#lou writes

[ellieswyfe]

Positions

"oooh waitaminuteee.." the position he had you in was absolutely nasty. he had your knees pushed up to your tits in missionary and was repeatedly hitting your sweet spot which drew stars from your eyes. "unghh...all i-in my tummy pa," you looked up at him teary eyed.

"yea? you like that baby- show me where you feel it at mama." he responded. a mixture of wet sounds, moans, and the bed-board, was all that could be heard in the room. it smelt like straight sex- pure sin and if you weren't in the position you were in you would probably be disgusted- you should be but it felt too good to even care. "looook, i-it's right hereee," you sobbed, reaching your tiny hand past your belly pudge to show him where he was pleasuring you.

in between feeding you deep, long strokes, he looked down at the connect of his dick inside your thick wet pussy and moaned. flipping you over on your belly, putting you into a new position, while beads of sweat dripped down his forehead and abs. "mhm gonna make me nut ma..fuck” he threw his head back in satisfaction at the delicious sight.

“s-shit aah..too much sl-slow downn” you whined when feeling his tip prod at your cervix. the pleasurably painful thrusts becoming too overwhelming for you in this position after you’ve came countless times already. you make a damn near deadly mistake when you reach down to push at his lower torso hoping to stop the extent of the thrusts.

“nu-uh move ya fucking hands..not done wit you yet,” he said picking up the pace smacking your hands away…not being in the position to complain all you could do was take it and hope your not too sore the next morning. </3

mood song

: ONYYY, connie, erenn, maybeee jean if you squint

a/n (not my best work but ive got writers block 😔 so send me some asks nd ill write them!!)

[icarryitin]

Effortless

spencer reid/gn!reader

coming into this from a fandom where my last fic got literally 11 notes (half of which were my own self-rbs) the reception for workplace hot was heartwarming, pls accept more pre-relationship work crush goodness as thanks🧡🧡

masterlist

word count: 1.6k// warnings: absolutely hopeless pining, this man is so so clever but so so oblivious

“Chicken.”

“Did you know, the origin of ‘chicken’ in reference to someone who’s afraid can be traced back to the use of ‘hen-heart’ as a synonym for ‘fainthearted’? Its first documented use was in the York Mystery Plays - which are considered to have been written prior to 1450.”

“Chicken.” Morgan repeats.

“Shut up.”

While his second response is decidedly less eloquent, Spencer’s pretty sure he can’t fact-dump his way out of this particular conversation.

It’s not exactly a secret - his giant, all consuming, world ending crush on you - at least, it’s not a secret from anyone except you. He’s past being embarrassed about it when one of the others brings it up, as long as it’s not around you. That’s happened exactly once, and Spencer’s automatic response was to chatter about the migration patterns of a specific type of bird he’d read an article about the day before. Ceaselessly. No matter how much everyone else had begged him to stop, until the previous subject was well and truly forgotten. So when you’d asked a leading question about another kind of bird? He was more than happy to oblige. You’ve always done that, listened to him. It’s nice.

It’s probably what got him in this mess in the first place.

Somewhere along the way, a routine developed itself. He remembers the first day you asked him to elaborate on something he’d started on earlier in the day, trivia about the fluctuations in the popularity of a specific make of car. It had ended up being useful in the context of the case anyway but, more importantly to Spencer, the tidbit had you cornering him in the kitchen to ask him about it. And now it’s just what happens. You potter around to make your lunch, he chatters about the most recent paper he’s read like your own personal podcast.

It’s a comfortable friendship, solidified by little things like that. Though they’re not all that little to him, if anything they’ve only deepened his feelings for you - he doesn’t let on, for your sake, he tries not to.

But his affection sneaks out in other ways.

He gravitates towards you without realising it, just to exist in your space. At the round table, on the jet, at crime scenes, in whichever office the local PD have cleared out for the team. He’s never hovering, but he’s not not hovering. Just working parallel to you. It’s why he likes the bullpen, for all its hustle and bustle, because he can look at you out of the corner of his eye whenever he wants to. He can spin his chair to face you, stretch his legs out across the aisle, and let a wave of sheer steadiness wash over him. Sometimes it’s you, reaching over to hand him something or abandoning your post completely to perch on the corner of his desk. Spencer thinks that’s what it might be, the peace you seem to exude that quiets his busy mind - the kindness you extend to victims and their families that flows through your very veins. It follows you like an aura, there’s very little he won’t do to be bathed in it whenever he can. It’s all led to a unique dynamic that means you’re paired up together more often than not.

You move around each other unconsciously now, leaning over maps and files and evidence. Swapping pens and ducking under one another’s arms as you both scribble away at the board. It’s almost choreographed, natural. Everything is with you, and that’s what gets him. There’s a part of Spencer Reid’s brain that is dedicated to considering his actions in relation to the people around him, running in the background like a computer programme, but he doesn’t have to run it around you. He doesn’t think, for once. He just does.

It’s effortless, second nature, to make space for you. The same as it is to leave a seat open for you, even if it’s the only one. To nudge you gently when you’re too far in your own head to realise you’re picking at your skin. You’ve started nudging him back in recent weeks when he does the same, chewing on the inside of his lips and paying absolutely no mind to the damage he’s doing. You notice, you care enough to stop him. Just like you’ll leave an empty space on the nearest desk for him to hop up on. He’s not sure if you realise you’re even doing it. Clearing perfect Spencer-sized spots at every precinct and office you’re set up in, because you know he prefers it to the chairs. Which makes his own actions feel a little less overt and, in turn, lets him breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe this is just what good friends do for each other. He can call you that, at least, if his own fears won’t afford him the chance to call you anything else.

Though, he’s not sure he could stop himself from taking care of you in his own way if he tried. Mostly because he’s not trying in the first place.

He didn’t even realise what he was doing, the first time he turned to you to double check your protective vest was secure. Narrow fingers tugging on straps, barely even processing the inviting warmth of you underneath them, he’d been too focused on making sure you were as protected as you could be. And then he’d walked into the Unsub’s home ahead of you anyway.

Spencer never walks ahead of you, anywhere. He’s always ushering you in first, something drilled into him by some unknown force, his basest of instincts - you’re ahead of him into the office, into precincts, into crime scenes, even into the elevator. But in a hostile situation? He’s first through the door every time.

So much so that it’s routine now, wherever the case, whoever is around. He grasps the shoulders of the thick vest and wiggles it, he rips the velcro straps off at your waist only to secure them again. A little tighter, and he’s quietly grateful that you let him. The heat of you at his back is reassuring when scenes aren’t secure. To know that, based on his experience anyway, the Unsub will more than likely jump out ahead of him - and he’ll be the one between you and the bullet. Which is maybe a little dramatic, but it’s the truth.

“Ready, boys?”

Doctor Spencer Reid has never claimed to believe in any god, but he makes sure to thank something for the interruption. Anything to get himself and his giant crush out from under Derek Morgan’s microscope.

It’s Emily who speaks, Emily who tosses protective vests at him and Derek, but Spencer’s eyes are focused on you entering the office behind her. You’re concentrating on your own vest, securing straps that’ll only be repositioned in a minute or two. But you still do it yourself each time, as if you’re not expecting him to come over and double check your work. There’s no way you haven’t noticed by now. That he’ll do it every time, that he doesn’t do it for anybody else, that he spends twice as long checking on your vest than he does securing his own. FBI emblem emblazoned on his chest, Spencer crosses the room dutifully to conduct his little ritual.

Velcro isn’t quiet. It pierces through the background noise when he undoes the buckle at your side and tears it free, but his eyes don’t move from the task at hand. Yours are heavy on his face, the way they always are when he gets this close. He pretends not to notice.

“Thank you.” You whisper softly. So softly that between the chatter and gun checking behind him, only the two of you can hear.

It’s only now, now he’s certain your vest is snug as possible, that he allows his careful gaze flicker to meet yours. He struggles not to take a step back with the force of it.

“Of course.” He replies, reluctantly pulling his cold fingers out from the warmth beneath the shoulders of your vest. His smile, small, self-conscious, is returned tenfold and beaming. The same way it always is. He doesn’t know how you do it - see the things you see every day and still manage a grin wider than the Río de la Plata. Maybe he can’t explain everything.

