beelmons
WUI30
Morgan27She/theyMexicanI write mostly for criminal minds. Elle & Gideon apologist. This blog is +18minors do not interact
4417 posts
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Last Seen Blogs
thewininitiative-blog
Untitled
yen
yen.tumblr
f-leef
Fleeeeeeeeeeeeeef
inconsistentlywrittensoul
hey, I could be lots of things
steam-beasts
You know what? Fuck you *Gives your engines legs*
Text
In the kitchen straight up "chopping it". And by "it" haha well. Let justr say. My vegetble
14K notes
·
View notes
Text
Love bombing is not a euphemism for "too much affection too soon," or "high desire for contact."
"Love bombing" is a term originally used in the context of cults to describe a deliberate and coordinated recruitment method that involved feigning friendship and interest in a potential recruit, via flattery, flirtation, physical affection, and very directed positive attention to everything the recruit says in order to lure them into the cult.
Since cults and abusive relationships operate in similar ways and use similar tactics, love bombing in an interpersonal relationship looks like manufacturing closeness in order to trap someone into a relationship in which the abuser has all the control.
And I know these days there's a million bullshit junky articles out there that make you think this is a symptom of cluster b personality disorders, but there is no way for you to be love bombing somebody without realizing it.
If you are an affectionate person and the level of affection and attention you give makes someone uncomfortable, you are not "accidentally" abusing them.
If you are uncomfortable with the level of affection and attention someone is paying you, they are not de facto abusing you.
Love bombing is about using someone's desire for human connection to fast track them into a situation you control that they will feel disinclined to leave.
43K notes
·
View notes
Text
don’t worry. it’s easier to love you than you think
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
anyway I love things like having independence, being intelligent, taking pride in my skills, not feigning incompetence, referring to myself as a woman instead of a girl, aging unapologetically, having pores, stretch marks, grey hairs, wrinkles and body fat, listening to my body's needs, eating as much as I need to satisfy my hunger, being bare-faced, wearing comfortable clothes, etcetera
15K notes
·
View notes
Text
when i start writing cm smut again then what huh THEN WHAT
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
#exactly#a back story#creation of complexity#or world building episodes are not filler episodes#that one ep where team 7 had intercoms when technically there was no electricity in naruto#now THAT'S a filler
68K notes
·
View notes
Text
Pretending this is the America Ferrera monologue about womanhood that got her nominated for an oscar
22K notes
·
View notes
Text
yes i would certainly like to torment him, why do you ask
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
(Un)holy
Raven-haired angel, lover and executioner both, darkening your doorstep with his long shadow. When you looked up, his halo was so bright it obscured his face, except for his eyes; The flint that sparked a fire inside of you.
The echo of church bells rang in the cathedral of your mind and you trembled in anticipation. Was it really time for service? Communion? Sacrifice?
Of course, he’d come to get you. He loved you, after all. Oh, how he loved you! You could see it plain as day in his stare, ardent and ravenous.
His fingers dug into your soft wool, scratching behind your ears. Your eyes were wide and docile as a doe’s, glazed over with a devotion reserved solely for divinity. How prettily your cheeks flushed, too, at his nearness.
The thin rope he’d placed upon your throat tugged you forward, the other end held in his fist. This way, my sweet, follow my voice.
Oh, his voice…. Like a river of honey pouring forth from that bewitching smile. Sharp and luminous as a crescent moon, or a scythe glinting beneath it. He could never lead you astray.
He was a wolf-headed shepherd and you willingly lay yourself on a silver platter in front of him. You, who were his only sustenance, the one he constantly craved. The one he would devour time and time again.
His most sacred lamb, indeed.
His love was best felt when he tore you asunder, lapping you up like the most delectable ambrosia. You adored him all the while, praying for his claws and his fangs as they sank into your pliant flesh.
You said his name deliriously, pearlescent tears gathered at your lashes, over and over again — John, oh, John…
You, his first and only supplicant, the most faithful of subjects. So willing, so earnest. He truly did love you, in his way. After all, you got him closer to understanding godliness.
#LAKJFLKJSALKFJASLKFLKSJF#I DON'T EVEN KNOW THE CHARACTERS BUT LIKEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE#THE ROPE THING WAS INSANE#wife fics#what he fuck1!!
37 notes
·
View notes
Text
when y'all read x reader fan fiction, do you guys not use it as escapism? because the way you guys complain about not relating 100% to reader. like sometimes i want to imagine myself as a flirtatious reader or a complete bitch. like do y'all not imagine yourselves with a completely different personality and read it for the storytelling? you do not have to relate to every aspect of the reader and it's completely fine. some of y'all have boring lives outside of fan fiction, so use it as your escape from real life because some of y'all act like y'all want it to mirror every single aspect of it.
#of course I'm also somewhat selective of what types of x reader content I enjoy#sometimes i'm annoyed by reader lol#but in general yeah#love that x reader lets me have multiple personalities <3#fragmentado and shit
11K notes
·
View notes
Text
Luxury poker nights (18+)
cw: sex-servant kink, voyeurism, reader gets passed around basically, rossi is there but doesn't engage, hotch x morgan x spencer x reader, reader is an implied escort/prostitute, fem!reader
A/N: i won't apologize for being a slut. PT 2 has be released here!
