite rude, you know.”

“…no.”

Now, see, as the best liar in the city, Janus knows when he hears one.

The absurdity of the situation strikes him once again, fainter this time, but still there. Roman Prince is here, bloody, wounded—fatally so if Janus hadn’t started tending to him right when he did— forced to roll over and show his belly, Janus’s teeth at his throat, and yet Janus reaches up to turn that pretty face to his.

“Tell me what happened, little prince,” he commands softly.

Roman swallows. “I didn’t mean to.”

Janus simply raises an eyebrow and starts to stitch up the wound. Roman doesn’t flinch but accepts the silent chide.

“I-it was the building security guard,” he mumbles, “they called in that someone was firing shots in the upper stories and couldn’t—couldn’t get away in time. They were—they—the call wasn’t completed.”

They died while they were on the line, Roman doesn’t say, but Janus hears it.

“Wh-when I got there, there were—they must’ve thought there was a mole in the—on the inside and they started—they were—“

They were killing their own people, Janus realizes, hiding his disgust behind another tied-off suture. He’s starting to have an awful feeling about where Roman’s been tonight.

“Something went wrong in one of the labs. They made a toxin, and it—it—“ Roman swallows— “it drove them insane.”

It made them homicidal, they killed each other.

“I...I think they were going to flee from the roof.”

As Janus ties off the last suture, he freezes.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“I tried to stop them,” Roman whispers, “I was holding onto them, it was windy, they were going to fall, they ran too fast out of the door, I caught them, I—I had them, they—they were going to be safe but then they—they—“

Janus presses two fingers to the warm chest next to the wound. He can feel Roman’s heart jumping. He rubs in slow circles.

“They stabbed me,” Roman finishes, “and I—I—I—“

A small noise that sounds too much like a sob swallows the rest of his words.

Oh, this poor little prince…

Roman swallows another sob. “I’m sorry.”

Janus tilts his head. “What’re you apologizing to me for, little prince?”

“Well, I can’t imagine that this is how you imagined spending your evening.”

“No,” Janus says, folding his hands in front of him, “but I can’t imagine this is how you imagined spending yours either.”

The little prince bruises as easily as ever, only this time he doesn’t bother to hide behind his bravado.

“Off,” Janus says softly, tugging lightly at the remains of Roman’s costume, “the rest of you needs to be cleaned.”

He watches unashamed as Roman follows his instruction, eyes traveling over the scars littering the body revealed to him piece by piece. Too many scars. When he stands bare, Janus takes his hands and deliberately cleans them of the blood.

Roman doesn’t stop trembling until Janus has cleaned away every last bit.

The costume will need to be disposed of, there’s no saving it. The floor in the bathroom is littered with bits of blood and the carpet near the door will need to be cleaned quickly. Luckily the cleaner that Janus employs is well-accustomed to such a request. Instead, Janus walks back to the bedroom.

There the little prince sits, looking far too much like a lost child. Janus pauses at the door, tugging his normal gloves back on.

The little prince looks far too good wrapped in Janus’s colors.

“Why did you come to me, little prince,” he asks after a moment, “you had no way of knowing that I wouldn’t kill you.”

Roman lowers his head and the lie from the bathroom plays uncomfortably in his head. Janus tilts his head as Roman clears his throat.

“I thought—part of me thought you would.”

A harsh laugh tears out of his throat before he can stop it. “So what, I was to be your confessional? You would fall on your knees, repent, and I would put you out of your misery? Or put you down, like some misbehaved dog?”

Roman hunches his shoulders. Janus’s mirth disappears in a flash.

“…maybe.”

Roman Prince dragged himself from the roof of 85th and Marilyn, all the way across the city to Janus’s real apartment, disarmed his security, and did not once tend to the stab wound in his chest.

Roman Prince witnessed a slaughter, watched people be driven out of their minds, and dropped someone who did their very best to kill him off a roof by accident.

Roman Prince fell to his knees in front of the one man in this city who he knew would be capable of killing him without a second thought.

“…do you want me to kill you?”

There’s a softness in his voice again, one that slipped unbidden into the words to make the blow seem more like a caress.

“I would make it quick,” he murmurs, still leaning against the doorway, watching the little prince, “it wouldn’t hurt.”

Roman looks at him. The child is lost, so lost, and so, so tired. He opens his mouth.

“Don’t you want to?”

…well.

Does he? Certainly, the little prince has caused more than his fair share of mishaps, messes, and mistakes, and putting him out of the equation permanently benefits Janus in more ways than one. And it’s not like it would be difficult. No one knows Roman is here, let alone anyone who would care, and even fewer that wouldn’t expect him to never be seen alive again. Janus could kill him in half a dozen ways in the next minute that Roman couldn’t possibly fight against, a dozen more that would take scarcely any longer.

Unbidden, his mind begins to list off the possibilities. The gun in the cabinet, the knife tucked into his shirt, the poison stored in the bathroom, even snapping the little prince’s neck.

But he takes one more look at the little prince and all of them vanish in an instant.

“Why did you come here?” he murmurs again.

Roman lets out a long breath. His hand on the borrowed shirt tightens and loosens, tightens and loosens.

“You’re the only one I trust,” he tells him quietly, and it’s the saddest thing he could’ve possibly said.

Janus crosses the room and cups the back of the little prince’s neck. Roman just bows his head, the little lamb waiting for another hand to come up and twist. Janus bites back the snarl of rage at how resigned Roman is to dying tonight and brushes his thumb along the curve of his cheek.

Stroke by stroke, he coaxes the tears from the little prince’s eyes and wipes them away.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he murmurs, leaning his weight against the edge of the bed, “there’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“I could’ve held on.”

“You’d just been stabbed, flinching is a perfectly understandable reaction.”

“But I’ve been stabbed before.”

“It’s not like you build up an immunity to knives going into you.”

“But I—“ Roman cuts himself off, curling his fist tightly in his lap.

“What is it, little prince?”

He just shakes his head firmly, lips pressed tightly together, red blooming on his cheeks.

Well, at least there’s blood flowing properly again. “We’re well past the point of embarrassment, little prince,” Janus remarks gently, “and if you’re worried about sharing weaknesses with me now…”

“I got scared,” Roman blurts, sounding every bit the reprimanded child. Janus pets his hair absentmindedly, encouraging him to speak again. When he won’t, Janus hums quietly.

“You were stabbed,” he reminds again, “that’s understandable.”

“Not of being stabbed.”

Janus frowns. “What then, little prince?”

“I…”

“I won’t harm you, little prince,” Janus murmurs when he hesitates.

“…I got scared of being outside.”

Janus’s hand pauses in Roman’s hair before gently lifting his chin. “What do you mean, little prince, that you were scared of being outside?”

“There—there was nowhere to go, I couldn’t get out, I couldn’t escape, there were too many people, the choppers were so—so loud and I—I didn’t know what to do—“

Fucking hell, Janus realizes as he shushes the little prince tenderly, he’s agoraphobic.

Flashes of their fights and altercations start to make more sense now. Why Roman prefers fighting in dark, cramped warehouses, why losing the hero on public transportation was so easy, why he almost never confronted Janus in public in broad daylight even though he clearly knows where Janus lives.

The weight of the expectations on Roman…how difficult his chosen occupation must be…how little support he gets for something that makes it infinitely harder for him…

Janus doesn’t realize he’s cradling Roman’s head until he strokes his thumb down his cheek and feels the soft brush of hair against his forearm. He looks down and sees Roman’s eyes all but flutter shut, lulled by the gentle touch against his face.

Trapped under the spotlights of the world, laid bare, stripped by their merciless eyes, unable to look away, escape from what they would only see as a colossal failure…

No wonder Roman sought out a denizen of the shadows where he could be sure no one would look for him.

What should, by all rights, feel like a cage to Roman might just become a den.

The snake tightens its coils protectively around the little prince and leans down to whisper in Roman’s ear.

“You’re safe, now,” he soothes, “there is no one else here but me, and I will look after you. There are no expectations here, you cannot do something wrong. I’m here to help you.”

The snake hisses in contentment as the little prince slumps into the coils, letting it pick him up and deposit him gently in the mass of the den, leaving only for a brief moment before returning to his side.

“Shh, shh,” he soothes as Roman blinks about in confusion, “you need to rest, I’ll be right here.”

“Why—what—“ Roman’s head hits the pillow and Janus almost laughs at how quickly his eyes close— “why’re you…helping?”

“You came to me for help, little prince.”

“But you…care?”

And oh, if that doesn’t make the snake’s cold black heart beat warmly in its chest.

“You may be surprised, little prince,” it hisses, drawing the little prince closer and closer, “but you’re not that difficult to care for.”

No, Janus decides, resigning himself to a night of little sleep as he watches Roman’s breathing begin to even out, stroking a hand through his hair, the little prince isn’t so hard to care for after all.

The snake has never been one to spare those that wander carelessly into its den, but this little prince did not do it carelessly. And it is surprisingly easy for Janus to soothe the remaining prickle on the back of his neck by scratching his fingers lightly along the back of Roman’s, to gentle the furrow in Roman’s sleep with a murmured reassurance into the little prince’s ear. The night passes slowly as the little prince dozes under the snake’s coils.

Only later, when the sun has begun to rise, does he realize he’s left his phone on the counter. He sighs, extricating himself gingerly from the sleeping Roman and going back to the kitchen.

R. Sanders: 1 new notification

He glances toward the bedroom and opens the text.

R. Sanders: if you don’t get your security system back online yourself in the next 30 seconds I’m coming over

Well, considering this message is from two minutes ago, Janus simply sighs and opens the door.

“That,” Remus snarls as he stalks inside, “is not the point.”

“I was about to reboot the system, Remus, do calm yourself.”

“I’m not the one who spent the entire fucking night in an unsecured location!”

Janus raises an eyebrow. “By all means, Remus, do keep shouting about my security system at the top of your lungs while the door is still open.”

Remus mutters angrily to himself but has the decency—or perhaps, the self-preservation—to quiet down while Janus shuts the door and turns the security system back on.

“Now then,” he says easily, setting the kettle to boil again—blueberry mint really was the correct choice to make last night— “what would you like to drink?”

Remus regards his tea boxes like he regards the new bottles of bleach.

“You still don’t keep coffee in your house, do you?” At Janus’s look, he sighs. “Just hot water.”

“Splendid.”

Janus takes his time setting up his teapot. Looseleaf black tea, a new teacup, the honey laid out just so, all while Remus’s tapping gets more and more impatient. But Remus is a good dog, he’ll wait until he’d given leave to speak again.

“I imagine you must have a reason for infringing upon my privacy this morning,” Janus says as he stirs the honey into the tea, “if not just to turn my system back on so that a corpse could not be tampered with.”

“I didn’t know if you were fucking dead, Jan,” Remus snarls, and oh, the poor thing was worried. How touching.

