#implication of murder husbands

[pastellguts]

might fuck around and make a mini comic about the murder family becoming the Addams family neighbors

[mustlovewillgrahamsdogs]

what i wouldn't give to have a scene where hannibal mentions the whole murder husbands thing to will 😩he's just never gonna bring that up? yeah right

[unclekaz]

honestly since i cut out the more intimate parts of the last fic to package them into a solo fic, ive been very anxious about how to proceed with this and ive been regretting making y/n gender neutral because like. id prefer for them to be masculine/male but i can't exactly hone in on that now

but also like. this is 100% the filthiest im ever gonna write and it's making me anxious thinking about that. like in the grand scheme of things it's definitely very clean, but it's starting to drive me insane with how dirty this is for me to write

[eyivibyemi]

✧ I won’t really write descriptions for these, but see original post tags for explanation/commentary on the song snippet ✧

[llycaons]

another thing I liked was how vicious and hateful and unforgivable xy was depicted because he literally did manipulate a good man into murdering hundreds of people and then tortured and murdered a little girl, whose pov we are reading from, like I find him entertaining as a villain but he's absolutely vile and sooo many fics want to be like '🥺 he just needed love' well he actually did get unconditional love and support and companionship FROM XXC and he used it to manipulate and mass murder so idk it was really awful what he went through but I think in any situation he would have been a fucked up sadist out for his own amusement and you know what im just going to link it: x. it's good but the wx is very novel-faithful so 😔

[dubiousdisco]

Really woke up at 3 am just to make the favorita post of the day. There we go:

Donatela has two hands.

[dante-mightdie]

c/w: implications of violence and murder, mentions of abuse, slight dub-con but not really, nsfw

farmersdaughter!reader and farmhand!soap anyone? you’re a shy little thing, always greeting him with a wave and little smile every day until your father comes over and yells at you to get away from the window

he knows your father doesn’t treat you well, keeping you locked up in the house and treating you like a maid. johnny doesn’t like him one bit

which is why he gets rid of him. you know johnny had kind of a violent past, haven’t been a soldier in the war until he was discharged. so in the night he makes your dad disappear, whether he threatens him to get out of town or uses more permanent means, he’s gone

comforts you when you cry about being left alone, how you have no family and no husband to take care of you. johnny comforts you, coos in your ear and rubs a hand up and down your back when you came running to him in the barn, a goodbye note clutched in your trembling hand

let’s his hand wander up your skirt, your sniffles making his cock twitch in his jeans. you don’t resist when he places a few experimental pecks to your lips, his calloused hands cupping your cheeks. let’s his tongue flick out to touch yours when he realises you aren’t pushing him away

only when he ruts his clothed cock against your hip do you hesitate, “we can’t. if people found it, it’s improper, we aren’t married…” you all but whine, your lips millimetres from his

he chuckles, his thumb move up to rub your clit over your panties. your legs jolt out wider, a panting moan leaving your lips,

“dinnae need te worry, bonnie. I’ll have you wed and bred by the end of the week, no one’ll know…” he whispers, a cheeky grin tugging at his lips as he kisses you once more. his hand reaching out to grab yours and place it over his clothed erection before covering it with his own and making you squeeze it <3

[ohproserpine]

vii. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, heavy warning for violence and blood, overdose, murder, death, hunting, graphic descriptions of injuries, vox being painfully obvious, vox malfunctions (lmao L), allusion to death, valentino warning, alastor's demon form

Rocks and twigs dug into your knees as you crawled forward, the jagged edges cutting your skin as you reached Alastor's side. With trembling hands, you cradled his face against your lap.

"Alastor," you called for him, desperately clutching onto his body, trying to pull him back down to Earth and hold him there "Al, Al, please."

"What did I do? What can I do?" More tears dribbled down your cheeks as you looked down at your husband, leaning in to press tender kisses to the apples of his cheeks. You held him as tightly as you could, careful not to cause him any more pain.

"I can figure out a way to help you, I can. I know I can, baby," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. Your gaze remained locked with your husband's lifeless eyes, the world spinning around you as panic tightened its grip on your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

"Al. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

˚୨୧₊♱

You woke with a startle.

Gasping for breath, your chest heaved with each inhale, the rapid beat of your pulse slamming against your ribcage, the sound hammering in your head. Blinking repeatedly, your vision slowly adjusted to the unfamiliar sight of a ceiling painted with outrageously colorful prints. Faint traces of neon lights filtered through the thin curtains, casting erratic patterns across the room, accompanied by the distant thump of music.

A gentle knocking at the door broke through the haze, accompanied by the muted tones of a familiar voice seeping through the metal barrier.

"Dollface? Are you up?" Vox's voice, though muffled, was unmistakable as it filtered through the door.

Shakily, you pushed yourself up and sat for a while, gathering your composure. The room spun around you, the vibrant colors of the walls and lights blurring into a dizzying kaleidoscope. Eventually, with a deep breath, you pushed yourself into action, moving to open the door.

As you swung it open, Vox stood on the other side, his signature smirk etched onto his features. His mechanical eyes gleamed as they scanned you for any signs of distress or fatigue. And despite your disorientation, you straightened your posture, trying to maintain your usual demeanor in front of him.

"Good morning," Vox greeted smoothly. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

Of course, he wasn't interrupting anything. It was clear to both of you that you had just rolled out of bed. Your hair tousled in disarray, your sleepwear crumpled and creased, and your bed behind you a mess of twisted sheets and pillows.

Still, you forced a polite smile and shook your head.

"No, not at all," you replied.

"Excellent," Vox grinned, stepping a foot past your doorway. "May I come in?"

Despite the internal alarm bells ringing in your mind, you nodded, moving aside to let him in. As he passed by, you couldn't shake the feeling of being scrutinized, like prey under the gaze of a predator before the pounce.

Closing the door, you leaned against it, feeling the cool surface against your back, and turned to face Vox, attempting to hide the unease simmering within.

"What can I help you with?" you asked, keeping your tone steady.

Vox's gaze pierced yours, his mechanical eyes glinting with a hunger that unsettled you.

"I thought of how we could discuss the details of our partnership," he hummed, running his fingers along your dresser. "Over dinner, perhaps?"

The proposal hung in the air, heavy with implications you weren't sure you wanted to explore. Despite your best efforts to hide it, a seething sense of unease bubbled beneath the surface, twisting your features into a grimace.

"Dinner?" The word felt like acid on your tongue as you struggled to maintain your façade, your gaze sharpening into a glare aimed directly at the overlord. "I'm sorry, but… I'm not interested."

Vox's laughter cut through the tense atmosphere, but it sounded forced and hollow.

"I meant a professional meeting, love," he covered up with a wave of his hand, the charm in his voice slightly strained. "Let's go over your contract."

Relieved, you nodded, though beneath, a whirlwind of thoughts swirled.

This could be a chance for you to really have a gauge on your situation. Everything had happened so fast, and you found yourself stumbling in the dark. You knew the Vees were a powerhouse in the entertainment district, their influence stretching far and wide, extending into every corner of hell. They were notorious for their employment methods, for their ability to shape destinies and manipulate lives with the stroke of a pen.

Who knows what was even in your contract?

"Wonderful!" Vox's cheerful interruption jolted you from your thoughts as he extended his arm. "Well then, let's not waste any more time. Shall we?"

"Shall we what?" you spoke slowly, your tone guarded.

"Shall we get to your duties, my dear?" Vox clarified smoothly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his words laden with expectation. "Velvette is waiting."

"Oh—" you jolted. Quickly, you gathered yourself, smoothing down the wrinkles of your robe and adjusting your disheveled hair with clumsy fingers.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you reached out and linked your arm with Vox's. The overlord smirked as he led you out of the room and through the corridors, already launching into conversation about his latest product line.

A part of you found it amusing how similar he was to your husband—both of them chatterboxes who couldn't keep their mouths shut if they tried.

Nodding along to Vox's conversation, you fell into step beside him. As you two walked, it was impossible not to notice the subtle shift in demeanor among the demons and imps, who hastily cleared a path for Vox, some even bowing respectfully as you passed by.

"And here we are!"

Arriving at Velvette's office, you entered cautiously, the tension thick in the air. Models lounged around in various states of undress, their statuesque figures draped in luxurious fabrics. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to suspicion as they observed your every move. Some whispered amongst themselves in hushed tones, casting wary glances in your direction, while others maintained an aloof demeanor, their gazes piercing yet blank.

Velvette stood at the front, her figure partially obscured by the tall curtains behind her. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, swept over you with open scorn.

"Finally! Took ya long enough," Velvette scowled. "Edna, will you please go get her dressed?!"

Edna, a tall and slender imp with delicate horns curved against her head, nodded obediently before gliding over to you. With a gentle tug on your arm, she beckoned you to follow her backstage. You stumbled nervously, clutching your robe as you obeyed.

As you stepped away, Vox chuckled, waving you off with a flourish. You offered a cautious wave back before being enveloped by the heavy fabric of the curtains.

"I know what you're trying," Velvette scoffed as she tapped away on her phone, her perfectly manicured nails, painted in a glossy shade of neon pink, clacking against the screen. Vox turned to her, his expression one of exaggerated innocence.

"Whatever do you mean?" he retorted, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise.

"Oh, please don't act as if you weren't sending marionnette over there heart eyes," Velvette accused, her crimson lips forming a thin line of disapproval. "Listen, I don't care what you do with your little girl toy. Just make sure you don't get in the way of my show."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Vox hummed, taking a seat on one of the plush couches.

Velvette turned to him, surprised, her curls bouncing from the abruptness of her movement. "You're staying?"

"Of course. I'm eager to see your dazzling ideas, my dear," Vox replied smoothly, spreading his long legs across the expanse of the couch. "After all, your show is going to be featured on my channels. It's all anyone has been raving about on Voxtagram lately."

"Cut the crap. You just want an excuse to ogle at her," Velvette scoffed.

Vox leaned back against the cushions, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Can you blame me? She's quite the sight to behold."

