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#male self insert
quality-street-rat · 1 year
Conversation
Bofur: Alright. So if y/n is our dad friend, what would happen if he marries one of us?
Y/n, across the camp but heard his name: WHAT???? What is it?
Bofur, yelling: Since you're the dad here, what happens if you marry one of us?
Y/n, wiggling his eyebrows: Well then you'd have to call me "daddy."
*confused silence*
Y/n: Hang on--do you not--do you guys even have that word here?
Kili: Yes but why is it applicable here???
Y/n, turning red: Oh god, nevermind, it's a bad joke from my world, don't think about it.
Bofur, grinning: Well if it turns you of all people that color, then we have to know!
Y/n: Oh fuck no, I do not have the emotional capacity to teach a pack of dwarves and a hobbit the cultural shift to the connotation of the word "daddy."
Kili, mildly insulted: Hey!
Thorin, interested now: You said it was a joke. Explain, this particular "pack of dwarves" loves jokes.
Y/n: You just love to see me uncomfortable, don't you Oakenshield?
Thorin: I have no idea what you're talking about.
Bilbo: I must admit I am curious.
Bofur: Yes y/n, tell us!
Y/n: NO!
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Finally some mlm for Mario (featuring Luigi absolutely done with it)
S/i’s name is Alexi and he owns the restaurant the Mario brothers happened to come by
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theweepingegg · 13 days
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Decided to update my male persona design. His name is Theodore. Can call him Theo. He's a menace.
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spencerkeg · 2 years
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Oh shit more boyfriends? Don’t mind if I do.
Brain rot under the read more.
Instead of a web novel and online server, there’s a magical tome in a small town that finds only those who are worthy to read its tale. Upon closer inspection, there’s a spell on the inside of the back cover that allows you to project your conscious at will to a dreamlike realm. Everyone there appears as ghostly silhouettes, though if you focus your attention hard enough on one person, you may be able to hear their voice and get glimpses at them. (Get it? Like a video call. But with spotty webcams lol)
Nakedtoaster is the lackadaisical duke of this small city, he’s facing pressure from the neighboring empire to submit. It’ll be more prosperous for his people over all, but at risk of his city changing from how he envisioned. He became duke through his invention of magical items. But now there’s rouge magic out and about 👀 particularly in this mysterious novel said to spirit away those who read it.(also that’s my self insert as his guard lmao)
Xyx is a wealthy merchant with a penchant for reckless situations. He finds high society a useful but tedious tool that he hides from every chance he gets. Not much is known about this secretive man, but if you know where to look, you may find him engaging in any number of adrenaline inducing activities. Or feeding stray cats
Not shown, but lovingly thought of…
Quest is a kind inn owner. He tends to the lost and protects the weak, he’s also sure to enforce the rules upon any ne’er-do-well that cause trouble. There’s a rumor going around that he used to be apart of a dangerous mercenary guild until he fled his home town to start a new life.
Night owl is an artist. (Shocker) He used to travel around before deciding to settle down here, after not finding success in the capital. His charismatic demeanor makes him well known and loved, but there seems to be more to him than his bubbly exterior.
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I know I've been gone forever, but it wasn't all for naught! As i have started making progress on a big ass project. Point is I've started writing a fanfic for the ENTIRE Walking Dead show. Yes, it is a Daryl x Male Reader. Yes you might cry, as I will go through as much for the show in fan fic form as I can. So far i have solid ideas all the way up to the start of season four!
That being said please keep in mind that The Walking Dead is a violent and gory show, my writing will reflect the story as exact as I can with an additional character. There will be graphic content, so if you are triggered by mention of death, suicide, gore, assault, abuse, drugs, and more. PLEASE DO NOT READ. I don't want anyone to be harmed by my works.
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City of the Dead
Prologue
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“Vera-shka, I need a screwdriver.” The young man called out, wiping sweat from his brow as his younger sister aided him. She scoffed, aggressively handing over the tool making him wince in pain as it pressed against his growing blisters. He had been working on his father’s old Apache for almost six hours now, his hands were aching, and his mind was tired. He sighed, carefully replacing yet another piece of the heli’s dash.
“You know, as much as Papa loves his Pititsa he really let it go.” Vera grumbled, leaning against the Apache’s hull. Her older brother grunted in agreement, screwing in the last piece of  the helicopter’s new gauges.
“Da, Papa’s too busy drinking to be bothered with his favorite child. Why do you think he practically raised us on this bird?” He laughed with no feeling, he couldn’t even muster the energy anymore. With yet another sigh he climbs out of the helicopter, carefully cleaning oil and grease off his hands with his rag. “Vera-shka, you should probably get back, he’ll raise hell if dinner isn’t fixed by the time he’s home.” She crossed her arms, raising a brow and pursing her lips sassily.
“Seriously? Do I really have to? I mean what's the point! You know I suck at cooking, he’ll be pissed no matter what! You do it, you’re the golden child. Suka.” she raged, waving her hands around rabidly. He sighed, nodding with a weak smile.