He catches a movement over your shoulder, it’s Morgan. Arms folded at the elbow, fists tucked close to his chest, as he makes the exaggerated movements of a chicken. Head bobbing and all. The teasing support, because that’s all it is, is nice to have - but there’s not one member of the team who understands exactly why he’s so afraid to say anything to you. In an ideal world, he wouldn’t be. He’d be able to pull you aside and tell you exactly how many days it’s been since he’d met you, started crushing on you, fallen absolutely hopelessly in love. It kind of all started at once, if he’s being completely honest. And in that ideal world, you would smile that billion kilowatt smile and tell him you love him too, and even the paperwork from the bureau wouldn’t matter. This isn’t an ideal world, however. He knows that better than most.

Spencer’s been rejected before, more than even he would care to admit, by friends and lovers and parents and colleagues and strangers. But he’s not sure he could take it from you, not while you hold his heart so tenderly in your hands. Even unaware of the responsibility, you’re gentle with him.

He’ll keep you close, regardless, as much as he can without arousing your suspicion. He’ll keep making space for you and double checking your vest until every ugly confession claws its way out of him.

That’s enough, for now.

if you’ve made it this far, pls know i am kissing u gently on the forehead🧡🧡

i’m also thinking about opening requests for all things pre-relationship spencer bc mutual pining and obliviousness is my fav fav fav thing, in case anyone was interested👀

[moldycantaloupe]

Mushy May Day 25

Sharing a secret comfort item

Pairing; Swiss/Aeon

Cw; Disassociation, non-verbal Aeon

notes; thanks as always to @forlorn-crows for putting together the prompts list!

Aeon was… off, in a way. Swiss observed the quint from across the room, their back turned to him as they got their sleepy time tea ready. Usually during this part of their nighttime routine, their hips would be swaying to a silent song, nearly mumbling to themselves as they worked. A giggle here or there. But this night, they were stone. Quiet. 

He pretended to not have been staring at them when they suddenly turned, a steaming mug cradled in their hands. His suspicions were only proven further, though, with their solemn expression and nearly dead eyes. Had something happened? He wasn’t sure; they were great all day, the shift happened just an hour prior. When their bubbly persona suddenly went quiet. They beckoned Swiss as they began walking back to their shared room, even their tail dragging behind them. Swiss’ twitched in anxiety as he went to follow.

They were quicker than him in all regards, fast shuffling towards the door before they entered. Swiss was ten paces behind, and when he entered himself, they were standing next to the bed, their mug suspended in the air as they tried to deposit it to the bedside table. Swiss closed the door behind him and stalked towards their figure, their breathing shallow but not enough to warrant panic. Autopilot, maybe. Carefully, he took the mug from them and finished setting it down. They did nothing to acknowledge this notion but to move their arm back down their side.

“Hey,” Swiss leaned in to try and meet their eyes, which he was successful in. They stared back, but they weren’t looking. “Hey, bug, you in there?”

Aeon blinked once, twice, before their eyes began to flutter and widen slightly, suddenly aware again. They took in a deep breath before sighing, leaning back into Swiss’ body.

“There you are…” Swiss cooed softly, kissing their shoulder. They still didn’t respond, not vocally at least, but it was a start. “What’s happening?”

Aeon bit their lip and gave a halfhearted shrug.

“Can you talk?” A beat, they opened their mouth before shutting it, and shook their head. “Alright, we can work with that. C’mere.”

Swiss guided them to lay on the bed, on top of the covers, but didn’t join. They stared up at him with those wide eyes, curious and confused.

“Hold on, I think I have something that can, uh…” he waved his hands around as he walked towards his closet, “help.” 

He dug well into the closet until he found what he was looking for, grunting just a bit as he picked up the blanket. He walked back over and sat on the bed with a loud huff, making their mouth twitch in a smile. Another start. 

“This is a weighted blanket Mount gave me ages ago,” Swiss explained as he began to unfold it in his lap, “I used to have problems with, uh, you know,” he chuckled awkwardly, “and he said this could help ‘ground me.’ It helped, a lot, and I think it might help you, too.”

Unceremoniously, he draped the blanket over them, one of the squares hitting them in their chin. They chuffed and poked it away, their eyes watching him intently as he finished laying it all out. He turned off the bedside light before joining them underneath, their arms and legs immediately latching to him.

He waited a couple minutes to gauge their reactions. Their breathing slowly evened back from shallow to deep inhales and exhales. Their eyes were still clouded, a little hazy even, but they seemed to be calm.

“That better?” He whispered. They dug their head underneath the blanket and onto his chest with another chuff and a nod. He smiled and kissed a horn. 

“We do have to talk about this later, okay?” Swiss rubbed their back, and they leaned into his touch. Another beat before they nodded, a bit hesitant. He rested his chin in between their horns and pulled them further into him, a low purr beginning deep in his chest. They nuzzled into it, sighing quietly.

Aeon squeaked, suddenly, barely audible between his purrs and the blanket, but he hummed in consideration.

“Th… thanks.” They practically breathed it out.

“Of course, star.”

[honey-sweet-hiraeth]

The Hallway

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

A/n: Whaaaat the fuck people. I started writing this based on Lizzie's Oscars look. It was gonna be a cute little not quiet enemies to lovers fic. Right? Right??? No! I just started writing having no clue what was gonna happen and now there's human trafficking??? And mentions of R going through human trafficking?? And trauma?? And Wanda being fucking adorable. I'm so confused. I don't know how we got here. But yeah the dress Wanda wears on the mission is the one from the Oscars look. Send help. Have fun. What did I even write?

P. S. I was writing this all night what is sleep. My noggin is tired.

Warnings: Human Trafficking (Wanda and Yn are saving people), Talks about Yn going through Human trafficking, Author doesn't know what they're doing and it shows, nightmares (mentioned), Wanda is cute as fuck, Wanda is a tease. (A cute tease)

Fluff?? Hurt Comfort??? I dunno.

Not proofread.

"I don't hate you, you know." Your voice must've startled her, because Wanda turned a bit too quickly with her hand over her heart.

You were preparing to go on a mission together. The first time you'd ever gone on a mission alone with Wanda. She tended to avoid being teamed up with you if she could.

You figured she just didn't like you. It never really bothered you too much. Maybe a little.

Until you heard her fighting so hard against a mission with you, and only you. She pleaded with Steve in front of all of the other Avengers. Natasha snickered in her corner seat and you wondered what was so funny?

You were frankly a bit offended that Wanda would rather pretend to date 'anyone else', for the mission. You could be a great fake partner! The best even. Nonetheless Wanda wanted nothing more than to avoid being around you. Going so far as to offer to go with Sam or, god forbid, Vision.

You were the best undercover agent they had aside from Natasha. Who would've been coming with you if she weren't so busy.

Wanda stared at you blankly for a moment. Tilting her head.

"Good to know." She nodded, going back to adjusting her dress. It didn't sound like she believed you.

"I spoke with Nat." You continued. "I asked why she would suggest that you came with me for this. When she knew you hated my guts."

Wanda turned to you with her eyebrows raised. You stepped forward and fixed the tangled tassels around her neck as you spoke.

"She laughed at me." You smoothed the front of her hair, spraying a bit of extra hairspray in it. "She told me you thought I hated you. That you thought I hadn't forgiven you for the Ultron situation."

Wanda winced, and sighed sharply. "We don't need to talk about this."

"We- we can though." You frowned and Wanda shook her head.

"Not right now. We have a job to do." She walked past you and you caught a breath of her perfume, it was floral and spicy. You liked it.

You shook yourself free from your thoughts and followed behind her, out the door of the safe house where your clothing and accessories were set out for the two of you, and to the car waiting out front.

The ride was quiet. You stole glances at Wanda as she stared out the window, her jawline fully on display with her hair pulled into a sleek updo. Wanda was pretty, in that unassuming way most people didn't notice until she was fully dressed up.

You noticed during battle. From the way she locked her jaw and sent enemies flying, to the way she would meet your eyes with fire in hers and you just knew the adrenaline pumping through her veins was similar to yours.

You'd never actually seen her on a mission outside of something confrontational. You knew nothing of her undercover skills or her ability to blend in and go with the flow while also keeping her mind on the objective.

So you were pleasantly surprised when you entered the target's party and she easily slipped her hand in yours. You glanced at her and she smiled fondly at you, leaning closer and setting her chin on your shoulder.

She was close enough to kiss.

"We'll make our way around the room and mingle for a bit, then we can sneak off, but not before we speak to Damien." Her accent was soft and alluring. If it weren't for her actively speaking about the mission, her breath against your cheek would've made you forget you were even on one.

Maybe this was the real reason you never worked jobs with Wanda. She was very, very distracting.