Before Velvette could snap back, Edna returned, leading you out from behind the curtains. You emerged, feeling somewhat exposed under the scrutinizing gazes of the two overlords.

No surprise, as the main act, you were dressed in one of Velvette's main designs. Black netted stockings hugged your legs as they met the bright red stilettos that adorned your feet. A red corset cinched your waist and emphasized the curve of your hips, accentuating your figure. Below the corset, you wore a dark miniskirt with cream ruffles and lace, its fabric swaying with every step.

You felt abash as you stood in the outfit. In the past, you had been considered a flapper girl with your bold demeanor and penchant for daring fashion choices, but even you couldn't help but feel a twinge of surprise at the lack of modesty of the skirt in this particular outfit. It barely grazed past your crotch, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

"Let's see…" Velvette hummed, completely absorbed in her task as she approached you, Vox long forgotten. With a couple of snaps of her fingers, the clothing and accessories you wore began to shift and change, transforming before your eyes.

Velvette's fingers danced through the air, conjuring delicate lace and cascading ruffles that stuck onto the corset. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned a cream fur coat, draping it over your shoulders with a flourish. The colors morphed, the fabrics transformed, until finally, with a satisfied clap of her hands, she took a step back to admire your new look.

"Makeup!"

Suddenly, you yelped as a chair was dragged over, pushing against the back of your knees and causing you to fall right into it. A bunch of imps swarmed around you and they wasted no time in getting to work, dabbing various products onto your face and expertly brushing powder along your cheeks.

Once they were finished, they handed you a mirror, allowing you to inspect their handiwork. Unlike the outfit, the makeup look wasn't as unsettling. Your face was adorned with makeup reminiscent of classic clown makeup, featuring exaggerated lashes, a layer of white face paint, and a bold red lip.

"That's it! That's the one," Velvette grinned, delighted with the makeover. Her grin turned into a smirk as she turned to Vox. "Well, what do you think—Satan!"

Vox's screen began to glitch and buffer, emitting sparks of electricity that charred the couch beneath him. The sudden noise startled some of the models, their eyes widening in alarm as they scrambled to move away from the malfunctioning android.

"The hell is wrong with you?" Velvette shouted.

Vox tried to respond, but all that came out was static.

Concerned, you approached him, the clicking of your heels against the floor echoing.

As you settled beside Vox, there was a momentary pause in the static, and he stared at you with wide eyes, the malfunction seemingly halted by your presence.

Part of you screamed at yourself to leave, to let him handle his problems alone. But another part of you remained, despite everything. Somehow, you still felt a sliver of sympathy for the overlord.

Leaning in closer, you furrowed your brow, the red gloss on your lips catching the studio lights. The corset pushed your chest up, and Vox found his eyes shamelessly drifting.

"Are you okay?" you whispered, your voice laced with genuine worry.

But before Vox could respond, he short-circuited, a burst of sparks and smoke emitting from his malfunctioning screen. You recoiled instinctively, your hand reaching out to shield yourself from any potential danger. With a final surge of electricity, he powered down completely, leaving behind a smoldering heap of metal and wires.

"Is he… okay?"

Velvette waved a dismissive hand. "He's always doing this. Probably overloaded his circuits again."

"Now, can someone please get this thing out of here?!" she commanded, snapping her fingers and tapping her foot impatiently.

As the models and attendants hurried to comply, you were pulled back up to your feet by the overlord. "He'll reboot eventually. Now, let's get back to work."

Reluctantly tearing your gaze away from Vox, you followed after Velvette as she led the way to a photo studio within the boutique.

The scene before you was akin to a circus, with vibrant hues of bright reds and pinks resembling a Valentine's Day massacre. A carousel in the background spun slowly, its eerie music echoing through the studio. Beating hearts hung suspended from the ceiling, their rhythmic pulses visible as they dripped with blood.

"Alright! Let's get the rehearsal started!" Velvette shouted out as she began to direct the crew. Cameras were adjusted, lights were fine-tuned, and the set was re-arranged to her satisfaction.

Turning to you with a tablet in hand, Velvette tossed it into your hands. You caught the device and quickly read through the document on the screen, realizing it was lyrics to a song. Your eyes rushed to memorize the words, the familiarity of the process washing over you.

Decades in the show industry had honed your skills to perfection, making this routine feel like second nature. A small pang of nostalgia tugged at your heartstrings, reminding you of simpler times before everything went amiss.

“Alright.”

Barely giving you ten minutes to prepare, Velvette deftly plucked the tablet from your hands as she stepped back and settled into a director's chair. The chair creaked softly under her weight as she made herself comfortable, slipping on heart-shaped glasses that glinted in the studio lights.

"Let's see what you've got.”

Lifting the scepter to your lips, you pressed it against your mouth, leaving a trace of red lipstick staining the surface, a stark contrast against the sleek metal. As the lights dimmed, signaling the start of your performance, you took a deep breath and began to recite the lyrics.

I write poems to burn by firelight Drink champagne and guzzle gin Good girls call me "the town bicycle" Don't knock it 'til you've tried my life of sin

With a flick of your hand, you pushed back the curls of your hair, the strands catching the studio lights as you kept your gaze glued to the camera lens. From her chair, Velvette smirked and captured the moment with her phone, the flash briefly blinding the dimly lit set.

Oh, my pimp, knows never mess with me Last prick did that faded quick to black I have no idea where to find him, officers But if you do, please mention that I'd Like to have returned the pretty knife That I stuck ten times in his back—

Before you could even finish, the door burst open with a deafening bang, causing everyone in the room to jump in surprise. Valentino stormed into the boutique, his eyes blazing with unrestrained fury. Without uttering a single word, he launched into a violent rampage, his movements wild and unpredictable.

The air was filled with the sound of crashing props and the desperate, panicked screams of assistants as they scrambled to evade Valentino's wrath. You jerked back instinctively as an arm was thrown in your direction, narrowly avoiding the chaotic fray unfolding around you.

"Damn it, Valentino! What are you doing?!" Velvette shouted over the commotion, her voice strained with anger and disbelief as she dug her fingers into her hair, her perfectly styled locks now in disarray.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" the moth demon screamed back, his voice seething with rage as he held poor Edna by her throat, his grip like a vice around her delicate neck.

"I'm airing out my frustrations!" he spat, his eyes wild with fury.

A sickening tearing sound filled the room as Valentino viciously tore Edna apart, blood splattering across the floor and staining the nearby racks of clothing.

"Fuck!" Velvette cursed under her breath. Fumbling, she retrieved her phone, her fingers tapping against the screen in agitation as she dialed Vox's number.

"My dear," the businessman's smooth voice echoed through the speakers, a calming presence amidst the storm. "What can I do for you?"

"Cut the shit. Are you functioning now?" Velvette's words were clipped, forceful, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"Functioning?" The overlord's response was hesitant, his movements jerky as he twisted his head, the wires on his neck audibly cracking with a spark. "I… suppose so."

"Good, because I need you up here now!" Velvette's voice crackled with urgency. "Mothboy is wrecking my department! And I'm waiting for a certain flat-faced prince to come and help!"

Without another word, Vox nodded with a weary groan, the weight of responsibility settling heavily upon him like an oppressive cloak.

"Just another fuckin' day with Val," he scoffed bitterly, his tone tinged with resignation as he pushed himself to his feet with a mechanical whir. "Fuck my life."

In an instant, he transformed into a crackling spark of electricity, zipping up into the CCTV camera before seamlessly teleporting into another one located in Velvette's studio.

"What's going on?" Vox sighed wearily as he materialized, his voice tinged with exhaustion, hands folding behind his back as he surveyed the chaotic scene before him.

"Valentino's lost it again. And he's tearing everything apart," Velvette hissed as her hand shot up, grabbing Vox by the collar of his metallic frame.

Her nails dug into the surface, leaving faint marks as she pulled him down to her eye level. "You need to stop him before he causes any more damage!"

"Consider it done," Vox muttered, rolling his eyes before moving toward Valentino. With a firm grip, he halted the demon mid-carnage, spinning Valentino around to face him. An unsettling grin stretched across Vox's metallic features as he locked eyes with the enraged demon.

"Val! What's got you out of sorts today?"

“That piece of shit! Can you believe what he did?” Valentino snarled, his voice dripping with venom as he flung a small imp across the room, the helpless girl crashing into a clothing rack. “The ungrateful whore!”

"Uh huh, which whore are we talking about now?” Vox spoke nonchalantly as he pulled his phone out and idly scrolled through it. Before he could react, Valentino lunged forward, his claws snatching the device from Vox's grasp.

"Who else would I be talking about?!" Valentino spat, his grip tightening around the phone until it crushed in his hands. With a primal scream, he hurled the remains of the tech against a nearby wall, the impact causing the column to crack under the force of the blow.

You watched with a frown as Vox attempted to calm Valentino, but his efforts fell short against the demon's relentless anger. Despite Vox's attempts, Valentino continued to rage, his voice echoing through the room as he screamed about hotels, phone calls, and among other things you didn't bother picking up.

“Fuck. Alright, he's not calming down anytime soon,” Velvette scoffed, rolling her eyes. She turned to you and motioned for you to follow as she began storming out. “Come on."

Quickly, you nodded, falling into step behind Velvette as she navigated through the gory scene. Blood stained the bottom of your heels as you stepped past limbs and puddles of blood, bones cracked underfoot, and muscles squished beneath your weight. The overpowering scent of iron filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of fear.

The overlord guided you out of the room and towards the other side of the building, where a door adorned with your name on a golden plaque awaited.

"This is your dressing room. We'll have another shoot in a few hours, so get yourself prepped in here while I go take care of the piss baby," Velvette scowled, already busying herself with her phone again.

"Will do," you sighed, running a hand through your hair, grateful for the moment of rest.

"Good. I'll see you then," Velvette declared with dramatic flair, her vibrant curls swirling around her face as she turned on her heels and walked away, leaving a trail of her perfume lingering in the air.