“Okay. You win Vera. I’ll do all the work, not like I’ve been covering your ass since birth.” He muttered, turning for the house. He knows he shouldn’t be hard on Vera, she was only fourteen. She shouldn’t be at home fixing dinner and helicopters. He stopped for a moment, sucking in a deep breath before turning around. “I’ll only cook if you-”
His heart hammered in his ears. His body running cold with goosebumps as a string seemed to snap inside him. A man with pale skin and stringy hair had grabbed Vera - pulling on her ponytail - his teeth digging into her arm as she tried to pull him off. He stood frozen in fear and shock for a moment as the man ripped apart her arm, making it go limp… exposing her neck.
(Name) grabbed the nearest tool, a wrench. He gripped it tightly, tight enough to pop some of the blisters. He raised the wrench, ignoring the liquid coating his hand and the wrench as he swung at the being. “Слезь с нееб, сука!” He screamed ferally, his eyes wide with rage as the sickening crunch of the man’s skull filled his ears. The man fell to the ground, part of his skull caved in. The older tossed his tool aside, rushing over and cradling his limp sister in his arms. She gurgled, blood gushing from her neck and spilling from her mouth as she choked. He stifled a sob, gently hugging her.
“Мне жаль! я так виноват…” He wailed. She silently cried, only able to respond with soft gurgling and sighing. He pressed his forehead against hers, gently cradling her wound. He fumbled for a bit, his mind going blank as he reached for his phone. The blood caking his fingers made it difficult to hold onto. He swallowed hard as he called 911.  The phone picked up after a few seconds, the woman on the line sounded fearful as she asked “911 what's your emergency?” He blubbered for a bit, mumbling in Russian manically. The woman on the line started to speak, only for her sentence to be cut off by a scream, and the steady beeping of the call ending. Was the line cut?
 She choked and gasped one last time before falling limp and cold in his arms. He trembled, pulling away slightly to look at her face. Slowly shaking his head, he shakes her a little. It wasn’t the first time he lost someone, and it wasn’t the first time someone died in front of him. All the same, seeing someone so much younger than you die, die so brutally in your arms. 
He cried out, coughing and choking as he dropped her body to the ground. He stumbled backwards, his stomach catching in a knot as bile was expelled. “No no no…” he whimpered, his (light/dark) hair falling into his face. His body pulsed with strain as more acid spilled from his mouth and nose. The burning sensation in his throat and sinuses made him cry harder as he clutched at his hoodie, smearing blood all over the fabric. He gripped at his hair and pressed his face to the ground, hyperventilating as he pulled. Small clumps of dead hair fell onto the ground before him. Gagging again he slowly sat up, wiping his face roughly. He sniffed hard, pressing his palms into his eyes - trying to stop the flow of tears.
Soft groaning was covered by the young man’s sobs, he didn’t notice the growling and moaning behind him. He didn’t notice the footsteps, and he didn’t notice that his sister was reanimated. 
He yelped in fear at the feeling of delicate, cold, and clammy hands against his scalp. He threw himself forward, ignoring that he just fell into a puddle of vomit as he turned around. Slowly he shook his head, his head pulsing with pains in sync with his heart. Hard fast thumping, pumping adrenaline and fear through his body.
He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His sister stood before him, groaning softly with pale red-yellow eyes. Her fingers twitched erratically, and he could see drops of drool running down her chin. He was almost fool enough to speak up before realizing, realizing that his beloved Vera-shka - the little sister he raised since she was a baby - was dead. He let out a breathy whine, shaking his head as she lunged forward. He kicked out, holding her up with his legs as he held onto her hands. 
“Vera! Vera, stop!” He wailed. Her only response to his begging was more growling and hissing, mindlessly snapping her jaws at him. He let out a shaky breath, kicking her to the side with great force, he panted, struggling to crawl away and towards the tool box. The tool box had been knocked over during the first fight, spilling the tools just out of his reach from his current position. He gasped, feeling Vera grab at his ankles. He flips onto his back, watching as Vera bit at his boots savagely. He hesitated for only a second before kicking her, she didn’t budge. “Please, Vera-shka please.” He begged weakly, fumbling behind him for a tool. He kicked her again, throwing her from his feet and breaking her nose in the process.
She growled loudly, standing with a wobble. That's not Vera. Vera is dead. He thought harshly, watching her dead eyes for tears yet none came. She was always a cry baby when it came to pain, she would have passed out on the floor in tears if it was actually her. The thought cleared his mind and his vision blurred as he grabbed a tool from the ground. A pipe wrench, he could only tell by the wight and the weapons red color. Weapon. That's right, it’s his weapon. He grunted with effort, raising the tool - feeling the weight press into his shoulders and arms. It was heavy, heavier than it should have been. He grunted with great effort, his chest tightening painfully as the weight caved in Vera’s skull. 
He dropped the tool, breathing hard. He swayed a little with each step, stepping around the body and stumbling back to the house. He wheezed, coughing hard as he stepped into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and quickly threw off his clothes, throwing them across the small room with great anger. Slowly, he turned to his reflection, watching as splattered blood dripped down his chin. He pressed his forehead to the glass, trying to even out his breathing as the room filled with warm mist.