“I’m fine, Remus,” Janus says, softening his voice just the barest amount, “and it certainly speaks to the faith you have in me.”

“Yeah, yeah, faith in your something.”

“Come now, dear, let’s not be crass.”

“You like me crass.”

Janus hides a smile behind the rim of his cup. There’s the Remus that was missing from the report. Though as he looks at the loyal minion sitting across from him, he sees that something is still bothering him.

“Well, if that’s all then?”

Remus takes the bait. “Wasn’t us.”

“Pardon?”

“The beast,” Remus mutters, still glancing around the apartment, “wasn’t us.”

Then he spots the blood.

In Remus’s defense, Janus did open the door right as he arrived and he was definitely given time to look around before Janus swept him into a conversation. Still, the fact that it took Remus this long to spot the blood is…well.

“Shit—“ Remus springs to his feet— “are you hurt? How many?”

“Keep your voice down,” Janus murmurs, “I’m not hurt.”

“Then explain to me why there’s blood everywhere—“

“Keep your voice down.”

“Why the fuck should I keep my voice down? Someone was here, there’s fucking blood—“

Both of them freeze as a rustle of covers comes from the other room. Remus’s eyes widen and his hand goes to the gun at his side. In two quick steps, he’s almost to the bedroom.

Janus catches him by the arm.

“Don’t.”

The steel in his tone finally gets Remus to settle, the man glancing at the door once before allowing himself to be held in place.

“What the hell is going on here,” he hisses, finally keeping his voice down, “what aren’t you telling me?”

“Stay out of that room,” Janus orders, even though it’s a redundancy at this point, “and tell me what else you know.”

Remus opens his mouth to protest but a look quells him. He glances at the door one more time before sighing.

“By the time we got there, everything was over. There were network choppers crawling over every inch of that place, swarming with civvies. We had to fence to get in. Janus, they—“

If Remus has to take a breath, what the hell happened?

“God, Janus, it’s like someone gave a neurotic thirteen-year-old a hallucinogenic and a sledgehammer and told ‘em the building was a giant whack-a-mole.” Remus shakes his head. “Heads bashed in, eyes gouged out, like they—they—“

“Like they did it to each other,” Janus finishes.

Remus nods, his face pale. He looks up at Janus and it’s the second time in the last twelve hours he’s been caught off guard by someone’s expression.

“Jan, it’s bad,” he says quietly, “if they—we’re lucky it only got into that building.”

“And you’re certain it’s contained?”

“Someone tripped the quarantine field. The building locked down. Only way out was the roof.” Remus shakes his head. “The head of the beast was splayed out on the street, spine snapped in half, bloody knife. Like he was pinned up like a butterfly.”

He quirks his brow.

“Gotta admire the craftsmanship.”

Janus nods. Remus notices his silence and steps a little closer.

“So who the fuck is in that room?”

As if on cue, there’s another muffled hiss.

“Don’t,” Janus says when Remus’s hand goes to his gun again, “you’ll scare him.”

Now Remus looks at him like he'd grown another head. “Who the fuck is in that room?”

Janus bites back a curse when there are more noises.

“The person who cut the head off.”

“If you think that’s gonna stop me from getting in there—“

“Remus.”

Remus subsides, looking at him carefully. Janus sighs. Remus knows better than to directly disobey an order, and if Janus pushes, Remus will leave.

And yes, part of the snake wants to wrap around its den and keep its precious charge safe from anything else.

A larger part of Janus knows that keeping this information completely under wraps will become a liability quickly.

“Watch the door,” Janus says, letting Remus go.

Remus hasn’t worked for him for this long without picking up some of his observational skills, so he goes without complaint. Janus opens the door to the bedroom and has to stop the fond smile on his face as he sees the little prince trying to feign sleep. As if it’s going to work.

He crosses the room and leans down.

“You can stop pretending now, little prince.”

Roman’s eyes open and the snake hisses gently, noticing the pressure the little prince’s position is putting on his stitches.

“By all means, ruin the work it took to suture you up,” he remarks dryly, chuckling as Roman quickly—and carefully—rolls onto his back, “better.”

“D-do—I can go now,” Roman mumbles, “if—if you—if you want. I can leave. You don’t have to see me again, I’ll—I’ll go.”

Janus quirks an eyebrow. “And let you leave without breakfast? How rude of me.”

Roman’s eyes widen. “N-no, I didn’t mean—you don’t—I—“

“Hush, little prince,” Janus murmurs, petting Roman’s hair again, “none of that now.”

Roman’s eyes keep darting around the room, from the closed door to Janus’s hands to his face and away again. Janus frowns.

“Oh, little prince, have you always been so afraid of me?”

“Yes.”

The honesty takes Janus by surprise. Roman Prince has never been afraid of him, at least not like this, like some creature constantly bracing for a blow. He’s responded brilliantly to whatever jibes Janus throws at him during one of their altercations, always ready with a quip on his tongue or a pretty blush to a flirtation. He’s not—he’s never been this.

Perhaps the little prince is a better actor than I gave him credit for.

There are not many people in this city capable of doing that.

Then there’s the sudden realization that the reassurances from the night will no longer work. Roman was safe because he was alone with Janus, there was nothing he could do wrong that would hurt him, there was an easy way to escape if need be. But now Remus is here, there’s another variable to worry about.

And Roman is no match for the both of them.

“Let me have a look, little prince,” he says instead, leaning down to gently tug the shirt up and out of the way. Despite the hero’s movement, there’s no blood, no popped stitches. The wound will still be tender for a while yet, but there’s nothing to worry about. Not at the moment. He says as much, ending with a soft: “sit up, let’s get you something to eat.”

Roman glances at the door again.

“Remus won’t hurt you,” Janus reassures, “not while I’m here.”

Roman’s head whips around so quickly he frets that the little prince will snap his own neck.

“R-Remus?”

Janus blinks. “Yes, Remus, he’s who’s here, he works for me.”

“Remus Sanders?”

He quirks a brow. “And here I thought you didn’t bother to learn my staff.”

“N-no, Remus Sanders, he’s—he’s not dead?”

Not dead?

Judging by the sudden silence in the other room, Janus has about three seconds to brace for it before Remus slams the door open.

Remus’s eyes are giant, his face almost drained of color. Three quick steps and he’s got a fist in Roman’s shirt, wrenching him away from Janus and slamming him up against a wall.

“Remus,” Janus barks, “put him down.”

It says something about Remus’s state of mind that he doesn’t even register Janus’s command. Instead, the man has a knife pressed to Roman’s throat, every muscle in his body bunched up like a clenched fist.

Roman hasn’t flinched. He’s just staring at Remus, his hands sliding and scrabbling uselessly at Remus’s shoulders.

“Y-you’re alive,” he keeps mumbling, “you’re not dead, you’re alive, you’re safe, you’re—you’re—“

Remus abruptly lets Roman go, shoves him further against the wall and yanks the shirt out of the way to see the stitches. The knife goes back in its holster as Roman keeps babbling about how Remus is alive.

“Was it him,” Remus asks in a soft, dangerous voice, cutting through Roman’s babble, “did that bastard stab you?”

Roman jerks his head up and down.

“…well, at least you finally learned how to stand up to your bullies.”

Ah.

Janus must be getting rusty.

“As much as I hate to interrupt the family reunion,” he says, startling the brothers, “I believe there is still business to attend to.”

Remus has the decency to look a little ashamed at directly disobeying several orders now, but the little prince is still staring at Remus like his life depends on it. Janus shakes his head, crossing the room to gently take his chin again.

“You need to eat, little prince,” he murmurs, “come now.”

He doesn’t have to ask Remus to help the little prince to the kitchen. By the time he’s followed them out—and made sure his tea isn’t ruined—Remus has Roman sitting on one of the bar stools, stood next to him, every bit the guard dog as Roman clutches Remus’s tactical vest. As Janus starts to get something together for Roman to eat, Remus doesn’t move once. Instead, he lets Roman cling onto him, mumble to himself, and absentmindedly rub his cheek against Remus’s chest.

Janus sets a plate of food in front of Roman and picks up his tea again, taking a sip and staring at them over the rim of the cup.

This could be a problem.

Remus’s loyalty is not easily won, nor is it easily lost. The man’s been dragged behind a truck by his fingernails and not squealed once. And yet as Remus lifts his head—finally—and looks at Janus, it’s the first time he’s seen that loyalty waver.

Janus stares back. Remus knows better than to try and cross him. Remus himself has been the blunt instrument that disposes of those who did. Remus knows the extent of Janus’s influence better than anyone else, aside from Janus himself.

And still, that loyalty wavers.

The little prince, oblivious to the staring match happening over his head, mumbles a small thanks as he starts to eat. His hands are still shaking. Remus steps closer, pressing Roman further into the counter and the little prince lets him. The message is clear.

This is the one thing of Remus’s that he won’t let Janus take.

Which would be a problem—or wouldn’t be, depending on how quickly Remus cooperates—if Janus weren’t currently dividing his attention between Remus and how his hands are itching to wipe the last speck of blood from the little prince’s hairline.

It takes barely a glance for Remus to understand that Janus would never.

“Little prince,” Janus murmurs, coming around to the other side of the counter once Roman finishes, “I need to have a talk with Remus, do you think you can sleep a little more?”

“I can try.”

“Let’s have you try.” Janus glances at Remus.

“C’mon, Ro-Bro,” Remus says quietly, one arm around Roman’s waist, “back to bed.”

“Re?”

“I gotcha, Roro, I’m right here.”

How adorable.

Remus closes the bedroom door and there’s a long pause.

“Fuck.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Janus takes another sip of his tea. “Does anyone else know what happened?”

“The networks have a hold of the main story, they won’t know what happened inside until the lockdown expires, but Jan—if he was there—“

“The choppers saw him.”

“Shit.”

“They saw him drop the beast’s head but him fleeing the scene won’t look good.”

“I’ve got the team scrambling the data, the location of the beast’s head won’t reach the airwaves.”

“Good.”

Another pause.

“…why’d he come here?”

Janus settles the cup back in its saucer. “…he said I was the only one he could trust.”

Remus snarls. “As if we needed more proof that they treat their people like shit.”

“Believe me, I’ve got quite the list of people I’d like to question.”

Remus bares his teeth. “Don’t do it without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, dear.” He watches Remus stare at the door. “So…you have a brother?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know that from the extensive background check you did.”

Janus accepts it, setting the teacup aside. “The famous Roman Prince…oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

Remus’s head flicks sharply around to stare at him. But Janus says it with none of his usual flare, dragging his gloved fingertips along the counter.

“Has he always been so…” He fumbles for the right word.

There isn’t one.

Thankfully, Remus understands what he’s trying to get at.

“It’s hard not to,” he mumbles, “even when I hated him—and I hated him, he was always…”

Remus trails off into silence too.

“There was never a moment where I didn’t know that he was still my fucking brother.”