“I’ll draw three— fuck.” Spencer muttered under his breath as he reached for the cards that Rossi was dealing to him.
Your mouth was tightly wrapped around his cock underneath the poker table, your head bobbing up and down, body bare to your toes as you kneeled on a pad that the guys had given you for that exact purpose. Your tongue running against his shaft was driving him insane, unable to fully focus on the game he was playing. You figured, even if you knew nothing about these men, that this was the only way they could get to beat him.
“Told you poker nights at Rossi’s were the best, kid.” Morgan said from across the wooden surface as he took a sip off his beer “He’s always got surprises like this ready for us.”
The muscular man shot a charming smile and a wink towards the eldest, who replied with a chuckle of his own. “I like to have my boys treated nicely. Only the best.” he added.
“She sure is.” Aaron said with warmth in his voice.
He tilted his head to observe you servicing his subordinate so diligently. Spencer was sitting on his right, Morgan his left, and Dave right in front, so he had full access to the rest of your body while you were focused on Reid. He shuffled a little to have his chair closer to where you were before he reached for your free hand, then leaned enough to be able to place a gentle kiss to the back of it. “Lend me this, will you?” he cooed while he guided it to his already exposed member.
You let out a hum in agreement, your fingers carefully wrapping around the slippery dick; you had tended to him before moving to Spencer, so he was already fully hard, coated with saliva, and almost ready to burst. Your hand mimicked the movements of your head, stroking up and down in moderate motions.
“So, what do we think of the new section chief?” Aaron asked.
“Seems to have a solid career trajectory.” Rossi added.
“As long as he doesn’t begin to micromanage us, I don’t care if he’s a monkey on a monocycle.” Derek contributed as well.
Eyes landed on Reid when he lacked an opinion, only to find out he had his lips parted, his hands on the back of your head as he looked at you devouring his cock, and his pants had grown into a messy pattern. Shortly after, his hands pressed you down and he let his seed spill into your mouth. As you had been paid to do so, you swallowed.
Spencer took a couple of breaths to steady his high, you having moved away from him to have your lips latched onto Hotch’s tip once again. “He seems reliable. But what’s up with the weird interactions with JJ?” his eyes narrowed as he asked.
“Don’t you worry about that, Reid.” Aaron answered, his hand landing on your head in a similar fashion the young doctor had, making sure you kept your pace as they spoke.
“Well, are we here to play poker? or to talk shop?” Morgan interrupted the conversation. “All in.”
“You seem very confident, Morgan.” Spencer teased, eyeing his own cards.
“Oh, does your brain finally work, pretty boy? It sure looked like my girl here had the wires disconnected for a while.” he joked back, referring to the way you had sucked the intelligence out of him.
“Full house. Jacks over sixes.” Spencer said, opening his cards for them to see.
Aaron and Dave threw theirs on the table, not even daring to show them. Reid’s eyebrows raised daringly, confident enough that he had an unbeatable hand. Morgan, however, did not yield, and he threw his cards on the surface to show his hand.
“Poker of Jacks.” he clarified, pointing at the four identical symbols on the square pieces of carton. Spencer let out a small curse and Derek made a happy little dance. “Why don’t you come over here, mama? You wanna be where the winner’s at.” he said, tilting his head to look in your direction.
Aaron shot him a look at the fact that he was depriving him of your velvet tongue. You had long learned that ‘all in’ included everything, and that also meant you. Hotch was gentle enough to offer a hand and help you up, his cock still dangling from his pants as he stood up. Once both of you were on your feet, he pulled you closer, his hands landing to massage your ass. “Give me a quick kiss before you go.” he said half jokingly, and you obliged. His hands squeezing your skin as your lips passionately moved on his.
You rounded the boss’s chair so you could be on Morgan’s side, awaiting your instructions, and he gently tugged you by your waist to guide you to his lap. His dick as was already out, simply laying half-hard against his pants. It usually went like that, all of them with their cocks ready to be attended when they wanted, for as long as the night lasted.
Derek took it into his hand and perked it up, indicating for you to sit on his lap. Before you lowered yourself, though, he aligned his member with your entrance, and you let out a small wince of pleasure at his size. You held onto the table for support, and you were ready to start moving before an arm on your thigh stopped you.
“No, no, sweetheart, you have done enough. We’re changing roles for now, let me treat you well while you play some poker.” the man huskied behind you.
Your eyebrows furrowed questioningly, but you heard the chair move, and felt your body pulled slightly back to have you leaning on the table, your forearms resting right by the edge to help you up. Morgan’s hips immediately began to thrust at their own rhythm, rather slow, although at times faster.
You were panting a little as he fucked you from behind. The cards were dealt, and you got a decent hand. You exchanged two cards, Spencer changed one, Dave two, and Aaron three. All while they barely paid attention to the man fucking you in the middle of the room.