As you were about to step into your dressing room, the door beside you suddenly swung open with a creak, revealing a slice of the pink-filled bedroom beyond. To your surprise, you were met with the familiar sight of a fluff of white hair. An accented voice filled the air, screaming into a phone, the sound echoing down the corridor.

"I told ya, I didn't mean to—," The demon turned to you and froze, his eyes widening as he dropped his cigar in shock. The carpet beneath your feet caught fire from the dropped cigar, but neither of you seemed to care.

He stared at you, wide-eyed.

Hands flying up to your mouth, you stared back.

For a minute, all you could hear was the muted sounds of Valentino's screaming from the phone speaker and the building's hustle and bustle

"Dollface?" Angel Dust finally broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper as he blinked dumbfounded. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

Your heart dropped like a heavy stone, sinking into the depths of your chest. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you stood there.

Everything was becoming too much to even process. Your body betrayed you as you lost your balance, collapsing and hitting the floor. A high-pitched ringing pierced your ears, drowning out all other sounds, as warmth seeped from them.

"Aw, shit," Angel Dust hissed in panic. Without hesitation, he reached out and pulled you into his arms, dragging you into his room, the door closing behind you with a soft click.

Ending the call, he tossed his phone away and guided you to a plush couch, the fabric soft and inviting beneath your touch as you sank into its embrace. Angel Dust settled beside you, his presence comforting like a warm blanket on a cold night. He offered you a sympathetic smile, though slightly awkward, his eyes filled with understanding.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he murmured soothingly, his words a gentle caress to your troubled soul.

Opening his arms wide, Angel offered you a hug, and you leaned into his embrace, finding solace in the warmth of his arms as he enveloped you in a comforting hug. Slowly, your senses came together as you nestled against him, the gentle rhythm of his breathing calming the storm of emotions raging within you.

"It's gonna be alright," he whispered softly, his voice a comforting murmur. Moving closer, he wiped away the warm liquid seeping from your ears. You could faintly see his hands moving away, stained with red. "You alright? What happened, mama?"

"A lot," you sighed, raising a hand to massage your temple as you recounted the events of the past 24 hours, from Mimzy's lounge getting busted down to your soul exchange with Vox.

Angel listened intently as you recounted the events, his expression shifting from concern to disbelief as he processed the gravity of what you had experienced.

"Damn, you've been through hell twice. You're one tough cookie, mama," Angel said with a warm smile as he reached for a brush on his vanity and gently ran it through your messed-up hair.

Despite the heaviness of the situation, a hint of laughter escaped you.

"You could say that," you sniffed, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as you let out a long-held sigh. "It's been a while since I've been able to let it all out like this. Most demons aren't exactly the nicest."

Angel Dust chuckled with a shrug, his hands gentle as he worked through the knots in your hair. "Yeah, I've… ah, been tryn'a to stay 'good' for a while now. Charlie's been real pushy with the redemption thing, and I thought, what the hell, why not?"

Suddenly, he paused his brushing and gawked at you, his eyes widening in realization. "Charlie! The hotel!"

Your heart skipped a beat as Angel Dust's words sank in. "The hotel," you echoed, the pieces of the puzzle starting to fall into place in your mind.

"Shit!" Angel laughed, running a hand through his hair. "Well, there ya go! I get off shift tonight, and I sure as hell can get my ass over there. Hell, I can leave right this instant if you want!"

"Won't Valentino be pissed?" you asked, a flicker of concern crossing your features. "You'll be—" Your gaze darted over to his discarded phone on the floor, which was buzzing with calls. "Well, already are in deep shit."

Angel Dust frowned, his expression hardening with resolve. He grabbed your coat and swiftly removed it, tossing it aside to cover the buzzing phone. "Fuck 'im. He can bark all he wants in the studio, but outside of it, he's got no power over me."

The spider leaned in, his touch as gentle as a soft breeze against your skin, his fingers delicate as they brushed a stray hair from your face. "I'll help you. So don't get your pretty little tits in a twist anymore, alright?"

With a heavy heart, you whispered your gratitude, bowing your head as tears continued to stream down your cheeks. Today had been bleak, but a glimmer of hope lingered for a brighter tomorrow.

"But I don't want to get you in trouble, Angel," you said softly, wiping away your tears, exhaustion washing over you. "I can wait until tonight."

Angel Dust's expression softened, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Nah, babe, ain't no trouble for me. Besides, waiting ain't my style, and I ain't about to let you deal with this mess alone."

"Plus," Angel grinned devilishly, his eyes sparkling with mischief, the corners of his lips curling up. "I know your man is going to tear shit down. And I want front row seats to all that drama."

˚୨୧₊♱

"NO!"

Charlie shrieked, her voice piercing the air as she lunged forward, her fingers grasping desperately at Alastor's piece on the gameboard. "Al! You can't just do whatever you want! You have to follow the rules!"

Alastor leaned back in his chair, a low chuckle leaving his lips as he regarded Charlie with amusement. "But my dear, where's the entertainment in that?" he purred as he tilted his head in mock innocence. "Rules are made to be broken, after all. So, I had a little fun with it."

"A little fun?" Vaggie scoffed from her spot on the floor, her brows furrowed in frustration as she idly shuffled the cards.

"Yeah, thanks a lot, dickhead," she muttered, her voice laced with irritation. "That's what you've been doing these past 2 hours. If you don't start playing properly, might as well not play. I mean—why did you even bother?"

"For the entertainment!" Alastor cheered, his grin widening as he rolled the dice once the turn landed on him again. With a flourish of his claws, he moved his piece three spaces, landing on an unclaimed building which he quickly purchased. "I came here because I love seeing you wayward souls struggle to accomplish something great, and fail spectacularly!"

Vaggie scoffed and rolled the dice, her hand deftly moving the piece along the board with a flick of her wrist. However, her expression soured noticeably when the piece landed on the Jail panel. She seethed and sank back, silently cursing her streak of horrible luck.

"Ah, like you are doing now!" Alastor smirked down at her like the asshole he was, punctuating his words with a clap of his hand. "Good job!"

Vaggie clenched her jaw tightly, her knuckles whitening as she lifted the board, readying herself to strike Alastor. However, before she could make her move, the door burst open, and Angel Dust rushed in with a gasp. He looked every bit disheveled, as if he had just run through all nine circles of hell.

Charlie's eyes lit up at the sight of him, and she lifted her hand, waving him over excitedly.

"Angel! Perfect timing. We need one more player for Monopurgatory," she exclaimed, gesturing excitedly towards the game board. With a gleeful expression, she plucked a piece from the board and held up a small metal figurine with a wide smile. "You can be the cupcake~!"

"Sorry, princess, I've got business," Angel huffed, brushing his hair back as he turned to Alastor. "Alright, freaks. We need to talk."

Alastor hummed, studying Angel with mild amusement. "My, my, such urgency," he remarked, his smile widening into a grin. "What's got you in such a hurry?"

"It's about Vox," Angel replied, pressing his hands flat against each other. "I need to speak with you in private."

Alastor's grin faded slightly, and he tilted his head, his eyes narrowing at Angel. Well, this was certainly getting very entertaining.

After a moment of contemplation, Alastor shook his head, snapping himself out of whatever daze he had briefly fallen into.

"Vox, you say?" Alastor mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. With a nonchalant shrug, he pushed himself up, twirling his cane in the air. "Oh, well, in that case, let's chat."

With a flick of his wrist, Alastor moved forward and gestured towards the door, indicating for Angel to follow him. Charlie and Vaggie exchanged puzzled glances, but they remained silent, watching as both men left the room.

"You know, I'd usually never even think of entertaining you, and I'd rather let you deal with your own issues. But you seem to be in a great deal of suffering!” Alastor laughed heartily as he shut the door.

"So, pray tell, what happened? Did you get yourself entangled in another deal from a whim decision? My! I certainly hope you don't bring any of this into the hotel. What will the papers say?"

Angel rolled his eyes and cut Alastor's rambling short, jabbing a gloved finger into the Radio Demon's chest. "It ain't about me. And you're gonna want to listen because it's your missus that's in deep shit right now."

Alastor's eye twitched at the mention of you, a brief flicker of static and symbols dancing in the air. His crimson eyes bore into Angel Dust, his expression unreadable, save for the wide curl of his lips.

Inwardly, Angel smirked. If he didn't have Alastor's attention before, he sure as fuck had it now.

"What does my wife have to do with this?" Alastor quipped sharply, his claws delicately removing Angel Dust's finger from his chest. "I fail to see the connection. Do enlighten me."

"Wanna be enlightened?" Angel waved him over, "Then follow me."

Without waiting for a response, Angel turned on his heels and strode out of the hotel. Alastor followed closely behind, his red-clad figure cutting through the streets of hell like fire against the night.

A few streets later, they approached the border edge of the entertainment district, and Alastor halted abruptly, his gaze narrowing in suspicion.

"I don't particularly fancy this area, and I'd rather not enter," he scoffed, adjusting his coat and brushing away dust from his sleeves with a disdainful flick. "It's rather unsavory."

"Just look," Angel rolled his eyes, gesturing upwards towards the towering Vee tower, where a new advertisement had just been erected.

Alastor's gaze shifted upward, and he froze as he beheld your face plastered across the billboard, larger than life, dominating the skyline of the entertainment district. The vibrant colors of the advertisement clashed with the dark hues of the surrounding buildings, drawing attention like a beacon in the night. Beneath the image, in bold letters, was a sign that read: "Sponsored by VoxTek," stark against the backdrop of your image.

There was silence for a minute, then another, before a sharp crack split the air.

"Angel?" Alastor's chipper voice rang out as he stared up at the billboard with a manic grin. Crackling began to be heard as his limbs lengthened, each movement accompanied by the sound of bones shifting and sinewy muscles stretching beneath his ashen flesh.

"Would you be so kind as to…" His antlers began to grow in size, curling and twisting like the branches of a gnarled tree.

"—explain…" His eyes darkened, the whites turning to a deep, swirling black, while the pupils glowed with a golden light, resembling the flickering dials of an old radio.