This is dangerous.

The closest thing Janus has to a weakness, up until this point, has been Remus. And Remus is a loyal man, but even he knows Janus will watch him die and feel only the slightest bit of remorse that a useful tool will no longer be in use.

But not anymore.

“I think he wanted me to kill him,” Janus murmurs, noting the way that Remus jerks in surprise.

“Do you think that’s why he came?”

“He told me that I was right,” he says, “that I was—that he remembered I’d told him if he ever realized he couldn’t do it anymore, if he ever needed help, that he should know better than to go back to the people that pretend to care about him.”

“You basically told him you’d be his suicide gun?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Remus,” Janus says lowly, looking up.

Remus regards him. “Would you have?”

“Killed him?”

“Yes.”

Could he have killed Roman Prince? Yes, easily.

Can he kill the little prince in the bedroom?

“My God,” Remus breathes, “you can’t do it, can you?”

Janus shakes his head. Like it or not, the snake can’t kill the little prince.

“So what now?”

Janus stands up straight. “The city isn’t just going to let Roman Prince disappear, not like that. They’re going to look for him. He’s going to have to make another public appearance.”

“And we have to clean up the rest of the mess.”

“That we’re used to,” Janus sighs, “that I’m not worried about.”

“You’re worried about Roman’s people trying to look for him.” Janus nods. “We’ve got feelers out, we can keep tabs on that.”

“Good.”

Remus spares another glance at the door. “Are you gonna keep him here until then?”

“Yes.”

He lets out a low whistle.

“Go. Get to work.”

“Aye aye, boss.” Remus fixes him with one last look before he disappears out the door.

Janus walks to the bedroom. This time the fond smile crawls across his face unhindered.

“You don’t have to pretend, little prince,” he says as he crosses the room, “if you can’t sleep, you can’t sleep.”

Roman blinks up at him as Janus sits on the edge of the bed. “Sorry.”

“No need for apologies.” He tilts his head to the side. “I never offered you painkillers, are you alright?”

Roman nods.

“Roman,” he asks softly, “why did you come here?”

There’s a pause.

“You said that you remembered me telling you that you could,” he continues, “and that you…trusted me, and yet you seemed surprised that I was—I am willing to help.”

“Still am.”

Remus’s words play in his head again. “You said you remembered what I said—and you be honest with me now,” he says, giving Roman a look, “did you want me to kill you?”

Roman swallows. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

And oh, Janus has waited so long to hear those words from that pretty mouth but not like this.

He pulls a tissue from the side table and tilts Roman’s head just so to get that last speck of blood, pausing at the way Roman shudders under his touch.

“When was the last time someone touched you,” he asks gently, “before this?”

Roman just shakes his head.

“What is the point,” the snake hisses, “of people pretending to care about you when they don’t give you what you obviously need?”

“You were,” the little prince mumbles, still a beat behind, “I think you were the last person to…to touch me.”

“Before…?”

“Yeah. When we…when you…”

When he had the little prince tied up in the factory downtown, another attempt to persuade him to back off. When he cupped the little prince’s chin in his hand and chuckled as a pretty blush spread across those cheeks. When he let gloved fingers run through his hair and smirked at how easily the little prince lost track of the conversation.

Now, though, Janus cradles the little prince’s face in his hands and lowers himself onto the bed.

“You can have it,” he whispers, running his fingers through the little prince’s hair, “if touch is what you need, you can have it.”

Roman’s eyes flutter, lost on the sensation of Janus’s touch, all but floating on the bed. He starts to curl unconsciously towards him, pliant and still. Janus lets him, moving to wrap his arms around the little prince as he tucks himself under Janus’s chin.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” he asks gently, “that you were hurting so badly?”

He feels the roll of Roman’s throat. “Didn’t want you to think I was any weaker.”

Janus bites back a curse. “Well, I’m afraid you’re about to witness firsthand how weak I am.”

Before Roman can ask what he means, Janus cups the back of his neck and gently, gently kisses his forehead.

“If no one else will do what needs to be done,” he murmurs into Roman’s hair, “then I will.”

If no one else will take care of the little prince that sacrifices so much to protect this city, then the snake is happy to oblige.

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#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #roman sanders #roman angst #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #agoraphobia #tw agoraphobia #fic

[claudemblems]

Hi Kat!! I would like to request an scenario where Scaramouche and his s/o go back home after doing fatui shady work lol, please do your fluff magic! Take care uwu

no one:

my brain every time I see Scara's name: SCARAMOUCHE SCARAMOUCHE WILL YOU DO THE FANDANGOOO

Anyways 😂 thank you for requesting shady Fatui man!!! I actually had fun writing for him and it was a good challenge for me. We've only had a limited glimpse of him and his personality, so I ask that everyone just keep in mind that I'm working with what we have! This is basically my own personal headcanon of how he acts in a relationship, but I guess that's what makes it fun 😊

Scaramouche x Fem!Reader | Show Me You Love Me

“You know, Scara, you could have gone a little easier on those treasure hoarders.”

Scaramouche rolled his eyes, scoffing as the two of you continued on the long and dangerous path to your home. “They dared to get in my path, so they got what they rightfully deserved. Maybe they should learn not to cross paths with me.”

“Well, I don’t think they were really expecting to go head-to-head with the Fatui, much less a Harbinger.”

“Maybe this will serve as a good lesson for them. They can warn all their treasure hoarder friends about me.”

“Scara...you know that they’re…”

“Oh, right, they’re dead. Guess the others will just have to rely on their scraps of intelligence to not get them killed.”

“You really take everything so personally,” you sighed, tugging your jacket closer around your body. Autumn had made its way into Mondstadt, bringing golden trees and chilly air with it. The two of you had set out to find the famous traveler who had not only saved Mondstadt, but also mastered two elements. Unfortunately, they were immediately whisked away by an astrologer when she sensed incoming danger. Your first mission having failed, you and Scaramouche had done some more reconnaissance before traveling back to Inazuma, dark secrets and confidential information in hand.

“If you think so lightly of everyone, you’ll get killed in no time flat,” he responded, his tone sharp. It never changed, not even around you, and he had warned you beforehand that he wouldn’t change his behavior for the likes of anyone, even you. It was a good thing you had no issue with his hot temperament or else you wouldn’t have had the honor of being his girlfriend.

“Yeah, I know. Still, I think it would be good for you if you didn’t get so wound up over everything. Sometimes it’s better to let go of the smaller things and focus on the bigger problems.”

“Big or small, anything that stands in my path as a Harbinger will be dealt with immediately.”

“Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” You let out an exasperated sigh, hugging your arms around your body as the wind grew stronger. Scaramouche glanced towards you, eyes raking up and down your body before looking back at the road.

“We should find somewhere to set up camp before nightfall.”

“Probably.”

The two of you traveled for another five minutes before finding a spot just out of sight of any passerby. Scaramouche set up the tent while you started a fire, the sunlit landscape giving way to a starry night.

Exhausted from the day’s events, you crawled into your tent with Scaramouche, scooting close to his body to keep warm (but also as an indirect way of asking him to cuddle you). He got settled on his side, pulling the blanket over the top of your bodies, his face turned towards yours. He’d tried to tell you in the beginning of your relationship that he wasn’t one for affection or mushyness, but over time you’d realized he was, in fact, a very romantic man, though maybe not fitting the exact textbook definition.

“Scara?”

“Hmm?”

“...Can I come a little closer?”

You swore you saw a glimpse of guilt shining in his eyes before he pulled you into him, your head placed on his chest.

“I know everyone else is scared of me, but I don’t want you to be.”

His words struck at a chord in your heart, and you quickly glanced your eyes up at him, studying his tense expression. “I’m not scared of you, Scara.”

“Then why do you always have to ask for permission to be near me?”

You sighed, snuggling further into his embrace. “I just want to respect your personal space. I don’t want to make myself unwelcome by doing stuff that you might not want.”

You felt him shake his head, his hold on you tightening. “It’s pathetic that I’ve made you feel like this. I’m not going to get mad if you ask to hug me or kiss me. It’s basic relationship stuff, and if I didn’t want that, I wouldn’t even be in one in the first place. So...I don’t want you to walk on eggshells around me. There’s two of us in this relationship, and I need to respect your wishes as well.”

“It’s just, we haven’t been together for too long, and I’m worried about crossing a line and making you angry at me. And there’s nothing I fear more than making the people I love resentful towards me…”

Scaramouche pulled away to tilt your head up to his, pressing a rough kiss to your lips. You blinked twice, heart pounding at his sudden display of affection, before your eyelids fluttered closed and you returned the gesture with the same fervor. One of his hands carded through your hair, the other placed behind your neck, his touch as exhilarating and passionate as the first time he’d kissed you.

When he pulled away, he held your gaze, asking you to trust in his words. “Do whatever you want with me. I won’t push you away. Try it.”

Though still a little hesitant, you reached for his cheek, caressing his skin and watching as his eyes slowly closed at your comforting touch. Feeling a little bit bolder by his acceptance, you placed a hand against his chest and returned your mouth to his. Scaramouche pulled you flush against him, encouraging you to go on, proving to you that he was true to his word. His hand in your hair, your lips slotted perfectly against his, his fingers brushing against the skin underneath your shirt, you realized just how much he craved affection, and you were more than happy to give it all to him.

When you pulled away a second time, he took hold of your hand, pressing it against his heart. “Please,” he whispered, “show me how much you love me.”

You once thought you were the one who needed reassurance in the relationship, but you were slowly beginning to realize that it was actually Scaramouche who desperately needed it most.

His words sent a heat to your cheeks and you shyly averted his gaze. But you felt his eyes on you, and you wouldn’t leave him without the love he very much deserved.

Grabbing the collar of his shirt, you pulled his lips back onto yours, smiling when he kissed you back. His fingertips left traces of fire on your skin, his kisses to your jaw bringing back the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, his skilled movements of his lips on yours making you feel weightless, drunk on the euphoria.

That night, you fell asleep knowing with full certainty that he craved your love and attention just as much as you did his, and you would take every chance you had to remind him of just how much he meant to you.

#claudemblems writes #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagine #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader

[tothemeadow]

Art trade with @azurenocturne​

Art originally done by @ Lsjenjen on twitter

Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader

- Kyojuro decides to take your relationship to the next level while teaching you how utterly amazing you are, no matter what anyone else says. -

warnings: NSFW, oral sex, mentions of emotional abuse, Douma is kind of a dickhead

words: 2k

-

“You’re doing it again.”

Snapping away from your reverie, you nearly drop your phone as you fumble around, embarrassment heating up your insides. You hadn’t even realized you were spacing out again. Still, Douma cracks a smile. You tense as he reaches over the table, the rings adorning his fingers catching the afternoon light streaming in through the windows. He merely pats the crown of your head with a gentle touch; you know that this is all for show since the two of you are in public. While Douma has never struck you during the course of your relationship, he isn’t gentle either.