You smiled, chuckling a little as two elderly men walked by, eying you with judgment. They were just jealous, you decided. You did happen to have the most beautiful woman at the event right on your arm.

"Okay darling. Whatever you say." You led her further into the group of socialites and powerful figures of the underground. "You just let me know when you're ready to run off."

Wanda held her head high as you walked through the crowd. You really did look like a powerful couple. People you didn't know in the slightest sent you nods and smiles as you passed. They regarded you with respect, even though they knew nothing about you.

After all you were mysterious guests, dressed in expensive designer clothing and walking as if you owned the place. As far as they knew you did own the place.

It took only a few minutes before Damien Gavroche, the true owner of the establishment and one of the men you needed to take down, approached you.

"My my you're a stunning couple aren't you?" He smiled impishly at you. Nausea nearly overtook you just looking at him. You were there because he was trafficking young girls. You hated people like him with all you had.

Wanda's grip tightened on your hand. She was the only Avenger who knew why people like Gavroche truly disgusted you. You had experience with them, and they genuinely made you afraid.

You swallowed the bile rising in your throat and smiled brightly at the short, greasy looking man.

"Thank you," you shook his hand. "It's truly all my darling though. If I had been on my own for this I'd have no clue what to wear."

You kissed Wanda's head and she hummed, leaning into you.

"The thing is. I don't remember adding your names to the list?" It was stated as a question but you knew what he meant. 'How did you get in?'

"That's odd," you furrowed your brows. "We only had to present these invitations at the door."

That was the truth, you mused as you handed the slips of paper to him. You really hated lying. It just worked better when you didn't have to do it very much.

Damien looked at the invites for a moment then smiled, handing them back to you.

"My mistake" He apologized, slipping his arm around Wanda's waist to lead you both across the room. You felt Wanda tense beside you. His hand was nearly on her ass. You grabbed his wrist and moved it so his hand rested higher on her back.

Damien scowled at you as you did so. You sent him a warning glare back. You hoped he caught the meaning of your actions. 'Don't touch what isn't yours'

Not that you were actually possessive over Wanda. You were just playing your part, and maybe feeling a bit protective of your teammate.

Wanda leaned further into you now that your arm was draped across her shoulders. You let your thumb graze along her exposed skin. An attempt at comforting her and looking like you were truly a couple, you told yourself. Not at all because Wanda's skin was soft and you couldn't get enough of the feeling.

Before you knew it, you and Wanda were in a secluded VIP section. You recognized some of New York's most wanted lounging in the room. It made you nervous. If people like that were casually hanging out around here. What kind of party were you really at?

You shivered and looked to Wanda, her face told you she was thinking the same thing. This could mean trouble.

You tried to relax, falling into a seat with a small sigh. It worked until Wanda perched herself right on your knee, picking a flute of champagne off a nearby tray and taking a slow sip as she surveyed the room.

"I don't think I recognize you twos." A strong Brooklyn accent caught spoke up above the murmuring of the others.

"We're new in town." Wanda spoke up, her voice exuded power and confidence. It wasn't a tone she'd ever used since you'd met her.

You sat up, placing a hand on her hip and leaning your cheek against her shoulder. She draped an arm around you and ran her fingers through your hair.

Again. You almost forgot you were on a mission. Wishful thinking you guessed as you met the gaze of a woman with long white hair. Her pale blue eyes held something unsettling in them. Was is recognition?

She smirked at you and raised her glass. Did she know you?

You looked up at Wanda, she was already looking in the direction of the woman. She didn't look at you, instead displaying her jaw to you as she absently handed you her champagne and crossed the room to grab another one.

The white haired women shifted from the armchair she was sitting in and into the cushion next to you.

"What is she your keeper?" Her lips quirked up into a playful, if not a bit mischievous smirk. You laughed nervously.

"No, not really." You matched her expression, "Why, do you think I need kept?"

"No not at all. Quite the opposite." She chuckled "Beasts like you aren't meant to be tamed."

"Beasts?" You raised an eyebrow. "You find me to be beastly?"

"Only in the most interesting of ways. I can see it in your eyes." Her gaze pierced yours. "You're uncomfortable here. You'd much rather be somewhere much less," Her eyes wandered the room with a look not dissimilar to contempt, "sophisticated."

You laughed. "Something like that."

You sighed, glancing at Wanda who seemed to be struggling to escape a conversation with Damien and one of his associates.

"The social aspects of this line of work aren't really my strong suit. I'm not nearly as polite as my partner." You nodded toward her. "For example. I would've knocked our hosts head of his shoulders by now."

The woman laughed, brushing her fingers along your arm. Was she flirting with you?

You bristled, looking back at her before turning back to see Wanda stalking back toward you with a scowl.

"Uh oh" The white haired woman looked between the approaching Wanda and you. "Did I get you in trouble?"

Before you could respond slender fingers wrapped around your wrist and tugged you upward. Now, only inches from your face, Wanda looked much more intimidating.

"I think we need a break." Her voice was venomous as she glared back at the woman. She began to drag you away and you looked behind you to see the woman sending you an apologetic look.

Once you were out of view from the guards outside the VIP room, Wanda pushed you down another Hall and separated herself from you.

"You gave us a good excuse to get out of there." She spoke lowly, "not that I think you should be flirting with criminals while on a job."

"What was I supposed to do make a scene?" You were genuinely asking. Would she be happier if you'd just shut down the conversation right at the start?

"Of course not." She huffed walking faster down the hallway. "The girls are somewhere on the sub level."

"You mean the basement?" You chuckled.

"Sure" she led you toward where the staircase down should be, but before you could reach it she was ducking into a doorway and dragging you with her.

"Oof" Your back hit the wall and within moments you were trapped against it with Wanda leaning heavily on to you.

You suddenly felt out of breath. Then Wanda kissed you and stole what little oxygen you still had in your lungs.

It was a hot kiss, full of energy and passion that had been missing in every relationship you'd ever had. Before long you were gasping between kisses and Wanda was slipping her tongue into your mouth and you groaned, tightening your grip on her sides and pulling her closer to you.

It was all happening very fast. You hadn't quite caught on to the situation until you noticed footsteps passing by, you barely pried your eyes open enough to see two armed men walking by. They stopped, watching you for what seemed a bit longer than necessary.

Wanda's hands slipped under your your dress shirt and her nails traced your stomach. Within seconds you were much more focused on her than the men not so subtly enjoying your little show.

Wanda pulled away and pressed her forehead to yours to catch her breath. She giggled softly, not opening her eyes. You took the moment to study her. You always though Wanda was pretty, but up close and intimate like this, she was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.

"I love you." She said it just above a whisper, so it reached your ears and likely the men behind her.

Wait what?

Her lips moved to your neck and your eyes fell shut again as you melted against her. What we're you thinking about again?

Her teeth grazed along a sensitive spot on your neck and you groaned. What was going on? You were meant to be doing something right? Where were you again?

Wanda laughed again, pressing a couple quick kisses to your neck before she pulled away to look at you. She looked amused.

"They're gone now." What? Who was gone?

You looked behind her at the hallway. It was empty. Oh.

Wanda pulled away and you found yourself missing her closeness.

"Let's go." She nodded toward the stairway and you cleared your throat, catching up to her. Right. Important mission. You needed to get a hold of yourself.

Getting to the girls was easy, seeing them was a different story. Your heart caught in your throat. They were so young. Younger than you were.

You grit your teeth. You were going to killed them, Gavroche and everyone else involved. You nearly turned around to confront Damien right away, but Wanda's hand on your arm stopped you.

"Let's get them out of here. We can take care of the rest once they're safe." Her eyes were compassionate. You held her gaze for a moment before closing your eyes. You couldn't think as quickly now, and it wasn't because Wanda was distracting you.

You nodded, "how?"

"The same way we planned. Sneak them out the back." She hesitated. "I'll used my powers to ensure no guards see us leaving. We'll have to take them in groups." Her hand lingered on your arm, rubbing your bicep soothingly.

You nodded, opening yours eyes with new resolve. You could do this.

You got to work freeing the girls of their binds. They were afraid, but you assured them you would get them to safety.

Things went smoothly. You were glad they did. You weren't sure if you could handle failing a mission like this. Soon enough the girls were free and being transported to a safe facility where they could get medical care and be returned to their families.

You were relieved. They were mostly untouched. You found them in time to save the majority of them from the horrors you'd experienced.

