#It's not an angle I often see myself from

[trashland-llamas]

Mother-Hen

x gender neutral! reader

Reader who has those over the top mother-hen vibes colliding with the grumpy asshole that is Logan Howlett. Who at first avoids Reader like the plague. Growling out how he wants nothing to do with them. To which they don't take any of it to heart, having done this dance a dozen times over.

Seeing it for it was. He didn't want anyone to get close as it meant caring and if he cared about someone, it could then be used against him. And that was simply more unnecessary heartbreak to drown in a bottle of whiskey over. Oh, but it doesn't stop Reader from bulldozing that down.

It all starts when Logan brings a relatively new mutant down to their room instead of the infirmary after a group mission. 'Scared of hospitals and the like. You were the next best thing,' he gruffs out. Seeing the extent of the injuries from how torn up the mutant's clothes are, Reader clears the table, grabbing their first aid kit. Logan laid them down.

Watching from the sidelines as Reader prepares a needle and thread, stitching the mutant's skin together. 'Your turn,' Reader wets a rag to get rid of the dried blood around Logan's already healed wounds. 'I can do that myself.' Too tired to fight against it altogether, Logan takes the rag. 'Thank you, now go. I'll watch over the kiddo.' Their foot now in the door. Letting him leave to the shadows.

The next time they cross paths is late at night when Logan’s abruptly awoken by a nightmare. Deciding to go take a ride on his motorbike when he smells spices in the air. His nose leads him to the kitchen where he sees Reader cooking up a large pot of soup. Their hair tied up into a lump, resting on the nape of their neck. Sleeves rolled up as they chopped vegetables and chicken to go into the broth. The sick season was close upon them.

'Why are you still up, cooking soup?' Logan spoke up after leaning against the wall, his tone accusatory. 'Because of how often everyone forgets to eat. Plus sometimes after missions, it's nice to have something you can just heat up.' Reader answers, watching out of the corner of their eyes as Logan sits down.

'Not to pry, but what's keeping you up?' They had always thought he had a weariness to his bones, outside of the added adamantium. ‘Couldn’t sleep,’ comes his short reply. Not really wanting to talk about it. ‘Touchy subject, got it. Well, you can stay if you like and I can dish you out a bowl when it’s ready. Need someone as a taste tester anyways.’

Logan doesn't respond but ultimately stays, the coziness of the kitchen was better than how he'd feel, standing alone, under the stars. Genuinely desiring company for once; Reader's company.

'Here you go,' pushing a bowl towards him. 'Thanks,' not bothering to blow on the still hot soup. Reader nods, going back to packaging the soup in deli containers. Moving stuff in the fridge around to make room. Logan, after finishing his bowl, takes up the mantle of cleaning the dishes.

Waving away Reader's 'oh, you don't have to do that.' Saying that he wanted to. That and his calloused hands were accustomed to manual labor. It was the least he could do in exchange for some well cooked food, as shown by the grin on his face.

Logan realizes they’ve wormed their way into his heart when he them passed out cold on the couch in the common room. Chuffed that at the very least, Reader seemed to have been taking a moment of relaxation for themselves. The battered old tome he had lent to them had fallen to ground mid-reading.

Their neck at an awkward angle that would definitely hurt in the morning. ‘Really got yourself into a pickle here.’ Taking a minute to argue with himself, running the pros and cons of what he was about to do. Cause yes, he could simply toss a blanket over them and call it a day yet his gut was telling him that wasn’t enough.

‘C’mon, wake up bubs.’ Jostling them by the shoulders, helping them up to a standing position as they’re still half asleep and groggy. ‘Logan?’ Hands guiding them by the shoulders. ‘Yea, it’s me.’

Not realizing in their state that Logan was guiding them towards his room and not theirs. That is until they see all the Americana type decor. ‘What are we doing in your room?’

‘Was closer…the common room’s no place to get sleep with all the busybodies trudging in and out. That and your neck looked like it was killing you.’ Explaining like it was obvious. Sitting on his usual side of the bed, Logan held up the duvet. A silent way of telling Reader to get in.

Too tired to argue with how warm and cozy the atmosphere is, they oblige. Climbing over to rest their head on Logan’s chest. His heartbeat easily lulls them back to sleep.

[spicedtealeaves]

hey did you know I've got dimples?

[commsroom]

eiffel's problem is that he sees every injustice as an interpersonal issue. he doesn't understand how his flippancy or apparent leniency towards hilbert might look to hera; in his mind, it doesn't contradict his support for her. to eiffel, it seems obvious - he is also one of hilbert's victims, hera is his friend, of course he's completely on her side - but he fails to fully grasp how the stakes are different for her.

ep 19: "you need to stop treating this like a joke, officer eiffel." / "hey, i'm the person for whom the joke tolls." / "i get you're scared he put something inside you. but i hope you haven't forgotten emergency code alpha victor. he put that in me." and ep 51: "they're just jokes! they don't really mean anything." / "see, eiffel, you get to have that. they can be 'just jokes' for you because you're... well, you. but we don't get that."

the issue in shut up and listen is eiffel's repeated, if unintentional, microaggressions, but it's also his general use of dark humor as a coping mechanism - jokes he feels justified in making because of how the subjects of those jokes have impacted him. eiffel sincerely believes in treating people equally, but his idea of 'equal treatment' can be idealistic and naive. he has an awareness of interpersonal harm, but he's lived most of his life without ever being confronted with the reality of structural harm - being pre-judged and othered and having his life devalued on the basis of outside categorization.

but the thing about that is that it has happened to him, too. eiffel is an addict, and a convict, and marked as from a lower socioeconomic class than minkowski or lovelace, and those things are the reasons goddard futuristics was able to buy him as prison labor and - without his consent - consider him expendable for medical experimentation. none of that is a coincidence, but he doesn't see the systems at work, only his own actions and regrets. which he then equivocates to the worst actions of people who don't share his sense of morality or guilt.

eiffel's ability to recognize and bring out the humanity in the people around him is one of his best qualities, but... on the basis of his identity, he's been able to live a life where he conceptualizes himself as the default person, and that's been reinforced by the pop culture he loves so much. that's a massive blind spot. he assumes everyone navigates the world in a similar way, and so, on some level, he sees everyone around him as an extension of or a reflection of himself. if evil is always personal, then it can always be reasoned with.

[weirdbabs]

unintentional effect of having my mirror right in front of my bed: ive found i take a lot more semi nude photos, which is nice bc it means im getting better about my self image and think im cute and need to document it, not that anyones gonna see them

[wilsons-hotlittleprettyboymouth]

Okay I’m currently furious that migraines are often so blindly easy to treat and I had to find this out myself at the age of 26 when I’ve been to a neurologist since I was 11 lol so I’m about to teach you two neat and fast little tricks to deal with pain!

The first is the sternocleidomastoid muscle, or the SCM muscle.

This big red section is responsible for pain around the eye, cheekbone, and jaw, as well as some temple pain. Literally all you have to do is angle your head down a little, angle it away from the side that hurts, and then you can gently pinch and rub that muscle. I find it best to start at the bottom and travel upwards. The relief is so immediate! You can increase pressure as you feel comfortable doing so.

Here is a short and easy video showing this in action

The second is a fast and easy stretch that soothes your vagus nerve, which is the nerve responsible for calming you down. The vagus nerve, for those unfamiliar, is stimulated by deep breathing such as yawning, sighing, singing, or taking a deep breath to calm your anger in a tense situation.

You can stretch this out by sitting up as straight as possible (this does not have to be perfect to work) and interlacing your fingers. Put your hands on the back of your head with your thumbs going down the sides of your neck and, while keeping your face forward, look all the way to one side with just your eyes. Hold that until you feel the urge to breathe deeply or yawn, or until you can tell there’s a change. Then do the same thing on the other side. When you put your arms down, you should clearly be able to turn your head farther in both directions. If the first session doesn’t get rid of your migraine, rest and repeat as many times as necessary. I even get a little fancy with it and roll my eyes up and down along the outer edge sometimes to stretch as much as I can.

If you need a visual here’s a good video on it. I know some of the language they use seems questionable but this is real and simple science and should not be discarded because it’s been adopted by the trendy wellness crowd!

I seriously cannot believe I didn’t hear a word of this from any doctor in my life. Additionally, if you get frequent recurring migraines, you may want to see a dietician. Migraines can be caused by foods containing histamines, lectin, etc. and can also be caused by high blood pressure in specific situations such as exercise, stress, and even sex.

If any of this information helps you I’d love to hear it btw! It’s so so fast and easy to do. Good luck!

[liinos]

i bought one of those hair blinger things hehe

[yzashaven]

helloo, this is my first time requesting something but I have gotten obsessed with the way you write so-

I had this idea of a f!reader that is really not vocal in bed. And scaramouche absolutely GETS OFF to every little whimper and whine she makes because he doesn't hear it that often and makes an effort to hear *something* KDBDKDIEIDJD

Ok that's it, woohoo (with my luck i've already forgotten i even wrote this a day later so I'll just sign off with an M to remind myself, lmao)

~M

𝐌𝐎𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄

꒰ 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ꒱ scaramouche x fem!reader

꒰ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 ꒱ nsfw themes. cunnilingus. begging (both sides). fingering. penetration. kiss/bite marks. use of "baby" n "pretty girl". just the tip but not for long. he slaps his cock on your pussy like once + slight pussyjob?! (think that's it :3)

꒰ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ꒱ he just wants to hear your cute little moans. is there really something wrong with that?