“Stupid girl,” he mutters. “There isn’t anything that important in your life to distract you this much.”

Ah, there it is.

You’re used to the biting words, the snarky comments, the endless insults. On some days, it’s like his sole mission in life is to yell at you constantly, but what can you do about it? It is your fault, after all. Maybe if you had your head on straight or weren’t so sensitive, things could be better for you in life.

You swallow dryly. The plate of half-eaten food sitting in front of you doesn’t even look appetizing anymore. “I’ve got exams coming up, you know that,” you tell him, voice low. You know better than to talk back to him, especially when you’re in public like this.

With a scoff, Douma leans back in his seat. It’s unfair that he’s still unbelievably attractive even when irritated; strong jaw set, eyes heavy lidded, and birch hair pulled up high, he looks like he’s ready to set foot out on the runway rather than be sitting here on a lunch date with you. The houndstooth material of his jacket ruffles as he crosses his arms. He’s just so pretty, incredibly so, and you’d be damned if you said you couldn’t bear to stare at him all day.

“Well, you’re with me,” he spits. “Exams be damned.”

“Douma, you know I can’t fail these courses if I want to graduate-“

“I don’t care,” Douma interrupts. “Christ, all I did was ask you out to lunch, and all you do is think about it your classes? What am I, chopped liver?”

“No,” you say frantically, “of course not. I’m sorry. Please… Please don’t be mad.”

Douma sighs. His expression softens, then; getting up from his chair, he opts to take the spot next to you instead. “I know you’re sorry, my little cherub. You know all I want to do is to be stuck in that pretty little head of yours, right?” With a gentle hum, he slings an arm around your shoulder and nuzzles the top of your head. “You’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you?”

It’s those simple words that makes your tummy flutter and the ice around your heart to melt. This is why you love Douma, after all. Sure, he can be mean sometimes, but he means well.

A smile blossoms across your face as you lean into his warmth. “I promise.”

-

When it comes to playing life, you always act the fool.

Words are cheap, enough said. It just so happens that Douma’s are practically dirt.

Although he knows you’re sorry about focusing on your studies lately, it’s almost if he never drops the subject. He has a point though – he is your boyfriend, after all. It’s just your fault that you have the improper abilities of juggling your love life and schooling at the same time. It’s when he’s attending his own classes that you’re finally able to breathe, even though you feel guilty about thinking that way in the first place.

You still can’t shake off the guilt as you venture through the school’s library, browsing for books your professor recommended for you to better understand the material. It’s a slow process, your eyes scanning over each of the exposed spines. “No… no… no… “ you say to yourself, the quiet mantra continuing on while your search comes up with nothing. “Dammit, why can’t I – ah!”

Before you know it, your body is colliding into someone else’s; as you’re about to take an inevitable tumble and land on your ass, a strong hand grasps onto your forearm while another lands on the small of your back.

“Whoa there! Sorry about that!” a deep, attention-getting voice whisper-yells.

As you open your eyes (you didn’t even realize you closed them to begin with), your met with a boy around your age, eyes bright and blond hair held back with a backwards ballcap. As he flashes you a cheeky smile, you’re struck by how white his teeth are compared to his golden skin, the sharp line of his jaw. Your heart thuds in your chest, and for good reason, too – this man is hot.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” this stranger continues. He pulls you upright, making sure you’re properly balanced before giving you a onceover to check for any bruises.

“I’m alright, thank you,” you say awkwardly. It’s incredible how quickly your body heats up under his gaze despite literally just bumping into the guy. “I wasn’t paying attention anyway, it’s all my fault-“

“Hey,” he interrupts, his eyes crinkling even further, “I wasn’t paying attention either. Don’t take all the blame for yourself, eh?” He sticks out a hand, then, the prominent veins in his forearm and hand instantly catching your attention. “Rengoku Kyojuro, at your service. You can just call me Kyojuro, though.”

Kyojuro.

The name rolls around your brain like a loose bolt. You wonder how it tastes on your tongue, how your lips feel when you say it. “Kyojuro,” you say, testing it out. You immediately decide you like it. Grasping onto his hand, you introduce yourself, an easy smile making its way onto your features before you even realize it. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Right back at ya,” he chirps.

His hand is large and warm. In fact, heat seems to radiate off his body, tempting you to lean in and hold him close.

“Say,” Kyojuro says, a hopeful glint shining in his eyes, “do you want to grab a coffee or something?”

Your heart nearly gets stuck in your throat. For a moment, you think of Douma and what he would he say if he found out about you grabbing coffee with some other guy. However, Kyojuro just seems so nice and, well, perfect.

“Yeah,” you tell him, “I’d love to.”

-

After that fateful meeting, things started to change.

During the free moments you had, you would meet up with Kyojuro, either to go out to eat or simply have a study session together. You quickly found yourself thoroughly enjoying his company, and all for the right reasons. Despite his excitable, bold behavior, he was kind, more so than most people you know. You craved to be in his presence, to have his pearly smile directed at you. Hell, even the thought of him made your heart throb.

Of course, it didn’t take long for Douma to start noticing your “odd” behavior. You acted distant whenever the two of you were together, so much more… closed. What really got him, though, was when he confronted you about it. I found someone else, you had told him, face and voice equally solemn. This is the end of us. Even you were shocked by the mere fact that you had dumped him; after all this time, you were finally free of his cruel words and the endless pain.

“You’re doing it again, sweetie.”

Just like that, you’re snapping back to reality and away from your thoughts. “Sorry,” you mutter, “I was just thinking of… things.”

Even after a few months of ditching Douma for Kyojuro, you still find yourself spacing out. Kneeling on the bed like this, your hand hangs in the air, absentmindedly holding a brush while the other is still holding onto Kyojuro’s blond locks. Turning around fully, Kyojuro’s thick brows furry together as a glint of worry sparks in his eyes. “Hey, hey, look at me,” he urges, taking your face into his hands. “I am not Douma. I’ll never be like him, you got it?” Gently stroking your cheek, he flashes you a soft smile. “I couldn’t bear to put you in pain like that, my sweets. You’re too special for anything like that.”

Oh god, he’s so gentle, so freaking sweet that you’ll get a toothache. As cheesy as it sounds, your heart yearns for him, for his promises, and for his loving touches. You don’t think you’ve ever met someone like this in your life.

“So please,” Kyojuro continues, gaze dropping to your mouth, “trust me.”

And you do. For the love of everything high and mighty, you trust this guy with your entire being. The kiss you two share starts off slow, yet it’s so full of unspoken feeling that it makes your heart soar. You can’t deny the fact that his hands feel good as they trail lower, brushing over your neck and shoulders before settling on your waist. Hell, you love it when he presses you onto your back, his weight hovering over you protectively. Like this, Douma can’t hurt you. Douma can’t even get near you, not when Kyojuro is around, not when he’s treating you this softly.

It didn’t take very long for you to confide in Kyojuro about how your relationship with Douma went. Appalled by Douma’s so-called methods, Kyojuro promised to treat you like the queen you are because you deserve it.

Even as you quake, Kyojuro holds you steady. And he’s always so warm, so wonderfully warm as he rids you of your shirt before following suit. Your fingers drift over the swell of his pectorals, the divots of his abs. Now, things have escalated between you two before, but nothing to this extent. The last person you slept with was Douma, and even then he would degrade you and make you feel like utter trash. But no, not with Kyojuro. Never with Kyojuro.

“You’re gorgeous,” he mutters, mouth slanting over your neck and down your chest. Your heart quickens as mouths your breasts, hands slipping around and unhooking your bra. “And you’re so soft and sweet…” Trailing off, he lifts himself back up, his eyes meeting yours. “You’re perfect, (y/n). I’ll be damned if anybody tells you differently.”

Heart leaping to your throat, you sling your arms around his broad shoulders and pull him back into a kiss. You refuse to let yourself shed any tears, but you can’t deny the dampness gathering in your eyes.

“Pretty girl,” Kyojuro says, mouth beginning its descent once more. This time, he carries on past your chest, lips brushing against your tummy as he carefully removes your pants. Your fingers comb through his hair as little gasps slip through your lips; nuzzling you through your panties, he openly gropes your thighs and ass, deep, rumbling moans vibrating in his chest.

“Kyojuro,” you breathe, back arching as he yanks down your panties and presses his mouth against your quivering pussy. His movements remain slow, but the deep stroke of his tongue inside your pussy or the strong suckling on your clit has you seeing stars. His bright eyes never leave your face, a lustful yet loving expression carved into his handsome features. A slight yank on his hair has him redoubling his efforts; easily bending your thighs to your chest, he works at your pussy vigorously, the lewd noises and his husky groans filling your ears.

“So fucking perfect,” he mutters, thick fingers slipping past your folds. You keen at the touch, your velvety walls fluttering around his digits. “You’re wonderful, my sweets,” he coos, pressing his mouth to the inside of your knee in a quick kiss. “I love you.”

“Kyojuro, please,” you pant. The tears building up in your eyes finally break free as you reach out towards him. “Make love to me… won’t you?”

Drawing away from your dripping pussy, Kyojuro hovers over you, a dazzling grin painted on his face. “Are you sure about that?”

You nod frantically. “Yes. I… I trust you, my love.”

Hearing the pet name tumble from your mouth has Kyojuro’s eyes crinkling. “Anything for you, sweetie,” he purrs, reaching down and undoing his pants. “Everything for you.”

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku #commission #art trade #azurenocturne

[breathings-of-the-heart]

Stuck on You (Levi Ackerman x Childhood Friend! Reader)

A/N: Hi, guys! I just want to preface by saying that this is a TWO (maybe a three if i decide to write an epilogue drabble) PART SERIES, and I have just a few more scenes to write before I can post it! I don’t expect this one to do so well, to be honest, but it’s been so long since I’ve written anything I’m proud of and I think I’m happy with how this turned out. So yes, stay tuned for part 2 which i will link at the end once it is posted. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Angst, season one/no regrets ova spoilers

Word Count: 3.5k 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

5 years ago

“Why is it that you always seem to be on my case the most?” Your frustration was obvious and your patience dissipated, feet shuffling in their spot as you finally turned to face him. “You never nag Isabel this much.”

For a moment, Levi didn’t respond, scanning your body for injuries. After asserting that you were indeed okay, he stepped over the unconscious man who laid on the ground, jaw set in anger as he walked forwards until he was so close you had to tilt your head slightly to keep eye contact.

Your snappy behavior was uncharacteristic. It only fueled his temper. The raven shook his head in disapproval, trying to keep his anger in check as you glared at him defiantly.

“Isabel doesn’t make such careless mistakes,” he pointed out coldly. “You almost got yourself hurt, (Y/N)! What would you have done if I hadn’t shown up to cover your ass?”