With the last girls quietly taken away, it was time to face Gavroche. You shuddered at the thought. You wanted him to pay, but you didn't want to look at his weasily little face again.

When you came into the room you were surprised to see the party was over. There was no one in the VIP room or out in the main area. You frowned, on your guard as you scanned your surroundings.

Then the white haired woman emerged from a previously unseen space, with Damien in cuffs.

"Thanks for the help." She smirked, looking you up and down.

That's why she seemed to recognize you. She must be S.H.I.E.L.D.

"So. Gavroche.." You caught his attention. "That's a French name meaning “street urchin” or “mischievous child”"

Wanda, the agent and Damien all looked at you quizzically.

"What of it?" He glowered at you.

"Nothing, nothing." You shrugged. "It just fits." You looked him over. "You're tiny and you look like you live in a gutter."

He grumbled something obscene in response. Wanda chuckled next to you. Then the agent spoke again.

"His employer is still out there. He narrowly escaped." You bristled at her words. "From what I understand you have a history with him. Preston Alexis."

You calcified. Freezing at the mention of his name.

"Y/n." Wanda touched your face, bringing your attention to her. "Do you know him?"

She knew the answer, but you nodded anyway. "Yeah"

"We're going to have you stay in a safe house. Both of you." The agent looked between you and Wanda. "Until we catch him. He's notoriously bad at hiding without help and his contacts are limited. We'll get him."

You only nodded.

The ride to the new safe house was a blur. In contrast to the ride to the party, you stared out the window, and it was Wanda who stole glances at you.

She didn't ask if you were okay, and you were grateful for her for not trying to have a conversation with you. You didn't think you could handle it. You were glad you had this mission with Wanda. With anyone else you would've had to explain your reaction to Preston's name. You'd have to relive your experience out loud.

You were curled up on the couch in the safe house. It was the first place you went after you got there. You hadn't moved at all in the time it took Wanda to take a shower and change into some clothes left in one of the rooms for agents to use.

The outfit was comically large on her. Large sweat pants much too long for her legs, with the waist cinched as far as Wanda could get them, and what had to be a quadruple x sweater that fell past her knees.

You would've commented on it if you weren't freaking out.

She tugged your arm until you were sitting up, and began unbuttoning your shirt. It felt far too intimate for the state of your relationship, or lack thereof, but you didn't complain.

After tonight, you wanted to be closer to Wanda.

Wanda pushed your dress shirt off your shoulders and you helped her get it the rest of the way off. Then she handed you a hoodie that was equally as oversized as hers. You put it on and chuckled. You were drowning in fabric. It was perfect though. Cozy and oversized in a way that felt safe. Like when you were a kid and you wore your uncle's jacket at the fair. It was a similar fit.

Once you were snuggled up in the hoodie, and sitting on the couch, Wanda turned on the TV and left the room. The screen was playing reruns of M.A.S.H. You smiled faintly. It was a comfort show, oddly enough.

You eventually took off your dress pants, opting to just wear the hoodie as a nightgown. You pulled the fabric over your legs as you settled back in just in time for Wanda to come back with two cups of tea. Eyeing the dress pants you left unceremoniously crumpled at the bottom of the sofa.

She didn't look at you, yes she glanced in your direction but she wouldn't hold your gaze. She'd watch you and look away the moment you looked back. You couldn't tell what she was thinking.

She handed you the tea and hummed quietly in response when you thanked her. You watched her pretending to pay attention to the show, and you were overwhelmed with the need to comfort her. Or did you want her to comfort you?

You thought back to what Natasha said. 'She thinks you're not over her invading your mind. She wouldn't explain why, but she said you're still haunted by it and I think she still blames herself for it.'

"I don't blame you."

Wanda looked up from her tea, still avoiding your eyes.

"I actually think I needed to see it again." You sighed, resting your chin on your knees. "You can't heal what hurt you if you black it out."

"You can't be serious." Her eyes were on you. You could feel them. You didn't look at her, because you knew she'd turn away the second you did. "You've had nightmares about it ever since we met. You project them a lot in your sleep."

You shrugged, "And I'll keep having them. Especially now."

Wanda didn't respond, out of the corner of your eye she looked mortified.

"That's not your fault."

"I read the mission file. Before you." She didn't avoid your gaze when you turned to her this time. "That's why I was so determined to go with someone else."

"What?"

"I- I was-"

"You were trying to protect me."

"In a way." She turned away, twisting imaginary rings around her fingers.

Within a moment you had crossed the couch to pull her into a hug. She hugged you back tighter than you'd expected, and she didn't let go for a while. You chose to enjoy the embrace, taking in her warmth.

It was strange to think only that morning you two would barely talk, and now she was quickly becoming a source of comfort.

Her arms dropped from around you, and you pulled away. "I think I want you on missions with me more often."

She looked surprised.

"I'm serious." You chuckled. "You were a genius. Even if I was undercover as a couple with someone, I wouldn't think to push them against a wall and kiss them when the guards came by."

You thought you might've caught a blush blooming on her cheeks, but Wanda turned away too fast for you to know for sure.

"I was just acting on impulse." She mumbled, sounding almost shy.

"Your impulse was great." You laughed. "In fact I don't think anyone has ever kissed me like that."

Wanda laughed out loud at that. "What?"

"Seriously."

"Not even Carol?" Was that a hint of jealousy you heard?

You and Carol broke up a while ago. She was off-world all the time. It just wasn't working out.

"Please." You scoffed "We never even made it past little kisses. We tried but there was never.. Passion. In the end we didn't really want each other anyway."

"What did you want?"

"Other people I guess." You shook your head. "I dunno"

Wanda looked at you again and you realized just how much closer you were than before. Wanda's eyes lowered and it looked like she was leaning toward you. Then she pulled away.

You imagined it. That's all. You imagined it.

You wished you hadn't.

What was happening? Were there feelings there? You thought there might be on your end.

She said she loved you in the hallway, but that was just for the distraction right? To make the guards feel uncomfortable enough to leave you alone.

But what if it was the truth? Slipped into a moment meant to deceive the guards. It was safe to say it then when you couldn't possibly think she'd meant it.

Wanda was looking at you with an unreadable expression. You were overthinking. Not too loudly you hoped. Could she hear you?

You wondered what Wanda falling in love with you would look like. She'd feel protective of you. She lost a lot of the people she loved. She wouldn't want that again. You imagined soft touches and gentle offerings of things meant to comfort you or lift your spirits.

You looked down at your tea, then back at the TV.

No. That just meant she cared. You'd just confronted something scary. She wanted you to feel better.

You were still overthinking.

Wanda was still watching you.

Your mind was running a mile a minute.

She sighed.

You found your thoughts pushing in a new direction. What would you falling in love with Wanda look like?

Would it be jumping the gun to think you already were? You had a crush on her before sure. Seeing her from afar. She was beautiful and thoughtful despite everything she'd been through. You could fall down that rabbit hole easily. You kind of wanted to. Even if you hit the ground hard and found yourself hurting.

"Do you want to go get dinner?" You asked, before you could even think about it.

Wanda laughed.

"We can't leave the safe house Silly." She spoke between giggles.

"Right." You nodded. "Wanna make dinner?"

There was a pause.

"With me I mean." You clarified.

"Sure" She chuckled. You both knew you wouldn't be much help.

You took her hand, pulling her off the couch, and you didn't let go as you walked to the kitchen together. It felt right. So you linked your fingers through hers as you made your way to the pantry.

Wanda laughed as you both took in the nearly empty shelves, save for a few cans.

"It won't be much of a dinner." She giggled.

You grabbed a can of stew and handed it to her, refusing to let go of her hand as you searched for something you could pair it with. Sighing after you found nothing with your first look over the cans.

"We'll make it work." You chuckled "Canned stew, and good company. Sounds great to me."

Wanda hid her face in your shoulder and your heart skipped a beat. She sighed out a giggle against your arm.

You just grinned and pulled her out into the kitchen again to find a pot to warm up your stew in. You searched through the cupboards with your free hand.

"Uh" Wanda tugged your hand to get your attention. "We could find it easier if you let go of my hand."

"So?"

"So are you going to let me go anytime soon?"

"Do you want me to?"

Wanda didn't respond. So you squeezed her hand and continued your one-handed search.

"Aha!" You grinned as you pulled out a small pot. Wanda laughed and took the pan from you mumbling something about you being a goofball.

You only smiled at her. She was entertaining your obvious silly flirting. That was a good thing.