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄—this was actually drafted like... a few days ago?? i don't remember when but suddenly, now, at a random time of 4am i felt like finishing it so here u go !! might be a bit off or something cuz i did it while half awake 😭 LMAO [not proofread]

he's trying his best, he really is. all he wanted was to hear your pretty moans that tell everything he needs to know—that he's making you feel good.

scaramouche's tongue laps up your dripping arousal as his hands held your thighs apart. a soft sigh could be heard from him upon dragging a finger along your slit. that same finger soon enters your hole and finally, you let out a small moan. your voice was barely above a whisper yet he still heard it, "please moan for me, baby," scaramouche says and dips his head back down in between your legs. he plants a gentle kiss to your clit before speaking up again, "i really want to hear your pretty voice." he sounds almost... desperate.

he brings in another finger inside your pussy, curling them up at the perfect angle that he was sure would let you let out some kind of sound.

but all he got was silence.

a frown forms upon his lips but he won't give up. he leans down to suck on your clit all the while maintaining eye contact as much as possible. a deep blush appears across your cheeks, radiating heat on your skin. his hand makes it way to yours to guide it towards his head. you oblige in his obvious wishes and let your fingers tangle in the soft locks of his hair.

scaramouche pushes his fingers a bit deeper within you, in hopes that the tips of his fingers hit your sweet spot ever so slightly. he wants you to be all needy for him. surely that'll get you talking, right?

after some time, he found himself already lost in the sounds of your cute whimpering whenever he thrusts his fingers inside. "...'m cumming, scara..." you quietly gasp out as he began to absolutely devour you. he's acting like he hasn't eaten in days (which he doesn't even need to do!) "cum on my tongue, baby. cum for me."

you let the waves of pleasure wash over your body and bit by bit, moans began to continuously be drawn out from you. he smiles and lets out a low groan; upon standing up, you could clearly see how hard he was as he was stroking the length of his cock. slowly working it up from the base up to the tip.

he teasingly slaps his cock against your folds, eliciting a few good whimpers from you. since he felt like teasing you further, he slides the length of his dick along your slit. the head of it entering your hole every now and then but never fully settling inside you.

"tell me you want it." he spoke in a low and sultry tone.

"i want it." you replied upon throwing the last bit of your dignity out of the window, "i want you, scara. please..." a soft smile curls up his lips. affectionate kisses on your forehead and temples as he easily slid his cock inside. every sweet little sound you let out seems to drive him a little more crazier.

scaramouche's thrusts were slow, yet deep and precise—making sure that you felt pleasure rather than any hints of pain. "fuck, scara..." the way you gasped out his name with so much need laced in your voice. he fucking loves it.

"let me hear you some more, pretty girl." he whispers in between soft kisses on your collarbone as he felt like marking you with his kiss and bite marks. the feeling of that along with the head of his dick reaching your deepest parts sent shivers throughout your body.

he's glad to know that he's making you feel good.

and now he wants to fill you up for being such a good girl, all for him.

[whitlovealways8]

Astro Observations Pt 3

I am not a professional astrologer but I have been studying for some years and have made some accurate world predictions; as well as, predictions for myself and loved ones.

Having 12H synastry with someone is like being tethered no matter the distance or time.

Having South Node synastry with someone represents past life connections. I dislike the term karmic for not all past life connections are bad. My son & I have SN synastry.

My 5h is pisces and my son's rising sign is Pisces. 5h definitely does indicate a placement of the big 3 of your first child.

Jupiter transiting the 5h or 5h profection year can bring about children. Speaking from experience.

9H placements would do well in mentorship or educating professions. Sometimes I think I should refocus my career path.

Uranus transits to your personal planets is a great time to learn astrology.

4h synastry feels like a sense of obligation but not in a way that it feels burdensome. U feel you must have that person's back. Like a mother who loves her child even after disappointment.

Cancer moons are very intuitive. They reject people with nasty auras. This is especially true in the children.

I have seen some post about signs of an absent father and I can confirm three. Myself, sun in the 8h. My son, has Saturn in the 12H and SN in the 9H. The 9h too represents the father. I also read the SN in 9h represents the child carrying on the karma from the father, however, generational karam/trauma breakers are born everyday :)

Moon-Saturn harsh aspects & 8h moon endure so much emotional turmoil. I want to hug them all.

I have observed this in a couple people, but I do believe Virgo moons carry a lot of shame. Especially if they had less than an ideal living circumstances as a child.

Capricorn placements are so independent! I wish they would ease up off the hyperindependence.

Pisces rising people have the most beautiful eyes. My son has bright, doe eyes.

Libra & Taurus placements are effortlessly attractive!

Pluto on an angle, esp 1H gives a lot of major life transformations than the average.

The irony of Scorpio risings with a Leo MC, when scorpio wants to be mysterious and leo energy wants to be seen.

I don't like the gossipy trash talk that follows gemini placements/3housers. Like Penelope Bridgerton said, "Gossip is merely information". I do believe these placements, esp geminis tell truthful information. Though I will not discredit that some gossip on a whole can be false.

Libra is to be all about justice but I often find that libra suns (esp the men) lie sooo much. Idk if its because the sun is in detriment.

Mars transiting the 6h is a great time to develop a exercise routine that will stick. Mars in the 6h however, is also a great time to stay away from knives. I cut my finger in the worst way possible when I had a mars cazimi in my 6h.

Use ur lunar return to track your monthly themes for 3 months and see what observations u get

[alchemistc]

i like your voice in person

Evan's staring at the bed like he's trying to navigate a minefield.

Six months ago that would have sent Tommy on another journey of self-deprecation, a reminder that he'd known Evan wasn't ready for this, known this was a possibility, but Evan, for all his own insecurities, knows what the hell he wants and if he'd felt even an ounce of pressure or remorse up to this point he'd have said something long before now.

Sometimes Evan likes to work it out himself, and sometimes he needs a little nudge, and Tommy watches the head tilt and the angle of his pursed lips for cues as he settles under the sheets.

"Something on your mind?" he prompts, and Evan blinks, like he hadn't realized he'd gotten lost in his thoughts.

"Uh...nothing, maybe."

"Sounds like something, probably."

Evan's smile tilts up at one corner, and he settles on the bed a little stiffly. "It's nothing major. Just. Something I've been thinking about?"

He can feel his brows jumping, can see the way Evan takes in the look with a fond expression. Evan steels himself for something -- they're still muddling through past experiences and learning how to be a bit more intentional in some of their conversations, because they both have a bad habit of reverting to flirting and deflection.

"You remember what we talked about last weekend?"

Tommy can genuinely remember about 93 percent of what he and Evan talk about at any given time, which is an astronomically high number and not at all an exaggeration. He'd be embarrassed about it if he didn't have clear evidence that Evan was as deep into this as he was.

They talk a lot, is the thing, about inconsequential shit just as much (definitely more) than the important stuff. They talk far more than Tommy can remember talking in any other relationship he's been in. But Tommy can pinpoint the exact one he means.

"You mean the roles thing."

Evan hadn't been a stranger to a little daddy talk in bed when they started to explore it, and he'd brought it up right at the start for a reason, but Tommy had taken a while to come around to the realization that Evan had sort of internalized the 'I don't have daddy issues' of it all in a way that Tommy hadn't actually meant it. There'd been little things, here and there; like Evan reaching a door before him and then bashfully waiting with it half open like he'd made a misstep; like twisting his mouth a little funny when he snatched the bill from the table before Tommy could get it. Little things.

Things that, in the abstract, yeah, Tommy liked to do for his partners, but in reality weren't actually that big a deal to him.

He'd needed to clear the air.

Evan nods. Curls a hand around his knee before he shifts his body so that he's facing Tommy. "So, I like taking care of people."

(A conversation, a month ago, Evan grimacing around "My therapist says I have to stop calling myself a people pleaser in a derogatory way.")

Tommy hums, something to remind Evan he's listening.

"And I guess I sort of built up this idea in my head that that was like, a hard stop with you."

("Everyone likes being taken care of sometimes, Evan.")

"And I'm not -- I'm not upset at you, or like, feeling guilty, I just -- I've been thinking about it, and I feel like I forgot to ask you how you wanted to be taken care of."

The thing with Evan is that no matter how often he'll deflect with a joke, when he wants to say something serious he's blunt as hell about it. There might be some hemming and hawing to get there but sometimes he says things that just make Tommy wonder if he'd ever actually learned how to say things before Evan.

"I don't really have a list, babe," he says, and then sort of hates himself for it. Deflect, distract, hey baby how about I blow you about all these big feelings inside my chest I can't articulate.

Evan, though, Evan squinches his eyes and runs a heavy hand through his hair. "I...sort of do?"

"Lay it on me."