“All in.” Aaron said, and everyone’s eyebrows raised, they all know what that meant.
“Well, baby, if you want to cum, you’re gonna have to beat his hand.” Derek pointed out, his hips still moving into you, the apparent apathy of everyone else just adding to your arousal. You looked at your hand, full house, threes over twos, not very high, but still probable enough that you could take the bag, and hopefully continue getting filled by the man behind you. Although, if you were honest, either outcome was okay. Servicing such handsome, and well mannered men was always a pleasure.
“F-Full house. Threes over t-twos.” you panted out, opening your cards for everyone to see. Dave, almost immediately, folded on the table.
“Close.” Spencer said “As you probably are, too.” he teased with a mischievous smile as he showed his cards “Full house. Sixes over twos.”
“Nice try.” Aaron said when Spencer tried to reach for the pool “Straight flush.” he proudly showed his hand.
“Next round, maybe, pumpkin.” Morgan said before he smacked your ass, hard enough to excite you, not enough to be overly painful.
He pulled out of you and directed you to Hotch by your hips, immediately taking his seat back without putting away his cock.
“Why don’t you grab some water and take a break, honey?” Aaron said as soon as you stood next to him “I have the feeling we’ll be here all night.”
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
these are very wise (and very real) words. believe me.
50K notes
·
View notes
Text
You will find things when and where you least expect them, and more often than not they will find you rather than the other way around. This has proven to be true endless times, like when your keys have gone missing and appeared in a bag you hadn't used in a while, or when you have been hungry without a specific craving and bumped into a new food that suddenly became your favorite.
And right now, amidst a melacholic storm on a random tuesday, grief found you.
It's a funny feeling. Grief, I mean. Not two people emote it the same way. From a single tear to hours of heart-ripping screams, manifestations of such pain are as vast as the oceans on earth.
Dropping to your knees, paralyzed by sorrow, drowning in a pond of salty tears was certainly not the way you expected it to.
In the middle of your office, while you pulled some overtime thanks to having slacked off the week before was not the place either.
And that way, amidst the turbulence of a tempest within yourself, Spencer Reid found you.
To other eyes the sight would have been nearly pathetic, you would have judged yourself as such, surely, but to a merciful soul such as his, filled with nothing but love an empathy, it was the purest form of bravery.
The abillty to be vulnerable, to express heartache.
It took him a second to figure out the best approach. The wires of his brain weren't easily turned off, even grief had a method, it made sense. But to him, nothing you ever did followed an order, let alone a process. You never made sense.
For once, he was not confined by the sequence demanded by the logical choice, because there was nothing logical in the way you broke down, the strongest woman he knew, the one he deemed invincible, close to unreachable.
There was nothing logical in the way you crawled into his arms once he sat down next to you, or how your acid-like tears pierced through his chest, or in the way he swore, to himself, to not rest until it went away. An impossible task yet to his knowledge.
"What is it?" he finally brought himself to ask.
"Nothing." you muttered, but there was no place for falsity, not when your soul was bared open for his to touch "Everything."
"I'll do anything." his voice was a vague whisper "Anything to make it stop."
"Will you understand?" you pulled away to look up at him.
"Try me." his eyes were oddly resolute, a glint you had only seen when it came to people he cared for.
The fact alone soothed some of the wounds, but your essence was scarred past the existance of him, or anyone else for that matter. What you were was the work of many, some of whom you least expected, some of whom you denied ever played a part, and others whom you knew were there simply to do more harm, and you were yet unable to walk away.
"Do you understand the dispair of having your shirt stained with ketchup?" you blurted out. Truth was, you yourself were unable to put into words what such affliction was.
His eyes narrowed, clearly confused "I can relate to that inconvenience." he said.
"Do you?" you asked with curiosity "Do you understand the feeling of your hair not looking quite right, of your favorite food no longer tasting the same." you took a second to sob, to regain your breath "Of the night being too cold no matter how many blankets you wear, or your body feeling tired regardless how much you sleep. Do you understand the despair of missing who you were, and yet knowing your were bound to end this way?"
"The inevitability of growth can be terrifying." he stated "That much I can understand."
"How do I go back?" you let out a hopeful inquire.
"You dont." after a second of thought, he decided to speak.
"How do I run from what's to come?" you asked yet again.
His hand trailed down your cheek in an affectionate gesture, his slender fingers focusing a bit long on your red and damp skin.
"You can't." his limb trailed down your arm until his palm rested atop of your hand "You stand to them head first, and cling to the hands that stand with you."
Your fingers slowly twirled around, intertwining with his lazily, weakly.
"And if there aren't any?" you tried to look away.
His free hand tapped at your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his own.
"There will always be at least mine. That much I can promise."
You will find things when and where you least expect them, and more often than not they will find you rather than the other way around. This has proven to be true endless times, like when you were lost in a sea of mourned selves and you found yourself in the touch of a loved one.
And right there, hope found you.
207 notes
·
View notes