Squeezing his eyes shut didn't help, the image of his undead sister seared his mind's eye like a hot iron. He let out a loud wail, smashing his face into the mirror as hard as he could. The glass shattered, slicing across his forehead to his left eyebrow in one jagged gash. He fell back, holding his face as he whined in pain, immediately regretting acting on his intrusive thoughts. 
Scoffing at himself he hobbles his way into the shower, laying back in the tub and letting the burning water pelt his body. He looked up at the ceiling weakly, one eye slightly closed - his vision blurred red. He let out a shaky sigh, running his hands through his (h/c) hair; slicking it back with the water. How was he supposed to explain to his Mama that Vera was dead? How was he supposed to tell his Papa that he had to kill some crazy person? How would he hide it? Could he even hide it? 
“I’ve done it before… no, that was different. This is my sister, not some fucking rat.” He muttered to himself, his throat tightening as fear and dread wrapped around him like chains to hell. How was he supposed to fix this?
An hour later, the water had run cold and he had finally mustered the energy to clean off his skin and hair, wincing as the soap got into his blisters and cut. He lazily turned off the water, watching as the reddened water drained. With a huff he slowly climbs out and opens the cabinet, grabbing some gauze, gauze pads, and butterfly stitches. He carefully placed the butterfly stitches along the cut, pulling it together slightly before placing some of the gauze padding. He carefully wrapped the injury, making sure it's nice and tight before tucking the loose end. He took any excess gauze and wrapped his blistered hands, probably best to keep blood and dirt out of the injury.
“I hope this is some fucked dream…” He whispered to himself, wrapping a fluffy towel around himself as he awkwardly waddled out of the bathroom and to his room. Based on the silence, his Mama and Papa weren’t home. Maybe he would have time to bury Vera.
With that idea in mind he was quick to get dressed, wincing as he pulled on his clean shirt and pants, the fabric rubbing against his bandaged hands. He was sore, nauseous, and exhausted; but all the same something inside him told him, he has to bury her. She was his little sister, a literal baby only 14 years ago. He could remember vividly taking care of her when he had just turned eleven and she had come home. It’s only right to bury her. There's no way to contact the police with the line cut.
He grabbed a pair of gloves and carefully fitted them over his bandages, then ran to the garage to grab a shovel - but not before grabbing his pocket knife to be safe.
The shovel rang out a metallic noise as he dragged it behind him, making his way to the heli and his sister’s body. His other hand was occupied with the knife, flipped open and ready to use. He was half expecting those things to be up and moving, he’s seen dead people walk, and at this point he doesn’t even know if that's what he saw. 
Once close enough to his sister’s body he was hit with a foul sour odor. The stench of death hung around the heli like a thick fog, he gagged a little, covering his face as he inched closer. Once closer he took a good look at the ‘man’. He was definitely dead, hell he was definitely dead before (Name) got to him. The young man shook his head a little, his eyes burning slightly - whether it was from the smell of rotting flesh or his sister’s death he didn’t know. 
“This shit can’t be real.” He muttered, walking a little farther than the heli. He sighed, trying to ignore the smell as he put away his knife and gripped the shovel. As he plunged the tool into the dirt the weight of what went down today rested against his consciousness. His sister was dead. Silent tears burned his eyes as he continued digging, tossing the dirt to the side.
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redheadjustin · 2 years
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The Ginger Cullen Chapter 1
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This was an idea I kept having and is basically a self insert of myself to Twilight. I have never read the books and it’s been a while since i’ve seen the movies. Also The changes in the timeline are because I think they are needed to allow for myself to better interact. Also please feel free to correct my mistakes and suggest ideas for the story. Happy reading!!
Jacob Black looked down at a pale skinned, ginger, freckled seventeen year old boy. The boy had cuts and marks all over his body. And, not all of them were from the vampire attack he’d just been through. The boy was Justin Bush. And Justin had a past filled with pain, both physical and mental. Justin was also Jacob’s imprint. As Jacob stared at his true love, his life, as he lay bleeding, barely holding on to life he was vaguely aware of Edward returning from searching who attacked Justin.
“VIctoria is long gone. How is Justin and the mutt?” Edward asked softly. He didn’t even say ‘mutt’ with as much venom as usual. Carlisle filled the copper haired male in on Justin’s condition. All of the Pack and Cullens stood watching with sad eyes. Despite the situation Justin had a smile on his face.
“J-jacob, Promise me that you’ll love again. That you’ll mourn me and then you’ll live your life.” Justin said as he put his hand on Jacob’s cheek. “Justin-” Jacob tried to respond. But, Justin wasn’t having it. “Promise me!” Justin was nearly shouting at this point. While this scene was going on Paul, Jacob’s beata, and Carlisle traded looks. Edward heard the silent conversation and knew that there was no other way. They could save Justin but Jacob had to go with it. Otherwise, If they tried to enact their plan Jacob, as alpha could hold them in violation of the treaty. Carlisle stepped towards Jacob and was able to contain his flinch from The growl from the alpha wolf.