Evan grins. "That's actually one of the things on my list."

Tommy blinks. Tries to figure out that trail of thought, but he's coming up with nothing. "Okay, can you expand on that?"

"Like --listen, you know I'm a huge fan of being the little spoon. I'd let someone put screws back in my leg just for continued little spoon privileges. But sometimes I miss being the big spoon, and in my head the idea sounded so stupid to bring up but now I'm wondering if, like, maybe I've just been denying you the joy of being the little spoon?"

Tommy thinks of Evan's hands spread big and warm across his belly, of knees tucked up behind his, warm breath on the back of his neck like when Evan stumbles up behind him in the mornings whining about coffee, and maybe he blue screens a bit because he's never actually dated someone so close to his own size, because there's always been an assumption at the outset that he wouldn't want that.

Alex had been a little too into the same dynamic he'd seen Evan stumbling through, and Colin had hated sleeping with someone's flesh touching his own. Beyond that he hadn't really dated anyone long enough to really form a preference.

Maybe Kara might have been willing, back when he'd been closeted enough to pretend it wasn't an effort to get it up when she had his dick in her mouth, but they'd been young enough that staying the night wasn't really a consideration.

"And like -- listen, I don't necessarily prescribe to gender roles as a thing in general, but a few weekends ago I spent like twenty minutes staring at a bouquet of flowers in Trader Joe's and convinced myself you wouldn't like the gesture so I didn't buy them but you have a few vases in your moms old china cabinet and the moment I remembered them I felt stupid for not buying the flowers."

There's something curling tenderly underneath Tommy's ribcage that he's not sure he's ever felt quite like this before. It's not new, exactly, but it seems to be thrumming particularly hard tonight.

Three months in, Tommy had gotten the man-flu from hell, temperatures so high he'd been grounded and sent packing to rest it off, and he'd texted Evan a jumbled mess of barely discernible things when they'd tucked him into the Uber.

Evan and Bobby had made chicken noodle soup at the station and Hen had sent Evan off with a laundry list of things he could do to help drop the fever, and Tommy had spent the duration sulking and glowering and dragging himself out of bed every time Evan had wanted to change the sheets, to keep Tommy as comfortable as he could, but when Evan had caught it four days later he hadn't hesitated to do all the same shit with gusto. Evan hadn't been particularly grateful either, because neither one of them liked being laid up when the world was out there waiting for them, but he'd at least had the grace to not be an asshole about it.

He had, though. Been grateful. A little awestruck, too, at the mere idea of someone so unafraid of just being there through all the moaning and groaning and hacking and coughing, keeping the tissues from piling up on the bedside table and switching out cold packs to the freezer so he always had one ready in case he wanted it. In the clarity of a full day without fever making his brain feel like cotton candy he'd stared down at a sleepily wheezing Evan and known he could absolutely lose his heart to this man.

"Also I don't want to toot my own horn here but I give excellent foot rubs, and I feel like there's about a million other things I've just been -- holding back from doing?"

"Because of the role thing, or because all your stupid exes told you you were needy?"

It's not a night to pull punches. Also Tommy wants to send thank you cards to every single one of them and attach them to boxes with a bark scorpion inside.

"Both," Evan says without a second of hesitation. His smile crinkles at the corners of his mouth, and Tommy is suddenly annoyed with the space between them. When he holds out his hand to tug Evan into him, Evan melts into it for the space of a moment before he pulls back. "I actually kind of desperately want to be the big spoon right now, if that's something you'd be into." Evan had definitely clocked the look on his face when he'd mentioned it, but he's keyed into the way Tommy checks in and reciprocated in kind since the start of this, so.

Tommy peels his glasses off, snags his bookmark to keep his spot in the monstrosity of the Wrangler maintenance manual he'd stopped being cagey about the fifth time Evan caught him flipping through it, and watches Evan settle comfortably into bed next to him. The problem is, Tommy actually isn't sure where to go from there, which is a ridiculous thought to have because Evan hadn't either and he'd figured it out just fine.

"How do you want me, Buckley?"

The roll of his eyes is so bitchy that Tommy has to remind himself that for all his people pleasing attributes, Evan Buckley is, at heart, a huge fucking brat. Evan tugs and twists and maneuvers his arms and Tommy sort of sinks into it, head tucked in the crook of his shoulder, draping his leg over one of Evan's when he shifts his knee pointedly, a massive, unruly breath escaping Tommy once they're all done shifting.

"You should absolutely try out the rest of your list," he murmurs into the space where Evan's shoulder meets his neck. "Although you don't need to woo me anymore, I'm actually fully wooed."

Lips against his crown, pressed tightly enough that he can feel the smile against his scalp, Evan chuckles. "You don't know how good my wooing is."

The fingers shifting up and down his arm feel somehow different, from this position, even though Evan has done it a hundred times before from the spot he likes to claim with his head right over Tommy's bleeding, three-sizes-too-big-for-him heart. It's ridiculous, and it shouldn't feel any different, but it does. He wants to be greedy with it, soak it in and then never let Evan do this again because he finally understands the appeal and he doesn't want to deprive Evan that.

"This is nicer than I expected."

Evan's soft laugh ruffles his hair, and Tommy wonders if he's dumb enough to ask Eddie how long he should wait before he can reasonably beg Evan to spend the rest of his life with him.

"Save the reviews for when I actually spoon you. It's gonna rock your world." His hand drifts up, fingers digging into the dimple of Tommy's skull.

The hum in his throat has a mind of it's own, going thin and reedy and --

Evan pauses, and Tommy can practically see the gears whirring in his mind, because this is new information.

To both of them, actually, but Tommy doesn't have time to process it because the fingers on the back of his skull spread and sink deeper, just enough pressure to be more than a glancing ruffle, and Tommy can't quite help the way he tilts his head back into it, or the way he hitches his leg to press his groin a little more firmly to the outside of Evan's thigh.

They're both too tired for it to really mean anything -- both off 48's and a fumbled round in the shower while they were already bone weary -- but Tommy wants the reminder for them both when they wake up in the morning.

He can feel his eyes drooping the longer Evan scrubs his fingers against him, and the thought pops into his head as he's drifting off. He doesn't want it to disappear into the fog, though, so he murmurs it into the soft, warm skin of Evan's neck. "I like camellia's. White ones."

Evan hums, and Tommy just knows that the moment he drops off, Evan will be reaching for his phone to google the language of flowers.

[gurugirl]

the fleshlight blurb | subrry

Based on this request!

Summary: Harry has to go on a business trip without Y/n so she gets him a special toy to use while he's away and she tells him to send her a video of him using it.

Word Count: 1,536

Warning: smut (masturbation), sub/dom dynamics, descriptions of Harry's sperm making a bit of a mess

. . .

"So what do you think?" She bit her lip as Harry looked down at the custom fleshlight, made to look like her own pussy. The outside was a replica of her vulva.

"I love it," he looked up at her with a sweet grin. "So you're asking me to bring this with me on my two-week business trip? To like? Use as a replacement for you?"

Y/n laughed and shook her head, "I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. Since I can't be there, I don't want you to just be stuck with your hand or those poor hotel pillows. I want you to feel like I'm there with you."

Harry was obviously over the moon about the gift. He'd never had a fleshlight before but he'd definitely be missing Y/n while he was away. She was his safe haven. His respite from his demanding job and title. Harry was a CEO at a banking company and he called the shots all day. He was the boss. But when he got home to his Y/n, he would let her take care of him and take over so he could finally relax.

. . .

"I want you to use the toy I got you tonight after your meetings. I know you probably need a release so bad don't you baby?" Y/n spoke to Harry through the receiver of his phone on the third morning of his business trip.

"Yes. I didn't touch myself at all just like you told me. Can't wait to use it and pretend you're here with me." He smiled as he spoke. He missed her so much.

"So good for me, Harry. You can pretend you're fucking me tonight. But I want you to make a video so I can see how it looks on you. Want to watch how you use it and watch you come."

Harry was good at following Y/n's instructions. He always only wanted to please her. And all day as he was meeting with other CEOs, eating lunch, and listening to presentations he couldn't stop thinking about finally getting to come while using his new fleshlight. He was so pent up and stressed out and he missed her just like he always did when she couldn't go with him on business trips and help him unwind.

He ate dinner in a rush, excusing himself from the group of men lingering over cocktails and personal stories Harry had no interest in hearing. His excuse was that he wasn't feeling very well and needed to lie down and relax. Which wasn't a complete lie. He really did wish to relax after an orgasm which would make him feel better.

Back in my room now. Wish you were here with me to help me unwind. Can you please send me something to look at while I use the toy you bought me?

Y/n grinned upon seeing the text and took a few pictures of her tits with her thumbs over her nipples. He loved her tits. Loved sucking on them and nuzzling into them. He often fell asleep with his head lying over her chest as he was kissing them softly.

He groaned when he saw the pictures she sent as he kneed up onto his hotel bed with his cock in his hand. He set up his personal laptop to begin the video of himself and angled it so it showed everything. He could even watch himself this way which made it hotter.