The both of you stood there in silence for several minutes, gazing at each other and listening to your uneven breathing. His face, unlike so many others, never really did reveal everything he was thinking. Feeling. You were dared to search for something else in his steady gaze besides disappointment, but for once, you could not tell what you saw. It was infuriating, humiliating, and hurtful.

“Sometimes I wonder if there’s even a brain inside your thick fucking skull.”

His harsh words didn’t normally cut you, but this time you flinched, looking away from Levi as all the fight drained out of you.


Wearing your jewelry out at night was a careless mistake, that you could admit. What was hard to swallow was the fact that you had just been mugged, and nearly assaulted, yet all Levi could do was find the time to scold you, not seeming to care at all if you were shaken up by what happened.  

It didn’t scare you that the other man’s hands found their way onto your skin. It didn’t scare you that something bad could have happened had Levi not knocked him out. You weren’t afraid of any of it; you were afraid that all the raven-haired man could see you for were your mistakes.

“So you think I’m a burden then?” you asked, choking up.

Your change in tone caught Levi’s attention. You suddenly looked smaller, and more vulnerable than the last time he looked at you. He sighed again, shaking his head softly. It took all your strength not to shy away from his fingers as they threaded through your hair, stopping on your shoulder and tugging you against him. You let Levi do it nonetheless, knowing this was his way of saying sorry; knowing this was his way of saying: “I’m tough on you because I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”  

You pressed your ear against his beating heart, letting the sound soothe you.

“No, brat. I don’t think that. Let’s just go home, and forget about it,” his voice was more gentle this time.

You sniffled and nodded, chest bursting as Levi placed a feather light kiss on the top of your head. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You never thought you’d miss the Underground. Especially when taking into consideration the miserable days after Levi, Isabel, and Farlan took that fateful deal, and were forced to leave you behind.  

Your feelings on the matter were conflicted, of course, but you were relieved and happy that the people who mattered most had such a big opportunity. They didn’t need to see you crying, nor hear about how scared you were to be by yourself. Each one deserved better than that, so you put on a brave face as they reassured you over and over that they’d come back. You beamed as brightly as you could, sending them off with words of encouragement as you continued fighting off the lingering feeling of dread as they left. 

You didn’t want to be a nuisance. Never wanted to be the reason they’d hold themselves back. 

Although he didn’t show it, Levi took it the hardest. He implored you to stay alive, in a scolding tone that he only ever used when he was worried. You could hold your own, but weren’t a fighter like the other three. The stern male had only ever been thankful of your gentle nature in the past, surprised to be cursing it now that he couldn’t protect you. But for him, you’d try your hardest, knowing that with a little faith and patience, you could be reunited in the future. 

The goodbye had been bittersweet, your lips slotting against his for the very first time. In a way, the way he kissed you seemed more like a promise than a farewell. His arms were wrapped around you all night, warmth lulling you to a sleep that otherwise, would never have been able to claim you. 

Parting afterwards the following morning became all the more difficult because of it.  

When Levi pulled a few strings with his newfound respected status and got the military to sponsor your citizenship, you were over the moon. Becoming a soldier was the last thing you expected out of your life, but wherever Levi and the others went, you would gladly follow. You felt at home again, throwing your arms around the man for the first time in months and giggling at the fact that while he accepted the gesture and patted your head awkwardly, his lack of affection never changed. 

But you were quickly learning that the ideological existence that lived right above your head was just an illusion. You came only to find your friends dead, and Levi more closed off to you than he’d ever been before. Up here, things were far from perfect, and as time went on, you instead yearned for the past if only to appreciate it better a second time around. And although things slowly got better, life was not yet finished throwing its hardships your way. 

The last person you had left slowly became out of reach, as time apart inevitably distanced the two of you and gave someone else the opportunity to fill that hole in his heart. 


Reality, you found, was much crueler under the blue of the sky.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You don’t have to deny it, Levi. I know you better than anyone. I see the way you look at her,” you whispered, wringing your hands together in a feeble attempt to rid of the painful churn in your stomach. “I see it because you used to look at me that way.” 


It was admirable, at least, the effort you put in to keep your voice even. But the silence that followed those broken words was pitiful. The silence made it even more difficult to meet the gaze of the man in front of you. Levi had every opportunity to deny the truth of your burning statement; to bring you back into his arms and reaffirm his love like he used to. Like he would if maybe things were different. 

You knew, he had no desire to do that now. Instead, the Captain’s eyes screwed shut and a light sigh escaped his perfect lips, the warmth of it tingling your skin. It was nostalgic, almost, being alone with Levi like this. His face was nearer to yours then it had been in months, enough so that you could make out every tiny detail. The irony of it seemed mocking: for once, you couldn’t bear to look at him. Not that you needed to, with every feature of his sure to forever haunt your memory. 

But now all you could see were the interactions they had. Your vision consisted of watching as their bond and understanding grew. It was created in such a short amount of time, but hardly unpredictable with the amount of time Levi and Petra spent together. Even if Levi himself had not realized it, for you, it was plain as day. You knew him better than anyone. Could see that there was no pain in Levi’s eyes when he looked at her. Afterall, unlike you, Petra wasn’t a painful reminder of the past.   

Despite his physical closeness, this was the most detached you’ve ever felt from the male. The space between you was strange and unfamiliar. Lonely and cold.

At your words, he exhaled through his nostrils. 


“I would never be unfaithful, (Y/N). I never have been,” he spoke firmly, in that certain tone of speaking only he could manage. “I promised I would never leave you.” 

A tear spilled down your cheek, despite your best brave face. It was too much to handle, even for a calloused girl like you. Because despite everything, Levi had always been there. It seemed scary to have life any other way. 

Said man took your hand gently, handling it like porcelain. It wasn’t until his skin touched yours that you realized your fingers were shaking, and your facade was crumbling. His gesture was another reminder of what once was. The familiarity of his skin a testament to all the time spent simply existing with one another.

How did it come to this?

“A lot has changed since then, it seems,” you laughed softly, for once pulling away from his touch. “I bet you can’t even look at me without thinking about those two, huh?” 

You never once thought it was his fault. Even if you told him that, you knew Levi would always take accountability. Knew he would blame himself for taking Isabel and Farlan away from you. You should have seen this coming. It was inevitable that your love would be tainted, and that he’d find it somewhere else, even if it was unintentional. 

“(Y/N), wait—“ there was a small panic that awoke in the raven’s steely eyes that only those who truly knew him would be able to detect. 


“—You know how I feel about you, don't you? I want to be the one who you'd wake up next to every morning. The person you'd trust enough to spill all your secrets to, the one you want to hold close, the one who would make it hurt too much to ever let go. I want to be the person who can make you smile, or laugh until you can't breathe. Your first and last thought of the day, and the one you wonder about even when they’re not around.” 

You swallowed a whimper, fists clenched at your sides as your restraint came undone. It was all you’d ever wanted since you were small and starving and Levi was all you had to hold onto.

"But more than anything I want you to be happy. You deserve it.”

And because that’s how much I love you.

“I’d spent the rest of my life with you, if you asked me to,” the stoic Captain stated, as simply and mindlessly as if reciting the weather. 

You knew it was true. You also knew better than to let your mind wander to that fantasy, or to let a world come into fruition in which you stopped Levi from pursuing his happiness; held back simply because his loyalty knew no bounds. You refused to be that selfish. You’d rather die a miserable death, a thousand times over. Rather endure this anguish for as long as it resided in your heart then watch his indifference turn to hatred as years of a one-sided relationship droned on and on.

He doesn’t want you anymore. 

“I know, Levi.” You paused for a long moment. “Petra's wonderful. I don't hate either of you, I want you to remember that." 

You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying desperately to forget the feeling of Levi’s lips on your skin, your face against his chest. The warmth between your ribs or the butterflies in your stomach, or the fireworks of passion that only he could make you feel. Tried to forget the rare but special, secret words of affirmation only your ears got to hear, and the goosebumps they’d send across your skin. 

You wanted to erase it all, if only to make it easier to walk away with the knowledge you’d never feel any of that again.  

It was pathetic. 

There wasn’t anything left to be said. So with the task near impossible, looked at your lover, your best friend, your rock, your Levi, and turned away.

You only managed three steps before a voice followed you and a hand closed around your wrist.

“Is this what you want?” He sounded apathetic, but you knew better. His underlying worry only made the pain feel worse. 

“I don’t know.” At the very least, you were honest.  

"Will I see you again?"  

As adaptable as he was, Levi was never a fan of the unconventionality that was “change.” He was never surprised, quick to go with the flow, even if he preferred certainty and steadiness. 

This conversation, though, was one he never expected. 

"Of course," you forced a tiny smile, knowing it was more convincing than it felt. "I just need a breather. I'll be back for dinner." The words tasted bitter in your mouth. 

That was the first and only lie you'd ever tell Levi Ackerman, having handed in your resignation papers to Erwin just yesterday.

Forgive me, Levi. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snow fluttered down from the sky, coating the local shops and roofs of buildings with a thick, white blanket. Merchants and store owners alike grumbled their disapproval, bustling to sweep the front of their shops. The air was crisp and biting, yet you relished in the feeling and absorbed the atmosphere. Drunk garrison soldiers loitered around merrily, cheeks flushed from alcohol, catching the flakes in their hair and occasionally slipping on hidden ice in their drunken stupor. It made you chuckle softly, the residences of Wall Roses’ inconvenience the source of your contentment-- this was your first time seeing snow, the real thing a thousand times better than anything you read about in any book. 

You strolled through the marketplace, a basket holding bread, dried meats, cheese, and several fruits resting in the crook of your elbow. Your coin purse felt lighter than it had that morning, yet you carried on nonetheless, curious as to what Wall Rose had to offer. Children ran past you, throwing snowballs at each other and nearly running into you because of their haste. The sight made you grin as one of them bumped into one of the street market’s booths, knocking over a few items as he went. 

The woman behind the counter chastised them, her shouts growing louder when they barely spared her a glance and blended into the crowd of shoppers. Nick nacks and books were left scattered in their wake, askew on the cobblestone ground.

“Need help, ma’am?,” you asked her, picking up the objects from the ground. 

“Thank you, dearie,” she sighed gratefully, taking them from your hands. “Kids these days, so reckless and always in such a hurry.” 

You laughed airily, mirth swimming in your eyes. 

“You’re just lucky they didn’t steal anything,” you joked, reminiscing about your own thieving past. Your attention turned towards the noting the soldiers now dozing off on top of their card table nearby, tutting their behavior lightheartedly. “Levi, if only the police were like that back when we--” 

Out of habit, you turned around to meet his gaze, heart clenching when you remembered he wasn’t there. Your fists clenched to prevent you from smacking yourself at your carelessness. He’s not here, dumbass. 

“What was that, hun?” the woman behind the counter inquired, preoccupied in sorting her things. 

You put on your best smile, shaking your head before your thoughts could fill with images of a certain raven-haired, steele-eyed, heart-stopping male. The back of your eyes stung, the momentary joy of your first real winter quickly fading away.  

