tiki-was-here

[tiki-was-here]

bottoms and subs and bottom subs should exclusively have large dicks, for decoration - for me

See exactly having them dress up in lace panties cock barely fitting in the fabric down practially on their knees waiting for you to get home by time you’ve stepped through the door they’ve soaked through the material and are just begging to be touched giving kisses all over his pretty dick gently caressing him til his cock Is weeping but never once sucking him off instead you let it uselessy bounce agaisnt his stomach as you fuck him keeping it in a cock cage because clearly he doesn’t know how to use his cock so what’s the point in touching himself having him fuck toys to get himself off when he pisses you off and shaming him for not being able to use his cock making… a mold of his dick and fucking him with it ? Jesus Christ watching him trying to ger used to the strech whines whimpers freely escaping his lips barely managing to work half of it in him shamin him for not being able to take it because this is his cock after all how doesn’t he know how to take it?

[tiki-was-here]

Me when I’m reader a x luffy fic and the writer genuinely makes him so fucking stupid that it feels like the reader is taking advantage of him. It just makes me so mad I can’t even fully explain it.

Like we knoooowwww he’s a bit aloof but why the hell would I want to have sex with someone who doesn’t even know what sex really is? And I’ll be clear here— I understand that some people write their readers to be morally questionable but this is simply not the case when it comes to these fics.

Luffy probably has more than a couple screws loose but he’s not genuinely stupid and incapable of understanding mature topics. It’s not cute to have a grown ass man acting like a child when you’re putting him in a sexual context.

Idk if I’m the only person who feels this way but it’s so disgusting eugh

[tiki-was-here]

Garden of Flesh

Homelander x Genderfluid Supe Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Cw: Suicidal thoughts

P2

images by diana-foggy-master

yeah i dont know how what was essentially a crack pregnancy fic evolved to this (this is essentially just a little backstory to the reader and Homelanders relationship)

Anyways the reader has powers that are like Atom Eve but only with organic substances, so plants and animals and humans. This coupled with working for Vought obviously gave them some major issues and they are now very lonely and very very mentally unwell.

There were few places left in the world where you could disappear without leaving a trace. Fewer still where people wouldn’t ask questions about the strange way your hair seemed to change color within the second, or how you always looked just slightly different from when they last saw you, no matter how long it’d been.

The forest had always welcomed you, though. Trees didn’t ask questions and moss didn’t care who you used to be. And if your body melted into the bark of a willow when the wind carried drones overhead, well—that was no one’s business but yours.

After years working for Vought under Witness Protection, writing fake identities and changing your face every few months, disappearing was second nature. You used to handle most of the company’s off-the-books relocations—whistleblowers, compromised assets, ex-supes trying to retire. You’d build them a new life and make their bodies match it. Eyes, bone structure, fingerprints, blood types. All organic.

But despite your efforts they just kept pushing. Asking of you things that anyone who isn't a God should even think about. 

You’d known since you were a child that humans were ever curious about the ways man could die, the ways they could suffer…but you refused to play God.

So you ran.

It didn’t surprise you when they sent someone after you. You just didn’t expect them to send him.

The sky cracked open above the treeline with a sonic pop, and the pine needles around you flattened in the invisible quake of displaced air. Birds screamed and scattered. You didn’t move, not even when the golden-red blur stilled above the clearing.You’d seen him on more posters than you could count, but nothing prepared you for the gravity of him in person. The smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. The inhuman steadiness of his gaze.

.“There you are,” he said. “Didn’t even leave a trail. That was impressive.”

You didn’t move. “I’m not interested in fighting you.”

“Well, that’s great. You can make this easy for both of us then. Just come with me.”

You raised your hand. Before he could blink, you forced every muscle in his body to lock up. His arms froze in place. His legs wouldn’t move. You felt the pull in your chest as you did it—like a second heartbeat syncing with his.