"—what exactly am I looking at right now?" His hands elongated into grotesque claws, the fingers stretching and sharpening into razor-sharp blades capable of ripping flesh—or in this case, wires—with ease. As his claws extended, they stretched his glove to its limit until it tore right off, revealing the glint of his wedding ring.

"Vox got her soul," Angel replied immediately, his voice steady despite the horrifying sight in front of him. "Screens has her wrapped around his finger, and he's not planning to let go anytime soon."

Alastor's head snapped to the side with a sickening crack accompanying the movement.

"Show me," he snarled, his voice taking on an inhuman quality, heavily filtered by radio waves.

Without hesitation, Angel gestured towards the billboard, his expression blank.

"Get in there, and see for ya'self."

˚୨୧₊♱

[konigsblog]

YANDERE 141, KÖNIG

CHARACTERS: 141 + könig.

WARNINGS: kidnapping, murdering (not reader or any characters), panty stealing, sexual implication on Gaz's one, love bombing, guilt tripping. tell me if i missed any.

A/N: i did this a while ago, but i wanna rewrite it since my writing has changed since! also, i know it's random to add könig but he's my favourite, my husband, and i love to talk about him as a yandere!

proofread.

Captain John Price

Your captain always had the hots for you. From stealing your panties from your clothing hamper, to perving on you in the communal showers. When he finally gave in to the nagging voice in his head and took you, it left you shocked.

He'd always put pressure on you. He'd always overwork you and give you extra reports, and when you asked the others if they had any reports due, they had noticeably less than you had. You had a lot of weight on your shoulders, always rushing reports and having them handed back, your captain expecting more.

So, you put in more effort. Quickly enough, you were exhausted from overworking yourself and the hard work during missions that you pleaded with John to give you a break. Even laswell could sense you were burned out. But John didn't believe you were tired enough. And if you really were, you should just leave the military – I mean, after all, it doesn't seem like your thing.

He made you feel like you weren't good enough to be a part of his team. He always berated you for doing something wrong, an accident that could've been made easily and by anyone. The others took notice of this but didn't say anything in fear of their captain lashing out on them instead.

No one was surprised when you left. Laswell talked about transferring you to another team, since she saw great potential with you. But with John in your ear telling you to leave this industry, you decided that this clearly wasn't your thing.

Once you were gone, you were at ease, but feel as if something was going to go wrong sooner or later. Would your new job fire you? What would the others think of you leaving them like this?

You noticed a few pairs of panties missing, and as if someone were following you around. It left you fearful and almost isolated as you refused to leave your flat, awoken by the sound of glass shattering and a dark shadow of a burly figure looming over your body. Before you could react, a cloth was brought to your mouth, forcing you to become limp in a matter of minutes due to the oddly medical scent filling your nostrils.

Waking up locked and chained to the wall in a basement wasn't what you expected when you first left the military. You imagined marrying someone and living a peaceful life, but soon enough, you were frantically shaking the chains in an attempt to flee. To no use though, as soon, the sounds of boots stomping against the floor above you could be heard and the noise of keys rattling.

John is a cruel yandere. He enjoys seeing you ruined and raw, bruised from his punishments. He sure as hell isn't afraid to put you in your place, especially when you misbehave and curse him out. “What good s'that gonna do for ya'?” he mumbled, smoking the cigar between his teeth, pushing boot down against your cheek.

He loved to humiliate and embarrass you, to make you feel worthless beneath him. He tuts and scoffs, leaning down so the stench of tobacco and smoke could enter your nostrils. Cigar burns along your thighs when you seriously missed behaved, he had to make sure he left a mark on you, that he wore you down and ruined you beyond comprehension, so he could talk to you as if you were worth nothing and have no consequence.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

A very, very calm and nonchalant yandere. He enjoys having you like a pet beneath him, on your knees and forced to obey him.

He'd fallen head over heels with you when you joined the 141. God, how could he not? With the way you look at him after sparring, exhausted and panting, drained of all your strength as he slams you down against the ground for the tenth time.

Simon loves to tease you, he gets satisfaction off the sounds of your giggles and laughs. But, at times he leaves you confused with tears in your eyes from his snarky, hurtful comments. Talking with other men was a huge no for Simon, as he felt like he was at competition for his darling.

He'd planned to take you away while on deployment. He found your address and decided he'd pay you a nice visit when you were walking out drunk from a bar, kidnapping you and throwing you into his van and driving away with the love of his life.

With Simon's obsession, came delusion. He didn't fully understand how you couldn't comprehend why he'd done this. Of course, he wanted to protect you! Shouldn't you be more grateful that you don't have to do any work, that he provides and takes care of you?

Whenever you sobbed and hid against the wall, he'd roll his eyes and order you to sit between his thighs, so he could pet you like an obedient dog. You always gave him those watery eyes that made the guilt waver in his chest, but it was ignored as he scoffed and slapped you across the cheek lightly; a warning.

When you weeped into the pillow, he laid beside you, his arms wrapped around your figure, holding your precious body against his own. He shushed you, your hands tied with handcuffs behind your back and your ankles tied with rope. There was no way he was allowing you to be without him, he couldn't live!

You want him to stay healthy, mentally and physically? Then you stay beside him like an eager puppy, his one and only.

John ‘Soap’ Mactavish

A delusional, lovesick yandere. He can't be without you... he simply can't and wouldn't stand it any longer.

He met you at a bar, with the 141 and he grew a liking to you when you always listened and laughed along with his stupid jokes. It gave him confidence and made him believe that you were interested in him, despite excusing it as ‘just being nice’.

There was no ‘just being nice’, he was sold on the idea of you loving him, and once he got your number, he was over you. Creepy, overprotective messages made you feel uneasy and almost weirded out when he scolded you for wearing an outfit he didn't approve of to a party. How did he know you were at a party?

When asked, he said he was friends with someone there and that he saw you with your friends. It put your mind at ease and you almost felt relaxed for a minute, before your phone lit up with a notification from him.

“Ye' shouldnae be awake so late, love.” he typed out. You weren't on your phone, therefore, how would he know you were awake? Your status didn't say online, and there was no reason for him to assume that you were awake at midnight for no reason.

Until you saw him.

Standing in the hallway of your flat, your eyes wide open as you drop your glass of red wine all over your white carpet. You back up, panting and grabbing your phone in an attempt to call the police, before he gave you a threatening gaze that had you paused in time.

He approached you, sitting beside you on the couch and bringing you into his arms. He leaned you back against his lap so that your head was laying on his lap. Johnny traced his fingertips up and down your cheeks, humming to himself and chuckling at your fearful expression.

He put the muzzle of a gun beside your ear, whispering something to you before hitting you in the head with the gun, knocking you out. Of course, he hadn't shot you. He would never. But he had you bound and gagged on the floor of his basement back in Scotland, naked and bare and fully revealed to him. “Couldnae help mysel'...” he chuckled.

Johnny is a delusional yandere. He sees nothing wrong in what he's doing. Delusional and obsessive, completely attached to you and believes you could do no wrong. Whenever you cry to him that you hate him, a frown replaces his once smile as he forces you down against the couch, forcing you to apologise otherwise he would throw you in the basement without a second thought.

He also loves to pretend that you two are a happy couple. He only locks you away if you're naughty, otherwise he has an arm around your waist and he's bringing a glass full of wine to your lips, having you fall asleep against his shoulder. And he's also extremely creepy; giggling, you'll wake up to him taking photos of you whilst you sleep, watching as you cower and shy away in fear.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

He's a delusional guilt tripper. He'd met you through other friends and became utterly and completely fascinated with your life. He'd love to fantasize about you all day long, thinking of your future together.

Kyle, like Johnny, believed you two were compatible and that had him drooling for you. Always desperate to please and impress you. He'd always gaze over at you and ask you first a question, speaking to you the entire night long until you both knew a lot about eachother.

You two hooked up which fed into the delusions of your love. He wouldn't let you leave the next morning, he'd begged and pleaded with you until tears to stay that extra bit longer. He needed you.

He wrapped his arms around you and rubbed his bare chest against your back. You were, of course, were weirded out by his sudden behaviour, but the strong sense of sorrow and guilt bloomed in your chest. Eventually, you fell asleep beside him, assuming he was also knocked out asleep.

He wasn't.

In fact, you woke up chained to the bed. Your wrists and ankles were chained and spread out, your eyes widening as he caressed your body. His touch wasn't sexual, not like the night prior, but it was tender and full of love like you two were married.

His eyes also grew big when he saw you were awake. He sighed, cupping your jaw to lean in and kiss you, all confused when you attempted to wriggle away. Kyle took offense to this and decided that if you weren't going to listen, he would make you.

Kyle dragged you about by the neck, rope around your neck and acting as a leash. He sobbed, screaming at you for acting so clueless. You lead him on, and now he was blaming you for everything wrong in his life.

How could you!? How could you lead this sweetheart on and make him truly believe he was finally loved? What sick, twisted prick does something as horrible as that?

Your eyes glistened as he yelled, gripping your jaw and crumbling to his knees. God, he was amazing, a mastermind at making you feel bad. He could for tears out of nowhere, smiling widely when you comply.

“Yes, yes... that's it, finally behaving for me?” Kyle smiled cruelly, he could see tears streaming down your cheeks from his scoldings, trapped with him and his forced love.

König

Oh, this poor man believes you want him just like he wants you. He's utterly shocked and heartbroken when you turn him down, that he's too creepy and always stalking you! He's oblivious to the fact that he does this... please, understand this poor man!

Instead of moving on, he takes matters into his own hands. There was no way you didn't love him, I mean, he believed up and down that you were made for him. Fuck, he even planned your future together.

His jaw dropped and his lips parted, anger filled his eyes as he stormed off.

Watching you from afar and admiring the way you walked. The way you talked to other men, what did they have that he didn't!? You couldn't do this, König wasn't allowing it. His jealousy grew bigger every day, and when he realised you had a boyfriend, it boiled over the edge.