“Nothing important.” 

This is for the best, (Y/N). You’ve only ever gotten in the way, his whole life. Let the man be. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a few years since that last encounter with him. Part of you still wondered if Levi tried looking for you after realizing your true intentions of never coming back. You hoped he didn't, imagining instead that he'd made the most of the opportunity you'd given him. Prayed that it wasn't all for naught and he instead pursued what (or who) truly made him happy, instead of worrying about other people. In truth, you became content with life, learning to look back on memories fondly and being thankful for their existence. 

Residing above ground was enough reason to be grateful in itself, and you did your best to make the most of it. Your days were now spent in ways that paid tribute to your humble beginnings: individuals from the underground who managed to secure citizenship to the surface were put into your care. You helped men, women, and children alike assimilate into living on the surface, which included introducing the area, and assisting in finding housing and jobs. It was rewarding work, but more than anything, reminiscent to be able to see the wonder when their eyes meet the clouds for the very first time. The flickers of hope from your clients were things you carried with you every day. Your chosen profession left plenty of free time, however, as it was relatively rare for individuals to pay the hefty toll of climbing up those stairs. 

Your life was average, and for the most part, uneventful. The quietness that accompanied mediocrity proved to be comforting, however. It was a far cry from the days of constantly looking over your shoulder and needing to carry a knife in your boot, just in case.

At first, it was difficult not to cry at the thought of the stoic, raven-haired Ackerman. The heartache weighed down in your chest for a good amount of time. The simplest things reminded you of Levi, but after a while, instances where he’d cross your mind became fewer and further between. With a nicer home than anything you previously owned, a livable income, and an overall peaceful existence, you didn’t have any regrets. 

At least, that was what you told yourself until you heard the news. 

On off days you worked as a waitress at one of the many taverns within Wall Rose. Large tips were one of the many perks that drew you in originally. The chatter of the customers and frequent bar-goers was a welcome ambience, and an opportunity for you to combat the occasional feeling of loneliness. 

Occasionally, Scout Regiment gossip would filter through, especially about Humanity’s Strongest and the new titan shifter Eren Jeager. Updates were nice, knowing Levi was safe and thriving in what he did best. But as you placed a pint of beer on one of the tables and overheard a heavy set man babble loudly to his comrade, dread splashed over you in waves.

“The Captain was the only survivor in his squad. He wasn’t even with them when it happened, poor guy. He must feel terribly guilty.”     

Your vision became hazy as you tried not to panic; of all the rumours that filtered through the drunk mouths of customers, you had never heard bad news like this before. The last you’d heard, human kind was given a beacon of hope, and things were looking up after Eren Jaeger managed to plug up the hole in Trost. 

“Excuse me, but which squad did you say this happened to?” you heard your voice say. 


Across the table, the other man took a swig of his drink, and grunted indignantly. 

“Levi Squad, the best in the military I heard. A shame, but I suppose even the top in the Survey Corps are still just suicidal maniacs when it comes down to it.” 

No, no, no, no. This wasn’t supposed to happen!  

After that, everything became white noise. You could only register every third movement, heart thundering in your ears. The tray you’d been holding to carry the drinks clattered as it fell to the ground, causing a few gasps and strange looks to be thrown in your direction. In your horrified state, dread weighed down like lead in your body. You rushed to the back room, tears clouding your vision as you tried not to stumble. 

You gripped the edges of the washroom sink, dizzy with this newfound information.   

Levi has now lost more people that he loved, and was probably experiencing the same survivor’s guilt as he did with Isabel and Farlan. He was most likely suffering alone right now, never having been one to let people see his vulnerability so easily.

You did not witness first hand what your friends’ deaths meant to him. When the Captain waited for you at the top of the staircase, his expression never seemed out of the ordinary. Levi was kind enough to let you enjoy your first few days up with him simply enjoying the newfound freedom. He made the excuse that your two other comrades were out on business somewhere, and would be back to see you soon. Maybe, at the time, your excitement blinded you from the deeper emotions hidden in his voice. 

When you found out the truth, their passing broke you. The fact that Levi shouldered any blame, however, is what twisted the knife. He had been grieving by himself; feeling that pain without anyone to comfort him. He had to put on a brave face just to see you; secretly spending that last month alone, probably relaying over and over how he would break the news to you. 

Your remorse increased tenfold when it was him who held you, and him who put you back together, just like he had to for himself. And now he was by himself all over again.

I have to do something. 

Splashing water on your face, you straightened up and looked in the mirror, a sudden surge of guilt coursing through your veins.