Wanda set the pot on the stove and turned it on. She found a can opener and tried to move her other hand to open the can. When your hand moved with it she paused.

"Can I have my hand?" You looked just a little bit helpless, maybe conflicted. You pouted. "I promise you can have it back when I don't need it anymore."

You reluctantly let her go, and she thanked you as she opened the can. You sat yourself down on the counter and she smiled over at you as dumped the can into the pot.

"Do you just sit on every counter out of impulse?"

"What?" You looked around at yourself. "What do you mean?"

"Anywhere there's a kitchen. Where you can spend time. You-" Wanda interrupted herself with a laugh "You always end up on the counter."

"I don't know. I just. I wanna sit but I don't wanna leave the area." You rubbed at your wrist.

"There's-" more laughter as she pointed into the dining room. "There's a chair, several of them, right there."

"Nah I'm good here." You watched her crack up again.

You liked her laugh. It was cute. The cutest.

Wanda walked up to you, walking between your legs and resting her hands on your lower thighs.

"Now I'm really good here." You grinned goofily down at her and Wanda's nose scrunched up as she giggled st you. You booped her nose. You had to. You just had to.

She paused, rubbing at her nose for a moment before she smiled up at you. There was a beat or two of silence before you noticed the red wisps on the air.

"Magic huh?" You chuckled, glancing at where she was loading bowls she somehow found with stew. She wasn't even looking at it. The talent she held amazed you. How long had she been going through the kitchen while you were distracted?

"A while" she smirked and frowned in confusion.

"Did I say that out loud or just think it very loudly?"

"You've been thinking very loud since we got here."

Oh.

Oh!

"Shit. Okay then." You wanted to kiss her.

Damn it, intrusive thoughts!

A cute little laugh burst from Wanda's lips. She leaned forward just a little..

Then put a warm bowl in your hands and put a spoon in it.

You couldn't help but giggle with her in response. "You're a total tease!"

"You're not supposed to kiss a girl until after dinner on the first date."

"This is a date?"

"Well you did ask me to dinner." She shrugged. "Now we're having dinner."

So you ate dinner. Then you watched a movie from the stash of old westerns under the TV. Seriously, who stocked this place? Steve?

Then you walked her to the bedroom door.

"Goodnight" You smiled and turned around, she tugged you backwards by the hood of your shirt/dress.

"There's one bedroom. Where are you going?"

"To the couch?" You pointed back toward the living room with your thumb. "If we're still following first date rules, I'm supposed to drop you off at the door and go to my place."

Wanda giggled, then put on a soft pout.

"You forgot your kiss." She put her arms around your neck, leaning in close enough you feel her breath on your lips. "And I'm not above inviting you in on the first date. You're not sleeping on the couch."

With that, she pulled you inside and closed the door behind you. She let you go and turned to walk away.

"Ah!" You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her giggling form back into you. "My kiss!"

You planted a soft kiss on her cheek and pulled away, walking to the bed. You could play the teasing game too.

Wanda laughed behind you. "That's all you wanted?"

You omitted your response, choosing to instead pull back the sheets. She knew that you definitely wanted a proper kiss, but you were determined to tease her back. Give her a taste of her own medicine.

"Y/n" She tugged on your sleeve, and you turned with an attempt at a neutral expression, but just looking at her made you smile again.

She pushed you down to sit on the mattress and you genuinely squeaked as she settled herself on your lap, hands on your shoulders. She chuckled and you almost felt embarrassed, but then her lips were on yours and you forgot everything but the tingling of your skin as her lips moved against yours and her fingers slipped into your hair.

You balled your fists in her sweater and groaned as she bit your lip and pulled away for air. Your foreheads were pressed together again and you flashed back to the moment in the hallway. You would be thinking about that hallway for a long time, oddly enough in a good way despite everything that was going on there.

How could she take such a horrible, scary day and make it feel so good? You weren't even afraid anymore.

Because Wanda was there, and she was safe, and she was amazing.

"You're magical." You breathed out and Wanda grinned.

"I've been told that."

"You have?"

Wanda spun her magic between her fingers and waited for you to catch on. It took a moment. Or five.

"Oh"

Wanda started giggling. "Oh!"

"Hey! I'm in a post-kiss haze right now. Don't be mean." You pouted for about two seconds.

Wanda kissed you again. Softly, gently, and way too shortly. Then you were smiling.

"Thank you."

"What for?"

"Today could have been horrible. I mean yeah we completed our mission but.." You trailed off. "I was content to be terrified and you made me feel better."

"What are friends for?" She grinned and you pulled back, frowning.

Wanda only laughed as you lifted her up and dropped her on the bed. You started to walk away but turned around and brought the covers over her shaking body as she kept laughing.

You tucked her in, then kissed her head and moved away.

"Goodnight" you said flatly and started to leave.

"No wait!" Wanda was still giggling as she scrambled out of the bed and pulled on you. "Where are you going?"

"To the couch." It tried to keep a straight face but you were struggling to keep from laughing.

"You can't leave me alone in here." She pouted. "Please stay?"

Damn she was good at this.

"Okay" you turned around and started getting into bed. Wanda slid in next to you with a cheeky little smile.

"Thank you."

"What are friends for?" You grumbled and couldn't help the small smirk pulling at the corners of your lips. "Friendly friends."

"Shut up." She chuckled and pulled you over into another kiss. "You're so fucking cute."

"Fuck you." You laughed a little and she grinned.

"Maybe some other time." She settled herself with her head on your chest and flipped the lights off with a flick of her fingers.

"Goodnight Wanda." You whispered into her hair.

"Good night moya lyubov" she mumbled into your chest.

You smiled as you fell asleep. For the first time, you wanted to sleep. The nightmares could come, but Wanda would be there in the morning, and that was where you wanted to be.

Tag list: @chelleztjs18 @i-do-it-for-the-gays @stonemags That's all I got

[louwhose]

I'm leaving it to you, the people that definitely follow me for the fics I actually share on here once in a blue moon, to decide.

(all of them are loz)

feel free to ask me about any of them if you'd like the help to determine your vote

[ravenpuffheadcanons]

Having an absolutely lovely time drawing tables and making charts and generally treating the writing of this fic as though I’m planning the next Mars mission. Why did no-one ever tell me how much sorting and organising you get to do when writing a mystery? I would have tried it years ago!

[loulucifer]

"I fear you are romanticizing me, because I am incapable of molding myself into the form you desire." "I promise you, I want to love you as you are." The Larsdunn Pride and Prejudice AU WIP

Read it here

I was overdue to make some moodboards for this fic Vince & Adam’s board and Andre & Phillipp’s board

(There will be a yam one eventually just give it time, i don't wanna be too misleading :) )

[rexc0re]

Gen Loss: The Unofficial Files

File One: Is this thing on?

- UF!Ranboo

A/N : Hello! Welcome to my Generation Loss AU smile not much to say but enjoy yippie

Summary : College student Ranboo has found some old tapes in the floorboard of his apartment. Over the course of a year we follow along with his discoveries of a organization that isn’t all that it seems…

Warnings : None

< A CLICK, FOLLOWED BY THE ROLLING OF A TAPE>

? : Is this thing…is it working?

< A REPEAT OF [?]’S SENTENCE PLAYS THROUGH A FAR AWAY SPEAKER >

? : Aha! It is! Great.

< SILENCE WITH THE SOUND OF PAPERS BEING MOVED AROUND >

? : January First, 1990, 10 am. Finding out the truth, file one side A.

? : On the night of December 25 I, Ranboo, found a box of 13 tapes under the floorboard of my brand new mind you, apartment.

Ranboo : I’ve only gotten through about 5 of these tapes and so far they have been….interesting to say the least.

Ranboo : The tapes begin at what appears to be some sort of organizations goal. Explaining how “Symphony Industries” is working on a project called “Generation Loss.”

Ranboo : Generation Loss, the project itself, is not explained and is vaguely described as a “mind warping revolutionary project.”

Ranboo : Mind warping is a bit of a weird descriptor. I mean what are they taking peoples minds and warping them? [he laughs] I don’t think that’s even legal.

Ranboo : But that’s not even the weirdest part of the tapes. As they go on it starts talking about a ‘Founder’. Which brings us to right now.

Ranboo : There’s something off about these tapes. The information given is weird. I have a feeling it’ll only get weirder. This town has always been weird and now these tapes make it more odd.

Ranboo : Whoever this Founder guy is, he seems like a bad person. I mean why would you want a project described as “mind warping”. What kind of messed up things are you doing that you have to have part of your, official mind you, tapes talk about your companies innovation with potatoes!?