Using the lube he brought with him from home, he smoothed it over his tip and down his shaft as he began to grow harder and harder and he looked into the camera and let out a heavy breath as he situated himself and knelt on his bed, facing the headboard. Letting go of his heavy, thickened cock he picked up the fleshlight and moaned as he kissed around the polymer mold and propped up the picture of Y/n, wishing it was her that his lips were pressed against, "Wish I was tasting your pussy. Wish you were grinding on my face and getting yourself off on my nose and my tongue, Y/n..." he whined. That was his favorite. Loved it when she pushed him down and sat on his mouth and made herself come. Harry would die a happy man with her smothering him like that.

But he was so horny and so impatient he didn't take too long to lap at the mineral-based sleeve as he drizzled a healthy amount of lube inside before pressing his fingers through the interior to spread the slick along the plushy toy and hearing a nice wet squelch. It wasn't the same, but it felt nice.

Placing a hotel towel over a pillow, Harry propped that between his knees before he looked from the picture of her tits to the camera as he placed one palm on the big wooden headboard to keep himself stabilized on his knees and then cupped the toy with his other fist before he pressed inside.

The toy had a similar appearance to her labia he noted as he pushed inside. It wasn’t nice and warm like Y/n was, but it felt good to have his cock touched nonetheless. Even if it was just a fleshlight.

"Oh fuck..." he slowly began to thrust himself in and out, holding it steady with his hand as he rocked into the toy. His muscles were straining, thighs flexing with every thrust.

His heart rate began to rise with every slick push and pull of his shaft, the end of the toy was open (for practical purposes as Harry's cock was quite lengthy) so his pink tip punched through every time he pressed himself in all the way. He knew that if he were inside of Y/n that would be the spot where her cervix was.

"Ohhh... I need you..." he whimpered as his lips parted and he began to fuck into the polymer material with more force.

The sound of fucking a fleshlight was different than the sound of fucking wet pussy. It sounded synthetic but still slippery and wet. But fuck if it didn't feel amazing wrapped around his thick girth and cupping his tip on each plunge. Plus the view of it… It really did look like he was fucking into Y/n’s cunt, pussy lips wrapped around him as he drove in.

“Fuck me…” he groaned as his hips began to stutter. He kept himself held on his knees up with his palm against the headboard, hips rutting and cock twitching as he bucked himself in and in and in… He gripped around the plastic outer part of the toy and watched himself as he masturbated with the toy and felt his thighs begin to tremble.

“Mmm… Y/n… can I come, please? I need it?” He was mumbling and shaking as he looked at her picture and into the camera. He felt himself throbbing as precome began to drip from his tip and down onto the towel he’d placed over the pillow.

His desperate moans grew louder and he grabbed the pillow with the towel and lowered his hips down, humping his cock through the fleshlight and down into the pillow as his face screwed up in pleasure, the intense wave of relief that he felt as he began to pump come onto the terry fabric had him gasping, a soft moan of Y/n’s name falling from his lips.

It was intense. He hadn’t come in days, at Y/n’s directions, so he soaked through the towel and was sure the pillow underneath would be wet.

“Oooohhh…” he rocked his hips down gently into the pillow, stilling himself as every drop of his come was drained from his balls.

When he finally lifted up, he was in a puddle of his come as he slid the toy from his shaft and hissed at how sensitive his tip was. With his fist around his softening cock he looked into the camera, chest still heaving and flushed red, “I came too fast, Y/n. I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it. M’cock was so achy… made a big mess.”

Y/n was too excited to get the video of Harry. She was not disappointed as she watched the video twice. It was short but it did the trick. Because she missed him just the same.

Harry had just finished cleaning himself up when he heard his phone ringing.

“Baby, I’m so sorry it was short–“

“That’s okay, gorgeous boy. I know you were pent-up. You get a pass today. Tomorrow night we’ll have you do it again but I’m going to be with you on the phone watching the whole time and telling you exactly what I want to see so you’re not finishing so fast. Yeah?”

“Yes. I want that. I miss you.”

“I know you do, baby. Felt good to use that, though?”

Harry grinned and balled up the dirty towel, tossing it to the floor, “It felt nice. Never as good as you, though. Your pussy has a choke hold on me.”

Y/n smiled, “That’s right. Nothing better than this pussy for you, baby. It’ll be that much better when you get back from your trip.”

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[rosenclaws]

Hi! 👋

I saw your requests were open and I was wondering if I could submit a request?

The reader is a shy artist who is a friend of Wades. She carries a sketchbook with her everywhere to sketch new pieces, but she doesn't show her work to people unless it's to Wade.

She and Worst!Logan become friends and slowly develop feelings for one another, but they won't say anything to each other because they think that the other wouldn't want them. Until Worst!Logan finds her sketchbook by accident and finds the book is filled with sketches of him. Worst!Logan confronts her about it, but she's a stuttering mess, and they end up confessing to each other. And please make it extra fluffy. Maybe throw in a kiss or a makeout session. Your choice lol.

Thank you and have a good day! 😊

Hidden Feelings and Hidden Sketches || Worst!Logan Howlett x Reader

warnings: drinking, swearing, wade making suggestive comments, make out sesh towards the end, reader gets drunk and logan helps her out. Logan also calls the reader sketch. It got kinda suggestive at the end I apologize sldfjka

a/n: Hi!! This idea is adorable omg I love it, I hope it was fluffy enough for you I have to admit I'm not great at writing pure fluff. I also hope wade is funny because I am not funny so its hard to write his dialogue sometimes. I also altered the plot a little so i hope its okay

You never quite understood how you and Wade became friends. He was possibly the biggest extrovert you have ever met and you were the exact opposite. He saw you once at his favorite diner with your sketchbook and he jumped into the seat across from you.

Yapping on about your art and if you drew often and that he once tried to paint but the class didn't appreciate his art and asking if you'd paint him naked as a present for his girlfriend. Which you declined very quickly.

He wouldn't leave you alone, talking and asking you all sorts of things. You getting a few words in and him covering the other 98% of the conversation. He left with the promise of seeing you again and disappeared before you could say anything else.

It was an odd experience that's for sure but you liked Wade. Sure enough he kept coming back and a friendship had blossomed. He invited you over to dinner multiple times but you always declined, choosing to meet at the diner instead.

Slowly he got you out of your shell around him. Cracking jokes and sometimes putting him in his place when he went a little too far. You showed him your sketchbook after a while and he gushed over your drawings. Begging you to draw him at his best angles and you would sometimes give in.

When he disappeared for a while you got worried, that is until he showed up with a new dog and a very handsome new friend. You couldn't take your eyes off of him. Wade spotted you and waved but you didn't even notice.

"I know right, he's like a tall glass of rage filled water." Wade sighs as he sits across from you.

"I uh what?" You hug your sketchbook close to your chest as you rip your eyes away from Wade's new friend.

"Oh don't pretend like you weren't eye fucking him the second he walked in here, not that I blame you." Your eyes widen as you start to stutter. Your face heating up as you stare at the pancakes in front of you instead. A loud grunt catches your attention. You can barely meet his eyes as your brain is too busy being embarrassed by what Wade had said.

"You can sit on my lap angel cakes." Wade pats his leg but gets shoved to the side as his new friend sits down across from you.

"Logan this is my friend, be a good kitty and play nice." Logan rolls his eyes and chooses to ignore Wade. He does look at you though, burning a whole through your skull.

"Hi Logan," You say shyly.

"Hi." A few beats of silence pass until Wade breaks it as usual.

"Well aren't you two the life of the party, if you excuse me I have to go relieve myself." Wade stands up and instead of asking Logan to move, starts to climb over the man.

"What the fuck?!" Logan hisses as he grabs Wades shirt and tosses him to the ground. You can't help the laugh that escapes your mouth as your friend flops to the ground.

"So rude." Wade shakes his head and heads off to the bathroom. Silence falls once again as you awkwardly push around the pancakes on your plate.

"What's that?" Logan asks, nodding towards your sketchbook. You grab your book and shove it into your bag.

"Nothing! It's uh, just a sketchbook it's nothing don't worry about it." Logan raises an eyebrow as you panic in front of him.

As if you couldn't feel more embarrassed. You debate on waiting for wade or just leaving to save yourself but Logan makes the choice for you.

"You don't have to stay, not holding you hostage." He sips his coffee as you let out a shaky laugh.

"Not much of a talker." You play with your fork as you look up at Logan. He's much more handsome up close.

"Neither am I." He offers a small half smile and you return it. He's still incredibly intimidating but maybe you can stick it out a little longer. Logan's food comes and the two of you eat in a comfortable silence and when you're done you work up the courage if he'll be here tomorrow. He holds the door open for you as you step outside.

You clutch tightly onto the strap of your bag as you wait for his answer. He lights a cigar and you try and suppress your smile when he says he will be. As you part ways you realize that Wade never did come back from the bathroom.

That sneaky bastard.

-on

The diner uh, meetings as you called them, with Logan were amazing. His grumpy exterior was hard to crack but eventually the two of you started to become friends. Being with Logan started to become your favorite parts of the week. He was more than the tough guy persona he put on. What surprised you the most is that he seemed interested in you too. Well you know as friends.