“Jacob, There’s a way to save Justin.” Carlisle said softly. It Took two seconds for Jacob to figure out what Carlisle was suggesting. Jacob wanted to scream, to yell, to howl, To go back in time to stop this from happening. He was shaken from his thoughts at the sight of Justin’s eyes fluttering as his grip on Jacob’s cheek lossen. Jacob couldn’t let it end like this. With Tears in his eyes Jacob looked up to the sire of the Cullen clan.
“Save him. Whatever the price, save him. Please.” By the end Jacob is nearly sobbing into Justin’s ginger locks. Carlisle wasted no time as the Cullens moved to keep the pack from interfering. While their alpha had given the all clear, Justin was their alpha’s mate and his cries of pain would compel the wolves inside of them to act. While the Cullens restrained the pack Edward moved to Jacob. While he’d be allowed closer than the rest of the pack due to being Justin’s mate. He couldn’t be allowed to interfere either. As the copper haired boy Could hear his thoughts and made his long since dead heart break. ‘Mate hurt. My fault mate hurt. Don’t care if he's a leech, just want mate to live’. Were JUST some of the thoughts going through the alpha wolf’s head. Edward felt bad. Just three weeks ago he was smug about Bella choosing him. Just three weeks ago he would have taken glee in the fact the mutt was about to lose his mate. But, that was three weeks ago. Before he’d met Justin. Before he began to see Jacob as his little brother. Before Bella exposed Justin’s secrets. Before it all went to fuck.
As soon Edward was close enough he wrapped Jacob in a tight hug. He managed to move Jacob a few inches back to give Carlisle the needed space to turn Justin. Jacob stared with morbid fascination as the blonde vampire bent down towards His imprint’s neck. Edward gently placed his cold hands on Jacobs cheek turning his head away from Justin. “Jacob, believe me you don’t want to see it. It’ll scar you. Just look at me, everything will be fine.” Edward had been there when Emmet was turned and he had a hundred and five years of experience and the turning of a vampire was NOT something to look at too closely. Jacob broke down into sobs and launched himself into Edwards embrace. Jacob had grown to see Edward as his big brother. Edward ran his hands through Jacob’s spiky hair softly as Carlisle bit into Justin’s neck.
“Everything will be fine.” Edward kept repeating at Justin’s scream before the ginger slipped into unconsciousness.
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Centaur!Blake trying to look bigger in some vain attempt to impress this pretty unicorn he just met.
Yeah... that's not exactly working... Especially given Loki is a fucking Clydesdale unicorn, Centaur!Loki towers over him, basically (I say as if he doesn't in the original universe).
This isn't helped at all by the fact that the mule mans is wearing an old saddle and a moth-bitten old sheet.
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baby-justins-world · 2 years
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Dis was a story made for @chompchompchu pwease be nice
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1993
    In Montana there is a dig for what is considered the oldest bones on earth. These belonged to the oldest known animals to have walked the earth. Dinosaurs. At this dig site three people have just uncovered a skeleton of a velociraptor. The man wearing a straw hat and aviator sunglasses as well as plaid button up shirt was Dr. Alan Grant  world-renowned paleontologist. The woman next to him is Dr. Ellie Sattler. She specializes in prehistoric plants and is also Dr. Grant's girlfriend. The third was a man in his late teens and an upcoming  paleontologist doing his thesis paper on Velociraptors under Dr. Grant’s advice. 
This young man is remarkable as he is about to graduate college at the age of 18. This young man had worked hard and prided himself on being able to focus despite his autism. This young man impressed Dr. Grant and that was considered almost impossible given his hatred of children. This young man’s name is Rex James or Moth as he was called by Dr. grant.
“Dr. Grant! We’re ready to try again!” A random worker called and the three went over to the main tent to see if they could get a better radar image. Rex nearly laughed at how Alan made a fourteen year old kid named Owen Gradey piss his pants. Rex wasn’t one to talk much around crowds. He had fifteen hundred thing on his mind at any given time so it was better he didn’t. After the demonstration of the new technology a helicopter flew overhead nearly undoing the hard work that had taken months.
Rex still didn’t know how he found himself sitting in a jeep next to Dr. Ian Malcolm along with Dr. Grant and Dr. Sattler. When they came to a stop. A large moving animal ate leaves from the top of a tree. The only thing off..it was a brachiosaurus. Rex stood next to Ellie and Alan as they lost their minds and Rex wasn’t far behind. Rex could vaguely hear the lawyer say ‘We’re going to make a foruton with this place’ which pissed Rex off. Here before his eyes was the most incredible scientific discovery in history and all he could think of was money.
“Dr. Grant, My dear Dr. Sattler, Mr. James, Welcome to Jurassic park. Later in a dark room with projectors all six sat at a round table eating lunch. Ian was getting into an argument with Hamond and for the first time that day Rex spoke up.  “I agree with Ian here. While I have seen things here today that in eighteen years on this earth i never thought i’d be able to see we are messing with the one thing that shouldn't be messed with, nature. However, John, I'm willing to wait until the end of the tour.” Everyone was shocked by how Rex spoke. It wasn’t everyday you heard an eighteen year old speak as thoughtfully as Rex had.