Ranboo : Even the potato talk seemed fishy and not in the potato and fish meal kind of way. Now, I’ve done my fair share of investigations. I’ve looked into plenty of weird things! Including ghosts. Lost and lots of ghosts. So I think I’m pretty qualified to say when somethings weird. Aka this Generation Loss thing.

Ranboo : The name “Generation Loss” is weird in itself. The actual definition of Generation Loss is the loss of quality in an image or video after being copied over and over again. So how does that apply to a company which is known for psychological work? And the whole “mind warping” talk? Something here is wrong. Very, wrong.

Ranboo : So I, being the curious person I am, have decided to take it upon myself to uncover Generation Loss and it’s secrets. Whatever it may hold I will figure it out. The files are titled “Generation Loss : Chapters of the Project.”

Ranboo : So welcome to my project, “Generation Loss : The Unofficial Files”

< A CLICK, THE TAPE STOPS ROLLING >

A/N : Haha Hi guys so what did you think hoped you like it smile. This is a multi part series that for now will be consisting of 5 chapters or files. These will probably be released every Saturday for the next few weeks. That’s all I’ve got to say for now bye bye ;) [reblogs appreciated!!!!]

[just-another-dreamerr]

*throws this into the void* guys I made a thing

(My attempt at writing Casey and his mom in the bad timeline)

(*lights a candle* @funneylizzie is you’re out there, this is for you)

[eternitas]

So by now a good chunk of people have watched @quinton-reviews Video series (or as he calls it :'Mini series' lol) discussing Fred, iCarly, Victorious and now Sam and Cat.

One thing that just wouldnt let go of me (and I also made a comment on that) was a moment in iCarly he talked about in which Sam and Freddy as a couple have to deal with Freddies mum trying to seperate them. It all goes so far that Freddie finds out that Sam manipulated his application to a summer camp so he would be rejected.

I wont go into much more detail but lets say that Sams reason is not fully... Understandable here.

Now mind you I have only wwtched quintons review and never seen that particular episode myself, but their "fight" really bothered me because it seemed like a completely botched moment where they could've inserted a real character moment.

So. Here is my 5 minute first draft of "how it couldve gone" in scipt form

DISCLAIMER: I do not have a proper grasp on these characters so its likey that this is very out of character. But then again, the writers didn't do them that well either so-

[Scene: Sam and Freddy are upatairs in the iCarly studio, having an argument after Freddie found out that Sam is responsible for him not being accepted to the summer camp. They are alone in the room]

F: I want to know WHY sam!

S: because-- i was mad at you

F: for what?

S: remember when I asked you for the time and--

F: that can't be the reason.

S: it is!

F: Sam, tell me the truth right now or I am leaving!

S: no wait! Wait, please don't go-

F: ...

[Freddy is taken aback by her sudden display of panick and it knocks him out of his own anger. He becomes soft]

F: Sam. Please tell me why you did that. I want to understand.

S: because--- i don't want you to go.

F: but WHY

S: because I need you.

F: need me how?

S: I dont know! It's... Easier with you. Everything is. Like it is with Carly but different. You make things better.

[She sits down defeated and lets her head hang. Freddy hesitates then sits down next to her]

F: Like Carly?

S: yeah but differently. She makes things less awful and problems less.... Bad. She gives me a place I can call home. And you're giving me something like that.

F: being with me grounds you

S: yeah that.

F: ...

S: Please don't leave me.

[ Sam tears up and her voice breaks. Freddy pulls her close so she can lean onto him]

F: I'm still mad. I get now why you did that, but that doesnt mean that I will just forgive you and forget this. I really wanted to get into that summercamp.

S: I know.

F: It's not just a camp I really want to go to. I'd get some space from my mum.

[Sam sits up and faces Freddy with realisation.]

F: I could've had a summer without her constantly being around me. Not that she wouldn't try to still visit and call all the time. But that's not an option anymore.

S: I--- I didn't know.

F: yeah. why didn't you talk to me?

S: because! ... I didn't want you to see me as clingy. we weren't dating and I didn't want you to know what you mean to me.

F: but if we cant talk to each other then maybe we don't even have a friendship we can rely on!

[It grows quiet and freedy stands up. Sam tries to reach for him to sit back down but he manages to escape her.]

F: I'll go get Carly for you.

S: Freddy.

F: You seem to have no trouble talking to her.

S: Freddy!

[Carly comes in and stops in her tracks looking from freddy to sam and back]

F: I'll be going.

C: Freddy-

F: I'll text you. Take care of Sam.

[Freddy leaves without being stopped and Sam tears up again before anger gets to her and she starts to become violent in frustration.]

C: Sam! stop it!

[Carly manages to wrangle Sam away from her destruction and hugs her while Sam breaks into sobs and clings to Carly.

Black]

----

And then we get a full second episode of sam and freddie being awkward with each other and trying to mend their relationship.

[waterloou]

Finally posting this wesper fic ✨

[ellieswyfe]

Hood Connie Tales PT 1

(#hood connie being so sweet to his princesa 😍🫶🏾)

warnings: gun kink??, puerto rican connie, riding, daddy kink, chocking, mention of drugs and guns. (this is so nasty yall) 😂 MDNII!!

mood song (luv this song)

Hood Connie who picks you up at random ass times in the a.m 🤦🏾‍♀️. his light grey 2023 ford mustang BLASTING down your street. whether it be the music or the loud sound of his exhaust, you can always tell when he arrives. (your neighbors have complained multiple times)

Hood Connie who has a nice ass car, all blacked out with dark tinted windows, vegan leather seats, and dark blue leds, paired with red stitching all customized by him. which always smelt like a nice cologne mixed with a low, deep, weed smell. he even got your initials hand sewn into the passenger seat headrest.

Hood Connie who greets his baby with a loong kiss, sucking on your tongue and whining softly when you pull away. “c’mere girl,, wasn’t finished..”he says in a deep husky tone, closing his eyes and drawing you in for another kiss.“babyy stawpp” you giggle pushing at his chest, eventually giving into his kisses.

Hood Connie who when pulling out of your driveway, does that sexy thing where he puts his arms on the back of your seat and leans in his, so he can look in his back window, the hairs on his chin look gruff, like he hasn’t shaved ina while.

Hood Connie who pulls up to the nearest McDonalds (the only thing opened at the time) and orders you whatever you want off the menu. he always makes sure you eat even throughout the day while he’s at work.

Hood Connie who works as a mechanic and sometimes sells with his bro eren in his freetime. he doesn’t do it often but still makes hella money off of it when he does.(which ofc he uses to spoil you...and his car)

Hood Connie who isn’t too far into the drug business but still totes a heavy, black, glock 19 since he still has hella opps. opps who would go out of their way to try and hurt his girl and he wont be having that.

Hood Connie who pulls up to yalls favorite spot. a hidden lake that not too many people know about, which is only really used for fishers and kayakers but still hosts a beautiful view, which is even better a night with the stars twinkling off of the glistening dark water.

Hood Connie who lets you eat in silence before he starts to talk. “so wassup mami? did you need something, you seemed worried when you called…” his voice trailed off, he knew what was wrong he always does. its just that finals week was coming up and you were so stressed with all the studying and pre exams, youve had no time to spend with him. 🥺

Hood Connie who is not the slightest bit surprised when you swing your leg over the middle console and straddle him as if you’ve done it a million times before. wrapping your arms around his waist while leaning into his gun print sitting on his hip, and digging your face into his neck. he smelt good- really good.

Hood Connie who rocks you back n forth feeling up and down your thighs to squeezing your ass. when he hears your meek voice asking him to do the thing.. constance knows exactly what to do.

Hood Connie who reaches for his glock and caresses it on your cheek. when he feels ready he prods the tip on your plump lips until you open up. staring into your low hazy eyes, you begin to suck on the nozzle. sliding the underside of your tongue up and down, admiring the rifts and ridges.

Hood Connie who praises you all the way while you suck on his glock. “there ya go..suck on that shi good princesa.” and “good girl always doing what daddy says.” which makes him get uber hard when he hears you loudly moan for his praise.

Hood Connie who as your salivating on his gun, starts to touch on your pussy. you wore nothing but a hoodie and slides. connie was surprised to feel there was no kind of cloth clothing your core and he could immediately feel your wet sticky pussy, which was yearning for his touch. “please touch me papa..hurts there..” you whine sliding your lips off his glock now.