It was the kind of touchless puppeteering that turned your stomach. But you had no intention to  tear him apart. You just held him there. Limbs locked in midair. Eyes widened, furious, confused.

“What the fuck—”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you said, and your voice stayed steady despite the churn in your gut. “I’d never do that.”

He struggled against your grip, but it was a waste of energy. He didn’t understand what was happening—not yet. You held him perfectly still, his body suspended midair by invisible threads woven through nerves and muscle. His heart was beating faster, harder. If you wanted to, you could slow it down. Stop it. But you didn’t.

“You wanted to find me,” you said, your voice calm. “Well, now you have.”

He stared. For once, he didn’t seem to have anything ready to say.

“Are you here to bring me in?” you asked.

Still he said nothing, his mouth tight, jaw clenched.

“Vought probably told you that I went rogue. That I’m dangerous. But you don’t know why. Do you?”

“You are dangerous,” he said finally.

You laughed once, humorless. “Did you even read my file? Or did you just fly around fantasizing about how you’d kill me when you found me?” You stepped toward him, never once breaking eye contact.

“You strike me as the kind of guy who likes to take his time. Maybe tear me apart limb by limb? Probably have me on my knees, begging you to let me live… only to finish me off anyway, just for fun.”

He barked, “Is that what you want from me now?  Hate to break it to you, but I don’t beg. You should put me down before I actually decide to take my time killing you.”

You watched his jaw flex, the muscle in his neck tightening, his whole body looking like it was seconds away from exploding.

You exhaled slowly, eyes shifting to the shaded grove behind you. The tree trunks bent slightly, almost imperceptibly, almost as if they were waiting for a command.

“I don’t hurt people,” you said, voice quieter now. “Not unless I have to, I mean... And even then, I regret it. That’s not the kind of person I want to be.”

“So what now? You gonna keep me frozen like this?”

“No,” you said. “I want you to stay with me. Just for tonight. For dinner, at least. It’s been so long since I’ve had anyone to talk to, and I figure I shouldn’t let the opportunity go to waste.”

His expression shifted into something unreadable. Disbelief, maybe. Or maybe something closer to disgust. Either way you moved in closer, enough to make his breath hitch.

“I can reshape your face,” you told him. “Bones, muscles, DNA—every organic layer. I can make you unrecognizable, even to Vought’s best tech. Let me do that, and in exchange, you get to kill me. However you want, it doesn’t matter. Just give me one night. That’s all I’m asking.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why the hell would I agree to that?”

You stared at him without blinking. “Because I could stop your heart right now. And I haven’t.”

He looked away,breathing heavy, but said nothing. You took a careful step forward and lifted your hand toward his face.

“Don’t move,” you said.(not that he could anyways lol) Your power required precision. One wrong thought, one flicker of emotion, and things could spiral out of control.

Your fingers reached out and touched his temple. His skin was warm but you tried your best to focus on changing the layers beneath—adjusting the bone structure, thickening the cartilage in his nose, flattening his cheekbones, shortening his jaw. You shifted the color of his hair strand by strand, rewrote the pigment in his irises.

When you stepped back, the man in front of you didn’t look like Homelander anymore. Yes he was still the same height, still had that air of confidence that only someone like him could exude. But the face was wrong in all the right ways.

He looked at you with a shudder. “It feels like my face is wearing another face,” he said.

“Good,” you replied. “Now let’s get going.”

-

You drove into town in an old truck. He sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed, clearly hating every second of this.But he didn’t say anything.

You stopped at a roadside diner. It was the kind of place that hadn’t been updated since the 80s—grimy tables, cracked vinyl booths, and a waitress who looked like she couldn't care less about who walked through the door as long as they were paying.

It was perfect. 

You sat across from each other in a corner booth. You ordered pancakes for yourself and got him eggs and bacon without asking. He stared at the plate like it had insulted him personally. 