You refused to let Levi be alone this time around, no matter how he might feel about you now.

~~~~~~~

Part Two!

#snk levi #levi #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman gif #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #AoT #attack on titan imagines #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #snk fic #aot fic #levi x reader

[homoose]

Teach Me Something I Don’t Know: Part I

Summary: When Will asks him to pick Michael up from school, Spencer may or may not develop a schoolboy crush on the kindergarten teacher.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: none

Word count: 2.5k

a/n: Here she is! I’m not sure exactly what it is about Spencer Reid x teacher!reader, but it is my most requested fic topic, and I am happy to oblige! This is the first in a multi-part series. Weird is Good also takes place in this verse. Any teacher!reader requests will be folded into this verse as well, so feel free to continue sending me those!

Series Masterlist

Click here for the story mentioned, read by everybody’s fave Michelle Obama.

———

“A strong geographical profile is one of the most important pieces of the overall behavioral profile; it significantly narrows the area the team has to cover, allows for law enforcement teams to prioritize and maximize limited resources, and helps focus the investigation in conjunction with the other elements of the profile. And that wraps our section on building geographical profiles!” Spencer smiled at the faces in front of him, gesturing to the board. “The information we covered today will make up a significant portion of your midterm, so make sure to review it before next week. See you all next Thursday!”

As his students began packing up their things, Spencer’s phone rang from inside his bag. When he retrieved the phone and saw Will’s name on the caller ID, his brow furrowed in concern. “Will— everything ok?”

“Hey, yeah, yeah, everything’s fine,” he assured him. “I’m sorry to ask, but JJ’s on a case, and my partner and I just finished our last call clear on the other side of the city. Henry’s got soccer practice, but Michael’s gotta be picked up in about— well, shit, right about now. Would you mind picking him up and bringing him ‘round to the house?”

Spencer looped the strap of his bag over his shoulder and started up the aisle out of the lecture hall. “Yeah, of course! It’s over by the Naval Observatory, right?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. If you pull ‘round the parking lot, they usually come out the side door. His teacher’s real sweet, Ms. Y/L/N. I’ll let her know you’re picking him up.”

“Okay, sounds good.” Spencer pushed open the door and made his way down the hall.

“You’re the best,” Will drawled. “I’ll only be about half an hour.”

…

When Spencer pulled the baby blue Volvo into the parking lot of the school, he saw Michael and Ms. Y/L/N sitting on the steps of school. Their heads were so close they were almost touching, looking down at a book laying across their laps. Her legs were stretched out straight and she pointed down to the page, saying something that made Michael throw his little head back in a laugh that floated in through the open window of the car. Spencer grinned at the familiar sound as he pulled around the carpool loop.

When he recovered from the giggles, Michael caught sight of the car and waved his hand excitedly at Spencer. Ms. Y/L/N looked up and gave a wave as well, albeit a little less vigorous. She closed the book and turned her torso slightly to unzip Michael’s backpack and drop the book into it.

Spencer put the car in park, stepped out, and walked around the car to meet the two of them. Michael was already up and running, throwing himself at Spencer’s legs and hugging them tightly. He leaned down to return the hug. “Hey, buddy! How was school?”

“It was amazing,” Michael gushed, pulling out of the hug to gesture wildly. “We learned how to write the zzz sound, and now we know all the sounds! Oh, and then we used blocks in math, and that was so fun, because Ms. Y/L/N let us build with them when we were done counting. Oh, and then we learned about frogs, and they are so cool. Did you know that frogs have night vision? Oh, and Ms. Y/L/N said I could borrow my favorite book from the classroom library! She read it to me already while we were waiting for you, but maybe you could read it to me, too? I can read some of the words but not all of them yet, so I still need some help.”

Spencer smiled widely at him. “Wow, that does sound like an amazing day. I did know that about frogs, actually! And of course, I’d love to read with you.”

“The book’s called Giraffe Problems, and it’s about this giraffe named Edward who doesn’t like his neck.” Michael looked at Ms. Y/L/N. “What’s the turtle’s name again?”

“Cyrus,” Ms. Y/L/N reminded him.

“Right, Cyrus.” He looked at Spencer. “See, that one is tricky because c’s don’t usually make the sss sound, but sometimes they do. Ms. Y/L/N’s teaching me about it, even though she said it’s kinda hard for kindergarten.”

“Because you’ve got a big, powerful brain, right?” she said, tapping her temple and winking at Michael. “I’m Ms. Y/L/N, by the way. You must be the infamous uncle Spencer. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Then she smiled at him and his big, powerful brain melted inside of his skull.

Michael continued talking, and Spencer briefly wondered if this is how people felt when he rambled. Michael lost his attention immediately, because all he could do was stare at Ms. Y/L/N. Her eyes glinted with humor as he chattered on. She followed his expressive motions with well-timed nods and mhmms, a skill she’d no doubt honed through years of indulging kindergarten babbling. She met Spencer’s eyes every so often, only a slight eyebrow raise indicating her amusement. Her hair had been tied back, but soft pieces had come loose throughout the day, falling into her face and around her shoulders. Up close, he could see that the print of her collared a-line dress was hundreds of green frogs. On her feet were a pair of beat up, low top converse, and Spencer thought he could physically feel the crush branding the chambers of his heart. He was jolted out of his thoughts by Michael’s hand tugging on his pant leg, and he looked down to see him looking up expectantly.

“Sorry, what?” Spencer asked him.

“I said,” Michael repeated with a sigh, “can we look up the author and see if he has any other books?”

“Oh, um, yeah. Of course, buddy.”

“Jory John has lots of amazing books,” Ms. Y/L/N confirmed. “You’ll love the series he wrote with Pete Oswald.” She smiled at the pair of them before checking her watch. “I’ve gotta go pack up, but I’ll see you tomorrow, Michael.” She winked at Spencer, and he almost swallowed his tongue. “It was nice meeting you, uncle Spencer.” She waved again and then turned up the stairs to disappear into the building.

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding, and then turned to Michael. “Well. All right, are you ready to go home?”

…

They were settled into the car and halfway home before Michael finally needed to take a breath. Spencer capitalized on the break in conversation.

“So, Ms. Y/L/N seems pretty cool,” Spencer hedged.

“Yeah, she’s the best,” Michael confirmed with a nod. “On Fridays she lets us put on the smocks and paint. And she has really good story voices. Oh, and she also has these really cool blocks that stick together—magnet blocks. And when I fell off the jungle gym and got a big scrape, she gave me a Paw Patrol bandaid! And she gives great hugs.”

“Good story voices, huh?” Spencer met Michael’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Better than mine?”

Michael tilted his head in deep thought. “Hmmmm. It’s pretty close. Your wizard voice is good, but she does accents.”

Spencer blew out a dramatic breath. “Guess I’m going to have to up my game.”

“You’re gonna have to practice a lot, because Ms. Y/L/N reads to us every day.” Michael raised his eyebrows in a challenge.

“Hey!” Spencer looked incredulous. “I read every day, too!”

“Yeah, but do you read with story voices every day?” Michael clarified.

Spencer sighed. “Well, I guess not.”

“It’s okay, uncle Spencer,” Michael soothed. “You can’t be the best at everything.”

“So they are better than mine?”

Michael pressed his lips together, and Spencer almost laughed at how much he looked like JJ. “... maybe.”

…

A trail of shoes and school supplies led to the couch, where Spencer and Michael sat shoulder to shoulder. They were on their second read of Giraffe Problems. Spencer took a long, dramatic breath before launching into Cyrus’ banana speech, and Michael burst into a fit of giggles. With his best theatrical voice, Spencer read down the page. “Yet, day after day, I’ve felt like such a fool as I stretched my neck toward those greedy branches, only to be limited by my own physical shortcomings.” He flipped the page and changed his tone. “You… want a banana from a tree?” He looked at Michael and said, quickly and in a low voice, “That’s what I said, yes.” Michael wheezed out another laugh.

Spencer finished the story, Michael mouthing the words along with him. When they reached the last page, Spencer softly closed the book and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “That’s a pretty great story.”

“Yeah,” Michael agreed. “Ms. Y/L/N said she likes it because it reminds us that we gotta love ourselves and our bodies for how they are.”

Spencer nodded. “Absolutely. We’re all different, and that’s what makes us special.”

“Yeah. I just really like when he’s wearing all the scarves.” Michael burst into another fit of laughter, and Spencer couldn’t help but laugh with him.

The front door opened, and Will was smiling as he stepped over the threshold. “I could hear y’all laughing all the way down the sidewalk.”

“Daddy!” Michael jumped up from the couch, and Will bent to scoop him up, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Hey, kiddo. Sorry I couldn’t pick you up. It sure sounds like you and uncle Spencer had fun, though.” He shot Spencer a wide smile.

“We read Giraffe Problems. Can we read it again later?” Michael asked.

“Sure thing. We can read it before bedtime.” Will set him down, furrowing his brow. “Wait, Giraffe Problems? Is that a new one?”

Michael shook his head. “Ms. Y/L/N let me borrow it from the library. I have to give it back in two weeks.”

“Man, Michael, you really lucked out, huh?” Will posited. “Ms. Y/L/N is so good to you.”

“Jeez, everybody’s saying that today,” Michael sighed. “Yes, Ms. Y/L/N is amazing, we all know this.”

“All right, sass monster. I didn’t know uncle Spencer thought she was amazing, too.” Will grinned. “We gotta go pick up Henry in a few minutes. I’ll get you a snack, and you can pick up your things?” He gestured to the mess of shoes and school supplies in the foyer.

Spencer smiled sheepishly. “That’s probably my fault. We were just so excited to read the book.”

“Ah yeah, I know how he gets.” Will crossed to the kitchen. “A one track mind, that one. Thanks again for picking him up today.”

Spencer stood from the couch and followed, hands stuffed in his pockets. “It’s no problem at all! I can do it any time.”

“Well, I don’t want to bother y—”

“It’s not a bother!” Spencer schooled his voice back into a normal register at Will’s raised eyebrow. “It—It’s not a bother at all. I, um— I have a lot of free time when I’m on sabbatical. Especially since I’m only teaching one course this semester. Plus, I love seeing the boys.”

“I’ll remember that.” Will smiled. “So… Ms. Y/L/N’s amazing, huh?”

Spencer just knew that his cheeks were as red as the apple Will was cutting up. He tried to shrug nonchalantly. “Yeah, she was— she was really nice.”

“She’s not bad looking, either,” Will supplied. When Spencer’s mouth fell open, Will continued, “What? JJ thinks so, too. Don’t tell me you didn’t even look, because I know that’s a lie.”

Spencer sputtered, “I— well, I—”

“Daddy, can we get an ice-cream on the way home?” Michael interrupted, completely unfazed.

Will laughed. “Saved by the bell, uncle Spencer. Yeah, buddy, we can get ice-cream.”

…

“It’s not weird to look her up. I just want to know more about the person who’s educating my godson,” Spencer tried to reassure himself as he pulled up the school’s website. He scrolled to find the teacher pages, a little smile crossing his face when he saw Ms. Y/L/N’s picture— white ruffled shirt, red bow, and black hat. A perfect tribute to Mary Poppins.

He dropped his smile. “She barely said five sentences to you, and you didn’t say anything back.” His eyes wandered over the links on the side, landing on the About Me section. “But she did say she’d heard a lot about you, so it’s only fair that you get to know a little about her.” Against his better judgment, he clicked the page link. A photo of Ms. Y/L/N— grinning and holding a very distraught-looking black cat— popped up on the screen, and Spencer laughed aloud.

I grew up on a farm outside of Fayetteville, NC before moving to Boston to complete my undergraduate degree. I moved to DC to earn my Master’s in Early Childhood Education, and I have been teaching here for 8 years! I love working with young learners, because children grow so much in their foundational years. Watching a child have a lightbulb moment is one of my greatest joys. When I'm not in the classroom, I love to read, travel, play scrabble, and spend time with my cat Roald (pronounced Roo-all)!

Spencer scrolled through the pictures of Ms. Y/L/N and her students. There were pictures in their “smocks,” which Spencer discovered were really just old t-shirts. There was one of her in the middle of some very animated story telling, and another of a field trip to the zoo. In each one, the smiles beamed out through the computer screen in a digital portrait of unbridled joy, contagious even over the waves of the internet. Smiling to himself, he clicked on the tab labeled Teaching Philosophy.

I believe that every child is an extraordinary and essential piece of our classroom puzzle. In order to nurture the unique individuality of each of my students, I work hard to make our classroom a safe, positive, and supportive community where students are given the space to express themselves. Our classroom culture is also one of kindness and creativity, where each individual is valued and celebrated for who they are!

Spencer swallowed the unexpected lump in his throat as he thought back on his own school career. While his teachers had always appreciated his intelligence, he honestly couldn’t recall a moment where he had felt valued for just… being himself. The majority of his time in school had been spent unsuccessfully fending off bullies, completing other students’ homework, or being gawked at like some sort of alien. He was grateful that Michael would hopefully never go through anything like what he’d experienced; at least not while Ms. Y/L/N was around.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he leaned back in the desk chair to pull it out. He swiped it open to read the incoming text.

JJ: So......... you like Ms. Y/L/N, huh? 😉😉😉

Spencer: What?! Did Will tell you that? I didn’t say that.

JJ: Some things you don’t have to say out loud, Spence.

———

Tags: @spacedikut

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #spencer x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #professor!reid #professor!spencer #teacher!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds self insert #homoose writes #TMSIDK

[thewritetofreespeech]

hello!! i've made a request before but this idea came in my brain and i heard your requests were open. So ive seen a lot of fics of the brothers saving mc, but what about mc kinda of saving the brothers, i mean like badass sword fighting style. Just like a stereotypical disney prince saves a princess mc kinda saves the brothers from getting killed by a lesser demon with a sword and just being badass (and sword) and the bros find it hot (weak humans? never heard of them)

*spongebob narrator voice* 400 years lat’er..... So sorry this took so long! I genuinely don’t know why I couldn’t get it done. When I actually tried, I got it done in like 2 days. My only excuse is that I’m a horrible trash munny >.<

Obey me Boys + Power Princess MC

Lucifer