Crimson stained the soles of his boots as he walked off. The sound of the snow crunching beneath his heavy weight, leaving your boyfriend's body bloodied and lifeless. No more competition, soon enough you'd cling to your ex-best friend, sobbing about your boyfriend's death.

He knew you like the back of his palm, of course you'd come crawling back with tears in your eyes. He hates to know that he caused those many tears, thinking about his sins and brushing them off so he could comfort his darling.

The police were clueless, just like you. You cried and stayed over every single night, cuddling into König and leaving his shirt wet from your tears. “Mäusi, I just can't believe all these tears are for him.” the tone of his snarky, jealous attitude was back and it immediately caught your attention.

You were shocked that he'd say something like that. Of course, they were for him! He was dead, murdered even, for goodness sake... You had cursed him out, sitting up and looking down at the man laying beside you, wiping your cheek.

He gritted his teeth and sat up, gripping you by the neck and pushing you back down against the mattress. He never wanted to have these outbursts, he wanted you to feel happy and joyful when you were with him. Guilt immediately hit him like a bombshell, but there wasn't any going back and he knocked you out with a single hit.

Life in König's basement was hell on Earth. Soon, you were crying for him not to abandon you in the basement. You'd forgive him, it was alright. A happy smile appeared on his face, it made you ill. He made you feel queasy when he hugged you so tightly you thought he'd kill you with a hug.

Spoon feeding you meals and love bombing you until you feel inclined to love him back, Stockholm Syndrome. After all, he did all this for you. Surely the giant deserves something in return.

[waywardcrow]

All eyes on us.

Summary: This wedding needs to happen, it's the only way you can protect the ones you love, the only problem is that you're in love with your husband-to-be and he would never love you back.

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Stark!reader.

TW: Really not so many, talks of murder but very lightly, mentions of mysogyny, implications of mafia kind of stuff, death of parents, mention of future smut, curvy!reader, no mention of y/n and reader's nickname is Bells (context coming soon), kind of enemies to lovers but not really enemies, arranged marriage, this will be a +18 story so minors dni.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language, please tell me if I make grammar mistakes.

Part of the Yours to lose series.

Pictures from pinterest and graphic and dividers by the amazing @ firefly-graphics so all credits to the creators.

Everyone was waiting for her but she kept looking at herself in the mirror.

The wedding dress was beautiful, Pepper told her it was what Maria Stark –her mother- wore in her own wedding day and she loved it, the silk was too soft, hugging her curves with an ethereal touch and it had a subtle scent that she assumed belonged to the mother she couldn't remember.

Tony swore their mother loved her, their father too, the young bride couldn’t help but doubt it, they would not love her if they could see her now about to get married to a man who didn’t love her back, a man who humiliated her once for his pride, someone who probably only wanted what this arrangement could give him back.

How would she survive this marriage when it was impossible to leave the room and get to the Cathedral?

A knock in the door pulled her out of her mind, finding Natasha smiling at her in the reflection of the mirror.

“Are you ready, dear?” her friend knew the real answer but still gave her the chance to speak.

“I was about to go” she lied and the redhead gave her a knowing look “everyone it’s waiting, isn’t it?”

“You’re the bride, honey, they can wait” Natasha walked to her, looking like a goddess in her silver dress and put her arms around the bride’s body “you can say no, we can fight Russo’s father, hell, Billy would love having one more excuse to kill him.”

She was sure Billy would do it, not only for her but for his sister, for Madani and for himself but it wasn’t time yet, the alliances needed to be settled, Stark and Barnes had to fight alongside to kill Pierce and Carlo Russo. She made all that mess before getting her family back and nobody would take them from her, never again.

“It has to be done, Nat” she put the veil in her head and took the beautiful bouquet Becca left for her earlier “let’s go.”

Her friend must have seen something in her eyes that made her nod.

“Alright, Bells. Let’s do this” her nickname, the one Yelena gave her when they met years ago, made her smile, who could ever thought that knocking someone out with Christmas bells will change her life?

Natasha guided her trough the corridors to the waiting room where Tony was talking in a hushed tone with Pepper, her sister-in-law radiant with her baby bump, reminding her why this alliance needed to happen.

“I’d be waiting outside, dear” Nat kissed her cheek and went to take her place with the other bridesmaids.

Tony was staring at her, pale like a ghost, whispering his sister's name. It wasn’t the first time in the last months Bells was told how much alike she was with his mother, their mother but this time Tony didn’t say anything, just looked at her eyes to find determination that matched his concern.

“Everything it’s beautiful, Peps, thank you” the bride said and the ginger smiled with a hint of sadness barely visible.

“It’s the least I could do for you, topolina. You deserve beautiful things” she never had a mother, not that she could remember, but with Pepper there she could feel like she did.

Pepper gave her husband a gentle squeeze in the arm and went to join the rest of the guest.

“I have Frank ready to go, say the word and we leave” his first words almost made her chuckle, he spent the last fifteen days planning ways to get her out of this but Bells always refused, a small and stupid part of her happy because she would marry the man she loved.

“I want to do this, Tony, for all of us” that part it was true, this marriage was the only way she could protect him and Pepper and the baby, Billy and Dinah, Frank and Maria and the kids, the family she dreamed about since she was a kid and that she finally had. It also would save her from Carlo Russo’s greedy hands.

Bells knew one or two things about the mob, mostly from movies and for that she was sure the respect from his brother to her choices were more part of his good soul, she heard some stories from Maria that made her want to kill Carlo Russo even more.

True to the man she met not too long ago Tony didn’t fight her, instead he straightened his bow tie and extended an arm out for her to take it.

“Then allow me to walk you down the aisle, signorina, it will be my honour” the charm went back to his eyes and Bells could breathe, if she could count on them, she could do anything.

The music started playing when the wedding planner gave the signal and every one of her friends smiled at her or blew kisses at her before marching down the aisle. From where she was she could see Maria walk with confidence, not sparing a glance to her father who unfortunately was sited next to her brother Billy and Dinah.

Natasha was the last one, looking at her with reassurance one last time before following the others, then it was their turn.

“I love you, topolina”

“Love you too, Tony”

The crowd of guest was an unfocused picture, she only had eyes for the man waiting for her at the altar, wearing a black tux with a new haircut, his long chestnut locks were gone, sending a silly wave of sorrow through her veins.

She loved his hair, in an embarrassing impulse she remembered pulling his long hair to get him to kiss her again when-

Bells stopped herself.

It was dangerous to think about those times, they were gone the minute he saw her as one of his properties and decided to punish her for something she never did.

Bucky’s eyes never left her the whole way to him, drinking her like he was dying of thirst. Steve must have noticed too because he gave him a subtle bump to get him to blink and stop looking like he would commit sacrilege in the middle of the church.

The beautiful glass windows projected a million colors around her when Tony lifted the veil and with a barely visible hesitance put her hand in Bucky’s.

“I’m confident you will protect her with your life, Barnes” was all he said, dead serious when Bucky gave him a solemn nod and her brother kissed her forehead.

With her eyes watching her step, Bells avoided looking at him until it was impossible to keep going.

A soft smile, one she thought she lost forever, resurfaced when their eyes locked and the bride could read what he was thinking.

She was his, always was and always would be and he would never let her go.

I'd do bad things with you >>>

Hiya! I'm super happy to post this story even if I don't know what I'm doing, to be honest I'm not fluent in italian, so here's the translation of the pet names I used:

-topolina: Little mouse.

-signorina: Miss.

If I made a mistake with that, feel free to correct me and tell me what you think! What do you think it will happen?

Love, Lily.

[yunjinified]

Wonwoo fic recs

✿=personal favourites

note: this list will constantly be updated. In all of these fics the reader is either gender neutral or female.

Good To Me by @moonhoures series warnings and genre: non-idol!au, smut, fluff, shower sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, pet names, multiple orgasms. word count: 1 300

9:03PM by @moonhoures series warnings and genre: smut, unprotected sex, finger sucking. word count: N/A

✿Bloodily Safe by @starlightxsvt series warnings and genre: psychological thriller, camgirl!au, college!au, smut, toxic relationship, blackmailing, drinking, descriptive domestic abuse, death, manipulation, threatening, fingering, slapping, choking, marking, cum eating, degradation, virgin sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, humiliation kink, pain kink, psychopathic behaviours, descriptive violence, blood, rape attempt, arson, murder. word count: 18 500

✿Game On! (bloodily safe 2) by @starlightxsvt series warnings and genre: psycho!Wonwoo, ghost face kink, scream movie references, sir kink, degradation, choking, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, rough sex, breast play, knife play (no cutting or marking), implications of violence, blood. word count: 6 000

Work Husband by @bitchlessdino series warnings and genre: office!au, smut, mentions of alcohol, exhibitionism, manhandling, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names. word count: 3 900

✿Twisted Fate by @smileysuh series warnings and genre: murder, blood, vampire!wonwoo, yandere subthemes, kidnapping, biting, blood play, throat grabbing, manhandling, begging, praise, dirty talk, mean dom!wonwoo, multiple orgasms, finger-licking, chocking, unprotected sex, size kink, gentle spanking, dumbification, hair-pulling. word count: 14 300

Mine by @gyupinkys series warnings and genre: Degradation, daddy kink, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving) , gunshots, pet names, breeding, edging. word count: 1 500

Getting closer by @multi-kpop-fanfics series warnings and genre: Joker!Wonwoo x Chief Inspector!reader, angst, smut, horror, minor fluff, blood, mentions of weapons, minor injuries, cursing, hatefucking, marking, hair pulling, choking, face-slapping, major character death, slight yandere behaviour, mentions of mental illness and insomnia. word count: 6 100

✿Red lights by @multi-kpop-fanfics series warnings and genre: smut, angst, fingering, overstimulation, marking, unprotected sex, choking, possessive and jealous Wonwoo , cursing, toxic relationship. word count: N/A

Good to Me by @multi-kpop-fanfics series warnings and genre: fluff, smut, a bit of comedy, sexual tension, soft dom!Wonwoo, use of restraints, dirty talk, praise, oral sex (f receiving), edging, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare. word count: 5 000

horror game by @myung-heee series warnings and genre: fluff, smut, pet names, oral (f receiving), face sitting, crying, protected sex. word count: 2 500