Logan could appreciate someone who liked the quiet. He never pushed you out of your comfort zone, never made you feel uncomfortable. He was just Logan. Call it what you want but it was only a matter of time before you fell head over heels for that man. Not that you'd ever tell him.

How could you?

He's a superhero. He's gorgeous and grumpy and funny and so much more. All you do is draw silly pictures. So for now you settle on friends. Even if he makes your stomach turn with ever smile. Even if his laugh is the best thing you've ever heard. Friends. That's good enough for now.

-

"Wade Wilson I am going to kill you!" You say angrily.

He had texted you asking you to meet him for coffee and you had agreed solely because you never got the chance to scold him for his little dine and dash.

"Leaving me alone with a stranger!" You slap his hand as he tries to reach for your pastry.

"Ow! That was so five months ago! Anyways I was just trying to help. You know, relieve the sexual tension." You gasp as he makes a very lewd gesture with his hands.

"Besides, you and Logi bear are spending a lot of time together for just being friends huh Boo-Boo." Before you can stop him he reaches for your sketchbook. Keeping it just out of reach as he flips through the pages.

"Give it back!" You plead as you reach across the table.

"Oh. My. God. How come you never draw me this sexy?" He shows you the pages and you fall back into your seat in defeat.

You know what's in there and now Wade does too. Pages and pages of sketches of Logan. You feel like a stalker. It's not your fault! Ever since you met him he's all you can think about. All you can draw.

"Please give it back." You beg but he refuses.

"You'll get it back after you admit to Logan how you feel."

"What!" Your jaw drops as you make another lunge for your book.

"I am a very impatient man and I'm not about to wait another thousand words for the two of you to fuck." He stands up and tucks the book down his pants.

"Ew really?" You groan as you let your face fall into your hands.

"I'm having a get together and you're invited. Logan will be there it's the perfect opportunity." You feel like throwing up at the idea of talking to Logan about any of this.

Maybe you could just steal it back tonight. Or maybe you could never show your face to anyone ever again. Yah the second option sounds better. If only it was that simple. You waited for many anxiety filled hours, the only thing on your mind is getting your damn book back. You knock on the door and it swings open with Wade standing there, a stupid smile on his face.

"Honey badger at 4 o'clock." He hands you a drink and pushes you right towards him. You shoo him away, taking a deep breath and head towards Logan.

"Hi Logan," You say nervously.

"Didn't think these were really your thing." He says with a smile. You laugh nervously and nod your head.

"Yeah well...I thought he'd finally stop asking if I came to one of these things." You joke. Logan snorts and offers you the seat next to him.

"Good luck with that." You sit next to him and swirl around the ice in your drink.

If you're going to tell him then you're going to need a lot of help. Logan's eyes widen as you down your drink in one go, making a face before asking for another one. He's never seen you at a party, let alone drink.

"Why don't you take it easy there sketch."

"It's a party right, why not have a little fun." Logan keeps an eye on you as you drink and drink. As the night passes on he realizes that you might have had a little too much. You can barely get a sentence out by the time the party's over.

"Hi Logii!" Your arms slink around his neck as you stumble into him.

"Come on, let me take you home." He chuckles as he helps you to the door.

"Nooo, I needa get my uh..." You stop and think for a moment.

"My uhhh" Logan hums as he helps you to your apartment. You stay close to Logan as you walk through the night. He's just so warm and he smells so good.

"Got your keys?" You pat around for them and frown. Logan reaches into your bag and pulls them out.

"Right here." He unlocks your door and helps you to your bed. You sigh as your head hits your pillow.

"Oh! my sketchbook. Wade has my sketchbook." You say with a yawn.

"I'll get it back tomorrow, now sleep well." Logan takes off his jacket and lays it on you. He brushes your cheek gently. A soft smile on his face as he leaves you to sleep peacefully.

"Good night."

-

God your head hurt and the sun was way too bright. You crack your eyes open groan as you head pounds. What were you even thinking last night? You wanted your damn book back that's what you were thinking. A loud knock on your door makes you moan in pain. Getting up you swing open your door only to be met with Logan holding your book. Your face pales as you see a smirk on his face.

"Wade gave me back your book." You reach out for it but he holds it back.

"You're a real good artist sketch." To your horror he opens up your book and flips to one of its pages.

Right in front of you was a side profile sketch of Logan. It had been while you were at the park or something. The sun was hitting him perfectly, he had this content look on his face. You couldn't help but draw it when you got back home. To capture him in a moment where everything felt okay.

"I uh..I.." You don't know what to say. He caught you red handed. Your face is on fire from shame and embarrassment as he finally hands over your book. You can't even look at him.

"I'm sorry." You whisper. Shutting your eyes you hope he gets the hint and leaves, leaves you to wallow in pity.

"Sorry? Why are you sorry." He grabs your chin and tilts your head up.

"I'm flattered sketch. I think you really captured me pretty good." You still can't bring yourself to say anything as you hug your book tightly. You can't tell if he's making fun of you or what.

"This isn't funny Logan." You try and push his hand off you but his grip is strong.

"Not trying to be funny." He brushes his thumb over your lips.

"Logan..." Your eyes flick down to his lips and you know he catches you.

"Say it, come on don't be shy. Not with me." Sighing you dig your fingernails into your book.

"I love you." Your voice is barely above a whisper, eyes squeezing shut. You almost hope he doesn't hear it but of course he does.

He presses his lips to yours roughly. You drop your book in shock as you melt deep into his kiss. Wasting no time in kissing him back, hands wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. He deepens the kiss as his hands fall to your sides. You pull away much to his disappointment, his lips chasing after yours for a moment.

"I love you too." He kisses your jaw lightly making you sigh.

"You know, those drawings were good but I think you got my lips wrong." You furrow you eyebrows, you thought you got his lips pretty good. After all you stared at them long enough to memorize them.

"Yeah sweetheart, think you need a lesson." He walks you back until you hit your couch.

"Get up close and personal." He winks as you bite your lip. How flustered can he make you?

"Then maybe you can show me more of those drawings."

Well, If it would help make your drawings more, accurate. Then who are you to say no?

"Okay." You run your hands along his arm as you look back up at him. Nerves and excitement swirling around your eyes.

"Don't worry sketch, I'm a pretty good teacher."

[kedreeva]

Okay, I haven't wanted to talk much about the peafowl lately, been just kinda dealing with Stan's passing, but! I have news I don't want to keep quiet, so here we go with a little announcement.

I've been helping a friend of mine with a bunch of peafowl genetics work lately, as he's trying to prove out a really neat phenotype of speckled and white peafowl that showed up in his breeding stock, and he just spent tens of thousands of dollars importing two new morphs from Europe: European violet (aka, my dream morph) and Ultramarine (pretty and only otherwise being produced by TWO breeders in the WORLD). When Bill heard about Stan, he asked if I was going to go to a large farm auction that's a few hours from my house. I don't, normally, since it's a few hours from my house and the auctions usually make me kinda sad when it comes to peafowl (they stress out SO MUCH) even though it's cool to see how much they're going for at a wider audience auction.

Then he told me he would be going, and that if I wanted to come down the day before the auction, he'd bring me another male, to replace Stan. I had already made plans to hang onto Bismuth, at least for a few years, and to pick up babies from Indie x Arcana/Eclipse this november, including a male, so I didn't really need another male, and don't have the cash for one anyway. He said no, he meant one of the split EUV males from last year's first-USA breeding. For free. As a thank you for helping him.

To put this into perspective, importing the birds is a ~$10k affair, per bird. I had fully resigned myself to never even SEEING one of these birds in person, much less ever owning one. Even if someone else got them imported, they would remain thousands of dollars for the first few years, and quickly become mixed with other stuff, potentially even be lost by people breeding to purple. He went in on a group import with another breeder and they have both just started selling the full-color birds for over $2k apiece (alongside Ultramarine, which before their import was bred by TWO people in the WORLD, and babies from that are going for almost $7k each, but EUV is more widely spread). Splits (like the one I will be getting) are being let go for $750. This is also the color I have desperately wanted since I first saw them 8-10 years ago (though I believe they've been around slightly longer), but that I had resigned myself to never actually having.

To put it mildly, I'm probably going to burst into tears when I see Bill and this bird. It's going to be super embarrassing. And then I'm going to have to build more pens. And then I'm going to have to get as plain-blue, pure-indian blue hens as I can find, and become one of the most serious curators of plain pure EUV in the US, because I know the other two who have them currently will be outcrossing to other patterns/colors immediately and the people buying them will likely be doing the same, and everyone will be clamoring to make them into high Spaldings ASAP, or won't know not to cross them to purples and wreck the color.

Here's the sire cock, the one imported:

You will notice that this bird is purple in full sun, from the sunny side. That's the main difference between European violet and US purple- a US purple looks blue until you get the right angle on the sun vs the bird vs the camera, and you have to get the bird between you and the sun, so the purple is often in the shadow side- visible to the eye but not the camera. EUV is just purple. Even from the sunny side!!