It was decided that Rex would ride with Ian, Alan and Ellie. It was dark and stormy now. They were waiting for the storm to pass so they could go back to the Visitor center. Ian and Rex had been talking and had grown a bond. It was almost as if Ian was a father to Rex. Then the T-Rex blew out of her paddock. As Ian tried and failed to divert Rexy away Rex went to check on him when Rexy saw him. Rex thought his life was over. But Rexy had other plans for him. She let out a roar that caused Rex to age backward. Where once stood an eighteen year old now stood a two year old. Rex crawled to the ruins of the bathroom and curled around Ian. When Ellie came to retrieve Alan she didn’t expect to find a two year old Rex and a badly injured Ian. As Ellie hefted Rex into her arms her heart melted and broke at the same time. She knew how hard Rex had worked but at the same time Rex can get the childhood he deserves. 
Rex came from his slumber while on the way to the emergency bunker. “Hey there, How are you Moth?” Ellie asked, brushing the hair out of Rex’s eyes. “Ellie, me all wittle!” Rex exclaimed, remembering his de-ageing. “I can see. And there's some bad news.” Elilie said hoping beyond hope that Rex wouldn’t have the reaction she was predicting. Rex knew the second she said ‘bad news’ that it wasn’t reversible. He didn’t scream or kick or yell, all he did was lay his head on Ellie’s shoulder. Ian was in awe at how Rex was able to keep calm. 
“You know, Kelly’s been begging for a little brother.” Ian said while motioning for ellie to put Rex in his arms. Hammond smiled at the scene and vowed that he’d do everything to help 
Rex. 
Once the contingent was in the air Rex was feeling very sleepy but was afraid that he’d lose his adult mind. Malcolm saw this and held him tighter. “You know, I, uh, don’t care if, uh, you become the dumbest, uh, most droolliest, uh, baby ever I’ll take care of you.” Rex’s eyes were dropping dangerously. Everyone smiled at the soon to be father and son. “Sleep my little dinosaur king.” Ian said as Rex fell asleep. As it turned out the dinosaurs weren’t the only ones given second chances.
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sweatervest-obsessed · 3 months
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Unexpected Visitor
Pairing: Spencer Reid x G!n Reader
WC: 788
A/N: A lil Spencer Xmas Blurb while I figure my shit out. Also! I'm imagining older seasons Spencer for this one.
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"Hi! I'm, uh, so sorry to bug you but, um, do you know where Spe--Doctor Reid's desk is? Or, really, where D-Doctor Reid is?" .
Derek Morgan had to get his shit together because his jaw almost dropped when you walked in. What was some hot piece of ass doing, dressed like that, looking for Boy Genius.
He jumped up from his chair and strolled over to where you had stopped Garcia, who was just as flabbergasted as he was. "Reid is currently in a meeting sweetheart--may I ask what you, uh, want with him?"
You raised your eyebrows at the 'sweetheart', but smiled anyways. "He was supposed to be home about an hour ago and he wasn't answering his phone, so instead of panicking, because I know what you do for work, I wanted to come in and check before I lost my shit."
"Home?" Garcia squeaked out, still baffafled by how gorgeous you looked. It was like you were sent straight from heaven, a literal vision.
You nodded and tilted your head, slightly confused. "Y-Yeah...I'm sorry why is that---"
"We just didn't know Reid was living with anyone, let alone seeing someone."
"Ah." You nodded. "He's private like that, isn't he." Your smile warmed the two of them, and you shifted the coat from one arm to the other.
"y/n?"
You turned your head towards the back of the bullpen, and Spencer was walking out of Hatch's office. "What are you doing here?"
"Being introduced to your friends and coworkers since you haven't."
Spencer bit the inside of his cheeks and walked over to you both, placing his hand on the small of your back. You felt how tense he was.
"I'm here because our reservation is in twenty minutes and you said you'd be home over an hour ago." You looked at Spencer, whose eyes went a little wide.
"Shit. I-I didn't realize what time it was---"
"I have your suit in the car, and this is why I made the reservation for eight pm, instead of Seven."
"And this is why I love you." Spencer kissed your head and rushed over to his desk, scrambling to grab all of his papers and his bag and his coat and his scarf and his--
"Hi Y/n." Spencer looked up at the mention of your name, pausing in his frantic nature.
"Hi Aaron." You gave him a quick hug, but a bright smile. "How are you?"
"Well." He laughed a little. "I'd be better if we didn't have to work the day before Christmas Eve since I still need to wrap all of Jack's presents still."
"Oh how is Jack!"
"He's doing well. finally starting to enjoy reading, no thanks to you."
You laughed at his joke, all the while Derek and Garcia just shared an incredulous look. How the hell did you know Hotch? Jack?!? Why does Jack's reading habits connect to you--
"Ready sweetheart?" Spencer appeared at your side and you nodded. "It was lovely to see you Aaron. I'll stop by some time tomorrow to drop off Jack's gifts as well as yours. I got it when Spence I and went to Paris last month. I think you'll enjoy it!"
"That's why you weren't here for two weeks?" Penelope's jaw was on the floor. "I didn't take you to be a Parisian man Doctor Reid."