✿rich girl by @blushnote series warnings and genre: smut, blowjob, face fucking, overstimulation, squirting, dirty talk, shower sex, pet names. word count: 6 708

6:30pm by @cheolhub series warnings and genre: unprotected sex, mentions of masturbation, degradation, hard dom!wonwoo. word count: 755

off limits by @hinaaspanda series warnings and genre: brother's best friend!Wonwoo, swearing, crack, smut, fingering, protected sex, dirty talk, praising. word count: 9 907

✿Cat and mouse by @wonusite series warnings and genre: bad boy!au, smut, descriptions of minor injuries, mutual pining, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, riding, multiple creampies, overstimulation, mating press, aftercare. word count: 5 600

Your games suck by @onlymingyus series warnings and genre: smut, unprotected sex, teasing, fingering, pet names. word count: 2 700

distraction by @hwanghyunjinenthusiast series warnings and genre: established relationship, pwp, Dom! Wonwoo, Sub! Reader, dirty talk, breast spanking (f. receiving), nipple play (f. receiving), praise kink (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving). word count: N/A

✿The bore next door by @ncteez series warnings and genre: dom!wonwoo, bratty/sub!reader, face fucking, pussy eating, nipple biting, finger fucking, squirting, dirty talk, protected sex, dirty talk, praise, hair pulling. word count: 8 800

[kerosene-in-a-blender]

One thing about Orym saying that he can't put down the lens he sees the world with is that he's completely correct, he's always going to be viewing the moon plot and the conflict with the Ruby Vanguard from the perspective of "a guy whose husband and father were murdered by the Vanguard", but the same could be said about the rest of the party. They all have pre-existing experiences and attitudes that have shaped their perspective on things. Orym isn't uniquely biased in this sense.

The most obvious one is of course Imogen, as her long-absent mother is a Vanguard general. She heard Liliana's voice in her Ruidusborn nightmares telling her to run as long as she had those nightmares, and she came to associate that with her mother trying to protect her from whatever the red storm was. It resulted in Imogen giving a lot of grace to Liliana once she found out she was alive and with the Vanguard, a grace that more recent experiences are now making Imogen start to believe was misplaced, but a grace that was born over what she considered her mother's voice to be for years.

Fearne was raised in relative isolation in the Feywild by Nana Morri, and as result her approach to a lot of the events she's now embroiled in has an oddly naive slant to it. The whole would is new to her and she's approaching it like someone who is new to it; there's a lack of understanding of implications that she has that goes beyond her simply being fey. This is best seen in how she's grappling with the reveal that Sorrowlord Zathuda is her biological father. She's aware that Zathuda is terrible and that the circumstances that led up to her birth are dubious but there's also a large part of her that desires a connection with him as her parent and feels like they could have a relationship. She's naive to what exactly she is to him, and also influenced by having grown up longing for the parents that left her with Morri.

Ashton lost their parents and found themself blown halfway across the world after a cult ritual went wrong, and had a spectacularly shitty life that he often found himself begging the gods to fix without answer, and as a result he's very down on the idea of gods and even more down on the idea of letting a cult do whatever they want in order to achieve the perfect world that is just beyond reach by whatever means they must. Especially after the entire shard debacle in which Ashton learned that their parents were definitely wrong to do what they did and there were no good ends for the means that they engaged in he's fallen even harder onto the line of, as he said himself, "I hope her ends are fucking great because these means are just not forgivable."

Laudna's sole experience with anything resembling a higher power for much of her 50-odd-years of life has been Delilah Briarwood, the woman who had her horrifically murdered and is still rather explicitly using her as a means to some unknowable-to-Laudna end. This has both made her one of the members of Bells Hells most open to the idea of there being no gods (no more puppet masters) but also the most broadly sympathetic towards Liliana's view of the Ruidusborn (that they are creations of Predathos with no choice but to be slaves to his whims). Her ardent belief that her lift ended on the Sun Tree thirty years ago also means that she often refuses to advocate for herself or her own needs, resulting in moments where she openly wonders if it's Imogen's destiny to join the Vanguard, despite having herself been at one point brutally murdered by a Vanguard general.

FCG made it his mission in life to help people; that desire drove a lot of what he did up to and including his final act of sacrifice for the Hells. They saw the people struggling against the Vanguard and with the world that the Vanguard created and chose to do what they could to help them. Their desire to help even extended towards the gods, as one of the first things they asked of the Changbringer upon gaining the ability to cast Commune was, "Do you need help?". FCG was also a character driven by a desperate desire to find purpose and to understand the "why" of their own existence, a desire that ultimately drove them towards religion as a means of shaping the meaning of his life, and made him the most openly religious member of the group up to the moment of his death.

Chetney, while the most able to look beyond his own biases by virtue of being the oldest and most emotionally mature member of the party, still carries with him the perspective of having been someone who ultimately made little impact on the world up until, in his twilight years, random chance granted him the power to affect change. He gained lycanthrophy, he met other adventurers in the Hells, and got caught up in an end of the world plot and is finally making a true difference in the world. It's made him, arguably, the most enthusiastic adventurer in the party because he views that adventure itself as a gift, and as a way to create a legacy. The desire of legacy is also the reason he made the bargain that he did with Nana Morri; to secure a legacy as a famous toymaker that would persist after he is gone.

Orym's right that he's biased, but it's fallacious to assume that an unbiased perspective exists, because everyone in the story has their lens through which they view the world that they can't put down, not just Orym.

[januaryembrs]

LAST KNIGHT IN SOHO MASTERLIST

DESCRIPTION: She’s all Steven can think about in between the missing days and the American man inside his head. When Harrow’s jackals leaves Marc with a difficult choice, his hectic life is spun out of control as Seth, God of Violence and Chaos, comes to reap his reward in the form of a woman from Soho with a dark past and a crush on Steven Grant. (Lightly inspired by Last Night in Soho dir. Edgar Wright)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: (specific warnings at the beginning of each chapter) 18+ DARK PAST. Sex trafficking/prostitution. Grooming. Explicit. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Abuse ex-boyfriend/lover, death, murder, gore, drug use. Any smut written will be consensual sex only, but there will be some implication to dubcon content. PLEASE CHECK WARNINGS BEFORE YOU READ. AGAIN MINORS DNI. * = smut warning

STEVEN GRANT & MARC SPECTOR X (EVENTUAL) AVATAR!READER. Friends to lovers trope (Steven Grant) Sunshine x Grumpy trope (Marc Spector), Light smut, explicit language, no use of Y/N, goes by nickname Dove. I ADORE LAYLA EL-FAOULY so she is still in the narrative but as Dove’s reluctant friend. Female!reader. AFAB!reader. I am English and do not have DID but have tried my best to do all the research I could on the themes I talk about (Ancient Egyptian culture/history/language. Experiencing DID etc) but if I am misinformed and offend anyone, know I am truly sorry and am more than happy to hear anyone’s corrections in my inbox and will do my best to fix it!

main masterlist

CHAPTER ONE - Steven finds his life slowly turning upside down when the man in the mirror starts talking back, he's sleepwalking all the way to the Alps, and the woman he's besotted with from work finds herself more caught up in all of it than he'd ever wanted.

CHAPTER TWO - She wakes up with a killer headache and a million questions when she realises two things: 1. the man in her room is not infact Steven Grant and 2. her body no longer belongs to her but to the God of Death.

CHAPTER THREE - With Marc and Steven captured by Harrow's men, Layla has no choice but to work with her ex-husbands mistress to get them and the scarab to safety. But things take a turn when Seth comes to reap his reward.

CHAPTER FOUR - Dove wakes up in Steven’s apartment for the second time covered in blood with only one thing on her mind. What the hell happened last night?

CHAPTER FIVE - Marc and Dove adjust to their new mission: catch Harrow before he can release Ammit and for the love of gods don’t let Seth have the body again.

CHAPTER SIX - Summoning a council with the gods sound easy enough, right? Except the man on trial knows the dark secret she has yet to tell Marc.

CHAPTER SEVEN - Marc, his ex-wife and his supposed mistress head to Mogart’s to find Senfu’s sarcophagus, whatever could go wrong when the god of Chaos wants to be involved?

CHAPTER EIGHT - Dove, Marc and Layla escape Mogart’s with only more dead ends and questions unanswered. They’re running out of time before Harrow reaches the tomb, but one thing keeps sticking in Layla’s head more than the rest. Why does Dove look so guilty?

CHAPTER NINE * - Layla, Steven and Dove set off towards Ammit’s tomb across the dunes, only Steven and Dove have a heavy confession they’ve each been meaning to make.

CHAPTER TEN - Marc finds out the truth about Dove, and pays the mortal price.

CHAPTER ELEVEN -

CHAPTER TWELVE -

CHAPTER THIRTEEN -

CHAPTER FOURTEEN -

CHAPTER FIFTEEN -

Comment or send an ask to be tagged in new chapters!

[din-miller]

Yaihadla

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Word count: 800+

Summary: Pregnancy is a wonderful, beautiful thing. Breast tenderness, not so much. It's a good thing you have a caring husband to take care of you

Warnings: fluff, pregnant reader, female reader, married couple, implications to sexy times, nonsexual nudity, title means pregnant in mando'a

You thought the worst part of being pregnant was the insecurity that came with the weight gain of growing another life inside you. It's not. Though you'd rather take that over this any day of the week. Din can chase away any insecurities you have but he can't chase away the tenderness of your breasts.

Though Din is nothing but persistent and would gladly try to kiss away the pain.

Normally you'd indulge him in his 'you can make anything better with a few kisses' method of fixing every problem, but right now the brushing of your nightshirt against your hardened nipples is making you want to scream bloody murder. You shift in the co-pilot's seat, leaning forward a tad so your shirt falls from your skin without causing a scene.

"Is something wrong?"

You glance up at your husband, meeting the back of his helmet. You blush at being caught. While you might be a good bounty hunter you can never sneak things past Din. You straighten up, toying with the hem of your shirt as you ask, "Would you mind if I take my shirt off?"