And the Ultramarine, in case you were wondering about their color:

(pics reposted w/ permission from Bill)

The breeder is Spring Creek Peafowl, and in case anyone is secretly a peafowl breeder or knows other peafowl breeders with too much money that want in on a new color morph, he DOES have UM pairs and EUV hens (and more split males) for sale currently, for less than the only other person in the US that has them. They're still pricey, but cheaper. I WISH I had the extra to have my friend add on an EUV hen, but alas, I will have to wait to make my own in a few years. Even just the opportunity to do so is something I never expected to have!

[reidsdimples]

When Everything Changed | Part 1

Enemies to lovers | Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Angst 🖤

Spencer isn't a fan of the BAU's new genius (you).

You didn’t have a particular like or dislike for Dr. Spencer Reid. For the most part you felt fairly neutral. He was a colleague, one of the team. The two of you weren’t super close but Garcia says that’s because there’s not enough space in the BAU for two genius’s.

He didn’t seem to care for it when you blurted out facts that Hotch asked for or knew a statistic down to a closer decimal than he did.

“If you would do your reading on rapidly updated internet databases instead of printed out media, your statistics wouldn’t be a month behind,” you sniped at him after he sassed you.

Hotch gave you a pointed look.

“He said 13.6% and you said 13.2%- that discrepancy is not one I’m concerned with. 13% would have been fine,” Hotch said and looked back down at the case file before him.

The jet hummed softly, Rossi raising his eyebrow at Reid who seemed to have something to say.

“Reid what do you know about sharp force injuries to the ears?”

“The ear canal is a sensitive and vulnerable part of the body, often associated with communication and hearing. The criminal may have chosen this specific method as a way to assert control or power over their victims by targeting a vital sensory organ. Depending on if he wound it into the brain slowly, it may have been a sadistic killing,” he answers rapidly.

“You think this was torture? It looks more like an instant death,” you answer.

“Ancient torture methods focus on the ears as a way to deal pain by shattering the ear drums and rendering the victim deaf. Given the amount of blood in the right ear I’d say it was done antimortem as a form of torture while the pick through the left ear was the killing blow. He even angled this ice pick upward and into the brain,” he runs his long fingers over the crime scene photos to show you.

You’re almost in awe that he was able to deduce that before seeing the bodies but you say nothing.

"The first two only had an ice pick to the ear which killed them," Hotch said.

"Maybe he hadn't learned yet that he enjoys the torture," Rossi adds.

“Either way this unsub has a fascination with ears,” JJ says.

“Maybe he’s deaf himself?” Morgan chimes in.

You accidentally kick Reid’s ankle while adjusting in your seat across from him, he snaps his head up and narrows his eyes on you.

The conversation spurs on all the way to Portland, Maine where the smell of saltwater invades your nostrils as you step off of the plane.

-

The following day you’re partnered up with Reid to sort through a series of clues left by the unsub. Two more bodies dropped in twenty-four hours, leaving 8 riddles on 8 bodies that needed to be decoded.

“I can take care of this myself,” Reid argues with Hotch.

“I know you can but an extra set of eyes can’t hurt, we’re on a time crunch. Monica Dentz went missing four hours ago. If he sticks to his MO, she only has ten hours left,” with that Hotch exited the room.

Reid rather aggressively tossed his should bag on the table before snatching up copies of the riddles from the table and pinning them to the board.

“I’m not trying to get in your way,” you sigh. You watch him organize the riddles on the board.

“Try harder,” he snaps.

You scoff but your eyes scan over his tall frame as he puts the board together. Nope.

“I think the first one is talking about a ship, same with the third and fifth,” Reid says as he flips a pen in his fingers.

“If you’re taking it literally. ‘Alone in the tide’ could just be a metaphor for loneliness,” you point out.

“And what do you make of ‘the bow takes charge, towards the arctic waters where she sleeps’?” He asks. He’s less condescending this time, more curious but still annoyed.

“That.. that’s probably about a boat,” you accept.

“If you look at these as a story, where you read them from the first lines strung together and then the second lines… it reads like a book. I think someone he loved died at sea,” it seems to click for Reid and he starts scribbling on the board. “And here… I think this means there was an explosion. A boiler room maybe?” He’s moving around the two boards quickly, talking fast, pushing his hair back from his eyes. For a moment you almost find it adorable.

“Maybe he went deaf in a boating accident that killed someone he loves…” you add, standing to look at the board.

He calls Garcia and then Hotch.

“He’s killing them on a boat, it’s symbolic for him. We think he was a victim of a boating accident and lost his hearing…” he continues to speak but you become distracted.

Why were you becoming attracted to him? He was never ugly but you had never noticed him this way before. He was too busy infuriating you with his attitude. Yet he was growing on you in the last few months. Weird.

“Now what?” You ask him.

“We wait for them to get names. Hotch will tell us where he needs us next, we’ll continue to work the profile from here,” he places the pen in his mouth and flips through the victim profiles again.

“Don’t you have an eidetic memory? Why do you keep going through those…”

“Helps me deduce the information,” he shrugs dismissively.

You frown.

“Ya’know,” you sigh and pull up a chair across from him. “I have no intention of overshadowing you.” He glances up from the file.

“So why do you go out of your way to correct or narrow down my answers?”

It’s a perfectly reasonable question. You didn’t know why you did it.

“Habit? I’m used to being the smartest person in the room,” you admit.

“Right,” is his only response as he opens another file.

You don’t know what else to say so you take a look at the profile the team has built.

2 hours pass in awkward silence before Hotch calls the two of you to meet them at the east harbor for a raid of the now named suspects boat.

Once you arrive, Morgan and Prentiss greet you while you’re fumbling with your vest. After a moment and a frustrated sigh, Reid steps behind you.

“Here the strap is twisted up,” he says.

His fingertips graze your hip where your shirt is riding up. Your breathing hitches but you try not to appear affected.

“Thanks,” you tell him.

“Sounds like a plan,” you answer Prentiss who had been explaining the entry points.

“The two of you friends now?” Morgan asks Reid.

“I wouldn’t call it that,” Reid answers stoically with his hand propped on his gun. You scoff and shake your head.

“What?” Reid turns his head to you.

“Nothing, let’s just do this,” you snipe. Morgan and JJ exchange an concerned glance.

The man was impossible. You understood if he had walls up, if he didn’t like new people or the competition. But he’s not even trying to welcome you in the slightest.

The scent of ocean air and dead fish fills your nostrils as you follow behind Morgan down the dock. Reid and JJ creep onto the stern of the considerable sized old yacht while Hotch, Rossi, and Prentiss took the bow. You and Morgan are entering through the main entrance of the cabin with deadly stealth.

You hear varying 'clears' come from your coworkers before you point Morgan to a hatch leading below deck. You think you can hear shuffling of some kind happening but it's hard to tell with the sway of the ship.

The rest of the team enter behind you but its Morgan who insists on jumping down first, forgoing the small ladder.

"Randy Lional, put your hands up," he's shouting as you drop down behind him.

You raise your gun as you take in the scene, someone else drops down behind you, it's Reid based on the silver revolver in your line of sight.

The man is crouched over an unconscious Monica Dentz, one of her ears bleeding and her wrists bound. You think she's still breathing.

"Put the gun and the ice pick down man," Morgan yells and then Hotch is next to him.

"He can't hear you," you tell Morgan when Randy drags the barrel of the gun over the girl's half naked body as though he's lost in a trance. His burly back is turned to the team and the situation is so unique that none of you know how to intercept him.

You push between Morgan and Hotch to slowly approach him. It's Reid who grabs your arm and shakes his head, something like concern playing in his hazel eyes. You take your arm from him and turn to the unsub.

An idea strikes you so you pull off your earring and toss it in his direction, it slides across the floor into his line of sight, causing him to jump up and turn around.

The man's eyes are wide, dark bags below them. He's frantic as he shakily points the gun at you. His stringy strands of hair are oiled to his chubby aged face and he appears to be shocked by the FBI's presence. He's aiming the gun at Monica's head.

"Put the gun down," Morgan yells again, gesturing at the weapon.

You begin to use sign language, after putting your own gun back in its holster. Reid steps closer to you, his revolver still raised.

"I know that you're hurting. I know what happened that night. I'm so sorry about your parents," you begin to sign. "But torturing others this way is not going to change what happened to you."

Reid glances at you, seemingly impressed by your use of ASL.

"She's trying to talk him down," Reid informs the rest of the team.

"Please, drop the weapons," you sign to him again. He looks more sad, defeated than before and you're hopeful.

"Does he profile as suicidal?" You ask the team.

"Yes," Hotch answers. You swallow hard.

Just then Monica stirs awake and begins screaming against the cloth gag in her mouth.

What happens next feels like slow motion, you don't even know how to process it.

Randy raises the gun and fires at you, three shots in rapid succession before you can blink. And then Reid has stepped nearly completely in front of you, firing two shots along with a barrage of shots from the team.

You hit the floor in a daze and chaos ensues.

"We need medics!" Prentiss is screaming into her ear piece.

"Two agents hit, one victim, subject deceased," Hotch is speaking into his mic as he rushes over to you.