It offends him that this creature, this being not fit to lick the soles of his boots, would raise their hand to him. The attack was not even what upset him, but just the gall. The utter stupidity of this decision to throw one’s life away. The fact that they had attacked with you around only made him wish to end that pathetic life that much sooner.

“Step back [Y/N]. I’ll deal with this quic—” Lucifer cut himself off when you rushed forward. A bright shining sword in your hand as you lunged. Slashing through the demon, who wailed and instantly turned to dust & ash. “What on Earth was that?”

“Oh. It’s my sword.” You reply nonchalantly. Turning around to show it to him. “It’s a holy arc sword, or something. I can summon it from my bracelet whenever I need it. Cool to know it actually works in a pinch.”

“And where did you get such a magical artifact?” Lucifer asked. Perplexed beyond reason, but trying not to show it.

“Lord Diavolo gave it to me when I first got here.” The demon arched a brow. Lord Diavolo? “It would be really irresponsible of him to just let a human wander around hell without some kind of weapon.”

He paused for a moment. Trying to piece all of what you had just said together. Then he just chuckled. “Yes, I suppose it would be.” And here he thought that he had been the only one protecting you. When all along you could do it yourself.

His hand reached out to pat your head fondly. His breast swelling with pride. “I’ll have to thank him for giving you such a thoughtful, practical gift. We’ll also have to add sword play to your lesson plans. I’d be more than happy to be your tutor.

Mammon

‘Shit!’ Mammon mentally cursed as he was hit again.

This wasn’t the first time he’d been rough up outside a club. Given his lifestyle, and his gambling track record, he’d been pummeled by a few bouncers in his life. With his immense power, he could easily take them; if he tried. But then he would be banned from the club, and ever other, and that was something he couldn’t handle over the humiliation of being beat up by these clowns. He needed this. It was all he had.

So, he took his beatings from lesser demons when they came around. He’d only wished they’d picked a different night to get their ‘payment’ back since you were supposed to be here soon.

“Come on guys. Don’t ya think you’ve had enough?”

“We’ll tell you when we’ve had enough!” One demon sneered at him, before kicking a man while he was down. Classy. “You owe us. And we’re gonna get back every cent you owe out of your hide!”

The demon reared his foot back to kick him again, and Mammon mentally sighed. Preparing himself for the kick and really being over this since it began. But….no kick came.

The demon let out a loud grunt over the sound of a metal ‘wack’ before the two, even lesser goons beside him suffer the same fate and they all slump to the ground. “Mammon! Are you ok?!”

The silver haired demon looked up at you in shock. The light from the street lamp causing a halo to form around you, highlighting your worried face as you brandished a rusty pipe like some great sword. “Yeah…I’m fine….”

“You don’t look fine! You’re all beat up!” He just sat there as you dropped the pipe and dropped down to him. Fretting over him as you looked him over. He couldn’t hear what you were saying over the beating sound of his heart in his ears.

No one had ever tried to help him before.

Mammon lifted his arms and wrapped them around you. “Mammon? What—“Let’s get out of here.” He interrupted as he hugged you. Standing up, and helping you to your feet, after a moment to walk out of the alley. “I don’t want to be here anymore. I wanna go somewhere with you.”

“But….I thought you wanted to go out tonight. Play cards. You said you were feeling lucky?”

He couldn’t tell if that was a jab or not, but replied, “well clearly I was wrong.” Though despite his bumps and bruises, he did still feel pretty lucky right not. “I just want to get out of here. I don’t need this anymore.” You both decide to head home to help Mammon nurse his wounds. He never went back to that club, or really any club, after that night.

Levi

“Levi….I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

“Nonsense!” Levi quipped in response to your perfectly reasonable, concerned feelings. “It’s just a little further. Besides, I want to see Henry 1! I’ve missed him a ton recently, and want to make sure he remembers me.” It had broken his heart to discover his poor, lost serpent had been down here, all alone, this whole time. So he made an effort to see him every now and then.

“Yeah but…isn’t this still like super-secret for Lord Diavolo’s family and stuff? What if there’s like booby traps and stuff?”

“Come on! There weren’t any booby traps or anything before. Why would he when he has Henry to keep it…..” Levi trailed off as both of you were ingulfed by a long, dark shadow. A low hissing sound growing louder as a gold, stripped serpent towered over you with a menacing glare. “That’s not Henry.”

The snake hissed loudly with bared fangs and an open mouth, and you both scream and run to get away from it.

The serpent of course chased you. Easily able to keep up, and only loosing you when the two of you duck into a narrow corridor. Levi turned around to say something to you, but you were gone. His immediate thought was that the stranger snake had gotten you, and it was all his fault, and he would never see you again!

When he came to the end of the corridor, walking out like a man on death row instead of running, he looked up to see the snake in front of him. Clearly angered by having to chase him. Levi didn’t care. He wanted to die if anything happened to you. He’d rather die than live one moment without you.

Prepared to accept his fate, the demon didn’t move when the snake unhinged his jaw to eat him in one gulp. Only for a sharp spike to thrust out from his mouth a moment later. A strange, hissing gasp escaping it before it slumped down in a lifeless heap on the floor. “[Y/N]!”

“Jesus! Not to put too fine a pin on it, but this place is literally a maze. One minute I’m next to you, and the next I’m in some armory on the other side of the hall 50 feet away. Are you alright Levi?”

The demon scrambled up the snake corpse to stand next to you and wrapped his arms tight around your being. “[Y/N]! I was so scared! I thought this Henry imposter got you, and you were dead, and I couldn’t think of anything!”

“I’m really ok Levi.” You assure him, as he wept into your shoulder. “Do you still want to see the real Henry? I think I spotted where he actually is when I was running back with the spear?” Levi nodded into your shoulder. Still not prepared to let you go.

Satan

Satan always tried to be a reasonable man.

He hated being referred to as ‘The Demon of Wrath’. It wasn’t his wrath that had caused him to be born. And he wasn’t any angrier than his brothers, so why did he have to be labeled the ‘bad seed’? So he always tried to be level headed. Calm. Patient. But there were somethings he just could not abide. Like the boorish behavior of someone talking loudly in the library.

“Excuse me,” the blonde said, attempting to remain calm, as he came over to the rude demon two tables over, “could you please keep it down? This is a library.”

“Yeah. I know what it is.” He quipped back rather snippily. “What are you? The librarian?”

“No. Just a fellow book lover.” Satan replied. Grinding his teeth now. “And one who can follow the rules and basic social decorum of keeping my conversations to myself in a place like this.”

“Are you calling me stupid?!”

“No. I’m calling you uncouth. A word meaning undignified, and without manners.”

“Why you!”

The demon rose to his feet, towering over Satan now that he was standing. Not that it mattered. Height was not an immediate representation of strength. Look at Belphie. His younger, shorter brother could level a whole city with a flick of his wrist. Satan could easily dispatch of his imbecile without even breaking a sweat.

He never got the chance though, as just after he stood the demon let out a grunt and slumped to the floor; with you standing behind him on his depleted chair with a book in your hand like you had just pulled it from The Stone. “Bet you’re glad I think Kindles are dumb now.”

Satan had to right himself on what he was seeing, and then frowned at you. “I never said that, and get down.” He insisted. Offering you his hand to get down. You hop down with ease and set your weapon book on the table. “Honestly, I could have handled him without resorting to violence or cheap theatrics.”

“Cheap?? This book was very expensive.” You insist, and Satan had to scoff.

“Be that as it may, please do not use books for more than their intended purpose. I appreciate the assist, but I can’t have you hurting yourself or fine literature in the future.”

“You’re such a buzz kill sometimes Satan…..”

Asmo

Asmo always loved going to the club. The dancing. The energy. The pulsing music. The people.

Well…usually the people. Some people, usually bro-dude demons, just couldn’t take a hint that ‘no’ meant ‘no’.

“Come on Asmo! Why are you being so stingy?!”

“I’m not being ‘stingy’,” Asmo replied with a frown marring his beautiful face. “I’m just not interested.”

“You were interested last time.” His pursuer replied. Like that somehow gave automatic permission that things would happen again.

“That was a long time ago.” The dusk haired blonde replied. Sipping his cocktail and looking thoughtful across the spacious VIP lounge over to you.

Yes, things had certainly changed. Once where it would take a whole room of people and attention to make him content, these days all he wanted was you. Just you sparing a moment to look at him made his heart feel incredibly full. He had come here to have a fun night out with you, but it seemed no matter where he went his beauty was always causing problems.

The lesser demon frowned, then looked towards the direction Asmo was looking to land on you. “Shoot, just bring them along with us.”

“Excuse me?” Asmo asked. Beautiful expression turning Ignatius as he sat down his drink.

“Bring them along. I’ve never had sex with a human. But there must be something to it if you’re willing to do them. Not that I suppose that takes much….”

At that, Asmo leapt from his chair and grabbing the brute by the collar. He wasn’t normally one for violence. He wasn’t like his dull brothers. But he couldn’t let a slight like that against you slide. “Take it back!”

The two demon’s scuffle. Clearing out the VIP lounge as everyone ran. Scared that they might transform at any moment and literally tear each other apart. Asmo somehow ended up on his back, a position that usually didn’t bother him, as the other reared back to punch him in the face.

Or, at least he would have if he didn’t start convulsing and fall on the ground a moment later.

“Asmo! Are you ok?!”

The Lust Demon looked at you for a moment. Then delicately covered his mouth with both hands. Returning to normal. “[Y/N]! You saved me!!”

“Yeah. This little thing packs a punch.” You replied. Holding out your little pink taser from She-Sword from your clutch. “I couldn’t let this jerk hurt your beautiful face.”

“No one is more beautiful than you my fierce warrior queen!” He praised. Basking in the moment for only a second before you both scamper off before security came.

You both might be beautiful, but you didn’t want to end up on the evening news.

Beel

“I want to take up kendo.” Beel announced to you one day. Out of the blue. “I’ve been looking for ways to add variety to my workout. I came across this video on kendo and thought it would be fun.”

Of course, Beel knew you had practiced kendo in the past at school. So he might have also been looking for fitness activities for you to do together. In any case, he really liked seeing you in your little workout outfit. It was super cute.

He also liked you showing him the basics of kendo; stance, footing, basic strike movement. When he felt he had gotten the hang of it, Beel jovially asked for a sparring match with you.

“I don’t know….”

“Come on [Y/N], sparring with someone is the best way to learn fighting.” He reasoned. “Besides, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I’m not worried about that….” He heard you mutter under your breath, but thought that he must have imagined it as you squared off.

Standing across from you in the arena, something changed. The hair on the back of Beel’s neck stood up. Not in the excited way that it normally did when he saw you. But something more….primal. His grip tightened a little more as he realized he might have to get a little serious with you.

It was all for nothing though as the match was over just as soon as it started.

The shinai went flying out of his hands, landing across the room just as Beel landed on his butt. His backside throbbing as his bell was rung clear as day. He rubbed his head as he looked up at you. “I may have forgotten to mention that I was three-time national kendo champ all through school.”

The demon looked up at you with a shiny, sparkly gaze only until now reserved for delicious food. “Teach me sensei!”

Belphie

He hated being out. He wanted to go home.

Being outside in the sun, with all these…..people was hell to him. Belphie would rather be home, in actual hell, with his blanket and pillow and quiet, rather than ‘top side’ with you for the whole afternoon. Not that it was you or anything. You were the only bright star on this miserable day. He’d be damned if he’d let one of his brothers spend the day with you when he could.

“Belphie, do you want an ice cream? Maybe that will help with the heat?”

He wanted to say that the only thing that would help him was getting the hell out of here. But, he bit his tongue. The demon knew how important this was to you to come ‘home’ now & then and he didn’t want to ruin it for you. So he just nodded and asked, “strawberry please.”

He sat in the shade as he watched you go over to the ice cream truck alone. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he was just a hopeless shut in. Like Levi, only worse. He just wanted humans so much that being around them was making him crankier than normal today.

“Geez, get a look at that side show over there.”

Belphie looked up from his daze at the human who was a few yards away from him. Snickering and staring with his friends in a voice that a regular human wouldn’t be able to hear. “If you have something to say, then say it, you chicken shit fuck.” Again, he was very cranky.

The human was obviously taken aback at being heard and then called out like that. “What did you say to me?!” He yelled, once he got his bearings on the situation, and took a ‘threatening’ step forward to see if he would repeat it.

“I said ‘If you have something to say, then say it, you chicken shit fuck’.” Of course he repeated it. “Don’t mutter something under your breath like a coward. Say it like a man, or keep your gross mouth shut.” This was why he hated humans. No spine.

Well, metaphorical spine. If he kept this up, Belphie was gonna prove that he had a spine when he ripped it out and made him wear it as a neck tie.

“You little fuck--!” Belphie, of course, didn’t move when he stomped closer. Not that he needed to, because he was stopped in his tracks rather abruptly when you stepped between then. Holding a knife from your pocket.

“I suggest you get out of here, before the only ‘side show’ around here is your knife swallowing act pal.” The man seemed to frozen for a moment as he tried to process if you were serious. Then his flight instincts kicked in and he took off running with his friends across the park. “Gosh, I think I’ve been spending to much time with you guys. I never would have done anything like this before.” You said after a sigh, then turned back to Belphie.

“My hero.” He cheered softly, in his typical tired voice but still with a soft smile. Seeming extremely proud of the bad influence he was on you.

#yourlocalsinnamonroll #;ask and ye shall receive (request answers) #obey me #obey me beelzebub #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphie #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me levi x reader #obey me belpie x reader #obey me beel x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon x mc #obey me asmo x reader #obey me asmo #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #obey me spoilers #obey me imagines #mammon x mc #mammon x reader #beel x reader #beelzebub x mc #imagine #scenarios