Your husband's grip on the Razor Crest's throttle slips at your words, making the ship jerk to the side. His head snaps your way and he chokes out; "I'm sorry?"

"My breasts are sore," You explain and slowly lift up the bottom of your shirt, giving him a clear view of your panties and a sliver of your rounded stomach. When all he does is stare in your direction, you repeat yourself, "Would you mind if I take my shirt off?"

"Would I mind…" Din trails off in disbelief, words stumbling over each other as he continues, "No, I-I have no, um, no complaints here. Whatever makes you feel comfortable, mesh'la."

You can't see his expression but you know his eyes are blown wide – half from shock, half from rapidly growing lust – and his mouth parted, tongue unconsciously wetting his lips.

"I think I'll forgo wearing a shirt to bed tonight too. The material is irritating my breasts." You sigh, shifting in discomfort again. You know your husband wouldn't mind in the slightest if you fully strip naked and strut around the ship.

If you weren't so sore you might have actually done so. Unfortunately all you can manage is the lamest strip tease in history as you awkwardly tug your shirt over your head, wincing when the fabric brushes over your nipples.

Din's chair is spinning towards you before you can even blink, his arms resting on his knees as he leans forward. You let a cocky grin slip across your features, throwing your shirt at his gawking helmet. He catches it and tosses it aside without any remorse. His helmet follows, then his shirt is next to add to the growing pile.

"Ner cyar’ika, your beauty is beyond words," He pushes himself from his chair, kneeling between your parted legs. One hand freely dances along the stretched skin of your belly, and the other paws at the side of your thigh, "The shape of you with my ad’ika brings me to my knees time and time again."

You have to clench your jaw because now is not the time for hormones to trigger tears. If you start crying now, having said to Din that you're sore, he'll start fretting over you.

His eyes drift from your face to lazily trace the curves of your swollen breasts. Transparent lust swallows his pupils and threatens to ignite a fire inside you.

You know this isn't going to go anywhere tonight. Even if your hormones change and you want to jump his bones until you're boneless and satisfied; you've already expressed your discomfort and Din's too much of a good man to give in to his own burning desires knowing it would end up with you in more pain.

Din's hand comes to lightly trail a path following his greedy eyes, avoiding touching your sensitive nipples as they drag across the skin of your breasts, "They've gotten bigger, ner kar'ta."

You glance down at them too, "Have they?"

He hums and gently cups both of them, "Mmm, heavier too. When you're not feeling sore I'm going to kiss the pain away. For now how about we turn in for the night? I'll even sleep up here if it's more comfortable for you."

"You know the baby doesn't like when you're not in bed with us," You gesture for him to help you up, "We don't sleep well unless you're holding us. Protecting us."

Din pulls you up and spins you around so your back is pressed against his chest. His left hand finds yours and brings them both to lay over your bump. His other hand trails up your thigh until it finds his favourite prize. He gives the elastic band of your panties a snap, mouth hot against the skin of your neck as he smirks, "These coming off too?"

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Home Sweet Home

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: Sometimes going home isn’t always a good thing. Especially when your hometown is obsessed with marriage and you have a secret boyfriend.

Warnings: Canon level violence, not beta’d, small town implications, mentions of mutilation, angst, offensive language, misogyny, 

Word Count: 3.3K

Masterlist

“Two couples have been found dead in their homes in H/T, H/S (home town, home state),” Garcia reported.

Everyone looked at Y/N. That was her home town, the place she grew up. She was horrified to see the face of her babysitter mangled alongside her husband. “You okay?” Hotch asked, catching everyone’s attention.

“Yeah, just… that was my babysitter,” she sighed.

“You can sit this one out, stay here with Garcia,” he empathized. Inside, Aaron was genuinely concerned for his girlfriend’s well being. Going home was always kind of rough for her.

“No, no I’m fine. I want to go. Besides, no one in that town likes cops, much less feds. They won’t talk to any of you but they may talk to me.”

Aaron looked hesitant. “Okay, thank you. Continue,” he told Garcia.

“Yes, so two couples, the Jamison’s and the Thompson’s were found in their homes murdered. COD for the women is strangulation and husbands were shot execution style. All the mutilation you see on the screen was done postmortem. H/T is, as you know, home to our very own Y/N L/N with a population of 500 residents, almost all of whom have refused to cooperate with police.”

“Could it be bad blood within the town or within families?” Derek asked.

“To my knowledge it wouldn’t be but it has been 12 years since I lived there, 5 since I last visited. Police force consists of 5 officers and a sheriff and unless you’re directly related to one, everyone pretty much shuns them. They think any government job is a pipeline to socialism.”

“I see why you left,” Rossi joked.

“Yeah,” she laughed. “No one was happy that I went to college out of state but I’m your best bet for getting the locals to talk to you.”

“Okay, well wheels up in 30, we’ll talk more on the plane.”

~

“Okay, the strangulation is personal, he wants to feel control over the wives and torture the husbands but the masochism of the bodies indicates rage, like he’s devolving as the murders go on.”

“Well how is he controlling both of them? Are we looking at a team?”

“Not likely,” Aaron answered. “The strangulation is more likely to be a single unsub.”

“He’s probably using the wife to control the husband. You know, like ‘run and I’ll kill her.’”

“So what? Did these couples do something to him? Or maybe he perceives the couples as a threat.”

“Garcia,” Aaron called over to the screen, “see if either of the wives had ex-boyfriends with violent pasts.”

“Will do, catch you when you land,” she logged off.

“So we’ve got a guy obsessed with control and a lot of rage. And two dead couples murdered in their homes. Any connections between the vics?”

“Everyone’s connected,” Y/N answered. “It’ll be like finding a piece of hay in a haystack.”

“Alright, well we won’t really know anything until we’re able to talk to some locals. L/N, can I speak to you?” Aaron requested, heading to the back of the plane. I stood up, following as the others settled into their seats. “Are you okay? I know going home isn’t easy for you.” She had once told him how suffocating it was to go home. She felt like everyone was waiting to lock her up and never let her leave again.

“Yeah, I’m fine. This time I’m going with my hot-shot FBI boyfriend.” Aaron let the smallest smile tug at his lips, glancing around to make sure no one had heard.

“Well if you need anything or anyone makes you uncomfortable, talk to me,” he ordered, placing a comforting hand on her arm.

“Yeah, thanks,” she smiled before they headed back to their respective seats.

~

“Good to be home, Y/N?” Derek teased once they walked into the police station.

“Yeah,” she grumbled sarcastically.

“Is that Y/N L/N?” a voice shouted across the precinct.

The entire team turned, finding a tall officer with sandy blond hair approaching them with an ecstatic look. “Hey Stevie, nice to see you,” Y/N greeted. Before she or any of the others could react, he swept her up into a hug, spinning her around. Aaron clenched his jaw at the sight, it was clear that ‘Stevie’ had feelings for his girlfriend.

“How’ve you been? I haven’t seen you in like five years!” Despite Y/N’s feet being returned to the ground, the man was still clinging onto her shoulders.

“I’m good, been busy. This is my team,” she took the opportunity to back away.

“Ah, so you gonna introduce us?” he asked, stepping closer. Aaron was just looking for a way to intervene without tipping off the team to his relationship and pissing off the locals.

“Um yeah, these are SSAs Hotchner, Jareau, Rossi, Prentiss, Morgan, and Dr. Reid. This is a friend from high school, Officer Jonathan Stevie,” she introduced reluctantly.

“Oh come on, I’m more than a friend from high school, Y/N and I are exes,” he smirked proudly. “Was gonna marry this girl but then this smarty-pants just had to go to college out of state. Next thing I know she’s in the FBI. We just never got the timing right.” The entire team could see that Y/N was deeply uncomfortable.

“Officer, if you don’t mind, there are four dead victims and we fear two more are coming soon so if you don’t mind, we’d like to get started,” Aaron interrupted, protectively stepping closer to his girlfriend. If if he was any less professional he’d kiss her right there.

“Uh, of course, you can set up in here,” Stevie waved them over to the conference room. “I’ll get you the sheriff.” Aaron didn’t bother to thank him, just brushed past him.

As they entered the room, they began setting up the conference room. “Reid, you start working on the geographic profile. JJ and Rossi, talk to the sheriff, ask him to bring in family, friends, anyone who can give us insight into the victims’ lives and begin interviews. Morgan and Prentiss, head over to the Jamison house, L/N and I will head to the Thompson’s. We’ll meet back here in two hours.”

The entire team agreed, heading to their respective assignments. Hotch led Y/N outside in silence until they got in the car. “So will we be dealing with stuff like that the entire case?”

Y/N groaned. “God I hope not. Stevie and I went out for a month and were never exclusive. He just kind of latched on and started talking about marriage. I told him that I was moving away to college so he would finally stop asking me on dates.”

“Anyone else I should be aware of?” he asked, trying not to let jealously get the better of him.

“I mean, I dated a couple guys in high school. Usually one date means marriage here but it’s been 12 years, they should all be married now.”

“What about their wives? Any jealous new girlfriends we should watch out for?” he teased.

“Well if they are, I have a gun and more training,” she laughed. “Seriously, don’t worry about Stevie. He can be controlling but he’s harmless.”

“I’m not worried,” he brushed off.

“Oh, so just jealous?” she teased.

“No, why would I be jealous?”

“I don’t know why because he’s nothing to me. But I saw the way you clenched your jaw, you were also intensely focused on where he was touching me, the way you stepped closer to me, the fact that you were short with him, th-”

“Okay,” Aaron interrupted, “I get it. But I wasn’t jealous, I could tell you were uncomfortable.”

“So… possessive?” Aaron gave her a playful glare, not liking that adjective. Fortunately for him, she took the hint and changed the subject. “You’re in for a real treat, the second my mother catches wind that we’re here, if she hasn’t already, you’ll get to meet her.” Y/N froze in her seat. “N-not like that. I’m not suggesting we like meet her as like a couple, but just meet her. I know you’re not ready for that, I just-”

“It’s okay, I know what you mean. I’d be happy to get to know her a bit before I officially meet her as your boyfriend.”