"W-Well, um--"
"It was for my birthday. My choice. I love art and museums so it made sense. Well, it was lovely to meet you all but we have a reservation to get to." You gave them all a quick smile before taking Spencer's hand and walking towards the elevator, your shoes clicking on the floor with every step you took.
"How long have the two of them been together?" Morgan turned to Hotch after you both had gotten in the elevator.
"I think today is their two year anniversary."
"TWO YEARS." Garcia clutched her hypothetical pearls. "How have I not known? How have WE not known?"
"He's private, and...well. You know Y/n."
"No we clearly do not know Hotch."
Hotch gave them a little smirk and a shrug. "Merry Christmas guys. I'll see you on the twenty-seventh."
As Hotch walked away, Garcia and Morgan just stared at one another. "So we're..."
"Going to spend then next ten minutes in my office finding everything out about this mystery person Spencer has been apparently dating for two years?"
"You read my mind mama. A little Christmas snooping never hurt anyone..."
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cloudy-dreams · 4 months
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I love your yandere Wally Darlinng so much. I want to grab his unnerving little face and squish it he’s too creepy cute
~Squish~
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hana-no-seiiki · 9 months
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YANDERE! HIMBO: This is an act of friendly bonding you know! We’re platonically getting closer. Increasing affection as bros!
DENSE! READER WHO IS CURRENTLY GETTING JERKED OFF/FINGERED BY YANDERE! HIMBO: Is this some straight thing I don’t understand?
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quality-street-rat · 1 year
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The first day y/n is with The Company:
Y/n: *poking around by a stream*
Fili and Kili, popping up behind him: What are you doing?
Y/n, showing them a handful of frogs and a garter snake: Establishing dominance.
Fili: Okay just because we put frogs in people's bedrolls doesn't mean we'll just let you put them in ours.
Y/n: Oh these aren't for you.
Kili: But you said--
Y/n: I'm establishing dominance, yeah. DON'T say anything when Thorin gets mad at you.
Fili, horrified: Those are for THORIN?
Y/n: Yeah. I'm establishing dominance.
Kili: Y/n...what the fuck.
LATER
Thorin: BOYS!!!!
Fili: It wasn't us!
Thorin: THEN WHO--
Y/n: *the only person present smiling*
*dead silence*
Y/n, batting his eyes: I put those by MY bedroll, I simply love frogs. I don't know how they ended up in yours.
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knightonio · 3 months
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# TOJI : fushiguro toji. top male reader. ftm toji. oral + overstimulation. gun play.
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thinking about playing with ftm! toji’s pussy. it’s so pretty, sucking in your fingers so well. toji’s thighs are twitching, muscular arm swung over his eyes to hide that dazed look away from you. the past few weeks, he paid you no mind besides asking for money. normally, you wouldn’t mind, yet it’s become too unbearable.
“s.. stop...” he whines, feet dragging himself upwards the mattress. following his request, you pull away. a smile tugging at your wetness-soaked lips, “yeah? you want me to stop?” your tone is so sweet, so considerate, and suddenly toji wants to cum inside your mouth to shut you up. “i h.. hate you.” he hiccups, tensing when he feels the barrel of your gun trace his folds.
“i didn’t hear you.”
toji’s silent as you switch the safety off.
“please...” he hesitates for a moment.
he breathes slowly, “please... fuck me.”
the view is too unbelievable. too good to be true. toji leaks around your gun, entrance fluttering around nothing. his brain is fuzzy, on the border between wanting the session to end or continue. the pain’s too euphoric, serving only for the building climax deep within him. “you already came so much, baby,” you comment, “now you’re trying to fuck my gun too?”
aw, he was pouting.
“no,” he shakes his head, hair sticking to his face like glue. he was so cute. “i want you inside... wan’ your cock. please?” and he knew how to ask properly. you taught him well. your tongue plunges itself into his pussy, and he wants to scream from the abruptness. his mouth is agape in a gasp, your fingers rocking to life.
his brain frays when it registers that your weapon is pressing into his clit.
toji fucking squeals.
you don’t make him wait long. you’re soon on your knees, slick cock sliding with ease. “ngh! you d.. didn’t,” he moans in surprise, “didn’t– fucking.. warn me.” his eyebrows furrows in a way you’ll know he’ll complain, but your thrust causes cartoonish stars to swirl around his pretty, dumb head.
“careful with your words, sweetheart,” you remind, gun tracing up and up until it was against his chin. you take advantage of the situation, thrusts forceful enough to make his cunt clench with urgency. he whimpers, “yes sir.”
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sian khan © knightonio. masterlist. taglist.
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adonisbeloveds · 5 months
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You did it! You came back! You actually came back! Don't EVER leave again please! you made them so worried :( Your...your using them? Your not just coming to do your dailys and logging off? oh! they are so so happy they could just pull you in and give you the biggest hug so you never leave again! Your back to your normal self! oh how they missed you using them to explore, farm, quest, everything! they missed your amazing face, your amazing voice, they missed you so much but your back! Please don't leave them again :(! they didn't mean to get angry! but why did you leave them for others? what was it called again? honkai star rail..? no matter what its called just don't do it again!