The blinding pain is in your shoulder, the blood hot as it oozes out of you.

"Reid," you search for him.

"Ah, I'm okay. I'm okay," he doesn't sound okay.

And then you see it, the wound in his neck, the blood pouring from his mouth. Reid is grabbing at his throat for the wound, blood coating his hand. Crimsons running down his slender wrist and long fingers. Then Morgan is applying pressure to the wound while JJ is tending to you.

You wince in pain as she is pressing down on your shoulder. You can physically feel the metal bullet sitting inside of your body, sending pain radiating in all directions. People are talking all around you, JJ's eyes are full of tears as she tries to get you to stay conscious.

"Come on kid, look at me," Morgan is pleading with Reid. no no no.

"Why did you..." you try to ask why he stepped in front of you but the room begins to spin. You start to see double and you don't know if its you or Reid groaning in pain. Reid's eyes are rolling back in his head and he's starting to go limp in Morgans lap.

Reid took a bullet for you, and it may kill him. What if he dies thinking you hate him?

A blur of paramedics enter the space before you lose consciousness murmuring Reid's name.

A/N- Hope you guys love this. I'm already working on the 'lovers' part.

[beneathashadytree]

ENAMORED - ZAYNE LI X READER

Warnings : chubby!reader, slightly suggestive at the start, making out, body image issues & insecurities, autistic!Zayne, mentions of sex, reader is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns!

Genre : hurt/comfort for the soul 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

Word count : 1.6K words

Additional notes : This was commissioned by one of my lovely mutuals, and I’m so thankful for the opportunity to discuss self-love and portray more diverse body types. As someone who’s on the heavier side, I’d always struggled with my own perception of my attractiveness, often stopping myself before anything because I worried too much what my partner would think. So writing this was pretty therapeutic🥹💗

Commissions are open here!

Tip jar!

Masterlist

It was impossible for her to think straight when Zayne’s all-consuming presence permeated all her senses. Not when she could smell his cologne and body wash all over her. Not when his hazy eyes, half-closed with pleasure as they met hers, drove her mad. Not when every single low sigh and impassioned whisper of her name was akin to casting a spell on her. And especially not when his soft lips were on hers, swallowing her every moan and tasting like sugar and every sweet thing she could’ve ever imagined, and yet something so distinctly him.

He was everywhere, his weight on top of her both reassuring and stimulating to the point of bringing her nerves to the fraught edge. Every inch of him that brushed up against her barely-clothed self warmed her skin and deepened her flush, and she was impossibly aware of how his calloused palms stroked her hip and her jaw like he couldn’t bear to be parted from her. And he kissed her like her absence was sin; like breaking apart for air would rob him of his own senses.

She’d never seen him so wound up and yet so molten. It was hard to believe that this was Zayne, the same man she’d once thought to be frigid. Now, when he was chasing her lips then nuzzling into her neck to sharply inhale with a rattling breath—as if she were his undoing—she knew that he was a raging inferno, and that she’d be the only one to see him like this, so rattled by how much he needed her.

“Zayne, closer,” she mumbled into his ear, her eyes hot with emotion. She craved him just as much, her hand reaching behind him to tug at the back of his shirt, pushing him closer and closer against her, crying out loud as his teeth grazed against her pulse point in her neck. Zayne’s tongue was quick to soothe that ache, though she wondered if he knew just how much he kindled the one between her thighs. Merely kissing was never enough; could never be enough when she desired him to the depths of her.

He pulled back momentarily to squeeze her hips, hungrily kissing her again and caressing his way back up her sides, deft fingers toying with the strap of her nightgown. She couldn’t hold back her shiver, his ghost of a touch more enticing than anything ever was. His tongue, twining with hers, spelled out her name, and she twirled the soft strands of hair at the back of his neck in an attempt to ground herself.

Then his finger had swiftly pulled the thin silk strap down to her arm, her heaving breasts beginning to spill out of the flimsy fabric, and with the slight chilliness of air on every inch of skin exposed, she quickly sobered up and stilled in place, her joints almost instantly locking. Zayne—sweet, observant Zayne who’d always had his eyes on her and knew her like he knew himself—frowned a little and broke their halted kiss, a look of concern washing over his face.

“Everything alright?” His voice was rougher than usual, and his face was a burning red she’d never get accustomed to, but the worry he’d always had for her was still there.

Stiffening at his question, she angled herself away from his gaze. After all, how does one explain that the whole idea of sex was still daunting? How do you voice something like that, without causing your partner to misunderstand it as rejection of their advances—or worse, a lack of attraction?

Because gods, did she find him otherworldly beautiful. How could she not, when she had eyes and a heart to see him with? How could she not, when he spoke her name like a prayer, and worshiped her at the altar like a goddess divine? How could she not, when his muscles rippled even beneath layers of clothing, and his eyes burned like they only ever saw her?

But then how could she explain how foreign the concept of sex was to her, not out of a lack of wanting—because she knew he was the one thing she’d ever wanted to fully claim, possess even with a maddening love—but out of a deeply-ingrained fear?

“Darling,” he called out to her in a voice ever-so-soft, and only then did she notice that she’d completely frozen up, and that he’d pulled back from on top of her, just one hand carefully brushing at her cheek as he regarded her with all the care in the world. “Is something wrong?” Pausing in his ministrations, a hesitant look made its way on his face. “Have I done something?”

Struggling to find her voice, she cleared her throat once, then twice. “No, no. Not you, honestly. Just… me. Something in my head, ‘s all.”

Again that uncertainty flashed in those hazel eyes, and he simply said, “If you don’t want this—”

“I do,” she breathed out, her voice a little reedier now. She didn’t want him to deny her love for him, the sheer need she’d always carried like a precious flame in her heart. Closing her eyes for a few seconds, she tried to silence the scattered noises in her head. “Stupid self-consciousness. That’s all.”

Zayne’s expression shifted to one of genuine confusion. “Of what? I’m not exactly experienced either, given that you’re the only person I’ve ever been with, or wanted, for that matter. I don’t expect things to be perfect.”

“Not that,” she whispered, discomfort tingling underneath her skin at the prospect of unpacking what she’d stowed away in a corner of her mind, hoping to will it away as time went on. “Just about my body, my appearance… things like that.”

Something akin to incredulity made Zayne’s eyes grow wide for a few seconds, as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing; couldn’t imagine that she could have thoughts like these. His expression was then schooled to its placid calmness as he cupped her jaw. “I told you that I think you’re the most beautiful person in every room. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

She chuckled weakly, her eyes refusing to meet his. If they did, she knew she’d lose all the courage she’d barely mustered in the first place. “It’s one thing to see me dressed up, another to see my stomach rolls and big thighs in person and still find me attractive.”

Zayne simply shook his head, and a lump formed in her throat at the affectionate look in his eyes and the slight upwards quirk of his kiss-swollen lips. “All the more to love, but no less beautiful.” Perhaps he was doing it subconsciously, but the way his thumb drifted to gently caress underneath her breasts—like even the folds and creases underneath the silk there were worthy of his reverence—made her feel so seen, wholeheartedly.

“Does it,” she faltered, then went on as she glanced at his hands tracing her curves with all the fondness in the world, her own resting on his chest over his racing heart, “Does it really not matter to you?”

“If it doesn’t matter, then I’m not acknowledging it in the first place.” Zayne huffed out a chuckle, pressing lazy, open-mouthed kisses to the exposed top of her breasts, humming into her skin and sending her brain into a frenzy with every searing kiss and every languid stroke of his palm against her tummy. “Which couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m too aware of your body. Just… for an entirely different reason.” His voice was barely more than muttering now, intense eyes like green aventurine seeing her right to her core that yearned for him. “Being that it makes me want you more, all the time. Does that upset you?”

Something ignited at his words, something long dormant that she’d almost given up on, and she rushed to shake her head. She couldn’t put a finger on what it was that made her heart swell to twice its size, nor could she name that feeling of being so utterly overwhelmed with the unconditional love she’d dreamed of at night, seeing his eyes and his precious smile all for her when she closed her eyes.

Whatever it was, Zayne read it in her vulnerable expression and her pliant softness in his hands. Humming contentedly, he pushed himself back up to press fleeting, impossibly tender kisses to her eyelids, thumbs swiping at the tears dotting her lash-line and leaving feather-light kisses there too. “Then I’ll prove it to you some other day. For now, let’s sleep.”

For a moment, her eyes flitted downwards, and she worriedly began to protest. “But Zayne, you’re still—!”

A chaste peck to her lips silenced her, and he shook his head before settling into the mattress beside her, his voice carrying the weight of an unspoken vow. “We’ve got the rest of our lives for that.” Zayne’s fingers found her brows, brushing them back to ease the frown off her face, and somehow—like his touch was magic ensnaring her—it melted away into what she knew was a lovesick expression. Her heart was hammering away in her ribcage, half disbelieving of how he’d managed to make her love him even more. “I won’t want you any less in eight hours, when I can indulge in you for a longer time.”