He didn’t eat. Didn’t talk either. Just kept looking at you with that unreadable expression while you rambled on about whatever came to your mind. Nothing that mattered really. You didn’t even know why you kept talking, but you couldn’t stop. Maybe it was because you’d already decided this was your last night. Maybe it’d been too long since you’d shared a moment with another living soul, forced or not.

–

That night, you took him back to your cabin. You reversed the changes you’d made carefully, referencing old footage and photos to get it exactly right before you headed to bed. He looked irritated through the whole process and refused to take the couch without some snide remarks about how it was “beneath him,” but you insisted. You needed the bed more (it was your last night after all). And despite the grumbling, he had no choice but to take it.

You didn’t release his muscles even when  your head hit the pillow, keeping just enough tension in his limbs to stop him from attacking you right then and there. Even then, you laid awake for a while, staring at the ceiling and wondering if, by some miracle, you’d wake up somewhere better. Somewhere that could soothe the ever present gnawing at your heart.

But when the morning light slipped in through the windows,you were still there and the couch was empty.

You stepped outside and saw it immediately—a crater in the ground just beyond the trees.. The bastard had flown off. You stood there barefoot, heart pounding, staring at the empty sky.

Having no way of knowing if he’d be back.

[tiki-was-here]

I wanted to write a silly little pregnant Homelander fic for Father’s Day but life has been kicking my ass lately and I don’t think I’ll be able to finish it in time (I’ll still try my best tho)

[tiki-was-here]

i love u bro

I love you too MWAH 💋💋💋

[tiki-was-here]

I NEED to hear your thought on Eddie Gluskin(if you know him I mean)

I remember trying to get into the outlast fandom a while back but my brain just couldn’t process all the lore sorry 😣😣😣. The only characters I know of are the lady with the duck and the baby guy (and the black ghost thing).

A quick google search tells me that he’s a bit too psycho for my tastes but to each their own

[tiki-was-here]

Ts better than sex istg

[tiki-was-here]

Guys if you can see this please go and watch moral Orel it’s the only way to save our planet trust me 🙏🙏🙏 and if you’ve already watched it then watch it again I’m begging you think of all the innocent lives you could be saving 🥀🥀🥀

[tiki-was-here]

How do I make my text one of those fancy colors 😢

My og divider was darker but it was a different red from my text so I changed it. But now I HATE the brighter one

Hello world!

[tiki-was-here]

Happy pride Tiki

I love ur pfp and works, have a great day/night!!

HAPPY PRIDE TO YOU TOO!!!!!! This is the first year in my entire life that ive been openly queer (online that is) and im just getting over the feeling that someone ik in real life is gonna somehow find this blog lol. I LOVE THIS BLOG !!!!! I LOVE OLD MEN!!!!! I LOVE THE INTERNET!!!!!

[tiki-was-here]

i HAAAAATEEEEEEEE the word laser so much. Why isn’t it spelt “lazer” it just makes more sense. The letter z looks more laZery that s. I actually refuse to spell it correctly idc idc.

[tiki-was-here]

I love men with big dicks that they never use cus they’re too busy fucking and sucking mine. The most stimulation they get is when it slaps against their stomach while they’re riding you or when it’s pressed up against your bodies or the mattress while you fuck

love it love it love it

[tiki-was-here]

The Law of Attraction

Aaron Hotchner x College Professor Reader (AMAB) P1

Word Count: 1.3k

If you hate Haley please get off of my blog and go rewatch the show with your head not shoved up your ass this time. Anyways. I always absolutely hate my writing after even the shortest break but I can’t be a baby about everything 😢. Hotch is such a cutie grrrrr

P2

The Mary Baldwin campus was different now — polished, more modern, with glinting glass buildings and freshly paved walkways that hadn’t been there when you’d first arrived nearly a decade ago. But some things hadn’t changed. The red brick of the main quad still soaked up the sunlight the same way, and the sharp winter air still bit at your coat collar as you crossed to your office in the humanities department. 