Your their creator! your their overseer! only theirs!
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running-with-kn1ves · 1 month
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Drunken Stupor
A/N: this is based off of that drunken yan gangster idea that I couldn't get out of my head. I might rewrite it or do it differently but this is 4 u my 1 gangster lovin' anon for now!
OG Yandere Gangster Drabble (nsft) w/ da Yan Gangster Ramble
TW: kidnapping, drunken yandere, noncon kissing (no nsft), threats, toxic behavior, 
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Puzzles, accompanied by whatever news channel you could get through. Paint-by-number pictures, and shitty DVD’s from another time. Horribly thin sheets and an aching back--- you were completely, utterly, and seemingly irrevocably, isolated. The tight handcuffs around your feet only allowed you to hop around the house, barely making it to the front door before you tripped over the rug and nosedived into the cold, black floor. 
How long has it been? When was the last time you felt the spring wind on your face? You weren’t even allowed to open the windows, out of your captors fear of you screaming for help, even with him right next to you. He gave you countless things to keep yourself entertained, whether they be knitting grandma-like sweaters or taking up a different artistic hobby, anything that could keep you in one spot for long without the need to move or the option to hurt yourself. 
You were tempted to scream, to throw your half-finished puzzle at the wall and destroy the nice room set up for you that once belonged to the lone bachelor-- who, was much later than usual tonight. Your throat was too sore to keep up with the screaming however, and you pushed it to the back of your mind to try again tomorrow. If he came home all of a sudden and found you screaming at the ripe hour of 11 PM, he might do more than just threaten with one of his switchblades. 
You hated being around the bastard, feeling so terrified and weak like maybe today would finally be your last-- but at this point, you were going insane being by yourself for so long. Even a nice screaming match with him until your voice finally left you would more desirable than watching another 80s thriller that would haunt your dreams, alone. For someone who wasn’t home very often, he certainly had an extensive collection of old gangster movies, romcoms too even. But you couldn’t put Sixteen Candles on again without wanting to rip your eyes out-- not even one of his five million copies of The Godfather. Who needs that many copies of the same movie?
Your exhausted, beaten-down brain jolted at the sound of someone jerking at the door handle. The door practically thumped with the lock against the wall, dust raining as it was violently ripped back and forth. But then came the familiar jangle of an overloaded key ring, one you had heard most nights for what you can only assume has been the past month. 
Finally, your spiked anxiety crashed when you saw those familiar, much-too-shiny-for-a-gangster-to-be-wearing black leather shoes thump inside. You peaked your head out from your sitting position near the opened bedroom door, trying to get a glimpse without getting up and alerting him of your presence. It was inevitable for him to come to you, his kidnapee, but you tried to postpone the smothering for as long as possible. Maybe now was the time to chuck that puzzle. 
“You reallyyy gotta hold *hic* on mee…”
Mismatched footsteps trudged, stopping first to hit the corner of what you could only assume was the livingroom loveseat.
“Move outa ma way, couch! ..Even though you… treeat me *hic* badlyy..”
You heard the raking of fingernails on the couch cushions, the clink of a bottle rolling on the ground back and forth. You didn’t dare look back through the door crack. Maybe you should shut it? Lord knows what that would cause him to do, though. 
“You still gotts’a hold on me…” 
The sing-songy voice came closer, belonging to the madman you dreaded the return of. Within the crack of the door you saw a dark silhouette, the TV casting a face-shadowing glow that made you just an inch more terrified. 
“Hey, baby…” He hiccuped. 
“Well that’s new,” You started, looking away from him back to your puzzle. “When did I become your ‘baby’?” 
He moaned thoughtfully, thinking about your rhetorical question. “After you kidnapped me, I suppose?”
Maybe it was wrong to poke the beast, especially because he smelled like dirty whiskey and had three buttons too loose on his dress shirt, showing a deep scar betwixt his faint chest hair. A vulnerable image he’d never let you witness soberly. 
“Hrmmm….” He pushed his entire weight on the door, letting it creak open as he looked at you with a smile. 
“I dunno…maybe.” He laughed a little, giving a small snort like a schoolboy hearing his first nasty joke. 
You rolled your eyes. Damn, as if you weren’t on edge before, now you were going to have to deal with the equivalent of a murderous toddler who’s been threatening to hurt you ever since you were first brought here. Drunken fools were best left at the bar. 
But your icy demeanor didn’t sway his unsettingly good mood, the gangster opening the door all the way to flop onto your (unwillingly) shared bed. He dug his face into the sheets that smelled like you, looking at the back of your head that was pressed against the edge of the mattress.
“Was thinkin’ bout’cha…” He murmurs, tugging at a strand of your hair from behind. “Couldn’t stop talkin’ to the boys, ‘bout how pretty you are..” 
The short yanks at your hair to get your attention were becoming annoying, though you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of glaring face-to-face. 
“Told em’ how nice you look when yer sleepin’, when ya brush ya teeth, sayin’ that they’re not allowed to have ya....”