Hood Connie who lets his princess ride his dick while he holds up his glock to your head, chocking you.

“ooo..o-oh shit baby- so deep.” you sob while he thrusts up once again, continuing his brutal attacks on your pussy.

Hood Connie who might not last with the way your gripping and creaming around him, a white ring forming at his base. “ungh...oh fuck- dios mioss..chupando mi mierda bien..” he damn near screams feeling your cunt cleanch on him- hard this time letting him know your close.

Hood Connie who times his nutt perfectly, to be in sync with yours. he watches as your brows furrow and your mouth opens to form an “o” not even a drop of sound leaving those lips- until he hears a meek “ooo..o- shit daddy..ungh cummingg.” the grip you have on his dick almost making it impossible for him to pullout in time, cumming on your belly.

Hood Connie who carries wipes and aftercare supplies in his car, cleans you up and makes out with you.you continuing to straddle him for about an hour more till you fell asleep.

Hood Connie who stops by the corner store before dropping you off. leaving you sleeping in the car for a quick minute so he can get some of your favorite snacks.

Hood Connie who drops you off and is elated to hear that you passed your exams next evening, all thanks to him 🫶🏾🩷.

[icarryitin]

Pretty

spencer reid/gn!reader

i realised i’ve done a lot of introspective narratives about Feelings™️ but not a whole lot of interaction so pls have some as a treat ilu🧡

masterlist

word count: 1.9k // warnings: there is so much pining in here it could be a forest

You can’t sleep.

Sheep have been counted over, and over, and over again and still, it evades you. For a day where you’d been looking forward to nothing more than collapsing into bed at the end of it; you’re not best pleased. It’s a rough case as it is, you don’t want to be sleep deprived on top of everything else. But it just isn’t happening.

You count seventy three individual little swirly panels on the ceiling before you decide to get up. A walk might go a fair way to unravel your nerves enough to get a couple of hours, at least you hope it will.

With your jacket thrown over your old college hoodie, you don’t bother changing your sweatpants for jeans, and just slip your feet into your boots. Garcia would be outraged at the clashing colours. The look won’t win any best dressed awards, but at this time of night you’re more concerned with clipping your holster in place. You’re not taking any chances. Especially not with the victimology of this case - although you do have the advantage of knowing the Unsub is out there somewhere. It’s still not an overly comforting thought. But you’re out of options, it’s this or counting the rest of the ceiling panels and, frankly, you’re sure you’ll go blind if you have to stare at plaster swirls for much longer. So you tuck your phone and room key into your coat pockets, and leave the dingy little room behind for a while.

The hotel is, thankfully, almost completely dead, save for the night manager dozing at the front desk. Faded carpet plush under your feet, you’re quiet as you descend the stairs to the lobby and its dimmed lights. The world is dark outside the front doors and you hesitate. Is it really the best idea? To walk around in a city that’s home to a serial killer whose victims bear a striking resemblance to yourself? No, no it’s not. Especially not at, you tug your phone out of your pocket to check the time - jesus, two o’clock in the morning.

“Hey, you.”

It would honestly be wrong to say you’re not expecting his voice - if you were to guess which of the team would still be up and about at this time of night, you’d pick Spencer. It’s a no-brainer.

“Hey, me. Couldn’t sleep either?” Your smile is more strained than you mean for it to be when you turn it to him in response, he must have just come back, snuck in unnoticed while you were glaring at the time on your phone. He’s similarly dressed, coat huddled around mismatched pyjamas, another victim of case-induced insomnia then. His eyes are tired, they are more often than not these days. Yours aren’t all that better.

There’s a comfortable moment of silence where you just exist together, in the hushed quiet of the hotel lobby. Breathing in the calm of the night. It almost makes up for the chaos you know awaits the team in the morning.

“Is it nice out?” You ask, toeing the carpet with your scuffed boot.

“You’re not going for a walk, are you?”

“I’m armed, genius, and I’m twice as scary as anything out there.”

Spencer just huffs your name through an exasperated sigh and looks at you as you waltz past him with your hands in your pockets, turning at the waist to watch you go.

“So come with me.” There’s the vaguest hint of a teasing smile on your lips as you walk backwards towards to the front doors. He’s still not moved when you spin on your heel to push them open and walk off into the night - but you could live a hundred lives and still know the footsteps that follow you down the concrete steps anywhere.

He’s not exactly intimidating, but having him by your side in the small hours makes you feel safer than the weight of the gun at your hip ever could. You try not to think too hard about what that means.

“How many ceiling panels are in your room?” Your breath puffs out in a cloud, words winding around each other in the chill of the just about morning.

“A hundred and nine, if you count the ones that are cut in half.”

“Damn, I gave up at seventy three.”

“I’m not sure how much I believe that, I’ve never seen you give up on anything.” Spencer kicks a pebble into the road at the same moment your feet stop working.

To think he’s paid enough attention to you to notice a thing like that. Maybe you should expect it, especially being part of the team that studies human behaviour, but it still takes you by surprise. The idea that he could, would want to, notice things about you. It’s borderline dangerous. Stubbornness isn’t cute - you’ve been accused of being like a dog with a bone when it comes to your theories more than once. But the way he says it so casually yet so reverently, like it’s something to be proud of, like it’s something he admires. You just about manage to get your legs to cooperate before he can realise you’ve fallen a step behind.

He offers his elbow to you, an uncharacteristic first move, and you almost don’t know what to make of it. Spencer doesn’t initiate contact, ever. Or at least, you’ve never known him to unless it’s to check your tac-vest, and yet here he is. Hands in his pockets, sticking his arm out for you to take. You’re sliding your own arm through his before you even really realise it. Well, it would be rude not to wouldn’t it? When he’s offered so kindly?

In the name of safety, presumably. When there’s a killer on the loose and you just so happen to fit the victimology. Keeping you close is a precaution. You steer the conversation towards the case, if neither of you are resting then you might as well be trying to unravel the latest psycho’s motivations. Another precaution, although a little selfish this time around, to save your heart from falling even further for the man beside you.

“Statistically, people who are attractive are targeted more often that those who aren’t. This Unsub isn’t exactly going against the grain, he’s picking pretty victims.” He rattles off the thought as though it doesn’t threaten to stop your heart in your chest.

It was Spencer who’d pointed out the striking similarities between you and the victims in the first place.

“Doctor Reid, do you think I’m pretty?” Your scandalised gasp matches the hands you press against your chest in faux-shock. And, for once in his life, he doesn’t seem to have any words. He just stands there beside you, gulping like a fish. You like him too much to leave him squirming any longer than he already has.

“I, uh-“ He scrambles for a response.

“Because you’d be right, I am pretty.”

The answering chuckle you get is enough to encourage you to link your arm back through his.

“What you’re saying is,” You press on, shaking off the moment, giving him the time to recover, “There’s no shock factor. Single bullet to the head, dumped unceremoniously with the trash. There’s nothing that says ‘hey look at me’ about this guy.”

Spencer hums in agreement, suddenly very interested in his shoes as they traipse along the drizzle dampened pavement beside yours, and the conversation lulls. But you don’t mind. It’s never an uncomfortable silence with him, it never has been. You’re both more than content to just exist in the same space together - his is a calming presence, for all his nervous energy. There’s never any expectation to be anyone but yourself when you’re around him, no judgement, no pressure.

You’re more than happy to trundle along beside him between the streetlights, dodging puddles, the weight of your linked arms nestled comfortably between you. Except, you’re a profiler. So, for all his valiant efforts to keep your suspicions to a minimum, they’re just not quite effective enough. One glance at his face confirms that he’s thinking far too hard about something. You let your shoulder knock into his, your elbow in his side jolting him out of his thoughts.

“You’re doing it again.” It almost feels blasphemous to disturb the peace that’s settled over you.

Spencer releases his lip from between his teeth.

“There’s something we’re missing.”

“We’ll find it. With fresh eyes in the morning, I bet it smacks us right in the face.”

He doesn’t look like he believes you, and you’d have to agree with him there, but the furrow of his brow relaxes at your gentle reassurance. That’s enough for the moment.

A car door slams up the street and makes you both jump. For all the security the gun at your hip awards you, you’re still a little on edge. It’s just you, Spencer, and the door-slammer on the street - though the stranger seems to be so absorbed in his own world that he barely registers the pair of you. While you’re both fairly confident that the man walking towards you isn’t the Unsub, Spencer tugs you closer into his side by your linked arms all the same. He makes sure he’s solid where he stands between you and the passing stranger, even though you both know he wouldn’t stand a chance in that fight with his lanky frame. There isn’t a bit of you that minds the protection. Something catches in your chest, blooming, warming you from the inside out. It’s dangerous.