Y/N visibly relaxed. “Really?”

“Yeah, of course. I know neither of us are ready to come out to the team. And based on what you’ve told me, if your mother knew, the entire continental US would know.”

“Yep, loved being raised by the town gossip,” Y/N responded dryly as they pulled up to the house. Seeing as there were no police, they just let themselves in.

“This was your babysitter’s house, wasn’t it?” Aaron asked as they walked into the foyer.

“Yeah,” she sighed sadly. “I know literally everyone says this but I can’t believe she’s gone. I find it hard to believe anyone would want to hurt her.”

“I understand,” Aaron sympathized. “Crime scene report says there were no signs of forced entry. So he either snuck in an unlocked door before they locked up for the night or used a ruse to get in.”

“In this town either is possible, especially if the unsub is someone who lives here which is very likely. Out-of-towners stick out like a sore thumb no matter what. Also, I would take the police reports with a grain of salt, hasn’t been a murder here in over 50 years, they have no clue how to handle a murder scene.”

“Yeah, I figured about that.”

We walked into the dining room, finding a set table. “Three place settings, the unsub was probably a guest then. This wasn’t in the crime scene report, right?”

“No, it wasn’t,” Hotch said. “They must’ve figured it was unrelated or maybe they’re covering up?”

“Neither would really surprise me. I’m surprised we were even invited here.”

“The governor had to override the sheriff,” he filled in. “Said that their refusal for help was making him look like a joke amongst the upcoming election.”

“Well  for once politics are useful,” Y/N mused. “I say we give the locals as little information as possible. If we say we’re looking at one of their own, whether it be a cop or a citizen, they’ll hang us up by our shoe laces right where we stand.”

“Well if these people are prone to violence we just limited our suspect pool to all 500 residents.”

Y/N laughed before a ringtone interrupted them. She groaned as she looked at the caller ID, sending a look to Aaron before picking up. “Hi, mom.”

“Y/N! How could you not tell me you were coming back home?” she demanded gently. “I had to hear it from the Stevie boy. He told me that your boss is a real hardass, wouldn’t let him talk to you.”

“Mom,” she interrupted, “please don’t tell everyone I’m home. My team and I are trying to figure out who’s killing people and you know how people here feel about feds.”

“You don’t think it’s one of us do you?” she asked incredulously. “Y/N M/N L/N, you’ve known these people all your life! I can’t believe you’d go pointing your fingers at them just because you think you’re better than them. I knew you shouldn’t have gone to that uppity college in Washington-”

“Mom, no one’s pointing fingers. We’re not even looking at anyone in town, this is the work of an outsider.”

There was a pause. Clearly she was expecting Y/N to blame someone in town and she was eager to reprimand her. “How can you tell?”

“Well in profiling we look at everything. You never see post-mortem mutilation when the murderer knows the victims. It’s too personal.” Aaron laughed at her made up profiling, able to get an idea about what Y/N’s mom was saying just by her replies.

“Oh okay, well that’s good. I’ll tell Officer Stevie.”

“Wait he’s there?”

“Yes, you, him, and I are going to have dinner tonight. And don’t argue with me, you owe this to the both of us.”

“Okay first of all, please don’t tell Officer Stevie that. It’s important we maintain professionalism and if he hears about the profile before the others that can cause issues for us and we won’t be able to help them catch this guy. Second of all, What do you mean I owe you and Stevie dinner?”

That caught Aaron’s attention.

“Well after you broke off your engagement, and his heart. Twice.”

“Excuse me? Engagement? What are you talking about?”

“Oh come on Y/N, there may not have been a ring but you were practically engaged. First in high school when you ran away to college. And then when you visited 5 years ago, you just left again. Y/N, you’re 30 and still not married, it’s time you take responsibility for your actions.”

“Mom, we went on a couple dates in high school 12 years ago, that’s it. This is absolutely ridiculous, I’m not having dinner with the two of you and I’m certainly not sticking around to marry Stevie.” Aaron practically choked on his own saliva at that statement. “I’ll call you tomorrow and I’m happy to visit you but not with Stevie there.”

“Fine, but we’ll discuss your future marriage. I can’t have my only daughter becoming a spinster.”

Y/N just angrily hung up, rolling her eyes. “Everything okay?” Aaron asked.

“No,” she answered, stepping forward to hug him which he welcomed. A rare display of affection at work. “My mother thinks I owe Stevie marriage and said I’m basically embarrassing her by not being married at 30.”

“You don’t have to visit her. You can make me the bad guy and say I’m giving you too much work,” Aaron offered as they headed towards the door. His arm still wrapped around Y/N’s shoulders.

“No it’s fine. I’ll try to go see her tomorrow, assuming she doesn’t piss me off again,” she said, climbing into the car. “I don’t care what anyone says I’m not marrying Jonathan fucking Stevie and I’m not staying here.”

“I expect no less of you,” Aaron smiled, starting the car.

~

“So, Y/N, if you won’t marry the Stevie boy, is there at least someone else in your life,” M/N L/N begged.

Y/N hesitated for a second, unsure is she should tell her mom that she did in fact have a boyfriend. Even if she didn’t name names, her mother would surely blab all over town and it would get back to the rest of her team who would no doubt pester her for a name. “I‘ve seen a few guys, no one serious yet,” she answered with a shrug.

“A few guys?” her mother proclaimed as if her daughter had said she were cheating on her husband. “No, not a few guys. One guy, like Stevie.”

“Mom!”

“Okay fine, not Stevie. But you dated around in high school and you’re still doing it? Y/N, this is why you’re still single.”

“Mom, I like being single, my job kind of requires me to be single.” Unless you’re dating your teammate.

“Y/N, you need to grow up. DC is not the be all, end all. Family is important. I want you to move back home and settle down. I want you to have a good life rather than running around the country with no family.”

“Mom, I left this place for a reason. Can’t you see this place isn’t good for me? It’s suffocating. Everyone knows everyone, there’s no mystery. The only past time here is gossip. I’m going back to the station. I have a job to do.”

~

Y/N stormed into the station, steam practically coming out of her ears. “Woah, Y/N, you okay?” Derek asked, being the first to notice her.

“Yeah,” she brushed off, immediately picking up a file and throwing herself into her work. The rest of the team watched her nervously, knowing something was clearly wrong but wanting to give her space.

“Y/N,” Officer Stevie entered the conference room, brushing past the profilers. All of them already being annoyed by his presence. “Your mom just called me crying, saying you won’t marry me.”

Years of pressure and resentment snapped in that moment. “No, I won’t. Stevie, we went out for a month, twelve years ago for the love of god, let it go. I’m dating someone else now anyways. I know that according to this town we were supposed to get married the second we turned 18 and have lots of kids and never leave but that’s not what I want. And don’t say it’s because you love me, you’re in love with the idea of me and doing what your parents want you to.”

At her words, Stevie snapped too. In his anger, he grabbed Y/N’s upper arm in a vice like grip, glaring down at her. The BAU chief was on them immediately. In his anger, and wave of protectiveness, he wrenched the officer away from his girlfriend, placing himself in between the two. “Keep your hands off my agent or else I will have you charged with assaulting a federal agent and obstructing a federal investigation.”

The cop looked reluctant and angry, but was smart enough to realize there was no winning this. “No use in trying to save a whore,” he spat. Aaron was nearly seeing red at that comment but Y/N’s gentle grasp on his arm kept him from punching the officer. “Why are you even protecting her? She’s a good for nothing bitch who does nothing but whore around with guys.”

“Stev-” Y/N tried to cut him off.

“No!” he shouted. “You say you’ve got a boyfriend, but I know you. You’re up in DC fucking any guy who so much as looks at you.”

“Don’t talk to my girlfriend like that,” Aaron intervened again, furious. His admission shocked everyone, most of all himself, Aaron “Professionalism” Hotchner.

Fury consumed the cop’s expression. “You-” But before he could do or say anything to make it worse, Derek had him by the back of the collar, dragging him out the door.

Aaron turned back to Y/N. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, he’s just an idiot. Thanks.”

“Of course.”

“So it’s official? You guys are dating?” Rossi asked, a knowing smile already creeping up on his face.

“Yes, yes,” Y/N dismissed. “And I’m guessing based on your expressions you all already knew or had your suspicions?”

“Yep,” JJ answered. “So how long?”

The couple looked at each other, like any relationship that was a loaded question. “Well we first started getting closer about 6 months ago? He officially asked me out three months ago.”

Emily smiled victoriously. “Pay up!” Everyone except her groaned ad Aaron let out a soft chuckle next to me, slipping an arm around my waist in a rare display of affection in front of the team.

Masterlist

[calamity-bean]

Sorry, I'm just still reeling from the fact that Walt says "I am the danger / I am the one who knocks" in the very same episode as Skyler's "Someone has to protect this family from the man who protects this family," and yet the former became iconic and famous and endlessly parroted while I have NEVER heard any fan quote the latter before.

The context of those iconic Walt lines is not even cool. He's just an insecure little man putting on a mean growly voice to yell at his wife in their bedroom because she dared express concern that he might get murdered like one of his colleagues — a situation that was only on her radar in the first place because he couldn't bear to let a dead man get credit for his ~gEnIuS~! I'm not saying that that reaction wasn't in-character for him, I'm just saying that I don't see anything badass about a grown man throwing a temper tantrum because his wife, without even knowing she was doing it, dared to contradict the mythos he's built around himself: this Heisenberg persona, this version of himself who is cool and powerful and incomparable and in control.

And Skyler's response?

Skyler digests what he's told her, the implications, the idea that her husband is not merely a criminal but apparently a very dangerous one. And then she looks "the danger" unflinchingly in the eye and coolly, calmly makes it absolutely clear that she will stand up to him. That she sees through his version of "protecting their family" for the self-aggrandizing excuse that it is. That she is not under his control.

That's so much more badass. What the fuck.