Only this time, there was a new weight on the campus — fear hung over the students like a veil. Conversations hushed when you passed, glances flicked toward your office door, and every knock made your chest tense. Three colleagues dead. Three intelligent, kind, and passionate people with no obvious connection beyond their department and the cruel way they’d been killed. Each crime more violent than the last. 

You’d known the Bureau would get involved eventually. This wasn’t something campus security or even the local police could handle. But what you hadn’t expected was him. (gaybo)

The moment Aaron Hotchner stepped into the faculty lounge, everything in your stomach twisted. His presence, quiet but still commanding, drew all eyes to him and his team. He looked good. God, he looked good. Older, of course, with sharper angles in his jaw and the weight of years behind his eyes. But it was unmistakably him. The same voice you used to pick out in crowded lecture halls. The same posture, like he carried the world on his back and expected no help. You hadn’t seen him since graduation. Not even in photos. You knew from whispers and articles that he’d joined the FBI, that he’d risen quickly. But you didn’t know he’d be called here of all places.

—

He’d found you in your office not long after his arrival, knocking softly on the mahogany  frame. “Dr. L/N?” he asked, and you almost didn’t look up right away, too used to grief counselors, frightened students, and overworked admin staff shuffling in and out. But when you did, your breath caught.

“Aaron?” The name slipped out before your mind could stop your mouth. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and that was when you knew that he remembered you too.

You stood from your desk, suddenly aware of how disheveled you looked. “I… I didn’t realize you’d be on this case.I saw you and your team come in yesterday but I didn't know if i should have greeted you.”

“We were called in yesterday. This isn’t a typical killing spree,” he said, tone even. “The staging. The symbolism. It’s almost certainly personal.”

You nodded, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “I figured.”

“I saw your name in the list of faculty. I thought I’d stop by first to check on you personally.” There was no weight in his tone, no implication that he meant something that he wasnt willing to say outright. But your mind was already racing back to long nights in the library, to shared coffee breaks during finals week, to the way you used to wonder what it would feel like to be noticed by Aaron Hotchner instead of always watching him from just out of reach. You’d always been drawn to his discipline, his silence, the way he never seemed to need validation the way the rest of your peers did. But back then, he’d been committed to Haley. You couldn't take a chance if it meant  ruining a love you knew he deserved, so you’d buried the feelings deep.

Now, standing across from him again, years later, the weight of that memory threatened to surface all over again.

You motioned toward the chair opposite your desk, regaining some composure. “Please. Sit. I’ll help however I can.”

He sat without hesitation, folding his hands in his lap as he studied your face with that same clinical focus he’d once used to break down case law. “You knew the last victim personally?”

“Harold? Yes. He was… he was a friend.” You didn’t try to keep the tremor out of your voice. Telling yourself that wasn't a weakness. It was grief. And Hotch, of all people, would understand.

 He gave a slight nod, acknowledging the loss with quiet respect. “He was one of the first people who welcomed me when I joined the department. He fought to get this campus to fund minority literature courses. He was brilliant. Kind. He didn’t deserve…” You stopped, shaking your head. “None of them did.”

“No one does,” Hotch said simply,  “But this one is personal. Whoever’s doing this has a message, and they’re using your department to deliver it.”

You nodded again, reaching for the folder you’d already begun putting together. “I’ve been keeping records. Students who’ve shown unusual patterns. You know, dark themes in their writing, obsessions with violent texts. We’ve had a few disciplinary reports over the years, but nothing that I thought could help the police”

Hotch raised an eyebrow as you handed him the documents. “You’ve been profiling your students?”

“I prefer the term preemptive risk assessment,” you said with a faint smile. “But yes. After the first murder, I couldn’t sit idle. This is my home. My work. And I knew… I knew something was wrong even before the second body.”

He scanned the notes in silence, and you couldn’t help but watch the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the way he mouthed a student’s name under his breath to test the sound of it. He hadn’t changed much at all.