You’re not sure when you looped back onto yourselves, but the shadow of the hotel looms and suddenly there’s plush carpet under your feet again. Part of you is glad that your chances to embarrass yourself tonight are numbered. He’d be kind enough not to point it out if you did, though.

The elevator is too close to the front doors, there aren’t enough storeys to pass to get to the floor commandeered by the team, and your rooms are the first in the hallway. Doors opposite each other, the irony of the parallel isn’t lost on you. But it’s so rare that you get to spend time with him without any external pressures of a case or the prying eyes of more than a few colleagues. It feels a little unfair that the time has gone so quickly - an hour, your phone confirms when the screen lights up as you fish around in your pocket for your room key. There’s that pang in your chest again, the one that makes you feel like an impatient child. You know you can’t have him the way you want, you know why you can’t, you know it would probably end in heartbreak for everyone. But god, do you want him. It’d be worth every painful second.

Spencer’s voice across the hall stops your hand, room card outstretched halfway to the scanner in your fingers.

“For the record, I do.”

He’s chewing his lip again.

“You do what?”

You know what he means. He knows you know what he means. But neither of you will admit to it out loud. So it just hangs there, in the air between you, as you stand in front of your respective hotel room doors for a moment longer. And then he’s in his room, and you’re swiping your own keycard through the slot, and you’re shut away again. No less wired than you were when you left - but it’s hard to find it in yourself to worry about the sleep you definitely won’t be getting tonight, there’s no doubt about that.

Because Spencer Reid thinks you’re pretty.

if you’re reading this then thank you i love you i owe you my life i can’t wait to put these guys in more situations 🧡🧡🧡

[moldycantaloupe]

I just wanted to write fluffly Swisstom but the brain chemicals made me write spice so now you got both

Phantom was absolutely enamoured with Swiss since their summoning. Well, since after their summoning. During their first week of being Topside, the multi ghoul intimidated them. They’d hiss and bare their fangs towards him every second they could.

But after the initial fear simmered and them starting to ever so slowly open up to the pack, they were enamoured. 

They didn’t know what had possessed them to be so obsessed about him over the entire pack. They would giggle to themselves when they heard him laugh in the next room over, copy his slight and sometimes subtle movements, and focus on the way he carried out tasks. He always had a different approach to jobs than the rest of them; maybe that was one of the reasons. He was just so different.

The need to be seen by him became their only goal at one point. They could be praised all day by the pack, cooed over by the girls and take it with a small blush in the cheeks and a nod. But when they catch the golden eyes of Swiss, the way he smiles at them is so genuine and, oh. The low tone in his voice when he whispers a quiet, “good job,” just above their head. He must know it drives them crazy.

He definitely does know, though. They think. The closer they get to him, the more he makes it obvious. The way he absentmindedly scratches along their horns while deep in conversation with someone else. The way he brushes his hand over their shoulders when he needs to get to the cupboard above them. The way he squeezes their waist when cuddled up together, forcing them to hold back a whine lest they be caught. He does know.

They’re playing a fucked up game of song and dance at this point. A game of who will strike first, who will end all the platonic components of their relationship.

Phantom’s in his room clad only in a tank and boxers, the two of them laying on the floor together. Music was playing in the background, some old album they borrowed (stole) from Sunshine. They’re propped up on their side by their elbow while Swiss laid fully on his back, his face turned towards them. He’s telling a story from the day, his lips curved in a loud smile and his hands flying wildly in the air to illustrate the picture he tries to paint. They can’t focus on it with the way his tail idly wraps and plays with their leg, sliding it up and down in slow movements.

They know they look distracted, with a high blush that reaches past their ears. But his tail travels higher and higher, squeezing and caressing their knee. They squeeze their eyes tight and try to hold back the whimper.

“Ant?” Swiss’ voice breaks through their growing fog and their eyes snap open, the blush growing hotter against their skin as they stare. “What’s up, buggy?”

“I-” his tail squeezes just past their knee and they let out a breathy whine, watching his face fall into a smug look, “Swiss, you’re driving me crazy.”

“Am I?” He teases. The spade of his tail drags along their warm skin. He bends his finger in their direction, beckoning them forward. 

They fumble their way over and land on their hands and knees just above him, their faces mere inches apart. They think it’s unfair how steady his breathing is compared to their ragged inhales.

“Swiss, their eyes flicker to those lips that are still curved in such a shit eating grin and licks their own, “I don’t- I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.” They blurt out.

“Oh, yeah?” His voice grows husky suddenly and the hands from before move to rub against their body, one on their back and one on the back of their thigh. “Are you going to do something about it?”

They surge forward with the permission granted, pride blooming in their chest when they get an undignified grunt out of Swiss. The hand on his back pushes in deeper, forcing them closer as their lips dance messy and uncoordinated against each other.

“Fuck-” Their voice is high and muffled against his lips and their hips twitch to move. “Been wanting you.”

Swiss leans up and breaks their kiss, his tongue immediately darting to suck bruises along their neck. “Me too, doll.”

Phantom’s laugh is breathy and turns into a whine at the tailend, lips trembling when he sucks at their sweet spot on their neck.

“Please, Swiss,” they breathe, knees nearly giving out.

The hand on their thigh travels to their ass and gives a firm squeeze, fingers teasing where they need it most. They let out a surprised moan when those fingers lock into the fabric of their boxers and pull, the inseam hitting their clit spot on. 

“You want this?” Swiss asks against their collarbone, his fangs grazing along their skin.

“So bad,” Phantom hikes their hips up into the fabric to catch that pleasure again, breathing out a heavy noise, “please, I want it so bad.”

“Alright,” he pulls away all forms of contact, laughing at their pout. “On the bed and strip.”

[honey-sweet-hiraeth]

I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs I will finish one of my WIPs

... I will start a new WIP

At least I'm writing. 🥲

[louwhose]

Happy belated birthday @mistresslrigtar! I wanted to do something in time for your actual birthday but it's done now! Some OoT Zelink that uhhhh don't think about when it is supposed to take place, but I hope you enjoy it!!

-

“Link?” Zelda looked at the seven wrapped parcels in his arms. “What’s this for?”

He froze, staring at her with wide eyes. “I… thought I remembered you saying your birthday was today, back when we were kids. Did I get the day wrong?”

Her mouth fell open. She didn’t expect him to remember it, though she supposed he didn’t have seven years’ worth of memories for it to be buried beneath like she did. “You’re not wrong, but… one present would have been more than enough. I thought you said that Kokiri didn’t celebrate birthdays, so why did you get me seven?”

Link shrugged, and sat down so that he could more easily place them on the ground. Zelda sat next to him. “I thought the way you described it sounded nice. And I think the Kokiri would love birthdays, for the record, if they even knew when any of their birthdays were.”

She crossed her arms and leaned in towards him. “That is true… though I think I’ll have to choose a day to celebrate as your brithday even if we don’t know when exactly it is.”

“The day we met.”

Zelda tilted her head, uncertain she heard him correctly. “Hmm?”

“Let’s celebrate it the day we met,” he said. “I know from the Deku Tree that I was born sometime in spring, anyway. And…” He hesitated for a moment, looking back over to meet her eyes, the light catching his ears so that they looked redder than usual. “Honestly, that feels like the most important day to me. The one where I truly met the world.”

Now it was her turn to feel her face tinged with pink.

She looked down at the presents, and started picking at the twine holding one of them together. “You still never told me why you got me seven presents.”

“Oh!” Link sat up and gave her the goofiest smile. “Because I didn’t get to celebrate your birthday for all those years, either. And I may not be able to make up all the birthdays, but I figure we can at least try to celebrate them all today.”

“You didn’t celebrate ten before that with me, either,” Zelda teased. “Aren’t you going to get me presents for those years, too?”

His eyebrows shot up. “You’re right! I’ll be right back.”

He started to stand up, but she caught his wrist and pulled him back down to sit on the ground next to her. “It was a joke. You’ve already made this the best birthday ever.”

Link frowned. “But I don’t have any cake for you. And you haven’t even opened your presents.”

“Cake would feel extravagant when most people in the kingdom still struggle to find enough bread to eat. Besides—” Zelda leaned in and placed a kiss to his cheek “—I already have the best thing I could ever want.”