You hummed in response, trying to bend away to get closer to your puzzle. But you could sense the bubbling in your stomach, could feel that something was coming. Whether it’d be a bunch of slobbered kisses or your early demise, you couldn’t tell. 
“Oh really?” You asked, knowing he’d been adamant on not saying a word or letting make a peep about your existence in his gang-funded condo. 
“Yah, I did. Don’t believe me? Said i’d cut their fingers off, like boss does when some’n fucks up. I’d slam into em, make em watch while I...” 
He went quiet, and you thanked whatever made him. Whatever he said, you didn’t want to know; you’d already had enough of an unwilling look into his violent thoughts. 
“Well, doesn’t matter now, right... ‘cause now I gots’ya here. Mmph,” You hear him kick his shoes off, his face coming up to bury in your hair. “Smellin’ so good, lookin’ so nice fr’ me… wanting you so bad.” 
The sound of him inhaling you, his nose pressed to your neck as he shimmies his head deeper against you like a cat is uncomfortably warm. You feel two hands creep up, looking for your shoulders to push you back and make you more accessible. 
The gangster wasn’t normally so affectionate, so quiet and simple when he spoke. You were waiting for it to be replaced by his normal, angrily resentful behavior, the type that’d pull you by the hair to kiss you, that’d rant about the idiots he’d had to deal with for the day at you. But maybe, just maybe, you were in the clear for now?
“You’re acting weird,” You try to jerk away. “I’m not in the mood to entertain you, okay? Just, let me do my puzzle in peace. Go take a shower or something.”
He’s quick to respond, wrapping veiny arms around your shoulders and dangerously close to your neck. 
“Nuh huh, not unless yer comin’ with me, wanna show how much I loove you,” His head pops up closer to yours, the stressed crinkles under his eyes making him look older. “Cuz’ baby, you reallyy gotta hold on mee..” 
“Stop stop stop.” You couldn’t take the second-hand embarassment of listening him to try to sing again, horribly off key and far too confident in each drawn out word. “What do I have to do to stop you from singing again?”
“I can’t hold it in though. Love’s too strong for you, love.” His disheveled hair, once slicked back in an oily black, now strewn about across his forehead as it nearly covers his eyebrows. He presses his forehead towards you. “Lemme kiss. Told the boys you give the best kisses, lemme prove it..”
“Prove what-- they’re not even here!” You try to go under his arm-barricade, only to be stopped as he practically puts his full weight forward, dragging him with you each time you move. 
“Lovin’ you for so long, jusst a kiss, just one kith..” He reaches for your cheek with his lips, ignoring how you whip your head around in retaliation.
“No, no! You stink like a bar and ciggarettes, get off me.”
He grunts in frustration, biting down on his lower lip as his dark, full eyebrows furrow together. 
“Let me kiss or i’ll.. I’ll gut you like a fish, my lovely..” 
You stopped at that, looking out of the corner of your eye to his pink-tinted cheeks and strong neck that sweated at the sight of you. 
He puts a ringed knuckle to your cheek, huffing as his eyes go half-lidded. His suit was all wrinkled from rolling around on the bed, dirty with the day’s work and bar-stench as he forced you back against the end of the mattress. 
“C’mon, don’t make me say stuff like that just for a kiss…” He whined, scooting closer. “Maybe I’ll start singing again, y’knoww, if y’don’t come close.” 
“Please just… don’t hurt me.” You mumbled, trying to avoid that blank, dark look he often held that came crawling back a moment ago. You didn’t want that sober side right now; this was somehow easier to handle, even if it meant losing your dignity. 
“Don’t wanna, never will,” He hums, staring unbothered at your lips, as if he wasn’t holding you tight enough to suffocate. “S’just kiss me, need it bad..” 
You looked around, as if there was anyone else looking, trying to avoid the task that made you shiver inside. 
But you didn’t get a chance to reject the drunken gangster again, his wet lips coming against the side of your face. He poked the tip of his tongue out, flicking against your lip before going tongue-first into your surprised mouth. 
Anytime he had tried to kiss you, to do anything overtly intimate, the most he released was the silent huffs of a man too wrapped up in himself to let you hear anything of pleasure. But now, you witnessed the lewd shlops of his lips against yours, the neediness of the back of his throat, groaning to be deeper inside of you. 
One of his heavy hands cradled the back of your head, his stupor not caring (or rather, not noticing) how little you moved, how you seemed to be backing into his large palm that massaged your hair. 
“Loved’ya forever, so happy you were so stupid…” He mumbles between licks to the corner of your lip, diving back into the sticky warmth of you. “What kinda… mph, idiot, doesn’t..hugh, report to the police..?” 
With his arm once wrapped around you, the gangster takes your limp wrist to his collar, bringing it to hold his loose tie. He makes you drag him closer, guiding your slow and frowning lips in his one-sided makeout session. 
“Not’ma fault, making your life so much better now.. N’now, you’re mine.” He grins, a stupid little grin from the alcohol and delusion swarming his head as he consumes you, fingers coming to fiddle with your cotton T-shirt as he draws lines down your chest. “My sweet sunshine, all mine, forever n’ ever.” 
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bunnygirllover45 · 1 month
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my favorite ship dynamic fr
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