And though the night had ended with a layer of clothing between them, with significantly less escalation than she’d predicted as they curled into each other’s warmth under the sheets and their breaths evened out, this was perhaps the most intimate she’d ever been with another person. Slipping into a deep slumber, her fingers curling into his scarred palm, she felt beyond grateful for the idea that of all people, it was with Zayne she’d fallen hopelessly in love with.

Taglist: @angry-and-yandere @nxx-jordiepord @honestlyjustablog @dawnbreakersgaze @tartartagliaboo @lucis-noctiana @riinari-sa @flurrina @reika-desu @randomidk-123 @tikitsune @cofijelli @roll-of-royces @lemonsupernova @loveyoutodeep @belovedof @lemurianmaster @hawtlineblingz @kalatipunan @eurekazz @bifedebruxa @thescribeswife @mysticangel123 @xenasolos @jvnluvr @dann-acalle @rosariymchapter @rin-sv14 @yololesgo @an-ever-angry-bi @semi-orangeapple @lavanderbliss @myturnwhen @winterlvod @carsonology @deepzombieyouth @respitable @stellisangelicus-world @kvsqkiii @bitchynightmarepost @snoozeflare @spotted-salamander @cindywasneverhere @ladyparamount @sncrly0urs @huntersmoon1 @musiclover2119 @girl-who-lives-in-delusion @milktsukii @fromdeepspace-withlove @hrhmimieucliffe @icedunderwaterroom @ay-chuu @granddearduck @skriblobz @nadinefromwhere @imhere2dosomething @saerotonins @cantescapethevoid @teewritessmth (more in replies!)

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[juniperdugong]

Relationship quirks Maknae Line ver.

Aka habits I can see the boys doing in a relationship || 95s || 96s || 97s || Maknae line ||

Seungkwan Brings home food

IT DOES NOT MATTER if you have or have not eaten, are starving, or have a full belly! Boo Seungkwan is GOING. To. Bring. Home. Food. For. You. Won't take no for an answer! And not only did he keep snacks on himself before you guys started dating but even more so now. He is such a sweetheart who will never allow you to go hungry.

Honestly, he's hypocritical in that he'll start going on a diet but the minute that you say that you need to go on a diet - the gates of hell break loose in your home. Completely outraged that you won't eat at least a bite of what he's offering you. Pouts and acts like you just told him that you want to break up or something worse. The type to say, "FINE THEN I'LL EAT IT MYSELF", then proceeds to give you the nastiest stare-down of your life as he takes a bite. (If you don't concede to his little charade quick enough this WILL become a silent treatment game)

Vernon Sends pictures of himself

Lowkey, you become a photo storage for this man. Sends a photo to you every single time he thinks of you, which is a lot more often than one might think. Is constantly sending you pics of random things he's found and can't send to anyone else. The one constant is his damn face that never changes in any of the pics despite the angle changes. It's gotten to the point where you've had to ask how he does it but he just shrugs.

Every question you ask is answered in either a meme or a photo of him looking like his regular deadpan self, no words either and if you ask for clarification he just sends another photo of him looking confused as hell.

This really is his own special brand of clinginess. You'll hear a message notification from him, open it, and it's his face at the most unflattering angle... He's literally lying on your stomach right at this moment. No explanation, even if you ask he doesn't give one.

Dino Assumes you're following him everywhere

The opposite of Wonwoo's habit lol. Dino sees absolutely no reason why you shouldn't be by his side at all times. You're his number one comfort, so why wouldn't you be with him 24/7? Weird that you would even think he'd let you leave. He has a spider sense for when you're moving too far away from him and he will immediately grab and bring you towards him.

More than the physical though, this dude will not allow you to be by yourself. If he's going on tour, congrats! You are also going on tour! There's a company trip? Great! You're a part of the company now. It may even get to the point of him downright refusing to go places if he knows there won't be space for you.

"I need to go outside and get some fresh air." "Okay, babe." "I said...I need to go outside and get some fresh air." "Alright, hun, I'll be right here." *Genuinely tweaking out at this point, gets up, and grabs your hand. Dragging you with him.* "You could've just asked me to follow you." *Leaning his head on your shoulder, still slightly upset* "You're supposed to know! I need you near me whenever possible."

A/N: Super sorry that this one came a day late, lovelies! But it's here now and I absolutely adore these boys. I think my favorite of all the habits is probably Woozi's (I'm quite literally biased) but the one that I'm most like is Vernon. Wbu??? Please reblog and comment! Let me know ur thoughts in my asks. Oh! And my requests are opennnnn! Have a great one, babes!

TAGLIST (open): @bemybabiibish @bath1lda

[meanbossart]

Oh boy, VaM is kind of a trial and error experience LOL I couldn't really show you how to use the interface and stuff without a whole video or something, but it's not THAT difficult to get a hang of if you just give yourself a day or two to play around, not to mention the number of tutorials you find out there. Luckily, if you only want to use it as a reference software that makes the process far easier (to this day I have no idea how to animate on that thing, since that's not what I use it for)

As for how I use it, it's pretty self explanatory - if there's a complicated pose I want to draw but I'm either having trouble with it, or just want to double-check angles/anatomy, I will use it as a resource! I use for most of my "proper" pieces (y'know, the nicer looking ones) and every once in a while for my silly comics if I'm having trouble with a pose.

Lets use this drawing for example (the character on top of DU drow belongs to @namespara )

I don't draw a lot of mud-wrestling (shocking, I know) but I had an idea of the kind of pose I wanted them to be in. So the very first thing I did was make a rough sketch of what I was envisioning:

I often do a rough sketch first, even If I know I'm going to be pulling the program up because A) It's less tedious than adjusting the models over and over again until I pick a pose and B) because sometimes I'll decide I don't need the reference, after all, and so that's 30 minutes I'll have spared myself of playing around on the software.

Now, this is a pretty complicated pose! It's in a weird angle and the bodies are making contact in ways I'm not used to depicting, so I did choose to whip out VaM for this one. I went into the program and after some messing around, I flopped my little dolls together like this:

Now something really cool about VaM is that you can completely customize your models, and if you have the patience, I would definitely encourage you to do so! Obviously, you don't have to make picture perfect replicas of every single character you have, but as you can see here I have made a DU drow "decoy" to help me better understand some of his features when I draw him: he has a strong brow, a short nose, a square jawline - these are all going to look a very specific way from certain angles, and I might not always be sure of how to draw it right! So it's useful to have models that bear SOME semblance to the character so you can better understand how different viewpoints will affect their bone structure and mass.

Also thank fucking god for the elf-ear slider. Figuring out how to draw those shits from certain angles was a huge pain in the ass when I started drawing DnD races.

So, with the reference in hand, I go over the sketch again:

Now you may notice that I don't stick to the reference 100%. There's three reasons for this:

posing on VaM is tedious as hell. You can get something incredibly natural looking and picture-perfect to reference from if you wish, but it's going to take you hours to do. So, for the most part I just slap guys together until the results are "close enough" and use that.

In my opinion, you should always aim to ENHANCE your reference material, not replicate it exactly!

While VaM is a PRETTY DANG GOOD source of anatomical reference, it isn't perfect, I often supplement it with further reference from real life resources or make tweaks based on my own knowledge where I catch it falling short (and, antithetical to what I just said, I sometimes fuck the anatomy up further on purpose if I think it looks better that way LOL it's all jazz baby).

Then lines, color, yada yada. I don't have a tutorial on that and I don't think I could make one, because my process is chaotic as hell, but I do at times use Virt-a-mate as loose reference for lighting too when coloring - waaaaayyyy less so however, because that process is even more tedious and I feel like I often get better results by just winging it. It is a feature of the program though, and I'm sure it would be helpful for someone who has a difficult time visualizing lights and shadows. I only started using this program a few months ago, so I happened to already have a pretty good understanding of that kind of thing and just don't personally feel like I get much out of that particular mechanic.

Here's a few other examples of pieces that I made reference for (WARNING: Suggestive)

Now, for the question many of you may want to ask:

"Can I trace this junk?"

And to that, I say: Buddy, you can do whatever the hell you want with the reference material you created.

However,

If your goal is to learn and improve your art, and to recreate realistic proportions and anatomy from memory, tracing won't help you.

Developing your own style, your muscle memory, and personal technique will all be hindered by choosing to trace instead of drawing from observation, so I would encourage against it. Hell - even when tracing is employed as a technique, it's usually by high-skill realism & concept artists who are looking to either cut some corners, save time, or just double-check their own proportions in order to improve further - if you try tracing as a beginner, you will most definitely find the result to still look stiff and "off".

So trust me, there is so much more to be gained from drawing from observation. Make note of tangents, compare proportions, use all the elements of the picture to dictate where and how things should go - it will be a far more rewarding experience.

Hopefully this has been helpful! VaM is a really cheap program (you get it on the guys' patreon for I think 8 dollars, just google it!) and it's definitely been worth my money as an artist since I found it. Learning to use it can be a little intimidating at first glance, but as I said above you only really need a day plus one or two tutorials to get a hang of the interface.

A fair warning though, IT IS A SOFTWARE MADE FOR VIRTUAL SEX/ADULT ANIMATION So when looking it up expect to see a some spicy content.