“You’ve built a solid base here,” he finally said, setting the folder down. “Would you consider assisting us with this case? Your insight into the campus, the department dynamics… it would be valuable.”

You tried not to let your heart trip over itself. “Of course. Whatever you need.”

The following days unfolded in a blur of classes, meetings, and consultations. You hadn't worked as closely with the team as you'd thought you would, mainly reviewing student files and helping to provide possible literary references to the unsub’s crimes since the team suspected that it could be an english student.

But from your interactions you'd found them to be deeply empathetic people who respected your expertise. What surprised you most, though, was how often Hotch kept you close. A shared coffee while going over timelines. A walk around the campus while he asked about your perspective on things. At times you thought you must be imagining things. After all he never said anything personal or even remotely close to being unprofessional, but you could swear that the air between you two began to shift. 

One night, while combing through student essays you caught him watching you. You looked up from your desk, and he didn’t look away fast enough.

“What is it?” you asked, softly.

He hesitated, then gave a rare, careful smile. “Just reminiscing on the olden days.You always did stay at the library later than everyone else.”

You smiled back, “And you stayed with me.”

He laughed lightly, a sound you hadn’t heard from him in years but you’d missed all the same. “You know that people thought that there was something going on between us.”

“Could you blame them? We were pretty close back then. Practically attached at the hip”

“I guess…But we’re both straight. And I was—”

“Married,” you finished for him, the word leaving you with a bitter taste in your mouth despite all the years trying to convince yourself that you didn't care.

But his expression shifted. Something unreadable, something small and broken, flickered in his eyes. “Not anymore.”

You said nothing at first, unsure what to do with the sudden vulnerability in his voice. Then, finally, you said, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok,” he replied solemnly. “Let's just get back to the essays.”

[tiki-was-here]

You low-key are the first person to ever outfreak me, low-key your post are making me giggle and shit because I wouldn't ever be thinking of those scenarios 💔 Never stop please 🙏🙏🙏

I am simply here to serve and i will continue to be horny TILL THE DAY I DIE. Even if i someday leave this blog behind just know that i'll be out there thinking about plowing old men into the ground. not just for me...but for all of us

[tiki-was-here]

It's normal to get carried away every now and then, especially when thinking of a fantasy. I know it feels shitty but look, you could catch yourself and even stop from posting when you noticed that you were romanticizing some no so great stuff

If you do take a break, please take as much time as you need! I absolutely love your works and would wait as much as needed to read them again

Stay well tiki and I hope to see you soon <3 And be too hard on yourself! Remember no one's a saint

thank you for the kind words my friend. I finally got out of my room (i swear i was becoming a hikikomori) and i got some sun on my beautiful face. i feel so refreshed yippeeeeee

[tiki-was-here]

If I were a supe my power would be to get men pregnant specifically homelander they would have to keep either me or him locked up cus I’m ready to pounce grrrrrr

[tiki-was-here]

Woaaah I genuinely just had to check myself because wtf was I about to post. I was gushing over Stu basically being conditioned into being self destructive and obsessive because Billy rewarded that behavior with attention and how he would be overly distraught at making you mad to the point where he’s crying at your feet and carving ur name into his skin and it’s like… hot in theory (like the desperation) but the overall tone made it feel like I was romanticizing stuff that I shouldn’t be yk yk.

And yes we have dark fiction and I love me a good crazy yandere but the tone was just so off and not fun at all that I had to pause.

Idk why I’m even writing this but ig I never realized how easy it is for something to go from a jolly good time to not being fun at all. Like for example as a horror fan yk you have the general violence and fanfare but then you also have scenes that feel so mean spirited and out of touch that it just dampens the whole mood.

Anyways I guess if ur still reading this feel free to give me a reality check at any point in time lmao because as someone who kinda just writes whatever comes to mind without thinking much through I think it’s easy to lose myself for the sake of being horny lol.